In that fantastic land where countries are people, all of the G8 (+Romano & Canada) are giving tours of their respective homelands. Except, America is rushing everyone every which way because he only has a week. McDonald's knows a week isn't even close to enough time to show off his awesome. Nowhere near close. Seriously, dude, it's the effin' Land of the Free and Home of the Brave! But, anyways.
America's super-awesome plane just touched down at his super-cool Miami house.
"Okay bros, I know it's 5:30 am but the place opens at 8 and we gotta get good parking so at exactly 7 on the dot I'm leaving and if you're not dressed and ready I'm dragging however much of you that is ready out the door got it?"
Still sleepy-ish, everyone nodded.
5:32 am
China, Russia and France hurriedly hog the three bathrooms in the center of the house.
6:00 am
"What the bloody hell are you doing in there?" England yells, banging on the doors.
Well, England, I'm glad you asked…
In the room on the right, France, wrapped in a towel, sits on the sink counter, brushing his golden hay-colored hair while steam mists around him. "Un…dieux…trios…" he counts. After all, hair that voluptuous doesn't just happen.
In the bathroom dead center, Russia, like France, is also surrounded by steam and wearing a towel. Oddly enough, though, he still has his scarf on (WTF? Did he shower with that thing on?). However, unlike France, Russia is not worried about his hair just yet, which is clinging wetly to his head. Instead, the Eurasian nation is bent over his suitcase. Frowning, he picks out a shirt and inspects it. "No," he says, tossing it over his shoulder to join the other ones already in a growing pile on the floor, and picks up another to examine with an even sharper eye. "No," he says again, and begins the cycle once more.
And in the bathroom to the far left, there is neither steam nor a towel-clad nation. There is, however, China who is soaking in a warm bath with a smile that suggests he is amused with the British man outside his door hurling insults at him.
6:37
France and Russia emerge from their bathrooms simultaneously; looking refreshed and oblivious to England's fierce yelling. Germany wastes no time in pushing both Italies into the now-empty bathrooms before the Englishman can shut up and get into one. Frustrated, England flails his arms, accidentally hitting the Canadian behind him in the face.
"My word, are you okay?" England asks worriedly. "I didn't mean to- Hey! Your hair is wet!"
"I took a shower," Canada says, rubbing his forehead.
"What? Where?"
"America's private bathroom. But you can't use it; Japan's in there."
"Curses!" the Englishman spits out, and the Canadian takes a step back.
6:48
Slowly, the door to the far left opens, and China steps out.
"Finally!" England cries, leaping up to rush in.
"Aiyah! I forgot something, aru!" China exclaims, and slams the door in England's face.
England is sure he saw a smile on the Asian man's face.
The two Italies step out of their bathrooms, and Germany and England race into them.
6:59
America materializes, and China and Germany walk out. England, however, is nowhere near ready.
7:00
"Alright, everybody it's 7 o'clock on the dot to the parking lot everyone let's go out out out to the front get on the bus let's move- Hey! Where's England?"
The other countries, dazed at the sheer speed with which the words have flown from America's mouth (doesn't that kid ever breathe?), point at the bathroom in the center, from where England has yet to emerge.
America pounds on the door. "Hey England bro it's time to leave we're behind schedule open up or I will!"
Before the Britton could make his choice, America made it for him, pulling off the door handle and yanking England, shirtless, wet-haired, attempting to pull his pants on while clutching his shirt and holding his toothbrush in his mouth, down the hall, all the while chattering at the others, who were just staring, to get a move on.
Japan took a picture.