Just so you know, a "fag" means a "cigarette" in this case. Happy New Year.

In the sweltering heat of the summer sun stood America and Sweden, attempting to salvage what was left of their quickly melting ice cream. Which was America's idea, of course because America, being America, was one of the few who would approach the menacing-faced Nordic with such a casual familiarity despite not being really close friends. It was just after another conference in London regarding oil prices and terrorism and the U.N. or the like, but as usual, nothing was accomplished.

"Hey man, what's your Minecraft IGN again? Mine is 'freedomjezus'. I've set up a new server with loads of alien fighting," America drawled, tossing the remains of ice-cream-coated, mangled paper that once held a waffle cone into a nearby rubbish bin.

"I am 'ikeageys666'," answered the stoic Scandinavian, face completely expressionless.

"Hey, let's go play Minecraft at Arthur's place. He's got an account too."

"Hmm. Sounds fine," grunted Sweden, his normally impassive countenance suddenly darkening in contrast to the playful glee that he felt inside. Secretly, he was very pleased because most people hardly ever willingly hung out with him aside from the other Nordics. And also because he likes Minecraft. A lot.

"Dude, your face is really scary, you know. I'm gonna call Arthur." America pulled out his iPhoneâ„¢ and shifted through his contacts until he found the Britbong's number. "Hey Dad!"

"Alfred?" asked a familiar voice from the other end of the line.

"Yup, it's me! Whatcha doing right now?"

"Nothing. Just smoking a fag," replied England.

Sweden raised an eyebrow; did he hear that right...?

"Whatever floats your boat," Alfred said, shrugging. "Got any free time?"

"I'm not doing anything the rest of this evening."

"Cool! Mind if and I come to your place and play Minecraft? I made a new sever," America asked excitedly.

Silence. Then, after what seemed to be an hour to America when it was really fourteen seconds, the Britbong replied.

"Fine," came the voice of the Englishman.

"Cool! See you in a couple minutes!" America quickly hung up. "Let's go, man!"

"What was he doing?" Sweden asked, seemingly nonchalant aside from the sweat drop forming on his eyebrow.

"I dunno, he said he was 'smoking a fag', whatever that means." The confirmation sent shivers down Sweden's spine.

The pair arrived at England's doorstep fifteen minutes later. Pulling the door open before America could demolish the furnished ebony with his rambunctious door-knocking, England ushered them in.

"I heard you were smoking a fag," said Sweden.

"I was. Do you want o-bloody hell!"

The thick-browed Brit was cut off as an imposing, scary homosexual man proceeded to beat the ever living shit out of him on account of his failure to be politically correct enough for far-right socialist Sweden.

"Dude, I think you killed my dad!"

End.