Hell's Kitchen, Hetalia-Style

_{Title: Hell's Kitchen, Hetalia-style
Character(s): Germany, Spain, England, Sweden and Switzerland.
Rating/Genre: G / Humour
Warnings: Human names, and crack, so much crack. Oh, and England's scones. Again. Le horror.
Notes:  Written in 20 minutes on a whim and based on a random prompt given by a friend.
Disclaimer: Proceed with caution for I bear no responsibility for broken ribs or brains.}

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Ludwig: Und now ve shall put ze flour in, measured precisely to ze fifth decimal place. So remember, it ist zero-point-four-eight-seven-six-five grams of flour...

Antonio: Ehhhhhhh so that just about 0.5 grams right?

Ludwig: NEIN! I said to ze fifth decimal place! It needs to be accurate or ze cake might not rise enough!!

Antonio: Ehhhhhh but I can't read zero-point-four-eight... something something off my scale.

Ludwig: Zen ve vill have to use MY weighing balance!


Ludwig slams a shiny, hi-tech balance on kitchen table.


Ludwig: Ze latest model in a highly successful line, it comes with four automatic sliding doors, with a self-calibrating fucntion, and it can read up to five decimal places with a plus minus error of zero-point-zero-zero-one percent.

Antonio: Ehhhhhhh... that is... ehhhhhh...

Ludwig: Das ist ein schoener perfekter Instrument!

Arthur: Tch, you all spend too much time prattling about nonsense. Really, measuring flour to the fifth decimal place? That is simply absurd! Baking is more than just numbers or points; it's about relentless determination and a burning, sizzling passion. It's about...


Here, Arthur rolls up his sleeves and slaps on a frilly pink apron. White-hot flames of ambition are ablaze within his eyes. Behind him, black smoke curls about like tendrils of evil.


Arthur: It's all about doing it like a REAL MAN. And since I can't help but pity you poor, uneducated sods, I'll have to show you how it's really done. Let me make you all some lovely scones.

Antonio: EHHHHHHH?!

Ludwig: VAT?! VAIT, VAIT VE UH, VE AREN'T REALLY...

Antonio: Buhyooooooo I don't think I'm quite that hungry anymore ...

Arthur: Ahahahaha come now, lads, don't be shy. I know my baking skills are renowned all over–

Antonio: Oh yes, too well renowned.

Arthur: –but I can be a kind teacher. Strict yes, but kind nonetheless... So let's start with the dough...

Ludwig: NEIN! Uh vait, vait... uh ve has a meeting to go to und-


Berwald stares silently at everyone, face impassive, before turning back to stare at the baking items.

After some careful thinking, he dumps everything into the mixing bowl, swirls it all together like a boss and dumps mixing bowl into the pot. He turns up stove.


Berwald: All d'ne.


He checks his watch, and then gives everyone a thumbs-up, beaming slightly. Moe sparkles twinkle in the background.


Berwald: Sh'ld be r'dy in few h'rs.

Ludwig, Antonio and Arthur: ..........


The kitchen door swings open, slamming against the walls as Vash storms in, brandishing a badass-motherfucking Stgw.57 in his hands.


Outside the garden, a cat explodes in flames.


A dog falls off the fence.


Vash: WHY ARE YOU ALL SO NOISY IN THE MORNING?! SHUT THE HELL UP, OR I'LL BEAT YOU WITH MY PEACE PRIZE!


And that is why, the five-some decided that perhaps Chinese take-outs make the best dinners after all.


Ba dum tish.



-The End-