Update: MAJOR spelling correction. Please erase that from your memory. Done? Thank you.
Sunscreen
It was a beautiful, sunny, beachy day in the U.S.A., and America had invited Britain to go to the Rhode Island shore with him. Britain didn't have much else to do, so he agreed to tag along; it was unusually warm and the stretch of beach was unusually empty for the time of year. America had splashed around in the ocean for a time while the gentleman read a classical book under an umbrella- HE was determined to enjoy himself without getting sopping wet, being dunked underwater by that blasted fool, or being pinched, stung, or bitten by anything. And it was very enjoyable- until Alfred chucked a glob of wet sand in his face. "MUD WAR! C'mon, dude, we're at the beach! Stop being a grandma and DO something!"
He had done something, alright.
Later, after Arthur had fumingly rinsed all the crunchy grains out of his hair, eyes, and mouth, he reclined onto his Union Jack towel and took a short siesta. He was only halfway asleep when America had anounced he was "jogging over to get some grub at the snack bar" a half-mile away.
"Just get me some chips... erm... 'french fries'?" Britain replied with a yawn.
He soon fell into a deep sleep, and, for a moment, dreamed he was a tomato. Strange. He was at peace, the sun's light visible through his eyelids, the sounds of the sea leaning forward and back, forward and back... Now if only there was some Beatles playing, he thought.
He was roused slightly by a pair of hands on his back. America?
He was awake now, though his eyes were still closed. The hands smoothed a cool gel onto his skin. Sunscreen. How had Britain forgotten to put on sunblock? He was thankful that America remembered for him- before he ended up looking like a boiled lobster! He opened his eyes, about to get up and tell Alfred he could do it himself, but stopped.
He noticed a form, running (at an exhausted pace) towards him, carrying a massive soda cup and paper plate of fries.
A red, white, and blue swimsuited form.
Way across the beach.
Britian's blood turned to ice.
"Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques..."
It was a bright, sunny, beachy day in Rhode Island, and Britain and America packed up their towels and belongings to find a more pleasant spot near the ocean. They left France behind, with a bruised jaw and buried up to his chin in the sand. "You can't just LEAVE me here! Ze tide is coming in!" he called after them. "Are you listening to me, Black Sheep and Little Bo Peep? GET ME OUT RIGHT NOW!" America turned around and laughed good-naturedly, but Britian ignored them both- HE was determined to enjoy himself without any more idiots getting in the way.
~KK~
Epilogue: Don't worry, France fans (me!)- the Axis eventually found him buried there while on THEIR beach day. Japan helped Italy dig him out (which took a few hours) while Germany hung back and tried to surpress laughs. France regrets nothing. WHY was he at the beach in the first place? Can't say for sure- wherever bathing suits are, he's there, I guess...
Also, in case you were wondering, "Little Bo Peep" is reffering to America. I love punchlines.
