(Oh, my God. I have ignored you loyal fans for so, so long. I am so sorry. Consider this an apology, yes? I will update everything else as will. I'm back, you guys.)

Cool Facts: Hetalia Style!

The Bank of America was once the Bank of Italy.

A prim and proper bank manager sat at his desk, black and white pictures of his family dotted the place. He was very handsome, and very stereotypically Italian.

As the doors burst open, and a hysterical brunette dashed inside, Mr. bank manager didn't have the typical reaction. Instead, he grimaced heavily.

"What is it this time, Signor Vargas?"

"It's my pasta! It's run out again!! Me and fratello are hungry and we don't have anything to eat!"

"Yes, and?"

"I need to buy some more!"

"And?!"

"Well, you see, I don't have anymore money, because I need some new paints, and I saw this really, realy pretty tomato plant for big brother Spain, and the last time big brother France was over, all of our underwear mysteriously disappeared, oh, and then I bought some dog treats, because Germany doesn't reward his doggies enough, and they look so cute with their big brown doggie eyes and--"

"Signor, am correct in assuming that you intend to take money from your bank, from your own people, to buy pasta?"

"Ve…Si!"

"No. That is theft, even if you are Italia herself."

"Himself!"

"Yes, whatever."

"But where am I supposed to get money for pasta from?"

"That isn't my concern, Signor"

"Ve……I'll trade you art for the money!"

"This is not a gallery, Feliciano."

"Pleeeease?"

Mr. bank manager sighed deeply. This was the last straw. Normal banks shouldn't have to put up with this sort of thing. It was bad enough when Italy persuade the bank to buy his entire tomato garden, or the last manager, who just let him borrow from the vaults as he pleased. No, this was quite enough.

The next month, Mr. Bank manager dusted his hands in satisfaction. He had successfully moved away from the nation of Italy, and more importantly, from the crazy personification of the nation of Italy. He figured that America would be much more reasonable, more level-headed and responsible.

"Yo! You guys are my new bank, right? Awesome. Say, can I borrow a few bucks? A growing boy like me always needs to eat, huh? Ha ha!"

Mr. Bank manager buried his face in his hands. He needed a new job.

(Hoped you guys liked it. And once again, I am so sorry for leaving you all high and dry. Ciao, loves!)