Work Text:
July 4, 2026
…Happy birth-day, to da-ad!
Happy birthday to you!
America blew out the one candle on his white starred and red striped, tri-colored cake at the end of the song. The windy evening almost blew it out for him, as the last flames of the sun were slowly losing their color behind the dark outline of trees in the distance. When he looked up, he didn’t even recognize most of the people gathered in his huge backyard, clapping for him.
His children. Who he had invited to celebrate his 250th birthday.
California and New York were the more obvious ones, standing right by him. He’d bragged about their wealth and popularity more than once to NATO.
New York, in her CUNY top, tight bun, and glasses, was reading off a clipboard of all his kids that couldn’t come. Cali was leaning against Hawaii in his blue collared shirt, wearing a flowered garland around his neck. His blonde hair reflected under the torchlight.
Cali, out of all his kids, most resembled America he thought to himself.
“Okay, time for presents!”
A toy nuke, keys to a new lambo, a pair of dirty mismatched socks—the gifts were piling up on the floor, and without realizing, Ame had sat down in a chair someone had fetched for him. God, was he tired.
He couldn’t even remember who introduced themselves as who, losing track after Tennessee. Who the hell was Tennessee?
“I got you some hardcore sleeping pills, dad.” There was a tanned face in front of him. “‘Cause I heard how Trump’s been ripping open your ass.”
Ame squinted. “Who are you?”
“I’m Arizona.”
Right…
Someone was handing him a small plastic bag with white powder inside.
“New Mexico,” he answered before Ame could even ask.
…Hold up…
“I had a kid with Mexico?”
No one responded.
Finally, California got him a surfboard. “So we can surf together sometime.”
The tablecloth fluttered up besides Ame, and he yelped as a clammy hand grabbed his ankle. Something slimy bit into his skin, and he jumped up, wildly kicking it off.
“OHIO! Bad dog!” New York scolded, dragging out a hairy creature with a human face from under the table. There was drool and blood dripping out of its sharp mouth and running down its face.
It dropped a dead mouse at his feet.
Only then did Ame consider how many children there really were in his backyard, and how easily they could overpower him given the chance.
Ame’s foot was still wet and aching from the bite on his leg. He shivered, wiping his leg on the tablecloth, disgusted when the thick saliva smeared.
He had to get out of here.
But soon, the smell of smoke and barbecue was sifting through the air, and a stack of hotdogs was placed in front of him.
“Sit ow’n, Pa,” said—by the accent—Texas, as he dragged over his own chair and sat down right next to Ame, popping open a beer.
Definitely Texas, in his light shirt and broad hat, bringing up a whole case of beers into his lap. There was a strong scent of tobacco coming off of him, drowning the smell of fresh-made hotdogs. Ame had a sinking feeling in his chest, creeping up his spine like a warning. Before he could get up to protest, all the torches in the ground went out. They stayed lit only near the corner of his yard, lighting up a wooden platform for a stage.
When did that get there?
“Today, we have a special performance to honor our wonderful dad, by Hawaii and Montana!”
A slow song played from speakers he couldn't see, and Hawaii started dancing along to Montana’s singing.
His foot started bouncing.
Halfway through the song he was already thinking of how to escape. It was dark enough now that nobody noticed him sneaking into the house behind them.
The door shut soundlessly as he locked it. Moonlight was streaming through the kitchen windows and reflecting off the white marble countertop. Outside, there was the distant THOOOM of the first firework exploding. Carefully, he made his way through the kitchen to the stairs, before feeling a tap on his shoulder. Ame quickly swiveled around—
“Oh,” said the shadow of the half-naked man in his flamingo boxers. “Hey, dad.”
“What. The FUCK.” Ame’s heart thundered out of control, the blood rushing in his ears. It was a miracle that he hadn’t fainted yet. “Florida? Is that you?”
“You remembered me!”
“You scared the shit out of me!”
“Do you wanna see the fireworks I’m working on?” Florida asked instead, face unreadable in the dark. “I’m lacing them with cannabis."
“You’re what.” Were all his children fucking insane?
“Yeah, I know right! Don’t even have to light a cig tomorrow with how much smoke these babies are gonna leave!”
“I… I think I’m going to go to sleep…”
“Aw, c’mon! Your birthday just started! And you can’t miss the fireworks, they’re the best part!” Florida was already pulling him outside by his arm.
“Hey–!”
It seemed like he really had no other choice here. Everyone was in the front yard watching the fountain fireworks going off on the road—it was blindingly bright in the pitch black, Ame had to shield his watering eyes—and a few people on the driveway waved sparkler wands.
A loud BANG went off, and Ame’s right ear started ringing terribly. That didn’t sound like a firework... There was a far-away and distorted cheer, and he thought he’d heard something alike to his name.
Tobacco and gunpowder stung his nose.
When his sight unblurred, the fire had grown in size—it was taking over the lawn. Texas, with a few others, were in the middle of it, firing rifles into the sky.
His illuminated face was smothered in soot, as well as the rest of his torn uniform. The Confederate flag waved behind him, and when America looked back at him, the Confederacy was slowly grinning.
“Thought I’d go down that easily?”
Ame blinked, and Texas was there again. There were still screams all around him as people rushed to put out the fire. Bodies lay sprawled across the street, civilians bleeding on the sidewalk.
Ame stepped back. Then again. Then turned and raced into the house, past the kitchen, and up the stairs. There was no other explanation— This had to be a dream—NO, this WAS a dream–
But it was neverending, like the stairs that wouldn’t stop after he’d made the last turn. Panic was clawing at his body, tearing up his stomach and through his chest.
He stumbled, opening his mouth to scream, but there was no sound.
Darkness.
There was never an end to it.
It stretched through the gaping silence of an empty universe, stretching on and on and on… and on…
When he came to, Ame couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t move at all. His body was shaking as violently as his heart was, threatening to tear open his chest.
With a broken gasp, the crust sticking his eyes together finally gave way after moments of struggle, and his eyes woke to nothingness. There was a blindfold tied behind his head. Beyond the blindfold, the darkness continued.
He seemed to be in a room with the lights off, with the only sound being his ragged breathing. His mouth was dry, and his throat sore.
He wasn’t tied down though.
Recovering, he pulled the blindfold over his head.
It was still pitch black, like he’d never opened his eyes.
There were a few thoughts running in circles around his head, and a question he refused to acknowledge.
His government had locked him up in a room before, as punishment for disobeying. But who knew what disobeying really meant? It seemed like they punished him for anything nowadays.
Could he even consider himself “The Country of the Free” anymore?
His memory was hazy, and he felt the common symptoms of a hangover. Maybe he’d done something worse this time.
…
And then came the question that he dreaded.
…What was going to happen to him now?
As if in response, a door swung open and light poured inside. Instinctively, Ame squinted and turned away.
“You’re awake!”
A few other familiar voices blurred in his head as he tried to make them out and connect some pieces.
Then all the lights turned on, and they rang in unison.
“Surprise!”