Rated for strong language and over-description.

After having spent a long day working at his government office, and an even longer evening cradling a drink at his favorite pub, England was finally returning home. In his tired state, he failed to notice that the front door of his small London flat had been kicked in and clumsily put back in place. He did, however, notice the six figures standing in the middle of his living room. France, Romania, Norway, Japan, America, and Canada were lined up under a large banner reading "INTERVENTION" in giant block letters.

England blinked his eyes, taking it all in. "I know what you're all thinking," he began slowly, "I can stop drinking anytime I want."

"England, no," France replied with a shake of his head, "This isn't about your rampant alcoholism. It's about your teeth."

"Oh, bloody hell," England groaned, "Not this again. How many times do I have to tell you, there is nothing wrong with my teeth!"

"Have you looked in a mirror?" America loudly interjected, "Your mouth looks like a rusty chainsaw."

"I happen to think that slightly crooked teeth add a bit of character," England snapped.

"If crooked teeth add character," Canada quietly responded, "Then your mouth is a fucking cast lineup." The North Americans snickered and high-fived each other.

"You know, insults are probably not the best way to convince someone to do what you want."

France shot a glare at the brothers before turning back to England, "Please, mon ami, it's for your own good."

"For my own good?" England scoffed, "Please, you're just angry because I didn't want to try your stupid dental implants."

"England, you are literally the only nation who hasn't gotten your teeth fixed," Norway stated evenly, "We set up this intervention because the rest of us can't stand looking at them."

"What's the big deal? For the longest time, all of you had the same teeth as me. Why is it suddenly an issue?"

Romania stepped forward and placed a hand on England's shoulder. "Remember in the 1300's when we got hit with the bubonic plague?" The rest of the Europeans nodded in affirmation.

"Remember how there were people dying left and right and the streets piled up with bodies and it always smelled like rotting corpses?" England nodded once again, unsure of where this was going.

"Remember how we got used to the smell, because it was all we experienced for years on end, and then we visited Poland, and we got to see what it was like not living in a cesspool of death all of the time?" England just stared at him, a small frown forming on his face.

"But then we had to go back home, and the smell was so much worse because we forgot about it when we were gone."

"Is this supposed to be a metaphor for something?" England asked impatiently.

"Ah, yes," Romania answered, "You got me. It is a metaphor. You see, when the rest of us got our teeth fixed, we were moving to Poland, one by one. But you never got your teeth fixed, so you represent the rest of Europe. Now, when the rest of us interact with you, it's like having to go back home and remembering what a horrible, smelly wasteland we live in. It's your mouth. Your mouth is the smelly wasteland."

"Yeah," England grunted, "I think I got that."

"I mean seriously, dude," America pleaded, "Do you even brush your teeth?"

"Ha," England laughed with a wicked smirk, "I got you there. I happen to brush my teeth every day."

"With what?" America asked, "Motor oil?"

"Go see for yourself if it concerns you so much," England pointed down a hallway, "The bathroom is the second door on the right." As America disappeared down the hallway, the rest of the nations turned back to England.

"When was the last time you went to see a dentist?" Canada asked quietly.

"Mm," he thought for a moment, "That's a trick question."

"What? No, it's… How it that a trick question?"

"The last time I went to the dentist for my teeth or to get my hair cut?"

"To get your hair cut?" Canada repeated as he placed his head in his hands, "Jesus Christ."

"England," America called from the bathroom, "What the hell is this?" He returned to the living room holding a small jar of black paste.

"It's my own creation," England answered with a proud puff of his chest, "My stores don't sell it anymore, so I have to make it myself. It's a mixture of ground crystal, rock salt, marble, glass, snail shells, and white wine."

"And I thought your food was the worst thing you put in your mouth," France gagged, "Why on earth would you think that would clean your teeth."

"Clean my teeth? Goodness, no. That's not what my toothpaste is for. It's meant to blacken my teeth."

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" Norway asked incredulously.

"Isn't it obvious? So people will know that I can afford to buy all of the sweets I want."

The nations stared at him in silence for a moment until Canada turned to whisper something to America.

"Oh, right!" he said before pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket, "Australia couldn't make it, so he wrote this letter for us to read to you." America unfolded the paper and cleared his throat.

"Dear England, I'm sorry I couldn't make it to your intervention. You should know that it was not my decision, but rather my prime minister's. You see, right now we are preparing to host the Summer Olympics, and as such, we are taking extra precaution in regards to our national quarantine. Now, I don't know if you've noticed, mate, but when you start spitting the dummy, you actually spit. Literally. It gets all over the place. And I mean this in the absolute best of ways, but we're pretty sure that your mouth is septic, like a Komodo Dragon. I really wish I could be there, and you should know that I am definitely there in spirit, but I just can't risk bringing home some deadly bacteria right before the Olympics. You understand. Your mate, Aussie. P.S., New Zealand is also in support, but he decided not to go because he says that your breath smells like a sheep's arse and he already deals enough with that at home."

England stood before the nations, his arms crossed and his mouth in a straight line. "So," he began, his voice dangerously quiet, "Is that really how it is?"

"Mr. England," Japan spoke up for the first time, "If I may say something."

England flipped his hands in the air in a gesture of indifference.

"I'm not sure if you know this," he began quietly, "But I used to do a lot of crystal meth, and I mean a lot."

"Man," America cried out, "I remember that! That shit was fucked up."

"Yes," Japan agreed, "It was. We took it during World War 2 so we could work for long periods of time without eating or sleeping, and then after the war ended, we took it so we would have the energy to rebuild our country. I did so much meth, that if I wasn't a country, I would have died at least seven times." America vigorously nodded his head in agreement.

"Japan," England interrupted, clearly uncomfortable, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Mr. England, when I did that massive amount of meth, I met a massive amount of meth heads, most of them with awful, rotting teeth, because that's what happens when you do meth. But out of all of those meth heads, not a single one had teeth as disgusting as yours."

"Wow," England replied bitterly, "That's pretty harsh. And rather hypocritical of you all for taking the piss out of me as if none of you have ever done anything disgusting."

"England," Norway interjected firmly, "When Sweden, Denmark, and I lived together as Vikings, we stored our food in barrels of human urine because it kept it fresh for longer. When it was time to eat, we just rinsed it off and cooked it."

"Oh my god," England cried out, "Is that even sanitary?"

"I don't know," Norway replied with a shrug, "But that still wasn't as disgusting as your teeth." The other nations murmured in agreement. America stepped forward.

"When we were exploring the western territories, all we had to eat were the animals we caught along the way. As it turns out, you can't live on an all-meat diet without fucking up your guts, so we had to take these crazy laxatives called thunderclappers. They were, like, sixty percent mercury chloride."

"And you all survived that?" England asked, his hands pushing through his hair. The other nations grimaced at the thought of it.

"The thunderclappers pushed everything out so fast, the toxins didn't have time to kill them." America answered with a chuckle, "There was so much mercury laced shit everywhere, they can still find the trail we took. I lived like that for over two years, but it still wasn't as disgusting as your teeth." Once again, the other nations agreed.

"Okay, now you're just being mean."

"I used to eat meals with Vlad the Impaler while he was impaling," Romania interjected animatedly, "He liked to have his victims arranged in fancy little patterns around his dinner table. Tell me England, do you what human flesh sounds like when it is ripping?"

"No, and you don't need to…"

"It sounds like Velcro," he shouted, his hands flying around dramatically, "Like that heavy duty Velcro you use for big projects around the house."

"Good lord, that's horrendous!"

"Yes, it was very disgusting, but it still wasn't as disgusting as your teeth."

"Come on," England shouted angrily. The nations watched in terror as a drop of spit flew from his mouth and dropped on the floor where it began sizzling slightly. "You have to be exaggerating! Are my teeth really that bad?"

"Oui."

"Ja."

"Hai."

"Totally."

"Da."

"Yep."

France stepped up to the disgruntled nation and placed a tender arm around his shoulders. "England please," he pleaded.

"Why do you even care, France? If my teeth so awful, isn't that a good thing for you? Seeing as how most people would be thrilled that their longtime rival is suffering as much as you seem to believe."

"I used to laugh about it," France admitted, "I saw it as some huge, proverbial battle between the beautiful good and the substantially less beautiful evil, but now I am simply an extremely handsome man who occasionally fights with a rotten-mouthed troll, and that's more than a little pathetic. Plus, as we've said before, the rest of us are suffering quite a bit every time you open that horrible trap of yours. People should at least be able to hear you speak before being repulsed." France removed his arm and turned around to look England straight in the eye. "Now, I am standing in front of you, and I'll kneel if I have to, but I am standing in front of you begging on behalf of every man, woman, child, and nation on this planet, for god's sake, go to the fucking dentist."

England looked around the room at the solemn faces of some of his closest friends and family and France. "Fine," he said with a defeated sigh, "I'll do it."

And so, after a bit of time and many, many dental procedures, England's mouth was made as good as new, with all of his rotten teeth pulled out and replaced with clean, white implants just in time for Australia's Olympics, which he, along with rest of the no longer permanently revolted nations attended joyfully. In time, he was even able to boast about having some of the best dental health in the world. Meanwhile, the rest of the nations who attended the intervention decided not to discuss the less than attractive facts about themselves, after agreeing that some things were best left in the past.

The end.

So obviously, this chapter was meant to poke fun at the completely awful state of dentistry throughout history. I used England simply because of the stereotype that the English have crappy teeth, which, as I pointed out at the end, is just not true.

Now to explain a few things.

Poland was relatively untouched by the Bubonic Plague, unlike the rest of Europe thanks to isolation.

In the middle ages, barbers acted as doctors, dentists, and surgeons all in one.

In Elizabethan times, it was popular to blacken your teeth to look rich.

Australia hosted the summer Olympics in 1956, which is around when this is set.

Crystal meth was invented in Japan, and used extensively by the Japanese for several decades. Don't do drugs, kids.

The trip America is talking about is the Lewis and Clarke expedition.

The Velcro thing I learned from a reputable source. Don't worry, though, no one was hurt permanently.

Now, to clarify a bit, this fic will be a collection of one-shots, mostly making fun of certain historical incidents. Really, the idea behind it is asking "How would the characters of Hetalia react to these real-life events." I'm open to suggestions and requests, but remember that this fic is meant to be humorous. But of course, as you can probably tell, I'm also into black comedy. Really, my rule of thumb is it's alright to laugh at if everyone directly affected by it is dead. Also, I promise that most chapters will not be as gross as this one.