"YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!"
The formally peaceful afternoon in the American colonies was shattered by the sudden exclamation. The door of a certain house burst open; scaring the few birds that had gathered on the front lawn and causing them to scatter. They watched from a safe distance as a certain little boy, followed closely by a certain older male, rushed out of the house.
"Stop this foolishness, and get back in the house!" England ordered as he chased after his fleeing brother.
"No!" America stubbornly shot back at him.
The boy was heading for the yard gate and sweet freedom, but England blocked his way at the last second. England made a grab at him. Young America narrowly managed to avoid capture as he ducked, turned, and raced away in the other direction. England cursed under his breath and chased after America again.
The brothers ran about in the yard for a time. America ran back and forth in circles and zig-zags—anything to try to shake off his pursuer. Unfortunately for the young boy, this was not so easy anymore. The two had been living together long enough for England to have grown used to all of America's tricks. England's stamina had also increased after living with the tiny ball of endless energy. The chase dragged on, but to America's great displeasure, England was able to stay close behind him the whole time.
"Do we have to go through this every time you need a bath?" England tried to reason with America.
"I DON'T need one!"
Of course, reason did not exist when the boy got like this.
"That can be debated!"
England dove for America and finally managed to grab him by the end of his long shirt. The boy tripped and fell to the ground. Immediately, America tried to pull himself away from his brother's grasp. England reached for the boy's hands when he started tugging on his shirt, but America was too quick. The boy let go of his shirt, twisted himself around, and made an attempt to crawl away. He managed to drag England with him a few feet.
Although catching the boy had become easier for England, the art of keeping him caught was becoming increasingly difficult. America was not so little anymore. England had started taking care of America when he was practically a toddler, but now the boy was about the size of a four or five-year-old. His long, dress-like shirts (which were normal for young boys to wear) that had once gone past his feet, now barley fell lower than his knees. Getting control of a normal boy his age would be hard enough, but America's ridiculous strength raised the level of difficulty high—even for a strong empire like England.
Somehow, England was able to grab a hold of one of the boy's kicking legs. With great difficulty, England managed to bring the struggling boy to a halt. America clawed at the ground as England began to slowly pull him backwards.
"Stop…struggling..," England grunted out as he brought America closer and closer. "This is for your own g—"
Without warning, the boy had twisted around and thrown a huge dirt clod right in England's face. England lost his grip on America and the boy was off again. England coughed the earth out of his mouth and tried to rub it out of his eyes. He heard America's retreating footsteps stop just long enough for the boy to add insult to injury.
"Ha! Why don't you go take a bath?"
England growled as he stood up and sprinted for the impudent, little whelp with all his might. America had a good head start this time. He was able to safely make it to the apple tree in the back yard. England called out to him as he ran and threatened America within an inch of his life if so much as touched the tree. America simply turned so that he was in full view of England, put a finger on the tree, and stuck his tongue out at England in reply. Following his blatant show of rebellion, he hastily leaped into the branches and shimmied up the tree like a monkey. By the time England reached the tree, America was far out of his reach.
"I've had quite enough of this!" England called up to his younger brother. "Come down from there this instant!"
"NEVER!" exclaimed a determined voice from above. "You'll have to KILL me first!"
England's eye twitched.
"That's taking things to the extreme, isn't it?" he said through gritted teeth. "Though at the moment, I have to admit that it does sound tempting…."
The two didn't usually behave like this. Normally, they got along famously. England adored his little brother, and America admired England more than any other adult he knew. America could be a bit of a handful at times, but what boy wasn't? England still saw him as a perfect, little angel. Yet, something strange always happened to his "little angel" on bath day. Another side of America would come out. He would become unreasonable, resistant, and violent. Whenever he got like that, he was almost impossible to control.
England had planned to catch him by surprise this time. Earlier that morning, the older brother had given the boy a brand new toy: a pop-gun. You couldn't have found a happier boy in the whole of the American colonies! America had wasted no time. He had immediately started playing with his new, favorite toy. Oh, the gun was so much fun to shoot off! It made the loudest, most exciting, popping noise that the boy had ever heard. America also loved watching the cork pop out. He had quickly made a game of stacking up his other toys and trying to knock them over with his "expert sharp-shooting skills."
While America was occupied with his gift, England had had the chance to slip away and prepare the bath. England could hear the "POP…POP…POP" of America's toy while he busied himself heating the water and filling the tub. England had felt proud of himself as he worked. His plan was going quite smoothly. Once he was done with the preparations, he had been planning to call the unsuspecting boy into the room and seize him before he could make a run for it.
Unfortunately, England had been too busy congratulating himself on his brilliant strategy to notice that the popping sounds had stopped. America had lost interest in his toy. England's plan still might have worked if only he had not forgotten to close the washroom door. America had peeked his little head into the room, just as England was pouring the last of the heated water into the tub. The curious boy had come looking for England once he had stopped playing long enough to see that his big brother was missing. Realization had hit the boy as soon as he saw what England had been doing. England had frozen in place when he had noticed the door open out of the corner of his eye.
England had glanced down at America.
America had looked up at England.
And the chase had begun.
"I won't say it again!" England called up once more. "For the last time, get out of that tree and return yourself to the house!"
Nothing.
In his anger, England's next threat seemed to fly out of him automatically.
"Don't make me come up there and retrieve you, myself!"
Movement was heard in the tree.
"You wouldn't dare!" America challenged.
An evil smile spread on England's face as he looked up into the tree.
"Oh, wouldn't I?"
England reached up and grabbed a branch. He was so mad, that the thought of climbing trees no longer seemed beneath him. He made his way through the tree with little trouble. America scrambled deeper in the tree when he saw England coming. England chuckled to himself when he looked up to see the retreating boy.
"Go on then," he muttered to himself in triumph. The boy could climb as high as he wanted. He had nowhere to go. "You're only delaying the inevitable! It's only a matter a time before—"
PLUNK!
"OW!"
Something struck England on the head. England rubbed the top of his head and looked up again.
"What the devil—AH?"
England had looked just in time to dodge another falling object. It was an apple. England had to hold up an arm up to protect himself as more apple bombs began to rain down on him.
"Take that!" America called as he threw the apples at England. "Go away!"
Of all the irritating things! Now the kid was pelting him with apples! What a waste of good fruit. America only succeeded in slowing England down. The older brother stubbornly fought his way through the onslaught of fruit. He couldn't really see where he was going because he had to keep his head down to avoid getting hit in the face.
Perhaps I should just burn down the tree with him in it!
England found himself thinking.
"I swear, you are going to get infinitely more than a bath when I get my hands on you!" England yelled.
"No way!" America proclaimed. "You can't catch me!"
"We'll see about—AH!"
England was getting cut off a lot today. This time he was interrupted by a sudden drop downwards. He had been reaching up to grab a branch to his side when he had lost his balance. He didn't fall far, because his chest slammed into a lower branch, forcing all the air out of his him. He wrapped his arms around the branch and awkwardly and hung on for a moment. He groaned in pain as he struggled to get his breath back. His ribs ached where the branch had hit them. He looked down and realized that he was dangling dangerously from one of the highest points of the tree. There were only a few flimsy branches under him. Not much to break his fall if he fell from that spot. He looked up and around him, but there weren't any strong branches that he could reach from his position. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on relaxing and breathing in. How had he managed to get himself into such a situation?
At least the apples had stopped. England decided that once he could breathe normally again, he might be able to pull himself up on the branch he was laying on. If he stood up on the branch, he knew he would be able to reach others. It was a good thing the branch had caught him. All of a sudden, England heard a crack. The branch he rested on descended slightly.
No.
England opened his eyes to see that his branch was breaking under his weight. Just what he needed. His eyes scanned his surroundings once more only to confirm what he had seen the first time. There was no visible way out.
Of course.
The branch dropped again. England tried in vain to reach for a branch above him. He didn't even come close. He heard another crack as the branch lowered him further.
CONFOUND IT ALL!
He held on tightly and tried to swing a leg up on the branch. If the branch could only hold him till he was able to stand, he would have a chance. But every time he moved the branch dipped lower. Just as he finally managed to get one leg up, the branch broke off completely.
I'm going to murder that boy.
England still did not have enough breath to yell. He just shut his eyes again as he plummeted to the hard ground. This was going to hurt.
Surprisingly, he only fell for less than a second. Something caught the back of his shirt, and he felt himself swing to the side. After softly swinging back and forth in the air a few times, England cautiously opened an eye and looked down. He was hanging in mid air. Above him, he could hear panting. England jerked his head up. America was right above and looking down on him with a worried expression. The boy was holding onto England shirt with one hand and hanging from a branch with the other. England stared up at him in shock for a moment. The boy must have swung out and caught England just in time. He had saved him. America's face relaxed a bit. He seemed relieved that England was alright.
The relief didn't last long. Before either could think of anything to say, England's shirt ripped.
"ENGLAND!" America shrieked.
It's Bath Day. :D Hope you liked part 1!
