Decided to continue Nordics' Survival Guide for Zombie Apocalypse XD
Well, I do need practice in writing England.
Without further ado!
England's Survival Guide for Zombie Apocalypse
Day one
Nothing happened. Living in a secluded, rainy island had its own perk, after all.
Day five
The international phone line died.
England squealed like a 15 year old girl meeting her idol (no more disturbances, finally!).
There was a lot of drinking and drunk stripping to be had that night.
Day six
The hangover was a killer.
Not to mention that it was the day when the undead arrived in his neighbourhood.
Bloody bollocks.
Day fourteen
He finished barricading his house.
Fence, check.
Windows, check.
Alarm system, check.
Front door, check.
Back door, check.
Water supply, check.
Fuel supply, check.
Generator, check.
Warding spells, check.
Herb patch and vegetable garden up and running, check.
It was quite a pain in the rear to get a couple of healthy chicken for his coop, but he had his eggs supply now.
He sipped his cup of tea serenely.
It was time to start on his new embroidery project. Or maybe continue writing his novel. Or maybe watch all of the episodes of Doctor Who over and over again for the rest of his life.
England fucking love zombie apocalypse.
Day forty
France came by today, groveling for help and apocalyptic-mind-blowing-hot-sex.
England threatened the frog with his cutlass and gave him none of the above.
Day sixty seven
He received news when Spain passed by, that the North American brothers were doing a fantastically damn good job defending themselves (Lots of booms! and pew pews! from America, while Canada was swinging his hockey stick like it was an Olympic match on steroid).
His motherly pride and joy swelled to epic proportion.
A batch of England's (in)famous scones was baked that afternoon, unexpectedly obliterating any innocent rotting zombies within a 2-kilometer radius with the stench alone.
Spain never, ever thought that he would ask for a bag of badly burnt scones from England in his immortal life (which England very gladly gave to him). He guessed that zombie apocalypse already turned the world upside down, anyway.
Day ninety
England opened his scone home factory.
He got drunk during the celebration and was tricked into having apocalyptic-mind-blowing-hot-sex with France.
All was well.
Day one hundred eighty seven
A longboat filled with 5 Vikings and 1 Sealand arrived on his shore.
England hadn't peed his trousers that badly ever since he was just a tiny runt.
Day one hundred eighty eight
After a night of partying (they used up his supplies! His booze! His food!), the Nordics decided to stay in his place (no, no, no, oh God, no) and asked the way to the nearest IKEA store in London.
England wondered if it was possible to relocate to North America in such a short notice.
He better start packing up.