There were few things that got Romano mad.
Truly mad.
Potatoes.
Bastards.
Potato Bastard.
But this.
This was his damnation.
God had come to reap the sinners and sadly he was one of them.
He stared briefly up at the sky muttering a quick prayer before pressing new game.
He stared at the screen with his full attention, he felt a bead of sweat go down his cheek and knew he couldn't risk it, his hig-
-"HOLA ROMA!"-
Thunk
"SPAIN FUCKING BASTARD."
He stared at the screen of his iphone in vain, knowing there was nothing he could do to bring the bird back to life so that he could finally beat his high score of 22.
Spain walked in as though Romano had not cursed him out and sat down on the couch smiling.
Romano raised an eyebrow.
"The fuck is up with you?"
"Aw, Roma! I'm just in a good mood today is all!"
Romano rolled his eyes and sluggishly got up, he looked down at the phone in his hand and gave a small grin. He walked over to the kitchen door "I'mma go make espresso, do you want?"
Spain was truly addicted to one thing and one thing alone
"Bueno, I could never say no could I!"
Spain was easier to string along then a drunk England.
He tossed Spain his phone and said a bit nonchalantly "Here, entertain yourself with this, it's pretty fun."
Spain carefully caught the phone and stared at the game in awe.
"You never seen a game before?"
Spain shook his butt a bit and a blackberry tumbled out of his back pocket
"All I have is brick breaker."
Romano gave an evil smirk and turned around getting the coffee ready, waiting to hear the screams of agony coming from the stupid bastards mouth.
Instead he got the occasional giggle or proclamation of "Awww, so cute!"
This was not feeding his blood lust.
He watched the espresso slowly drip into the pot and sighed, putting his face on the counter so he was eye level with the machine.
How had he gotten to this point?
He hadn't gone outside in 2 weeks.
Spain was the only person he'd had contact with for a week.
His nightstand was nothing but a pile of splinters.*
Hell, his whole room was nothing but a pile of splinters.
It had started so simply.
He just played a little bit here and there during the meetings.
But then.
Potato bastard #2 had swooped in out of nowhere and somehow gotten 22 points when Romano's best score had been five.
Romano had to prove his superiority.
He had failed.
His brother.
His people.
At life.
All because of that stupid little bird who didn't follow the laws of gravity and instead fell like a fucking brick the second he stopped tapping.
Fucking bird.
Motherfucking bird.
He was going to go out.
Get a chicken.
Slaughter it in the most brutal way possible.
Then eat it.
All because of that bird.
After having his life changing inner monologue, he noticed the espresso was done, he pulled out two tiny tomato shaped mugs and poured the coffee into it.
They were gifts from Spain.
Well, at least according to Germany.
He strolled in to find Spain lazily tapping the screen, the only sign of effort being his tongue sticking out of his mouth slightly. Romano gave a small laugh at the childish sight and said "Here's your espresso bastard."
Spain grinned, let the bird fall to the floor with the same thunk as before, and eagerly grabbed the tiny mug from Romano's hands. He took tiny sips and said rather innocently "Oh, that game is pretty fun, but I'm pretty bad.." He took another sip and handed Romano's phone back.
Romano gave Spain a tiny smirk and looked down expecting a score of one or two.
176.
A HUNDRED SEVENTY-FUCKING-SIX.
That was it.
He was done.
"GET THE FUCKING HELL OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE RIGHT YOU MOTHER SHITTING TOMATO BASTARD!"
"B-but Lovi!"
"YOU FUCKING HEARD ME."
"Loviiii- You were being so ni-"
Romano then proceeded to grab the coffee table and chuck it against the nearest wall.
Even a man as oblivious as Spain realizes when it's time to fucking run.
He gently set his mug down and scampered out of the apartment while Romano was busy beating his TV with one of the legs of the coffee table.
As soon as his TV was nothing but a 700 dollar pile of broken glass and plastic, he turned around, and noticed Spain had left, however he left something important.
Romano picked up Spain's black berry from the floor, opens up the window, and shouts out
"FERNANDEZ, YOU FORGOT YOUR PHONE YOU CAZZO!"
He chucked it out the window, as his first priority was not making sure that Spain got his precious items back.
Oh no.
He had much bigger fish to deal with.
Or should I say chicken?
3 DAYS LATER
"Hello Th's 's Sw'den"
"Yeah uh, Sweden, um... This is Romano..."
"Don't Tell Me.. Is It j'st th' nightstand this t'me?"
"How about am entire new apartment?"
"H'w about we throw 'n anger m'nagement counsel'ng too?"
"Don't get smart with me asshole!"
"VARGAS! YOUR BAIL IS HERE."
"Finally! I have to go!"
"Wa't Bail? Are you in jai-"
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP
*Call back to 'Romano's Swear Box, where in the second chapter, it's mentioned that when Romano gets mad, he beats his nightstand.
OKAY. NOTE TO SLEF. NEVER AGAIN WRITE AT 2 IN THE MORNING SIMPLY BECAUSE 'It was a really funny idea' This sucks so badly, XD But I can't do any better at two in the morning so...Also, if you wanna see other character's playing flappy bird, tell me. Also, this is a common theme in a lot of my stories, but there's an alternate version to this, kinda like a 'What if Spain hadn't shown up?" so if you wanna see that, tell me. ALSO FUCKING REVIEW. AND TO ANYBODY WHO MIGHT ACTUALLY GIVE A SHIT ABOUT MY BRIGHT LIGHT, THAT MIGHT BE UP TOMORROW.