America whistled, throwing a cigarette box from one hand to another. Smiling, he carefully unfolded a slip a paper that was tucked inside.

You suck.

He laughed at the slip of paper and crumbled it up. His therapist had suggested that he write down negative thoughts about himself and put it a box or compartment so he could read them over when he felt like it. Grabbing another one, he finally picked one of a perfect square.

You should Die.

America laughed even harder. The nation who invented the swivel chair should die? I don't think so!

He tucked the cigarette pack inside his jacket and continue to whistle a tune while running down the stairs.

When he reached the bottom he was greeted by the smell of smoke.

Groaning, America walked over to the fire extinguisher and into the kitchen. Giving it all his will, he shot out the foam.

America opened his eyes and struggled not to laugh at the sight of England buried in foam.

"Trying to burn down the house again are we?" America mocked, failing to hold back his laugh.

"Shut it git."

"Ouch. Your words hurt me so~" America said dramatically clutching his chest, and placing his arm on his forehead.

England grabbed a burnt pan and started debating on weather or not he should smack America with this. It could either kill more brain cells or knock some sense into him. England shrugged. The american already was thick headed. No harm done.

"Heh...what are you doing?"

"Since I can't use a pan to cook might as well use it this way..."


America started running around the house jumping over a table. He soon tripped over the rug, practically smashed his lower jaw against the rug, and his cigarette box flew out of the pocket.

"You smoke?"

Wiping the blood from his mouth, America smiled.

"Nah dude. That's were I store mean notes about myself, wait a couple months or weeks, open them and start laughing."

England looked at the American in a look that said, 'Really?'

America laughed and grabbed the box, throwing it across the room.

This caused the little papers to fly out like doves.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if our all problems could just float away like that?" England whispered.

"To some maybe, but I don't think so. We need those problems. We can't have no problems."

"And why not?"

"Because their would be no solutions. One without the other is nothing. Nothing is a strong word. The rich need nothing, the poor have nothing, the blind see nothing and the dead know nothing."

England simply replied,

"But everyone still wants nothing."

This chapter was confusing. Anyways fans of the Fuck you and your cows, they deleted it. So should I repost it or send it by PM to the fans? So since I'm officially done with this here's some other stuff to check out if you like my 'style'.

Drables' For the Soul

To Love a Servant

why admin so mean...