==> Japan: Be someone else.
==> Japan: Be someone else.
London, England
3:00 p.m. BST
A gentleman sits on his chair politely, sipping his Earl Grey Tea in complete serenity. He set down his cup on a saucer and sighed happily, listening to the steady beat of rain outside. When does it not rain? All the residence have gotten used to it by now.
He placed his tea on the table before leaning back. Ah, glorious. This was the kind of peace he deserved. Not with that blasted America or that frog. They were much too loud. No, no. Only a gentleman like himself could enjoy such serenity. But the old golden days wouldn’t be a bother either…
The man patted down his trousers and stood up, determined to get on to business. After all, he was a gentleman. He made his way to his room and made his way to a computer. Sitting down, he restarted his desktop and was about to open a drawer. Before he could do so, his computer immediately sent off an alarm. He jumped in his seat and it took a few moments for him to calm down. He watched as the computer greeted him, a feature his former colony had installed for him.
"Welcome, ARTHUR KIRKLAND."
He would have put his official name, THE UNITED KINGDOM OF BRITAIN, but it was much too long. He decided to put in a human name he had used often in his long life as a country since it would be strange having the machine greet, “Welcome, ENGLAND.” His chumhandle, englishGentleman, only supports how proud he is of being a Brit with the fact He already speaks impeccable English. However, he has a strange interest in the arts of MAGIC, LITERATURE, and ROCK MUSIC. In his spare time, he EMBROIDERS and cooks wonderfully scrumptious food though some uncultured swine seem to believe HIS FOOD TO BE HIGH DANGEROUS, which is obviously preposterous. They are so difficult to understand, though they claim he is the DISTANT AND RUDE one. They’re the ones who are rude!
As he watches the screen light up, a chat almost instantaneously flashed on the side of his screen. He sighed and opened it.
—americanHero began pestering englishGentleman—
Oh, it was America. What did that idiot want? He should have started the game already. Maybe he was informing him of the development? Either way, like the gentleman he was, England watched the screen, waiting for a reply.
After several moments of getting nothing, England frowned and began typing.
EG: What do you want, you idiot?
EG: Well? I have better things to do than entertain some hobknocker who is too busy stuffing his face with hamburgers to start this silly game.
EG: It’s already unsatisfying enough that I have to cooperate with this stupid idea of yours.
EG: Your stupid ideas are always so bloody ANNOYING all of the time.
EG: It’s highly unfit for a gentleman such as myself to be associating with this tomfoolery.
He ground his teeth in frustration. What was that blasted America thinking? Thinking nothing, of course. Even as a child, that former colony of his was running around like a headless chicken. Never thinking. All action.
England almost jumped out of his seat. His fingers fumbled over the computer keys, typing a reply.
EG: BLOODY HELL IT’S THE ALIEN!
CA: It’s Mr. Alien to you, Limey.
EG: HOW IN THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU GET INTO THIS CHAT?
EG: IT SAYS AMERICA IS CONTACTING ME
CA: I found some ways around the system that allow me to participate in other chats.
CA: It’s no big deal.
EG: IT IS A BIG DEAL!
EG: AREN’T THESE SUPPOSED TO BE PRIVATE CONVERSATIONS!
CA: They weren’t private conversations.
CA: In truth, no instant messaging is private.
By now, England had calmed down a bit. He sat back, took a deep breath, and returned to the chat.
EG: Bloody hell…
CA: Anyway, I needed to contact you about the game.
CA: America is busy.
EG: Busy doing what? Stuffing his gob with those greasy burgers?
EG: With those horrible versions of my chips?
CA: They’re called French fries.
England frowned and his two bushy eyebrows furled together like two yellow caterpillars. That blasted frog…
EG: They aren’t even French!
EG: And why call them French fries?
EG: What has that frog ever done for America anyway?
CA: He helped with his independence.
England started coughing violently. The corner of his mouth trickled blood and he felt faint. He continued hacking a couple more moments before it stopped. Moaning from the nausea that overtook him, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth before going back to the conversation. God, he wished he had brought his tea with him.
CA: Hello? Are you done ranting?
EG: I’m bloody fine.
EG: Just make me cough up blood.
CA: Great, you’re done.
CA: Anywaaaaaaaaay,
CA: America needs you to help him start the game.
CA: He needs a server player and my diagram had you connecting to him.
EG: What diagram?
CA:
EG: The bloody hell, why am I connected to the frog?
CA: Because I knew it would piss you off.
EG: You idiot, a gentleman like myself does not deserve treatment like this.
AH: dude you really gotta calm down
EG: Finally!
EG: Where have you been?!?
AH: chillax dude i was just gettin a snack
AH: so just sit back and im gunna do my magic
AH: stop being such a buzzkill
England’s eyebrow started twitching furiously.
EG: “Chillax.” “Dude.” “Gotta.” “Gunna.” “Gettin.”
EG: You’re murdering the English language!
EG: No wonder Mandarin is the most spoken language in the world and not English!
AH: dude
AH: not important
AH: we got to get started on this game
EG: Fine! Then get on with it!
AH: haha yeah about that…
How did he know that America was going to pull a stunt like this right before the game started? God, that blasted idiot.
EG: Oh bloody hell, what did you do?
EG: We haven’t even started!
AH: i kinda messed up my disks
EG: Well why not get more?
CA: I only made sixteen. Two for each.
EG: So you ruined both of them?
CA: Actually, they will be used for different functions.
CA: One will be used as a client and the other will be used as a server.
CA: America is going to start with the client disk.
CA: Limey, you have to put in the server disk.
EG: Don’t call me Limey!
EG: Fine, I’ll do it.
EG: Which one is the server disk?
AH: probably the one with the server label around the middle
England opened up his cabinet drawer he had previously was going to open. He took out two clear disk packs, one titled SBurb client around the middle, the other SBurb server. England placed both next to his desktop and returned to the chat.
EG: Oh, alright. I found it.
CA: Now just put it in your computer.
He picked up the server disk and inserted it into the desktop. After a few moments, a black window popped up with the words searching for client. Confused as to what to do next, he unenthusiastically returned to the chat.
EG: Ok, I put it in.
EG: It says searching for client.
CA: America will be your client.
CA: Once he can use his disks.
AH: hehe
EG: Well then go fix them!
EG: What did you do anyway?
AH: cover them in grease
England could feel a vein on his forehead throb. He slammed on the keys angrily.
EG: YOU AND YOUR BLOODY HAMBURGERS!
AH: IM SORRY I CANT HEAR YOU OVER MY FREEDOM
EG: OH YOU SHOULD GO CHECK THAT THEN
EG: YOU DO HAVE FREE BLOODY HEALTHCARE, RIGHT?
AH: you sicken me
EG: No, I believe that’s the hamburgers.
AH: AT LEAST THERE EDIBLE
EG: MY SCONES ARE PERFECTLY FINE!
EG: AND IT’S “THEY’RE” YOU BLOODY GIT!
CA: Please, ladies.
CA: You’re both pretty.
CA: Except for the Limey.
CA: Now back to the game.
England couldn’t take it anymore. These buffoons were an insult to his gentlemanliness. How did America become this way after being such a sweet child?
EG: I’m not tolerating any more of your shenanigans!
EG: You, alien, don’t speak to me again!
EG: America, go clean your disks!
—englishGentleman ceased pestering americanHero—
England sighed and leaned back on his chair. “Best of the British* to me… These idiots.” He rose from his chair and walked out of the room. England had to prepare after all. His forgotten tea must be waiting for him, probably cold by now too-
A loud thump came from upstairs. England tensed up and equipped his PISTOLKIND. God, he loved this thing. Carrying around guns had never been easier. England held it up and started approaching the stairs. As he came up to the first floor**, he looked around cautiously. What was going on?
A door opened behind him and England spun around, pointing his gun at the culprit. He was surprised to see a little boy rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"S-Sealand?" He stuttered, lowering his gun. The little one growled back at him with annoyance. "Blimey, I forgot you were staying over."
Sealand stuck his tongue out at him. “You’re such an old geezer.”
England could feel his head throbbing again. “Bollocks, I’m not old! I have work to do so don’t bother me.”
The kid frowned at him. “Fine. Can I use the telly***?”
"Just don’t fry your brain like that blooming**** American." Sealand ran downstairs and England could hear the telly changing several channels until one was settled upon.
"OOOOOOOOHH, WHO LIVES IN A PINEAPPLE UNDER THE SEA*****."
Oh blast it, it haven’t even been started and he was already brassed off******.
(*Means good luck in British slang
**First floor in British is Second floor in America
***Television
****Another word for bloody
*****Spongebob Opening
******The British way of saying pissed off)
Japan: Examine room <== | ==>