From 12/2010
This man is England. Yes, you read that right. He is a country. Rather, he is the personification of a country. But I digress. He is about to write the world's funniest joke.
England pauses and looks at what he has written. As he reads it over, a smile grows on his face, then a chuckle escapes his lips. Soon he is rolling on the ground, writhing with laughter, fighting desperately for air. He frantically makes a few symbols with his fingers before he passes out. Exhausted but, luckily, alive.
"Hey, jerk England!" A small boy with eyebrows to match the unconscious man's runs into the room. "England!" he shouts, rushing to the Englishman's side. After he determines that England is still very much alive, the boy, Sealand, begins to poke around.
The first thing he notices is the paper on the ground near the sleeping man. Sealand picks it up and reads it. Soon, hysterical laughter is coming from the boy's mouth as he desperately fights for air. Unfortunately, the joke is too funny for Sealand and he dies from laughter, becoming the first victim of the joke.
It was obvious that this joke was lethal. No one could read it and live...except for England...
When England awoke, the first thing he tried to do was wake up Sealand. He swiftly realized that the boy was dead and looked about for the cause. His eyes lighted upon the paper bearing the joke he had written. His gaze darted between the corpse and the paper. A terrifying expression, one which spoke of conquest and domination, grew on his face, replacing the look of sadness that had been there.
England set to work translating the joke into all different languages. As he finished each copy of the killer joke, he slipped it into an envelope and sent the copies off to other countries that weren't worthy of the time of the soon-to-be-ruler of the world.
There were three countries in particular that England was planning on killing in person, each for different reasons.
France was a natural first choice. The two had been at each other's throats for years, and England couldn't be sure that he'd won unless he saw his rival at his feet.
It had been hilariously simple. England had just knocked on France's door, the Frenchman had proclaimed something about his hovercraft being full of eels. England hadn't even blinked, then he recited the joke in French. France had snorted, then "ohonhonhon~" had been heard for five minutes until the frog finally croaked.
–
The second country England planned to kill in person was Russia. This was not because of any grudge he held against the large nation. It was just that Russia could be absolutely terrifying and England wanted to make sure that the scary country was dead.
When the Englishman had arrived at the Russian's house, he carefully stepped over Estonia's corpse. The Baltic nation was still clutching the paper with the joke on it, and his deceased expression was one of total happiness. England made his way through the house until he found Russia in the dinning room having a tea party with the bodies of Latvia and Lithuania, both of whom were wearing pink dresses over their regular clothes. The Englishman forced himself to ignore the look of delight on the Russian's face as he served tea to his corpse-dolls and read the Russian version of the joke. Russia looked at the island nation curiously then he began laughing. The icy nation laughed so hard that his heart fell right out of his chest. England waited until Russia too had died before he left.
As he made his way home, someone struck him from behind, rendering him unconscious before he could defend himself. The Englishman awoke tied to a chair in what appeared to be a basement. Due to the darkness he couldn't see his captor, but the distinctive laughter of "kesesesese~" told him at once who had imprisoned him.
"Prussia," he grunted. "What do you want?"
"I know vhat you've been doing England," Prussia dramatically announced. "Und I vant to know, vhat is the big yoke?"
The Englishman grimaced. "I can only give you name, rank, and why did the chicken cross the road?"
"That's not funny!" the former nation exclaimed as he slapped England.
"Prussia!" England exclaimed. "Your accent is gone!"
"Vhat are you talking about? Tell me the yoke or I will actually hurt you," the Prussian threatened.
"Never mind..." England muttered. "I can stand physical pain you know."
"Ah... You're no fun," Prussia grumbled. "Alright. Gilbird!" The fluffy yellow chick that seemed to live on Prussia's head flew towards the Englishman and began to tickle him.
"Oh no – anything but that. Please no," the Englishman begged through laughter as the bird swiftly attacked his ticklish spots. "Alright, I'll tell you."
Gilbird flew back to its perch on Prussia's head as the former nation pulled out a pen and paper.
The island nation recited the German version of the joke and waited expectantly.
A squeak came from Gilbird and then the fluff-ball fell to the ground. Prussia glared at England.
"Ach! Zat is not funny!" he complained. Then snorts of laughter began to escape the Prussian's lips as he slowly fell to the floor and died.
"What's going on down here?" Germany demanded as he descended into the basement.
England quickly responded with the German version of the joke.
Germany froze. The stoic man pressed his lips together into a firm line. There was no outward sign that he had heard the joke or that he was about to die from laughter.
Then a pained look grew across the man's face and his eyes squeezed shut. His face grew red due to repressed laughter and his whole body started to shake. Suddenly, without any warning at all, Germany exploded.
England jerked back as the German's guts flew towards him, forgetting that he was restrained. The chair he was tied to fell to the floor, dragging England with it. The island nation grumbled about getting rope burn as he undid his restraints.
–
The third nation England wanted to kill in person was America. Ever since the ungrateful brat had left him brokenhearted on that rainy day, he had wanted his revenge. It didn't help that the stupid git was completely oblivious to his feelings.
So it was with purpose that England knocked on America's door, ready to defeat the only man who'd ever broken his heart once and for all.
America cheerfully answered the door, rambling about how Tony and his friends were going to win Wimbledon.
The Englishman took a shaky breath and told the English version of the joke.
The American merely blinked.
"I don't get it," he replied.
"What?" England asked, dumbfounded.
"I don't get it. Your humor has always been dry and crumbly... It's just...not funny."
"What do you mean, you don't get it?!" the Englishman exclaimed. "I used that on France and Russia and Prussia without any problems. I killed Germany with that joke! Germany doesn't even have a sense of humor!"
"You killed Russia?" the American replied incredulously. "Dude! Even a hero like me can't take him down. How did you manage it, and with such an un-funny joke?"
England glared at America. "The real question is: why aren't you dead? The joke worked on everyone else. Why doesn't it work on you?"
America smiled. "Because I'm awesome."
"Well, we are the only two countries left because everyone else should be dead by now. And I suppose that as the new ruler of the world, I shall need a consort..." the Englishman conceded, eyeing the younger man's fit figure.
"Oh no, England," America said mischievously, his grin becoming more and more wolfish. "If you sleep with me once, I will rock your world so hard that you will become an adorable super moe dere dere blob of an uke."
"What?" England questioned, blanching.
"Yes," the American continued huskily, pulling the island nation into his embrace. "You will become completely submissive to my will and you will never top again."
–
England shot up screaming into consciousness. The television in the background was showing men learning how to defend themselves against fresh fruit. The Englishman and his American lover were sprawled across America's couch.
"Thank god," England muttered. "It was just a dream..." He silently promised himself that he would never fall asleep watching a Flying Circus marathon again. This dream rivaled the one where he was one of the Montgolfier brothers in terms of oddness.
And if America wondered why England insisted on topping for the next month, he never mentioned it.
This is a very old story, my writing has greatly improved since. I'm uploading it here for archival purposes. Please keep that in mind before offering constructive criticism.