Culture Clash

"Littorio... what have you been teaching my niece?!"

The Glory of Naples stared at Vittorio Veneto, whom she reckoned had never looked so angry and scandalized. Said niece, however, was nonchalant as she continued to nibble on that slice of pizza while sitting on her lap.

"Whatever you mean, my dear Veneto? She's a well-behaved little lady," Littorio hummed before sipping her glass of wine while her girl had her apple juice.

"Yes, yes, it's true she's not picking any of your unfortunate habits, but still! Still! Pineapples! On pizza!" Veneto fumed and huffed, though now it was more because of Littorio's audacity to feign innocence than the offensive dish her niece was enjoying. "Such monstrosity... such an affront to tradition... why?"

"Welcome to America," Littorio shrugged. "When in Rome, do as the Romans do. When in America, eat American food, I suppose. Well, it's more of a Canadian thing, but still."

"And it's sho good, Auntie!" The child chirped, her cheeks puffed with half-chewed food. Her delight was cute enough to placate Veneto, if only just a little. "Here, try one!"

Thus, Veneto was faced with the biggest dilemma she'd ever had since the days of the Second World War and the unending political intrigues at the Senate. Take that revolting abomination of ham and pineapples now just inches away from her face, which no doubt would please the girl but cost her dignity, or refuse and possibly upset her and be branded a killjoy for the rest of the day by her dear niece?

"If you're going to take it, here," Littorio slid a glass of wine her way. If she were being kind, her smug, insufferable smile would mask it. Not that it would hide the fact she was enjoying her sister's predicament a little too much. "It goes well with Chianti. Or if you really wanted to numb your taste buds, I'd recommend Stoli instead."

"I'll take the Chianti, and fine, I'll take this.... food," Veneto sighed. No way she would drink something as vulgar as vodka, unlike Littorio, nor would she acknowledge that she was offered a pizza—no, it wasn't a pizza. To her knowledge, it wasn't even created by an Italian.

"Yay!" The girl cheered and blew on the slice as if she wanted to make sure it was not too hot. Veneto appreciated the gesture, but still, she could only take a methodical, little bite out of it and swallow quickly.

She wanted to truly hate it, but the taste wasn't as horrific as she found out. The tanginess of the fruit balanced out the cheese and the savory ham, and the saltiness was about just right. So, instead of disgust, all she got was... confusion. And being confused was probably how she could take more and more bites until the slice was no more. And the Chianti indeed helped wash it all down.

All that was left after that was shame, and the knowing grin that both mother and daughter had didn't help.

"You like Hawaiian pizza, don't you, Veneto?"

"... It's not bad... I've had worse, I guess," Veneto admitted, feeling quite defeated but still prideful enough not to let them know. Her niece's cheer was pleasant to look at, after all, even at her expense.

"Yay! Then, maybe next time, you would like to try sushi pizza? Mama and I had one in Toronto, and I love it!"

"Littorio..." Veneto growled. She knew she was going to get roped into this somehow.

"Maybe that one's too early for Aunt Veneto, mia bella. Let's invite Aunt Impero instead."

"You're terrible, Littorio."

"I love you, too, Veneto."