It began on a rainy day in the Heart of England. London, The G8 had just wrapped up a meeting and was on its lunch break. And here's where it all began…
"Peter." Arthur replied. "What do you want, lad?" Peter looked up, and with a blank face he spoke- "Big Brother, I wish to dine on the unborn chicken fetus." The rest of the group stared with shock. "England, what is wrong with your brother?" Francis whispered scared for his life. Arthur sighed and shook his head and looked up at the terrorized waitress. "Eggs. He wants the eggs…." Peter then spoke up. "Yes please. Only Eggs can sustain me. "Arthur then proceed to smash his face on the table. "God if you exist…. Kill me now." "AHHAHAHH-"Was the last thing that rang out through the quiet diner before a blond American smashed through the window. And landed right on the table. Right on top Peter's eggs. Alfred lifted his head up and looked around, "Oh, HEY IGGY!" Everyone at the table groaned, But Arthur and Peter. Arthur was quite sure he has but long lost his Soul. Nothing could make this worse, his insides felt empty as he slowly starts to smile and quietly laugh. He hunched over and covered his face with his hands, and shakily got up and left the table. Peter then slowly turned his head at America, his neck making a sickening snap. The 12- year old, actually 49 –year old in micro-countries years… ran his tongue up his face, licking him. "You have yolk on your face, this will work." Alfred screamed as everyone ran from the diner table. Either ran away out in the streets on London or seeked refuge in the kitchen. Alfred either way was left on the table. Where a Demon spawn – seeking eggs child was stalking him. The American was sure that the other would either rip his nose off or would eat his ear, although he was betting on it being the ear.
Inside the bathroom England was hiding not even hearing the screams of his other fellow countries being terrorized. He sighed and took a deep-breath; all this paperwork and loud noises were stressing him out past his limits. And for the sake of his sanity he REALLY hoped that the limit weren't already hit yet. He slowly stood up and left the restroom, but as soon as he opened the doors… He immediately regretted it. "What. The. Bloody. Hell." That was it. Arthur had hit his limit, at this point he didn't care if someone got hurt and was about to murder someone anyway. "YOU." He yelled at Francis. "GET OUT FROM UNDER THE DAMN COUNTER." He bent down and grabbed the French nation's foot and dragged him out as the other screamed in French. "MON CHER, ANGLETERRE. YOU' RE PETITE BROTHER IS A BEAST. 'E'S TRYING TO EAT AMERICA." The Brit froze and then scowled, for good measure and the fact that he was beyond pissed, he punched Francis in the face and stormed out to the main dining room. Where Alfred was trying his damn hardest not to hit the child that was- you guessed it. Biting his ear and licking the yolks off of the cartage. "PETER KIRKLAND." He marched over to the table. "IF YOU DON'T STOP THIS FOOLISHNESS I WILL BEND YOU OVER MY KNEE AND SPANK YOU AND TELL MAMA FINLAND HOW YOU ARE BEHAVING. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" He yelled at the top of his lungs scaring everyone in the diner. Even Russia who was standing in the corner the whole time, smiling and KOL'ing at the chaos until that moment of course. Peter stopped and looked down at his Brother, his tear ducts filling up and spilling down his face. "I JUST WANTED EGGS. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR JERK-FACE!?" He yelled wiping his face. "Little dude, I could have made you Eggs…" Alfred said behind him patting his head. Arthur then made the most disgusted, most signature British face he could muster. "Are you… FUCKING PISSING me right now? Eggs? You did this… All for Eggs?!" He throws his hands up in defeat. "I'll cook your bloody Eggs then." But before he took a step towards the kitchen everyone started to scream even worse than before Sealand and his Egg crisis. Francis woke up as soon as he 'C O O K.' "NON. ANGLETERRE IS NOT ALLOWED TO COOK. NOT EVEN EGGS." He gets up and points his fingers at the British Nation. "DOESN'T ANYONE REMEMBER THE FIRE OF LONDON- WHO DO YOU THINK STARTED THAT?! 'E WILL KILL US ALL!" Arthur then shot back. "THEN WHO'S GOING TO COOK THE LAD'S DAMN EGGS, FROG?" A waiter in black then shoved everyone out of his way. "I will." He walked back into the kitchen. "Um…" said France. "I was going to say I could have cooked…" He quickly whispered and added in, "I actually know how to…" Arthur rolls his eyes and pulled out the chair and sat by the table. "Your eggs are coming. Now can you get off the table and stop acting like a beast." He holds his hand out. "I'm sorry I yelled but you lot are stressing me out." He rub the bridge of his nose. Peter sighed and got down. "I'm sorry too… I haven't eaten in a couple of days… I forgot." The Brit frowned and pulled him in a hug. "You're eggs are almost ready. Sit down now." "Hey Artie!" Alfred piped up. "Can you help me down!" he teased. Arthur yanked him down with a YEET- "You sit down too Idiot." The waiter walked back out and gave Peter his Egg. And he ate it in delight.
The day was saved- "BECAUSE I'M THE HERO! ;D " Alfred yelled and wooped.
"SHUT UP AMERICA!" Everyone yelled.
THE END.