With a giggle, Italy moves his knife down to America’s groin and slices a circle around America’s testicles.
“You’re a lot smaller than I thought, America.” He smiles and rips off America’s balls with one hand.
America can’t feel it, but nonetheless he lets out a weak whimper. Italy cuts small lines in them and sinks his teeth into his testicles, blood spurting on his face like tomato sauce. For America, he is unable to look away as Italy wolfishly devours a testicle.
“I don’t typically eat deep fried meatballs, but these are delicious!”
He chews and swallows it, licking the blood of his lips.
“Mmm, that was so yummy, America!” Italy exclaims. “You were still warm, and that made it even better!”
America can’t even hear him at this point. All sound has become muted to his ears. He begins to slip into unconsciousness, his vision beginning to fade.
Italy scowls in displeasure. “America, don’t go yet! We haven’t finished eating!”
A sudden jolt wakes America from his stupor. Italy hovers over him, America’s own liver on the fork.
“I’d be a terrible host if I didn’t give my guest some food! Here—”
Italy shoves the slimy, moist liver into America’s mouth. America tries to get his gag reflex to work and spit it out, but he is already too weak, and the revolting organ remains inside his mouth, the burning acid from his gallbladder searing his throat. America’s eyes water, and he sobs.
“And now it’s my turn!” Italy runs his eyes over America’s dissected body before reaching deep inside him with a fork and emerging with his heart, carrying it in both hands.
“Ti amo, America!”
Italy runs his fingers delicately over the tubes on the top of the heart. “Oh look, ziti! This would be excellent with bolognesa!”
He looks up at America and gasps happily, putting his heart down and clapping. “Oooh, I remember how to get the ingredients for bolognesa now.”
He gets a vial from the cart and places it right under America’s neck.
“Hey, hey, America!” He stabs America’s neck. “I won’t forget the taste of the bolognesa made out of you from earlier!”
The knife tears through the soft skin of America’s neck, and just rises and rises.
Pasta (7/8)
“You’re a lot smaller than I thought, America.” He smiles and rips off America’s balls with one hand.
America can’t feel it, but nonetheless he lets out a weak whimper. Italy cuts small lines in them and sinks his teeth into his testicles, blood spurting on his face like tomato sauce. For America, he is unable to look away as Italy wolfishly devours a testicle.
“I don’t typically eat deep fried meatballs, but these are delicious!”
He chews and swallows it, licking the blood of his lips.
“Mmm, that was so yummy, America!” Italy exclaims. “You were still warm, and that made it even better!”
America can’t even hear him at this point. All sound has become muted to his ears. He begins to slip into unconsciousness, his vision beginning to fade.
Italy scowls in displeasure. “America, don’t go yet! We haven’t finished eating!”
A sudden jolt wakes America from his stupor. Italy hovers over him, America’s own liver on the fork.
“I’d be a terrible host if I didn’t give my guest some food! Here—”
Italy shoves the slimy, moist liver into America’s mouth. America tries to get his gag reflex to work and spit it out, but he is already too weak, and the revolting organ remains inside his mouth, the burning acid from his gallbladder searing his throat. America’s eyes water, and he sobs.
“And now it’s my turn!” Italy runs his eyes over America’s dissected body before reaching deep inside him with a fork and emerging with his heart, carrying it in both hands.
“Ti amo, America!”
Italy runs his fingers delicately over the tubes on the top of the heart. “Oh look, ziti! This would be excellent with bolognesa!”
He looks up at America and gasps happily, putting his heart down and clapping. “Oooh, I remember how to get the ingredients for bolognesa now.”
He gets a vial from the cart and places it right under America’s neck.
“Hey, hey, America!” He stabs America’s neck. “I won’t forget the taste of the bolognesa made out of you from earlier!”
The knife tears through the soft skin of America’s neck, and just rises and rises.
And America fades away.