"Pop-Tarts, the breakfast of heroes!" America announced, grabbing two of the aforementioned breakfast treats and putting them in the… toaster?

"Wait… Alfred… Why are you putting Pop-Tarts in the toaster? They're going to burn! You have to put them in the microwave, then they end up all… not burnt." Canada tried to explain to his brother. But did America listen?

Do England's eyebrows make small children cry and hug their mothers?

"You're such a tard, Mattie, they're POP-tarts. Not DING-tarts…" America paused as Canada disguised his laughing spasms as a violent fit of coughing that really would have been better pulled off if he was in a hospital bed suffering from tuberculosis or some other disease. But he wasn't, and was standing in a kitchen in naught but a pair of maple leaf boxers, so the effects of the coughing fit were somewhat nullified.

"Ding-tarts…" Canada started laughing again, and America just rolled his eyes.

"You're a ding-tard, Mattie. If you put them in the toaster, they're nice and crisp on the outside, and gooey on the inside. If you shove them in your fricking microwave, then they're all mushy all over, and that's just… eww." America turned to the toaster, ignoring his brother- who was still trying to contain his hysterical laughter by getting a glass of water. "You know, that won't help. You'll just spew it out when the toaster dings."

Because America had found out, through trial and error, that when you said or did something funny around Canada when he was drinking something, he would inhale it and then shoot it out his nose. Which, although it made for hilarious dinners, was not that fun for Canada. Because, you know, he had to clean it up. (His record splatter radius was four and a half feet.)

Pop!

Spew!

"Crap…" Canada looked at the now water covered floor, estimating how many paper towels it would take to clean it up. "That went a good three feet…"

"Fuck!" America looked at his Pop (NOT DING)-Tarts. They were blackened around the edges, and didn't look that appetizing…

"Whoa..." Canada stood up and looked at the failed breakfast. "Those are charred."

"No shit, Sherlock." America pouted, and went back to his pantry to grab two more of the S'mores flavored products.

"Just use the microwave," Canada followed him and grabbed two Pop-Tarts of his own. "Then they won't burn!"

"We've been over this, they're not called Ding-tarts! You're such a ding-tard." America rolled his eyes- no, he wasn't rolling them, he was just practicing… eye exercises! Yeah, he found them online! They were supposed to help your focus or something weird like that.

"Well… meh." Canada stuck out his tongue, and put his own Ding-tarts in the microwave. "Have fun with your stupid 'toasted' tarts."

"I will!" America stuck his own tongue out, and headed back upstairs.

"Damn brother, always has to be right about everything," Canada muttered half-heartedly, as the microwave ding!-ed, announcing that his food was ready. "… Aw fuck, who left oatmeal in the microwave?" Canada was about ready to cry, he'd put his Pop-Tarts right on top of a full bowl of oatmeal that was about the consistency of a human brain.

"Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck." And back to the pantry again.

Authoress' Random Ramble

I apologize if Mattie is a bit OOC here, but… I KNOW YOU ARE WONDERING: WHERE THE HELL DOES SHE COME UP WITH THIS? Well, this happened between me and MY older brother at 3:00 am this morning. Teehee. No lie ^^ So I actually do own something this time… *dances*

Less than three. Less than three