AN: If you're wondering what exactly prompted this sad sick tale, you should blame Jackson Hanning and his story, Changed. For further understanding, you should read his fanfic and my reviews. You would know that he was warned and that he wrote exactly what he should not have written. And when I say this is a crack tragedy, I really mean it. Various things are going to die, and only I know what and why. Jackson probably knows who is going to die. He'll just have to look at the things closest to his heart.

He sat the plate down in front of me. Angry disappointment flooded through me. This is not what I had asked for lunch.

"I thought I said I wanted lobster with cream sauce," I said deliberately.

"One," the man with the big fuzzy eyebrows said, "it's not like I can't make it, I just don't want to. Two, I don't have time to make it. Three, shut up and eat your fishsticks. I am too busy to deal with your complaining. I still have to find someone to babysit you."

"I don't need anyone to babysit. I'm a big strong country."

"Sealand, how many times do I have to tell you, you are not a country. You never have and you probably never will. I don't trust you to just sit around here while I go visit America. Who knows what sort of mischief you'll get up to. Now eat!" England said. He was running every which way around his house.

"I don't want to. One of them might be your eyebrows." I picked up two of them and brought them to my face for emphasis. I couldn't understand why England would leave me all alone. It was like he loved America more than me. Even I knew you weren't supposed to show favoritism towards brothers.

England came close and pointed his finger at me. His gigantic eyebrows knitted together. "Your eyebrows are the same size as mine. And they are not big." He hated it when I commented on his eyebrows. "Now stop playing with your food, and eat already!"

When he left, I dropped the fishsticks onto the plate. They made a loud clunking noise. They had been cold to the touch. There was no way I was going to eat this crap. Was England so big of an idiot that he didn't realize that you have to COOK frozen fishsticks?

I was furious. I hated fishsticks, and I hated England. And this annoying bird that landed near my plate. His loud happy chirping was juxtaposing my increasingly bad mood.

I clenched the fishstick and brought it down on his yellow fluffy body. The blow hadn't killed him. Rather, it kept him paralyzed. He chirped out in distress, begging for help from anybody.

I smashed the fishstick on him again and again, bludgeoning the life out of the helpless bird. The fishstick finally broke apart, exposing white bits of fish flesh stained red by little birdie blood.

The red and yellow did not mix. No orange could be seen in sight. The small fluffy yellow feathers that came loose were matted down to the table by blood. Bright red and other darker colors oozed out of the dead bird and stained the white tablecloth. I was surprised what little blood the bird actually had. I placed the sad excuse for a fishstick beside the sad excuse for a bird.

"Sealand, I hope you...what the bloody hell?! What happened!?"

England rushed to the bird's side. His hands hovered helplessly above the bird, knowing that there was nothing he could do to bring the poor creature back to life.

"It was horrible, England!" A few theatrical tears came to my eyes. "I gave a bite of my fishsticks to the widdle bird, and he basically exploded right in front of me! That could have been me! I think your cooking somehow managed to get worse."

England was stunned. "How...I...I didn't even do anything! Oh hell, Prussia's going to kill me when he finds out."

England pulled out a small envelope that had been caked and hidden in the blood. He disdainfully opened it and read the contents.

"Great, and it looks like he can't babysit you either."

"Good. I don't want to be watched by a wannabe country anyway," I said.

"That's rich coming from you. Wait, it looks like Prussia knows someone who might be able to look after you." England read a bit further. He grabbed my arm and dragged me off the chair.

"Ow! England, you big meanie!"

"Come along, Sealand. I've got to get you all the way to Finland's, and my workload has just increased."

We left his house just like that. Gilbird's blood left soaking through the thin tablecloth and staining the wood table.