A/N: You guys probably already know about how sorry I am for not having updated this in a while, but I must emphasize that I'M SO. FREAKING. SORRY. And the worse part is, this time it's less due to the Almighty Writer's Block but more because of general lack of humor and willpower. *facepalms*

But since two certain events coincided this year (February 8th, 2016; like, five days ago, but I wrote super slow so . . . *sweatdrops*) I HAD to do SOMETHING for it on this fic (even if this chapter is still pretty short), considering how one event is a large part of American culture (probably), and the other, well . . .

Disclaimer: I do not own neither Hetalia: Axis Powers, KFC, the Super Bowl (I don't even know how I COULD own that), nor firecrackers of any sort.

America's Other Day of Poultry and F—Fine, I won't say the word!

China was in a good mood.

Due to the time difference in the Western hemisphere, he'd spent his morning watching a televised marathon of performances ranging from magic tricks to singing to people dressed in spandex—especially the people dressed in spandex—airing from China. Actually, he wasn't quite sure whether or not the hotel television was supposed to receive those channels in the first place, but all he'd had to do was click the power button on the remote and PRESTO! So what if he wasn't quite sure how that had happened or if it was legal? It was there and it was already playing, so he'd watched it.

When that finished around lunch, he had gone out for a "walk" and literally painted the town red. Well, at least the Chinatown he had somehow spawned inside his hotel room. He wasn't quite sure how that had happened or if it was legal, either. Oh! But he'd found Hong Kong in there, too, and after feasting for lunch, they'd gone shopping together and cheerily bought one or twenty or fifty or so crates of firecrackers and other explosives. Those, he knew, were highly illeg—AHEM, highly illegitimate . . . no, highly illegible . . . er, highly . . .

"Okay, fine, they're highly illegal," China finally admitted to Panda, waving dismissively, "But everyone has their pyromaniacal moments, right?"

Panda—although this conversation was a fresh change from the usual ranting about money—had, of course, already zoned out by this point anyhow. When China noticed this after five more minutes of venting, he sighed and decided that he might as well find something else to pass the time before the meeting started. Actually, it was supposed to have started almost an hour ago, but a certain burger-eating nation had yet to appear. So, Germany had grudgingly declared that they would wait for him to arrive before starting the meeting and was now awkwardly standing off to the side as the Italy brothers made a pot of pasta, two events that he swore were totally unrelat—

"Why don't you just make it in your own time?" Germany asked Italy for the umpteenth time.

"Ve, because it's so much more fun to make pasta with friends!" Italy replied a bit too hurriedly—in reality he was just worried that his kitchen was now haunted by the spirit of the pasta he had failed to eat. It was an incredibly reasonable concern!

After the traumatic destroying of a certain pot of pasta in a certain grocery store a certain amount of chapters ago, Italy had been following Germany around—like usual—begging him to make another pot of pasta—also fairly usual—in order to replace the one that had been so brutally torn away from him. Germany was proud to say that he had so far been able to deny permission for Italy to do so during the World Meeting.

"But I thought you said that that pot of pasta was irreplaceable," Germany reminded him sternly.

"That's why we have to honor its damn memory by making another one, potato bastard!"

However, it was only on that day that Romano stepped into the picture . . . and he could be a tad bit intimidating when he got especially hangry. So, eventually . . .

"Really, I still don't get how you found a stove just sitting around in the corner of the meeting room," Germany muttered.

Oh, don't we all.

Frowning, China looked away from the cooking in the corner in search of something else to do—the pasta was almost done, anyway—and suddenly found himself making accidental eye contact with the obvious answer.

"Macau, happy New Year! So, what're we betting on today? I'll bet you one point three trillion dollars that it has to do with—"

"America," Macau helpfully finished.

"—Oh, so you already know," China deflated. After a pause, he tried again, "How about—"

"You were going to suggest the Lunar New Year, otherwise known as Chinese New Year, otherwise known as the Spring Festival, and so on," Monaco deadpanned.

". . . That is true," China confirmed, deciding that he should probably be wagering a lot less. Like maybe a hundred and fifty yuan or so. "I can still bet against you on that, right?"

"Sorry, dudes! That line totally took longer than usual," America said as he strolled into the World Meeting, a teetering heap of burgers casually balanced on his arm. With his other hand he was sipping on a fountain drink, but that went mostly unnoticed because most of the nations were too busy trying to scramble away from the danger zone in case the burgers fell and buried them alive. Setting the burgers safely down on the table—causing the nations to let out a sigh of relief—America continued sipping his soda as he gave a satisfied nod at the pile. "Yeah, that should do it."

Australia warily returned to his seat, but caused a mini avalanche of burgers when he pulled out his chair and leapt back, immediately resolving to stand for the rest of the meeting.

"I don't know how, but it seems like there are somehow more than usual," France noted with a shudder.

"Well of course it's more than usual, dude!" America exclaimed, "After all, you all know what day it is."

"Sunday?" Britain asked, raising his impressive eyebrows.

"Yes! And no," America replied. He straightened, dramatically setting down his soda and announcing, "Today is totally a day of celebration, man! It's when we get all the excuse we need to pig out on fast food and takeout and all that awesome junk."

". . . But isn't that kind of unhealthy for you, America?" Australia sweatdropped.

"And isn't that kind of daily for you?" Canada added pointedly. Not that anyone took notice.

"Yes, today is a day of feasting!" China agreed enthusiastically, not paying attention to Latvia and Canada's comments, "It's a day where we all come together as a family!"

"See? China gets it!" America grinned. "It's when you and everyone you know spend all your time in front of the TV and leaving weirdly-shaped grease stains on the couch from all your KFC!"

"It's a day of seeing red everywhere!" said China with glee.

"A day of games, music, and the best commercials of the year!" said America with a whoop.

"A day of giving in to our pyromaniacal tendencies!"

"A day of minding the predictions of a flock of hungry puppies as we watch the battle unfold!"

"A day of—Wait, did you say 'battle'?" China cut himself off with a sweatdrop. "Why would there be a battle on—"

"YEAH, IT'S FINALLY THE SUPER BOWL, DUDE!"

Needless to say, China excused himself to go sulk in a corner next to France, who had gone there sometime earlier to weep over fast food's path to world domination.

"We told you he wouldn't know what day it is," Macau smiled, watching as America proceeded to fist-pump excitedly in the background.

"Hence I believe you now owe us a hundred and fifty yuan or so," Monaco finished, already holding her hand out for the money. "As the saying goes . . . 'man up and pay up'."

Macau turned to simply stare at her.

". . . You've been spending too much time with Japan."

Sometime much later, America sat in front of the TV several minutes after the actual game had ended, a half-eaten box of fried chicken—the other hundred-something boxes that he'd already gone through were scattered across the couch—in his hands as he stared at the screen.

"Well, whaddaya know. The puppy predictor actually got it," he blinked. Reaching back into the box, he snorted, "Football, am I right?"

"That's. Not. FOOTBALL!"

"What the heck? Where did you guys come from? N-n-no, dudes, w-wait! Not the chicken!"

Notes on this Chapter:

I'm sorry if I have failed you, China.

China: *sulking in corner* "Of course you should be!"

Anyway, on to kind-of-sort-of-okay-maybe-not-really definitions!

"The traumatic destroying of a certain pot of pasta in a certain grocery store a certain amount of chapters ago": "America's Vegas 2.0" (Chapters 27, 28, and 29). I'm not sure where exactly, but it's in there!

"Like maybe a hundred and fifty yuan or so.": Currently, according to the first thing that popped up when Googling (yep, it's a verb ^J^) "yuan to dollars converter", that would be 22.96 US dollars (because according to it, "1 Chinese Yuan equals 0.15 US Dollar", a number that I'm pretty sure was rounded). But since I still have the conversion calculator open, let's see what 150 yuan would be in some other currencies . . . Australian Dollar: 32.31. British Pound: 15.83. coin: 0.05892. (I didn't know those existed until just now. COOL.) Canadian Dollar: 31.80. Euro: 20.40. Greek Dr—Huh, that one's not popping up. But anyway, you could always look into it further if you'd like, since there are too many currencies for me to cover and that would probably bring this chapter to somewhere WAY over . . . however many words there usually are in one of these chapters. ^J^

"KFC": Stands for "Kentucky Fried Chicken", the name of an international fast food chain restaurant that was founded and headquartered in the US. According to Wikipedia, it's also both the first Western restaurant chain to open in China (in 1987) and the most popular fast food restaurant chain in China.

China: *perks up* "Did you say something about KFC?"

"Seeing red": China doesn't seem to be aware of this when he says it, but other than literally seeing the color red, this phrase can also be used as an idiom referring to when someone is angered. (There is a fairly helpful Urban Dictionary entry on this that explains how the phrase is related to the red flag-cape-fabric-thing-y in bullfighting. Thank you, Urban Dictionary! ^J^)

"A day of games, music, and the best commercials of the year!": Here, "games" is referring to the actual footb— . . . er . . . ACTIVITY; "music" is referring to the Super Bowl's half time show, since it is traditionally obligated to be entertaining; "the best commercials of the year" refers to how for various reasons that I won't go too much into, the Super Bowl DOES traditionally have pretty much "the best commercials of the year". (See the Wikipedia page—yes, this IS an actual Wikipedia page, at least it currently is—titled "Super Bowl commercials" if you want to read more into it.)

"The predictions of a flock of hungry puppies" and "the puppy predictor actually got it": The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon has a "puppy predictor" for the Super Bowl, in which several bowls of the same food are set out at the bottom of a downward slope and labeled for the teams competing. Behind a clear door at the top of the slope, a group of golden retriever puppies eagerly wait until they are released and amble down the ramp toward the food. The team represented by the bowl that receives the most puppies is declared as the team the puppies predict to win.

Hungary: *walks in with papers* "Hey, wasn't there a request that had to do with puppy—"

Me: *covers mouth* "SHH! Oh wait, you're right . . . dang it, that was my chance, wasn't it?"

Hungary: *sympathetically pats head* "Don't worry, you'll get another one someday."

"Man up and pay up": Japan, Hetalia: Beautiful World (Season 5). *claps and nods head sagely*

Back to China, though, I didn't use "aru" in this chapter because I was too lazy. *sweatdrops* I know it's only used by China when he's speaking Japanese, but I think it's also pretty endearing and I'm sorry if you missed it—Wait. New idea.

Okay, so you know how I mentioned the "Polls" feature some time ago? Well, maybe this matter of "aru" can be used to test it out. The poll will be displayed on my profile, so you can cast your vote there!

Whatever results there are will probably be reflected in the next chapter, which will hopefully not have such a long wait. *sweatdrops again* Prussia, outro please!

Prussia: "Well, since you asked so—Wait, what's with the frying pan? What did I do this time? N-no, don't come any closer with that thing! NO-O-O-O!"

Hungary: *smiles innocently* "Stay sweet!"