Hello everyone! I have once again began to write.

You can thank my teacher for this story. We had an assignment to write about the worst day of our life when 7 of our rights were violated. So I decided to write about all the other countries making America's day difficult.

Enjoy.

Worst Day Ever

Alfred opened his eyes slowly when he registered the sound of his alarm clock blaring in his ears. His deep blue eyes stared at the neon green numbers for a good five minutes when he realized something was wrong. There seemed to be another source of heat coming from the place beside him on the king sized bed. Curiosity over coming his initial drowsiness, Alfred took a glance over his shoulder.

He was not expecting what he found; Francis, a French soldier, was nestled under the covers with a goofy grin spread over his face. Shooting up and off the bed at a world record speed, Alfred ripped the covers away from the sleeping form(relieved Francis was at least wearing boxers this time) and yelled at the top of his lungs "What in the name of Lady Liberty do you think you are doing in my bed, you pervert?!"

Yes, it was a well known fact that Francis was one of the most perverted of all the soldiers in the area... And the entire world.

The Frenchman didn't even stir. Alfred immediately went to plan B; grabbing the still ringing alarm clock and nailing Francis square between the eyes. In this act, Alfred effectively woke up the soldier, who was thrown off the side of the bed from impact, and silenced the annoying clock.

"Good morning, mon cher!" The Frenchman smiled as he climbed back onto the bed "I see you are in a good mood this lovely morning. " His cheeks were flushed as though he was drunk, which is a possibility.

The little vein in the American's head throbbed, "Don't start that with me! It is way too early for me to put up with you." Alfred's fists were clenched tight at his sides. "Why are you in my house anyway?"

Francis responded with a careless laugh and looked up at the fuming American, "I didn't feel like looking for a hotel last night after my friends and I were done at the bar, so I figured I would stay here instead." He explained in such a 'matter-of-fact' manor that for a moment it all made sense, but then the moment passed.

Alfred glared daggers at the other and growled, "And what makes you think it is okay to break into someone's house and sleep on their bed?…With the person still in it no less!?" He really didn't care; he just wanted the Frog man out of his house.

"Because I am a soldier in the army." He raised a finger and started twirling his long, golden hair. "I have a right to stay in any house I wish, I just happened to wander into your neighborhood." Francis winked.

Alfred took a long, deep breath while counting to ten. He was determined not to do anything too rash.

The next few seconds were a blur to Francis, who found himself dangling from a tree below the second story window.

"No fair, Mon Cher! You know I have bad coordination when I have my bedtime wine!"

"You're just lucky we aren't in a war right now or you wouldn't survive! " Alfred locked the window and went to take a relaxing shower. In the back of his mind, he knew it was going to be a long day.

Luckily, there seemed to be nothing to interfere with his soothing, steamy shower…that is until he stepped out a noticed something very small in the corner of the ceiling.

Alfred subconsciously wrapped his towel tighter around his waist.

"What is it now?" He cautiously approached the strange object for close examination. What he found was not to his liking in the least bit. Anger raged inside as he stared directly into the hidden camera that had been installed into his bathroom. "Oh, come on!" He shouted, throwing his arms above his head… losing his towel.

Alfred's cheeks flared as a blush dusted his pale cheeks. In one swift motion, he had the towel back and was out of the room. As concealed as he could possibly be, Alfred quickly dressed himself and began looking for more cameras.

An hour later, Alfred counted a total of five cameras; located in the bathroom, his bedroom, the kitchen, game room, and his living room. Annoyance and embarrassment were the only two emotions he seemed to be able to feel at the moment.

"This… is so not how I wanted my day to go…" Alfred sighed miserably. He looked at the microwave and saw he only had an hour before he needed to be at the world conference. "I bet I know who's responsible for the cameras." The American stared straight into the device stuck in the far corner of the kitchen. "You are so dead when I see you, Iggy!"

At the World Conference

Arthur, or as Alfred calls him 'Iggy', was a British member of the security board and an excellent spy.

Alfred burst through the door, much like he always did; however, today he was not wearing his trademark smile. His lips were pursed together tightly into a firm line. Taking a look at everyone who has already showed up, Alfred found Arthur in his normal seat at the end of the table sipping his tea.

Stomping over, our flustered friend glared down and waited for the Brit to notice him. It did not take long.

"Oh, hey fatso. What's seemed to have gotten your trousers in a knot?"

"You know very well what!" Arthur was not playing the dumb card with him. " I found the cameras!"

Arthur spit out a mouthful of tea and stared choking on those words. "I beg your pardon." he attempted to regain his composer.

Alfred crossed his arms without saying a word.

"Fine! Yes, I decided to install cameras to monitor your activities." Arthur hung his head in defeat. "How did you find them? I'm the world's greatest spy!"

As Alfred readied his witting comment, the meeting was called to order.

"We will be discussing this later" the American whispered to the other.

After what seemed like forever of listening to boring lectures and issues everyone was aware of, it was finally Alfred's turn to deliver his report. Except, they skipped right over him and went to the young man beside him.

"Hey! I thought it was my turn." He whined- I mean complained because men don't whine.

The chairman stared at him with a bored, glazed expression. "You never have anything productive to say, so from now on you can only listen." If you think the conversation ended there, you are very wrong.

"No fair! I have a lot to say about what's been going on! Dude, let me have my turn like everyone else!"

"No! We are all tired of your meaningless rambles." Another member of the conference spoke up.

"When did anyone decide this?" Alfred slammed his hands hard on the tabletop and stood from his seat.

"After the last meeting we all took a vote when you left."

Alfred stared at them dumbfounded. "So, what? That's it? I don't even get a chance to defend myself here?"

Everyone looked up at him and said in union "No."

Taken back be the harshness in their tone, the poor man exited the building.

"Fine, if that is the way they want to be! Now no one will get to hear my great plans." He called a cab to take him home.

"I feel so lame!" Alfred ran his fingers though his dirty blonde hair. "Maybe I should head over to the range and let out some of all this steam." He decide as he man his way to the gun case. Unfortunately, once he got to said case, it was empty.

"What in the…!?" There was a note laying at the bottom of the case. It read:

Dear idiot,

You don't need something as dangerous as this with your luck. I have taken the liberty of removing those things from your home and keeping you from killing yourself. Also, don't think you can just go out and get more. As a member of safety and security, I have made sure to inform the shops about my concerns.

- Your Big Brother, Arthur

The young man's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. "Dude!" He tore up the letter and stormed into his bedroom. Alfred collapsed onto the bed and buried his head in the pillows. "None of this is fair!" a muffled shout. "Who do they think they are?"

He turned his head to face the camera hanging from the ceiling. All at once his frustration boiled over and he ripped the device, and part of the drywall, from its place. It did make him feel better to finally let some of his anger go. Alfred did the same with every camera in the house.

"I feel much better now." For the first time that day he managed a smile.

"I think I will go for a walk." He grabbed his backpack full of comic books and made his way toward the park.

Of course something had to happen along the way. A couple police officers pulled up along side him and asked "Sir, what do you have in the bag?"

Alfred was in absolutely no mood for this.

"Just a bunch of comic books officer." The cops did not look pleased by his response.

"You mind opening it up for us?"

With a heavy sigh "Why would I need to do that?"

"We suspect you of dealing drugs and would like to take a look in that bag of yours." He replied.

So, Alfred opened the bag and emptied its contents. Naturally, there was no trace of drugs at all. The officers did not look convinced. "Sir, do you mind taking us back to your home for further investigation?"

"No way! I let you search me and you didn't find anything! What possibly makes you think I would take you all the way to my home and go through my things?"

After a long argument, Alfred found himself sitting in a holding cell waiting for Arthur to come pick him up. It did make him feel a little better to know each of the cops that brought him in were being reprimanded for forging a warrant and searching beyond their boundaries.

"Will this day ever die?" He muttered to himself.

The ride back was almost worse than having to sit in the jail cell. Arthur kept going on and on about how foolish Alfred was, and how humiliating it was for him to be called from work to pick up his little brother at the police station.

Alfred tried to tell his ranting brother that is was not his fault this time, but the Englishman would not give him any chance to explain what happened. Alfred eventually stopped listening all together to Arthur's words and watched the passing buildings through his window.

When the two pulled into Alfred's driveway, the Brit was still scolding the younger. Alfred wondered if Arthur practiced yelled at him; he was very good at making his brother's bad day that much harder.

What made it better was Arthur deciding to follow the American into his home. The moment they entered the kitchen, Arthur had a clear view of the broken equipment scattered over the tiles. He rushed up to the mess of metal and cradled it like a child.

"What did you do?!"

Alfred shrugged as though it was nothing serious, which to him that was the case, and sat down at the table.

"I didn't want people watching every move that I made..." he said in a bored tone. This day was taking its toll and the American just wanted it to be all over. His brother, however, seemed determined to drag out his suffering for as long as he could.

"That is no excuse! Do you have any idea how much this stuff costs?" Acid green eyes were fuming at his younger brother's childish behavior. When no response came, Arthur spoke up once more, "Well do you?"

Still no response came from Alfred.

"I am holding you responsible for paying the damages!" The elder tossed the useless shards on the ground and stormed out of the house.

"You are insane if you think I am paying for this!" Our victim shouted from his place at the table. "You should be paying me for the new drywall I'm going to need!" He heard the door slam shut with a force that rocked several pictures on the wall.

Alfred smacked his head hard against the table, hoping the impact would knock him out for a while. The only thing the action gave him was a splitting headache in a house with no medicine.

Groaning, he made his way into the living room and fell back onto the sofa. The remote sat on the table beside him, but he just wanted to enjoy the silence while he could. Looking at the ceiling with glazed eyes, Alfred reflected on everything that had happened that day.

"It cannot get any worse..." He frowned when the words escaped his mouth. If there was one thing history has taught him, it was that things could always be worse.

History won again several hours later. It was almost six o'clock when he got the phone call.

It was from his bank saying his brother had wiped his account to pay for the damage to his cameras and requested another large sum of money for the trouble.

Alfred didn't bother waiting to hear the rest of the message; he slammed the phone back onto the receiver. His eye caught the flashing light next to the missed call button. Sighing, he picked up the phone again and played back the waiting message.

"Let's just get this out of the way." He listened to the robotic voice on the other end:

"Good evening Mr. Jones,

This is the dean of admissions at the University of New York, where you are currently enrolled. I am sorry to report the government has issued a policy which restricts the school's ability to provide the major to which you have applied. You are encouraged to re-enroll for the spring semester under a different major. A list will be provided-"

Gently, this time, Alfred place the phone down and walked away quietly. He took deep, even breaths to calm himself down enough to reach his room without breaking anything.

Alfred changed out of his jeans and t-shirt, and into more comfortable shorts and a sweatshirt. The clock, which survived the impact with Francis' face informed the man it was just after six thirty.

Not caring about anything at the moment, he laid down in his bed and ignored the rumbling in his stomach. Food was the last thing he thought about after the day he just had. So, with an exhausted sigh, Alfred gratefully slipped into unconsciousness; putting everything that happened as far back into his mind as he possibly could.

Alright! I am starting to get back in the mood to write again. Lately, I have been doing a lot of reading.

Thank you to everyone who read this story and special mention to MarioPwnsYou4Life.

Hope to hear your reviews, good or bad, and to see you all in my upcoming fics!