Alfred: 

He’s a stupid bastard who likes to pretend i’m not independent. He thinks he knows me just because I live inside his borders near him, but he doesn’t know shit. I hope he falls off of a bridge and sprains his ankle. And is then attacked by wolves. And I get to save his sorry ass and laugh. Oh, and take his land.

Arthur:

Alfred is his fault, but I can’t even start on that, because…

dear god, what the fuck are those things on his face

They’re like, two dead raccoon tails taped to his forehead. Is that a fashion trend or something in England? Poor man, I can scarcely look at his face, much less confront him about being America’s mom.

Being a BAMF: It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it. It does have its perks, though. Free coffee mugs are just the beginning. Sometimes I feel like nobody appreciates my work, though. But it doesn’t matter, because they have no clue what fucking greatness they are missing out on.