crotchroses

Nooooooooooooooooo!

[ it's actually more of an obnoxious whine than an actual protest, as per America-style. even better, he wraps his arms around one of France's legs as he's being dragged away and hugs it tightly.

ALL HE WANTED WAS SOME SMOKES w;A;w ]

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Shut up, pute! No one wants either of you! You are both obnoxious and stupid.

By the way--North wins! Learn to live with it.

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[ Wow wrong thing to say, France, because the South shakes a leg free to kick the North right in the crotch. Now he is back on his feet and ready for a tirade. Meanwhile the other America is just writhing on the floor in agony. ]

Yer supposed to be on my side, ya arrogant wooly mammoth! Even if yer rootin' fer me ta fail th' least ya could do is pretend! Hate ta say, but North is right. You are a dick. And ya smell like one too!

[ At which point he stomps over, yanks the fucking cigarette of France's mouth, and sticks it between his own lips as he makes his way toward the kitchen. He will eat everything and then help with the dishes. ]

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NON!

I am not supposed to be on anyone's side. It's 2011 for me you ignorant bastard! Oh, oh, did you help me with my revolution? No! I was put to death and you are acting like a crazy bitch--again--I hope Angleterre choked on the cotton he was importing from you!

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You ain't gettin' none of my cotton neither! [ Wait. What. He actually has to pause for a second to consider what he just said.

...fuck double negatives AS LONG AS PEOPLE CAN UNDERSTAND HIM. ]

Yer revolution was creepy. I--America, Alfred, whatever--it ain't like we could just go up ta Robespierre an' be all, "Hey! ...Yer creepy!" I came ta visit ya. That's sayin' somethin', considerin' yer place looked like... well, what my place looks like now, but with more sharp blades an' less dysentery. But I wasn't ever hopin' ya'd fail an' go back ta absolute monarchy!

[ Snatching it back again!!! ]

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It was so much more complicated! You know that! And you know what? You really are an idiot! Why?! Because you would think I want America to be destroyed. Perhaps Angleterre did back then, I don't remember and I was kind of busy--

Amerique-- Alfred. I do not want you to fail. After the war you are in the midst of, you truly become the United States, and you become one of the most powerful countries in the world!

Merde---- I don't care what you call me, eh? But do not insult me by thinking I want you to disappear.

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Ya mean yer busy with Son of Shorty all up in yer business, so yer content ta sit on the sidelines goin' "Oh hon hon hon gimme yer cotton see-voot-play! Oh, ya want some help or recognition? NOPE."

An' I ain't Alfred!

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[ Oh well now he just gets quieter. It's kinda sad, actually. ]

I ain't Alfred. All anyone ever wants is him. Didn't think havin' a life'f my own would--

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[ And of course here to ruin this touching moment is the North, who is now inexplicably dressed as a viking and shouting something that was meant to be Norwegian but just comes out as gibberish with a terrible accent. Literally he looks like he jumped out of How to Train Your Dragon. And with his battle cry (hint: it's meant to be Norwegian for NIC CAGEEEEEEEEEEEE) he throws the South out the window.

AND THAT IS HOW THE UNION WON THE WAR, KIDS.

North will be taking that cigarette now, thank you very much. ]

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]

[ And by that I mean SPITTING BLOOD ON YOUR SHIRT AND PUNCHING RIGHT BACK. ]

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Putain! If you don't leave I will do the most disgusting thing I can think of!

Edited Date: 2011-11-26 04:44 am (UTC)

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[ That gives him a very brief moment of pause. ]

You're already the most disgusting thing I can think of. What can you do to make yourself even more revolting?

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How can I be disgusting?! Angleterre is far more disgusting than I am, especially in the 1860's for you! I am beautiful and magnifique! Angleterre is a pile of shit someone set on fire.

But okay! I did warn you.

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[ This is an awkwardly long kiss.

Probably because the North is frozen in horror. ]

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[ At which point South bursts in, about to launch himself at his double.

Then he sees what's happening. ]

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[ And goes right back out the door and quietly shuts it behind him. No way he's getting in on any of this shit. He should've just known when to call it quits, but now he's scarred for life at the image of the other America kissing a frog.

Thanks France.

Thanks. ]

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[ Annndddd we're back.

Northmerica punches France in the gut and proceeds to spit and lick various surfaces to get the taste of his mouth. ]

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I told you! Now I want to know how you know what both of these things taste like.

You don't taste like angels either. Gunpowder and how horse shit smells and shitty canned food.

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