The American Revolution
America gets into a good fighting stance in front of England, working hard at aiming his gun at a lethal spot on England's body as his opponent stands patiently watching him from a few feet away. Then,
America sprints forward to attack, but England was too quick for him. With a jerk of his own gun, England bars his opponent with so much force that the tip of America's gun smashes into the right lens of
his glasses and then flies over his shoulder, falling into the snow behind him. The two are now grim-faced as England takes perfect aim at America's head. It's all over now. Everything America has ever
worked for, everything he's ever lived for, even dreamed of, is now going to die along with him when England pulls the trigger. The half-broken glasses fall limply off of America's face and into the snow
between them. The woods are dead silent as England stands like a statue and America anticipates a bullet to the brain. Then, all of a sudden, England's gun crashes to the ground. "I can't do it."
England seethes, feeling like he's trying to swallow lead. He sniffles deeply and violently wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his military uniform. "YOU IDIOT! I CAN'T SHOOT YOU!" he screams, tears
flooding down his face. He crashes to his knees, unable to contain his emotions. America moves his hand to stroke England's face but England smacks it away. "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME? YOU
KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU, BASTARD!" America stays perfectly calm in the presence of the frazzled man. "England, this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. You've been so good to me. You've
taken care of me ever since I was a little baby. But… I don't think you'll ever understand how big the dreams are inside of my heart. This is the most painful as well as the most important thing I'll ever
have to do in my lifetime." England looks up at him, his wide green eyes sparkling with tears as he stares into America's deeply serious blue ones. "You were so big back then." America whispers to
himself as he stares back down at pathetic-looking England. He couldn't stand to be there a minute longer, he swiftly turns his back on England and starts walking away. The American Revolution ends
with England sobbing softly into his hands in front of the pair of broken glasses, as America walks solemnly into the dead of night.