Broken Pool Filter

For what was not the first time in his life, Alfred F. Jones was in a load of trouble. Two days ago an explosion had sent millions of barrels of oil into the Gulf of Mexico. The young nation soon found himself having to answer to a lot of people. His citizens were displeased and were ashamed of him. His newest leader was getting assigned the blame. And Aquaman was extremely pissed off. But none of that was close to the torture he had to face in a few minutes. The oil rig had spilled in the worst of places. The Gulf of Mexico. And that meant he would have to deal with Paco.

"What the hell, amigo?" The Mexican said as he climbed over the fence that separated their homes. The tanned young man was fuming. First that so called hero had challenged him with a wall and now this! Not to mention the whole Arizona law…That four eyed loser had insulted his honor ten times over. If this kept up he'd do more than steal his wallet. Alfred sighed. This was going to be a long day.

"Paco, it was an accident. I didn't mean for it to be this way. I am a hero. And a hero always apologizes for his mistakes!" He grinned and held up the peace sign. Usually this solved all his problems.

"Hero? More like zero! I swear if you don't clean this up I'll do the Mexican Hat Dance on your grave!" And with that threat in mind the young man climbed over the gate once more. Why he never walked around to the front Alfred will never know. And how he managed to do it one handed while holding a burrito he would never know. No sweat, this problem would be heroically fixed in no time.

Present Day

It was a hot day in Mexico. Paco was swimming contently in his pool. Two months ago an oil rig had exploded not too far from his home. No doubt that dimwitted America had fixed the problem. As he climbed out Paco noticed a sticky substance on the pool ladder. Once out he stared at his pool and then his skin. Oil. He was soaked in oil. America was a dead man. He ran to the phone and dialed his cousin.

"Rico! I need your help amigo. Someone crossed me! What do I do? "

"Easy. You bust his kneecaps, ese. Make 'em hurt real bad like. I gotta go now, my girl Haiti still sad 'bout dat earthquake. Call me if you don't land in jail aight?" With that the younger nation hung up. Talking to Rico always helped him know exactly what not to do. Still the Great Senor Mexico was not going to talk this lying down! His stomach growled. Or on an empty stomach. He ran to the kitchen to grab a batch of churros for the trip.

"This looks like a job for…Someone whose not a hero!" Alfred complained as he dug in the sand in search for more balls of oil. He hated BP. What did it stand for again? Best Petroleum? Arthur came to his mind for some strange reason.

"Oi! Chico!" Came a familiar cry from a certain Hispanic nation. Alfred looked up to see a strange sight. Paco in his swim trunks, covered in oil from head to toe all while munching on a churros. The fumes must have finally gotten to his brain..