literature

Cheese

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Literature Text

"Come on!"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Just one!"

"No."

"I'll let you have dibs on the front seat of the carriage!"

"No."

"I'll give you all of my desserts!"

"No."

"I'll do your chores for you!"

"No."

The pleading boy hopped on the back of the other boy that he had been following.

"I'll be your best friend ~ " he offered in a sing-song voice.

The irritated Canadian pushed his teasing twin brother off of him.

"I'm not going to teach you any French curse words, Alfred!" he insisted for what seemed like the billionth time that day.  "Why would you even want to know something like that?"

"Cause it'd be fun!" the pre-teen America explained.  What other reason did he need?  "Just imagine it.  I could go around bad-mouthing anything I wanted, and no one would have any idea what I'd be saying!"  

"Alfred!" Canada exclaimed.

"What?  It's not bad when people can't understand you."

"Yes it is!"

"No it's not!  The words wouldn't mean anything."

Canada groaned.

"Just because some people can't speak French, doesn't mean the language doesn't mean anything," he explained.  "They're still bad words, weather people understand them or not."

"Well…anyway at least I wouldn't get in trouble for saying them," America reasoned.  "And besides, I'd like to know one…just in case."

"Just in case what?" Canada asked.

America hesitated.

"Nothing," he finally said, trying to blow it off.

"Alfred, what did you mean, 'just in case'?" Canada pressed.  He was not sure he wanted to know the answer, though.  He never knew what was going to come out of his crazy brother's mouth.  

America shifted back and forth a bit before he confessed.

"Just in case I wanna cuss out England one day," America finished his thought with a mumble.

"Why would you want to do that?!" Canada asked in shock.  "I thought you got along with Arthur!"

"I do!" America claimed.  He was holding his hands up as if he wanted Canada to keep it down.  It wouldn't be good if England showed up and overheard them.  "I said, 'just in case.'  I mean, I like Arthur an all, but the other day I started think'n: What if someday we get into a fight, and he makes me really mad?  I'd want to say something that'd make him even madder!  A French curse would be perfect!  He hates French, and he doesn't want me saying bad words, so I figure if I do them both together—"

"He'd KILL you!"

"Nah!" America shot down his brother's worries.  "He wouldn't go that far.  He'd just throw a hissy-fit, or something," the confident boy then snickered at the thought of his care-taker loosing it.  "That would actually be pretty funny!"

"You're crazy!"

Canada turned and stomped away.  Of course, America followed close behind.

"What if I taught you something, too?!"

"Please leave me alone."

"I could teach you how to walk on your hands…or how to rope stuff…or how to burp and talk at the same time!"

Canada stopped and looked at his brother.

"Who would want to know how to do that?!"

"Who wouldn't?!"

Canada turned back around and tried once more to walk away from America.

"Why don't you just give it a rest, eh?  I'm not going to do it, not matter what you—Ow!  What are you doing?"

America wrestled Canada to the ground.    

"I'm not letting you go till you teach me one word," America demanded.

"Forget it!"

Canada struggled against his brother.  America fought hard to hold him down.

"Justone!" he grunted as Canada squirmed under him.

"Here's one for you: NON!"

"That's English, stupid," America corrected.  Did Canada really think saying "no" with a French accent would fool him?

"It's French, too!  AH!  NO!  STOP!"

America was tickling Canada now.

"Give up, and I will!"

"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, I'LL DO IT!"

The tickling ceased.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"You mean it?"

"Yes."

"You're not faking?"

"I said 'YES!'  If it will make you leave me alone, I'll teach you one word!"  

"You promise?" America was still skeptical.

"I promise," Canada groaned in defeat.  He couldn't believe he was doing this.  "Now please get off me."

"Yes!" America cheered.  He rolled off his brother and sat in front of him with an eager expression. "Alright, shoot."

Canada sat up and brushed himself off.  He looked around cautiously.  

"You can't tell anyone I told you this," he whispered.  "Especially Arthur.  Ok?"

"Sure, no problem," America impatiently agreed.  "Now come on, hurry up!  What word are you going to teach me?  Make it a good one!  Or, uh, I guess I mean a bad one."

"Um…uh…" Canada stalled.  Did he really have to do this?  They were going to get into so much trouble!  He just knew it!

"Yeah?"

"F…fr..fromage," Canada finally spit out.  He had just settled on the first French word that had come into his head.  Hopefully, his brother wouldn't know the difference.

"Fromage?" America tried it out a few times, doing his best to pronounce it the way Canada had.  "What's it mean?"

"Uh…" Canada was a terrible liar.  What should he say?  "…Guess?"

"Hm…" America stared ahead as he thought about what the weird word could mean.  "UH!" America suddenly took in a sharp breath.  "Is it the "F" word?" he guessed in a whisper.

"…Sure," Canada decided.  Yeah, they could go with that.  Fromage started with an "F," anyway.

"Whoa," America whispered with wide-eyed awe.  He looked as if he had just been entrusted with a dangerous weapon.  "Cool!"

"Can I go, now?"

"Yeah, if you want."  

America was satisfied.  Having acquired what he had set out to get, he stood up and offered a hand to his brother.  Canada grudgingly took it and America pulled him up.

"Sorry 'bout knocking you down, but thanks for teaching me that French stuff!"

Feeling a little guilty, Canada just looked away from his clueless brother.

"Please…don't mention it…ever."
Ok, I'm a little stuck on these two right now. This is just something silly that popped into my head one day.

Extra points to any non-French speakers who can guess the real meaning of the word that Canada taught America! (Although it's kinda obvious) And no, it's not really the "F" word.

The characters are from an awesome anime/manga called hetalia and do not belong to me.
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