That weird moment….
When England accidentally gets transformed into his old punk form.
The door suddenly slams open with a BAM!, destroying the peace. "Alricht! Whilk one o' ye wise guys daune it!?" In came a fuming, crimson-haired Scotsman. His tall figure blocked the doorway, and his clenched fists kept anyone in the garden from moving. Emerald eyes carefully scanned each guest like a hawk looks for prey; all just looked up from their porcelain tea cups.
A tan, dark-haired nation spoke up, "What happened, Scotland?" Philippines tilted her head cutely, a worried expression on her face. Did something happen in the house? Or worst yet, did something happen to England?! The petit nation's eyebrows furrowed deeper; she hugged the thin, metal serving plate a little tighter.
The enraged Scotland raised his voice in a dangerously high volume. "Whit happened? Whit happened?! I tell ye whit happened! The git inside is back tae his awfu punk self!" Only Wales and North Ireland stiffened at this news. Unfortunately, America and Canada don't wasn't as alarmed for they had forgotten the time when their father-figure acted as an obnoxious punk rocker to feel "youthful".
One of the spectacled, golden-haired twins, wearing the leather bomber jacket, asked loudly, "Dude! Calm down! What the hell are you going on about?!" America flinched when the Scotsman's icy glare quickly bore into him. His smile never faded, though, just became crooked. "Dude, calm down…"
Speaking up for his frightened brother, Canada, with his signature red hoodie and bouncy curl on his head, said more gently, "I think what Alfred's trying to say is, what do you mean Arthur's in his 'punk self'?" The fluffy, white stuffed polar bear came to life and started to squirm around. Kumajiro, as Canada named him, did not want to be here at the moment.
Squirming in their seats like Kumajiro, Wales and North Ireland swapped disturbed looks for a second. Finally, the England-look-alike – he was a tad paler in comparison and has shaggier hair – cleared his throat. "Um, you lads don't remember incident?" The twins shook their heads like little children. They looked up at their uncle with wide sky blue and lavender eyes, resembling curious children listening to their adult's tales and stories. Wales cleared his throat again and took a quick sip of tea. "Well, this was actually recent, over twelve years now." Another sip of earl grey. "So, England was in the delusion of having mid-life crisis." Wales emphasized the quotes around "mid-life crisis", his tone taking a sharp sarcastic tone. "Because of that, England ridiculously felt old. He was trying anything from society to make him feel young again, and that's when he found out about…," Wales took a deep sigh, "rock music." He murmured.
At last, the memories came flooding back in America's and Canada's head. They cringed and shivered at the memories of uproarious guitar playing, heavy makeup and piercings everywhere, distorted British accents, and various other unpleasant moments. Philippines, too, had cringed from the memories of cleaning the house while the punk kept trashing it every five seconds! Now that they had thought of the dreadful experiences, they can see why Scotland had been enraged.
Fortunately, however, the said nation had calmed down slightly; he was now leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and an irritated expression on his pale face. "So, whilk one of ye turn 'im back to the awfu punk?"
Just as we looked up, the back door slammed open on his face. The brusque devil himself came stomping in his old punk get-up: a thin white shirt with the British flag on it, blue jeans entirely shredded, and old electric guitar on his back. The only new thing was the black sunglasses he wore as a shield from the sun. "'Ello chaps! Good to see you today!" He strolled off coolly down the steps, grabbed on of the metal chairs, sat on the plush, and raised his feet on the small glass table. Everyone was silent and stared at him.
The poor door had been slammed, again, closed and a now enraged Scotsman stomped to his younger brother, rubbing his red nose. "Why ye git!" he said through clenched teeth. Scotland was right behind England and ready to pound him.
The blonde punk raised his head to the back; both green eyes quickly locked in an intense staring contest. "Why, 'ello brother," a playful smile grew on England's lips, "didn't see you there." That foxy British rocker accent irritating Scotland to no end.
A deadly smile replaced the redhead's menacing frown. "Like hell ye did." The other nations sweat dropped and shook for their lives. "Well, leuk, I'm here richt in front of ye." The smile grew until the ends reached from ear to ear.
England wasn't the least bit frightened. In fact, he felt invigorated and excited by the threatening tone. "I can see that now." His playful smile grew also.
Before the two can take things any further, Wales swiftly stood up put his arms between Scotland and England's faces. "That's enough ye two!" he shrilly shouted. Wales quickly put his arms to the side when the redhead stood up straight and looked at him. A yelp almost escaped his quivering lips.
America stood up also but kept his distance. "Okay, dudes, let's not destroy anyone here," he was sweating a bit. "Or Wales."
England burst out laughing. "And what are you going to do about it!? Hero?" The punk held up his hands to quote-un-quote the "hero" part. The bellicose glare instantly infuriated America, just as England had wanted. He looked around the nations, smiling insultingly at each of them, except for Philippines. "All of you here are pathetic! I wonder how all of you are bloody independent!" Again with the quote-un-quote hands. Then, he turned and perversely ogled at Philippines. "Except for her. I can understand why Spain wanted her back."
Philippines was shocked and indignant. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists.
Scotland, having had enough, stood up and grabbed his punk brother on the shirt. "Listen here, git. Show some respect!"
"And why should I?" England coaxed. Then, he just plain out insulted everyone in the garden, enraging everyone, even Canada (who had hockey rage).
"That's it!" Scotland lifted one of his fists and readily took the first shot at his asshole of a brother.
"STOP!" A female voice commanded. Everyone froze. Then she regained her composure, sighed, and smiled an unsettling smile on her "sweet" face. "Allistor, please put him down," she said in a sweet yet ominous tone. The said nation did as was told and let go of England. The punk landed on his feet, unbalanced, and coughed a little. He then looked at Philippines, raising one of his thick eyebrows, figuring out her game.
"I guess I should thank you, huh, Bayani," he smiled, still on the defensive. England knew of Philippines' capabilities, especially her dark side.
"Oh, it was nothing!" She kept on cheerfully smiling, but the punk wasn't buying the sickeningly sweet act. "Anyways, everyone should sit down now. Or else the tea will get cold!" Philippines turned around back to the cart that had all the baked goods and teapot on it. Everyone sat down, tense and afraid of what was going tot happen next. Checking if the tea was still warm, Philippines smiled delightedly and took the beautifully decorated teapot. "Okay!" she turned. "The tea is still warm so drink up!"
England was the first to have his teacup poured. He thanked the nation but in a childish manner. As soon as he though that she was serving the others, he took a sip of his favorite earl grey. Then CRACK! went the teapot; England went down with a THUD! The rest of the nations slowly looked up at the pissed female, still holding the handle and spout of the teapot. Then, they looked down at the unconscious Englishman; and up again at Philippines.
She sighed, relieved that the nightmare was over. Quickly shacking her hands to get rid of the sticky tea, Philippines went to get the broom on the second bin of the cart and swept up the cracked fragments of the teapot. "Allistor, Alfred, can you guys be such dears and take Arthur inside please." Without skipping a beat, both of the nations hoisted Britain up by the arms and legs and went inside. North Ireland, Wales, and Canada were still frozen from the shock and fear. "Can the rest of you find Arthur's spellbook please? I think it's in his study still." The trio rushed off inside, also. Finally left alone, she sighed after wiping her forehead with her arm. "How many times did I tell him that Redbull does NOT give you wings!"
Slowly coming to his senses, England groaned from the throbbing of his head. "OW!" he carefully touched his still-aching head, specifically the back. "What happened?"
"Ye casted the wrong spell, turning into an awfu punk," Scotland said calmly. He was sitting in a red chair next to the couch. Also, he was reading one of the books from the shelf that was on the left wall of the living room. England groaned again, blushing from embarrassment.
"How bad was I?"
"Eh, not to bad," replied North Ireland, sitting on the floor right in front of the flat screen. "There was no fight this time."
England sighed in relief, still gripping his onto his head. Suddenly, a warm, soft hand felt his forehead. He looked up alarmingly at Philippines.
She smiled, "It's okay." She extended the pain medication then the glass of water once he grabbed it. "I'm glad you're awake now." England noticed the guilty expression; he raised one of his eyebrows.
"Dude!" America shouted, increasing the pain. "I can't believe you thought Redbull actually gave you wings!" He burst out laughing, rolling on the floor with North Ireland.
Wales, who playing a game of chess with Canada at the right side of the room, tsked and laughed gently. "Oh broth, still not grown up yet."
England blushed furiously and returned to his cantankerous, crabby self. Everyone smiled when he started to yell, good to have the regular England back. They were all thinking, 'At least he didn't turn into a pirate!'
Sucky endings are sucky -_-"… Anyways, this is the sort of thing I'm gonna write when I get bored from my other stories. It'll be full of drabbles, short stories, and randomosity. I'm sorry if it's full of grammar and spelling errors, I'm too tired to fix them.
Also, Scotland's accent was just in general. I had to look it up in Wikipedia, so things might be incorrect. It'd be great if you guys can give me some constructive criticism and help on how to type out accents.
Each of these stories/drabbles (Will someone please tell me what the beep that means!) are mostly random and from ideas I've had before and now. Some may have a few more chapters. Also, sorry for the OOCness that I'm about to write. I use OC's/FC's, too. Each story is gonna start with "That moment…." I don't know. I can't seem to explain what this is going to be… -_-"
Anyways, I really hoped you all enjoyed it! Please review because it helps me a lot to continue on and stuff! Give some ideas, request a moment, correct me spelling/grammar/etc., just put anything on the review! *panting* Well, thanks for reading~!