The Englishman watched his American companion in disgust. His companion was shoveling massive amounts food at a horrifying rapid speed into his mouth. The Briton was positive that his friend was either going to choke himself to death, or somehow inflate and explode from all the cuisine he was so quickly consuming.

"That is very undignified," he said wanting to put an end to his buddy's disturbing behavior. "If you want people to see you as a civilized person, then you'll need to act like a civilized person."

His American companion just laughed. "People see me as civilized," his friend said as a few chucks of his sandwich fell out of his mouth and onto his shirt. "Why are you claiming that I'm uncivilized?" He picked up his beverage and began loudly slurping through his straw.

The Englishman frowned. "I don't know why I would randomly decide that you're uncivilized," he said sarcastically. "Its not like you have horrible skills in etiquette or anything."

"Damn, right I have etiquette skills." His American companion slammed his drink onto the counter. "You taught me everything I know about being all etiquette and fancy like," he stated popping the plastic lid off his drink to eat the ice cubs.

The Briton darkened. "How dare you blame me for you're-" He cut himself off. His friend was, obviously, too fascinated with his ice cubes to even care that his former guardian was lecturing him. And it probably won't be the best idea to give a loud lecture in a fairly empty restaurant. It would cause a scene. "Did I ever tell you that it is very improper to put your fingers in your drink?" he asked in a calmer voice, a parent would use when their child is misbehaving in public.

"I don't know," his American friend answered, not really paying attention since he hadn't removed his hand from his drink.

"Well, its really bothering me," he said sighing still using that overly calm voice. He didn't like not being able to snap. If he snapped all the customers of the restaurant will turn around to witness his disruption of the peace. This would get him and his buddy escorting out of the restaurant. It's happened before, and the Englishman really didn't want to relive that IHOP incident. "I would like it if you were a little more dignified."

"I'm as dignified as you taught me to be." His companion took out one of the ice cubs and popped into his mouth. "Hey, you think I can make the trash can from here?" he asked picking up his now empty cup.

The Briton frowned. He really wanted to yell at his undignified former underling, and give him a lecture that will straighten out all those obnoxious theories he was getting. He never thought him to have these kind of disgusting table manners. Where did his buddy get that theory? "No."

"You didn't even look to see how far away the trashcan was," his friend protested.

"You're not going to start throwing trash around." The Briton glared at the American.

His companion looked confused. He clearly didn't understand why he was being glared at. "What's wrong with throwing away my trash?"

"You can throw it away," he stated watching his buddy shove the other half of his sandwich into his mouth. "You just can't literally throw it away to throw it away."

"Huh?" Two identical crumbs fell out of his friend's mouth.

The Englishman sighed. "Just walk to the trashcan to throw away your trash."

The comment just made his companion laugh. "That's stupid. I bet you your potato chips that I can make the trashcan from here."

"If I win what do I-" He cut himself off. It would be stupid to encourage this uncivilized behavior. "This is just stupid. I'm not going to make bets on flinging trash around."

"You scared?" his friend challenged chuckling.

"I'm not going to let you instigate this restaurant into turning into a high school cafeteria." The Briton turned to see how far away the trashcan was. "Besides I doubt you could make it away," he said turning back to face his bubby.

His friend raised an eyebrow. "Want to bet your potato chips?"

He was positive that he would win this bet, if he made it that is. But, a true gentleman doesn't turn a somewhat decent restaurant into being a public school lunchroom. "No."

"Ah, come on chicken."

"Just get up to throw away your trash."

"Chicken," his buddy repeated. "Bock, bock, bock, bock!"

The Englishman watched his former underling wave his arms to mimic a chicken. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"I'm being you." His friend proceeded impersonating a chicken. "Bock, bock, bock, bock!"

"Stop that!" he lectured. A few of the restaurant's customers turned around. "People are starting to stare!"

That didn't discourage his buddy. "Bock, bock, bock, bock!"

"Do you want to relive IHOP?" the Briton asked lowering his voice.

"Bock, bock, bock, bock!" His companion stood up to give his bird mimicking more legroom. "Bock, bock, bock, bock!"

Now everybody in the in the restaurant had their eyes on the two.

"Mommy, do you why is that man pretending to be a animal?" a little girl, a few tables away, asked her mother.

The mother frowned at the American and the Englishman. "Relationships like that can just get out of hand, sweetheart."

The comment made the Briton blush. "America, please stop it people are starting to make false assumptions."

"Bock! Bock! Bock! Bock!" The American was doing a chicken walk around the table.

"Can I play pretend too?" the daughter asked her mother. "I could be a narwhale or kitty cat?"

"No, pumpkin, you shouldn't interact with people like that. Their inappropriate behavior might rub off on you." The mother looked at the two nations in disapproval.

"America, people are really starting to make false assumptions," he said again, trying to stop his friend's obnoxious bird mimicking. "Please, stop it."

The American wasn't discouraged. "Bock! Bock! Bock! Bock!"

A teenager entered the restaurant, and joined her friends a few tables away from the very judgmental mother. "What's with those guys?" she asked her friends sitting down.

One of the girls at the table laughed. "I'm not sure, but I think the British speaking guy just turned down taking the next step with the chicken acting guy."

"Oh, they're gay?" The first teenager giggled.

"Probably." The teenager's friend grinned. "You know I have awesome gaydar."

A teenage boy at the table looked from his low-fat strawberry smoothie. "No you don't, Becky."

"Okay, I might have been wrong about that sixty year old janitor, guy dressed up like Pluto at Disney World, and that library aid at school-"

The teenage boy cut her off. "Hey you didn't say me!"

"You'll come out of the closet one day."

The Englishman stopped listening to the teenagers' conversation. Everything they were claiming about him and his buddy was completely false. Why do people make stupid false assumptions? And why are these lies making him blush? "America, cut this bloody behavior out!"

"Bock, bock, bock, bock, bock!"

The Briton stood up. "Do you want me to suffocate you in public?"

The American looked up from his comic. His British bubby was angrily glaring at nothing in particular, while mumbling obsessive words quietly. "Dude, what's wrong?"

"Oh, I don't know," his English friend said sarcastically. "Its not like we can't go out to eat without your table manners getting us kicked out of a restaurant."

He set his comic on a coffee table, and looked at his companion confused. "Uh, you know that we got kicked out of Subway today? And we got kicked out of IHOP last week."

The Briton sighed. "I was being sarcastic."

The American wasn't listening. "Oh, and I think it was last year when we got kicked out of Olive Garden." He thought for a second. "Yeah, it was just last year. Prussia was with us for some reason. Anyway, that place is a bunch of bull crap. Seriously, if they were treating us like family they won't have kicked us out."

"You threw the chair Prussia was sitting in across the room, while he was still sitting in it."

"He was counting cards!" he protested. "And if our food wasn't late we wouldn't have had to play cards."

His English companion sighed. "We really need to work on your table manners."

"I have table manners," the American protested.

"No you don't," his friend corrected. "If you had table manners we wouldn't have gotten kicked out of IHOP, Olive Garden, and Subway."

"Hey, you're the one that got us kicked out of Subway. You grabbed my neck and chocked me in pubic. That really wasn't cool."

His companion glared at him. "If you were being civilized I wouldn't have needed to chock you."

"I was being civilized."

"No you weren't. Civilized people don't start imitating animals, and make ignorant girls, some judgmental mother, and everybody else in that bloody restaurant think that we're some sort of item." His friend made a disgusted face.

The American raised an eyebrow confused. "I'm not getting you."

"Its your bloody fault that everybody at that restaurant thinks that we're ga-" The Briton cut himself off. "You really need to learn some table manners," he said in a lower voice.

"I have table manner, and what's the point in learning them anyway?" he asked. "There's only one event in your life that you would need table manners for, and not everybody gets to experience that event."

His English friend blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I really see no point in improving my table manners," the American continued. "I don't think I'll ever get to experience that one event."

The Briton blinked again. He appeared to be thinking about something. The American wasn't sure what it could be. "Wow... I never thought of you as a romantic." He paused. "Don't worry, America, maybe one day you'll have a boss that signs a treaty and gets you married to a nice country."

He looked at his companion confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You don't want to merge with another country?" his companion asked.

"Hell, no. I love living the bachelor life."

"Then what's the one event that you would need table manners for?"

The American laughed. "Well, duh, if I ever need some intense surgery. Like if my body needs my ovaries removed-"

His friend cut him off. "You don't have ovaries."

"Fine, put back in," he corrected himself. "So, let's say I need my ovaries put back in... Dude, why are you facepalming?"

The Englishman moved his hand away from his face. "Continue," he said sighing.

"Anyway, my doctor decides to have dinner with me before the surgery. 'Cause he's a good guy, and there's a slight chance that dinner might be my last meal," he explained. "So, that'll be the only time that I'll need good table manners."


"Dude, its obvious," the American proclaimed. "If I have bad table manners, the doc will think something like 'Oh, no wonder this pig needs this surgery' or 'If this handsome guy wasn't such a pig, then he'd wouldn't have gotten sick'. And if the doc thinks poorly of me, then he'll do a poor job of fixing me up. And I'll die. And the world will be missing the United States of America!"

His British friend sighed. "Where do you get these theories?"

"Does it at least make sense to you?" he asked. "Do you get my point?"

"Sure." The Englishman sighed. "I hope you never need a intense surgery."

The American laughed. "Me too. You know how hard that final meal will be?"

"I image it would be very hard for you."

He picked up his comic that he was reading earlier. "Yeah, well, whatever."

His English companion picked up his embroidery. "Whatever."

And with that, this became another awkward day for a certain American and a certain Englishman.


This idea came from my little brother. My parents criticized him for his very unmannered eating habits, and he protested by telling them that having manners is stupid because there are only five events in your life where you would need proper table manners. The only one I remember is the one I had America mention to England in the story. But I do remember that none of the other four eating habits involved a marriage ceremony or a date.

Anyway, Louis (my brother) is weird. I just thought his theory that you will need proper table manners when you're having your last meal with your doctor was amusing, so I wrote a story about it.