The American and The Rotisserie Chicken
America grabs his rotisserie chicken, and starts going on to his sofa. He sits down, as he gets ready to take a bite out of it. He licks his lips in the process, smiling. "This Rotisserie Chicken bomb asf yo!" He says, taking another bite of the chicken. His hands start to get messy from the grease of the chicken. He looks around to see if anyone was watching, and then quickly went back to eating his chicken, WITH his bare hands. He took a large bite of the chicken, only to start choking. 'Oh no!' he thinks. He starts chugging down cola to make the chicken go down faster, so it did. He stares at the chicken, with love in his eyes. "You know, you taste pretty good." His voice all husky, filled with love and lust. He starts kissing the Rotisserie chicken, and took another bite of it. He grabs his cola, and starts chugging it like his life depends on it, careful to not drop the cola; as his hands are greasy from the chicken. He looked back at the chicken, taking a piece off, one by one. He starts eating the pieces, until he accidentally dropped one on the floor. He looks around again, and he still seems to be alone. That's all the confirmation he needs, before he picks up the piece, and eats it; still looking around him, just in case. He takes a sip of his cola... Again. He grabs his phone, and attempts to text England, although, the immense grease on his hands preventing him from texting. He grunts in annoyance, and just throws his phone next to him on the sofa. He looks at the Rotisserie Chicken again, it was cooked wonderfully. Crispy and nice, just how he liked it. He picks it up, and starts eating it again. Consuming it from the legs, to the top. He grabs the remote, and turns on his Television. He watches intently, as he changes the channel to the news.
"Rotisserie Chicken has been sold out, everywhere, across the entirety of The United States of America. More on this later, first let's get back to Jen" The news reporter says.
America's eyes start to tear up.. 'W-What?' He thought to himself. 'There's no way..' He sighs, looking at the Half-eaten Rotisserie Chicken. "This isn't fair!" He exclaims out loud. He lets the tears fall, unable to hold them in anymore. He couldn't believe what he just heard. The entirety, as in, all 50 states? He changes the channel to Are you smarter than a fifth grader, and starts eating his Rotisserie Chicken again. As he almost finished the Rotisserie Chicken, he turns off the Television. He looked down at the Rotisserie Chicken, and starts to finish the rest of the Chicken. He burps loudly, and rubs his stomach, with his greasy hands. "Well.. That's all I guess... No more.." He said solemnly.
The next day, America opens his eyes, excited to start the day. He smiles, and looks outside. But that was useless, as just a second later he rushes downstairs, checking the fridge for some more Rotisserie Chicken. Until he remembers... It's all been sold-out, and he ate his only one. His lip quivers as he stares at the Rotisserie Chickenless fridge. He rushes outside, to get in to his car, as he drives to the store. He rushes in, and sprints towards the cashier. "Please.. Please tell me that was all a hoax.. Is there really no more Rotisserie Chicken?" He says, pleading and hoping that there was more Chicken. The cashiers expression softens. "Sorry sir, but It's the truth, there's no more Rotisserie Chicken. Will Normal Chicken be okay?" America's heart broke and looked down. "No.. That's okay.." He pouted, walking out of the store. Until he got an idea. He runs back in to the store. "HEY WAIT.. I THINK NORMAL CHICKEN WILL BE OKAY!!" He says. The cashier nods, and points to the aisle of where the Chicken is. He grabs one, pays for it, and rushes home. He puts on his grill, as a look of determination fills his expression. He places the uncooked Normal Chicken on the grill, and waits for it to sizzle. Once he finishes it, he took a bite, and his eyes widen. "Holy crapola, this is delicious!" He runs back to the store, with a goofy smile on his face. "HELLOOOO MAY I SPEAK TO THE BOSS!!" He yells, the cashier looks at him weirdly, but just nods and calls out for The Manager. The Manager approaches the cashier. "What do you need?" "This guy wants to speak to you." The cashier said bluntly. The Manager looks over at America, who now has a huge grin. "What do you need?" The Manager sighed. "I can help make Rotisserie Chicken, for the shelves!!" He said brightly. "You do realise that.. You can make Rotisserie Chicken at home with an uncooked one, yes? So why would you need a precooked one." The Manager said, annoyed. America pouts, as he replies "Yeah but some of
us either don't have time! Or-" "Or is lazy." The Manager interrupts. "Fine whatever." America grumbles.
'Well that sucked' he thought. He couldn't believe how rude The Manager was, but he brushed it off. He starts smiling again though, realising that he can make all the Rotisserie Chicken in the world. He chuckles mischievously, planning a 'Hero' Scheme.
He begins to start making Rotisserie Chicken, until he had stacks, after stacks. He put them into a box, and goes over to England's house, ringing the door bell, and hiding behind the bush. England opens the door. "Hello?" He questioned, until he looked down. "Hm" He hums, picking up the box, and bringing it inside. A few minutes later, he knocked on England's door. England answered angrily. "What."
"Well.. How did you like your gift?" America grins
"I knew you did this, you twat. What am I even supposed to do with 27 Rotisserie Chickens??"
"YOU COUNTED THEM??"
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