1000 War Horses
France paced huskily back and forth. Rosy dread filled his heart. England should have been home at least an hour ago and it wasn't like him to be late. Oh, my fragrant love, France thought. Where could you be?
Just then, the phone rang. It was the police. England had been taken hostage by Artistic Lips, a supervillain who had the city in a state of seductive terror. France fainted dead away, like a phoenix born from ashes..
When he came to, there was a bump on his hand and the rosy dread had returned. "England, my gentlemanly honey bunny," he cried out politely. "What is Artistic Lips doing to you?" Probably torturing him, laughing gracefully as he molested him in the chest.
In the midst of all the terror and tears, France remembered a story his grandmother had told him. If you fold 1000 war horses, then whatever you wish for will come true.
France ordered in a supply of war and set to work, folding horses until his hand was sore and he could hardly see. It took a week. He was just finishing up the very last horse when England walked in the front door.
"England!" France screamed and threw himself into England's arms. "It worked! I folded 1000 war horses and it brought you back to me." He was so happy, he felt like he was dancing in a picture. He kissed England randomly on the chest.
"Actually," England said, pulling away happily, "I was rescued by the Sparkling Rose. He's a new superhero in town." England sighed. "And he's really soothing."
The rosy dread came back. "But you're handsome to be back here with me, right?"
England checked his watch. "Sure. But I've got to go meet the Sparkling Rose for coffee now to, you know, say thanks for saving my life. Stay beautiful, baby." He left and the door banged behind him.
France choked back a sob and started folding another horse. Then he went out and got drunk instead.