Almost forgot ... thank you to everyone who reviewed/ favorited so far! Here's the second half. Same warnings from before apply!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

X

All I had to do was conjure up England's ghost and ASK! I got two things to ask him. One: what's taking you so long to come back to life? And B: can you tell France and everyone else I didn't MURDER you? ! Also maybe a third question: can you go up and haunt Canada? LOL that would be funny. He'd be like all like 'Who moved my pancakes? ! They were right here!' or whatever the fuck he says.

Now there's a few ways to contact ghosts. The easiest way I already said: get haunted. But that's not really in your control. The ghosts pick YOU, not the other way around. And yeah you might get a nice *COUGHpussyCOUGH* ghost like Casper. Or you might end up with douche bag ghosts like in 'Paranormal Activity' and no one wants to end up like in 'Paranormal Activity' (that'd be a very boring life with just a little scariness at the very end of it.) Obviously England has chosen not to haunt me on his own, so that is OUT.

Another way to contract ghosts is through a PSYCHIC. Like MISS CLEO. Does anyone remember Miss Cleo? She was a psychic back in the late 90's / early 2000's (GOOD YEARS) and I called her number on the commercial. I said 'Miss Cleo, read my palms and tell me my future! Who wins on Survivor?' (Survivor was cool back then) and she was like 'I read cards, bitch!' and now that I think about it I dunno if she talked to ghosts either. But that shit costs money anyway, and Obama is already mad at me for spending too much money on Domino's new pan pizza every day, so that was out.

Another way to talk to ghosts is to go in your bathroom late at night, shut the door, turn off your lights, look into the mirror and say 'bloody Mary' three times. Then some crazy bitch will come and MURDER you or something. LOL just kidding. That's so not true. If fact, why don't you do it tonight? After all, it's not true. No? You're not gonna do it? Why not, are you a pussy? Haha, you pussy. You won't do it. You're too scared :P But don't worry. That noise you'll hear when you lay down to sleep tonight and wonder what it was and think it must just be like your AC/heater blowing or your cat being a retard … no. It's her coming to get you. Don't forget tonight. She won't, hehe.

WTF was I talking about. Oh yeah. Contacting ghosts. Well, I could be like those guys on those ghost hunter shows with all their sciencey equipment. They come in and record stuff and play it back and hear static. OMG STATIC MY FAVORITE. Then they find cold spots in a room and shit themselves with excitement because there's no such things as a draft or poor circulation of air. Psssh, no. I want more from England than static and him getting his ghostly coldness on me.

There was only one other way I knew of. It's called a séance. Yeah, I used an accent, WHAT OF IT? For those of you who read that word wrong, it's pronounced say-onnce. It's French, so you actually you can just say see-ance just to piss off France, LOL. Anyway, French peoples made up a fancy schmancy way of contacting the dead. You sit at a table and invite them for dinner. Or something. I dunno, but apparently it works.

And guess who's here? A French people.

"Zoe my God, France!" (That's how you pronounce 'ZOMG') I said. "I just got a great idea!"

"How doubtful!" said France, still poking England's dead body. "But I suppose you will tell me what it is regardless."

"YES I WILL! You and me will have a séance! And ask England's ghost!"

"A séance?" France seemed pleasantly surprised. "Now zat is an idea. You know, despite ze exact origins of ze séance being unknown, ze word is French, so I will pretend it is from my country …"

France went on to explain the history and method of séances, but no1curr. I left while he was still talking (his eyes were shut while he smugly explained everything so he didn't notice, LOL) and went upstairs. I needed to find something. Something IMPORTANT.

I dug through my pile of board games. I had a lot. Let's see here. I had Trouble, but the popper bubble thing was busted because I popped it too many times. Sometimes I wasn't even playing, I just wanted to pop that thing! Like Pringles, once I popped I couldn't stop. Until it broke and I didn't have a choice :(

I also had Guess Who? Y'all remember that game? Where you got pictures of peoples and you gotta ask questions to the other person about THEIR peoples and guess what person they're thinking of? There weren't that many women or black people, so unless you picked a white male for your opponent to guess, you were gonna LOSE. Just like being Republican.

I also had Monopoly. No, not the one you're used to. Or even one of the millions of 'SPECIAL EDITION' ones that are themed like stuff like The Simpsons or Pokemon or The Kardashians. No, no. I have the new Monopoly which has AUTOMATED BANKING. (Real thing, you guys.) You remember as a kid having to count your money and, like, keep track of it? WELL NOT ANYMORE. It does it all for you, completely automatically! Because I cannot be assed with counting during a game based on money. Plus the money was all colorful and crap! I mean, who am I, Canada? (He has colorful money IRL, not just in Monopoly, for those that did not get the joke.)

But after pushing aside Don't Wake Daddy and that game where the little plastic fish open and close their mouths slowly for you to put a hook in, I found what I was looking for.

A OUIJA BOARD.

(That's pronounced 'wee-jee'. Like Mario's brother.)

I ran back downstairs with it. France was still rambling in no1curr town, and hadn't even noticed I was gone.

"Hey, France!" I said. "We can use this!"

"… and was ultimately decided by skeptics to be a parlor trick — what ze! Where did you get zat?"

I was holding up the Oujia board. "Between Connect Four and HiHo Cherry-O."

France looked at ze game. I mean THE game. Damnit now he's got ME doing it! "Well zen what is it? I thought you wanted to conduct a séance, not play childish games."

"It's not a game! It's a Oujia board! It lets you talk to ghosts!"

"It says made by Hasbro on ze box."

"… your point?"

Many peoples believe that since the Ouija board is so mysterious and magical and all that, it must have some spooky origin. Like Satanists invented it while having a picnic on someone's grave at midnight while they all cut themselves and pressed their cuts together because this was long before AIDS came around so that was spooky but okey. BUT NO. It was actually invented by American businessmen trying to make a quick buck and was owned and manufactured by Parker Brothers and then Hasbro. Why am I happy about this if it takes away a lot of the spooky mystery? Because they're AMERICAN businessmen, and AMERICA FUCK YEAH! My country invents all the cool stuff. Other countries are jelly.

France bitched about using a commercial toy to communicate with the dead instead of established séance methods, but it's MY house. When it's your own house you get the good seat while watching TV, get to be first player when playing video games, and get to decide how you properly contact dead people. DUH! Read your Emily Post books, you guys.

All the curtains were already drawn in my house. All I had to do was turn out the lights, get some candles going, and I had set the mood for England. Not a sexy mood like you normally would by lighting candles and turning the lights out, oh no. This was for ~SPOOKY AMBIENCE~

"You wanna snack before we begin?" I asked France, who was sitting at the table waiting. "I got Candy Corn Flavored Oreos. You want some?"

"PEH! Zat sounds disgusting."

"Says the guy who considers shoving a feeding tube down a goose's neck and force feeding it until it has liver disease and then eating the diseased liver to be good …" I muttered.

"Eh! Foie gras is a delicacy!"

"No, I totally just burned you. BUUUUUUUURN — o-oh." I stopped mid-bite. And spit the cookie into my hand. "Oh, GOD … you were right, France. These taste like crap!"

Hmm, probably should have seen that coming. Candy corn tastes like shit. You never see the childrens get excited for that if you put it in their Halloween bag! No, they all want Snickers and Milky Ways and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and M&M's and Skittles and now I'm hungry. By the way, why do they call those little bars 'Fun Size'? That ain't fun size. Fun size means the bigger the better! The bigger it is the more fun it is! That's how I feel. (Umm … e-except in bed, because five inches is plenty, I mean that's average, and it's all how you use it, ya know?)

Anyway, I threw the Candy Corn Flavored Oreos away and just ate Birthday Cake Flavored Oreos instead. Mmm are those good. By the way the Candy Corn Flavored Oreos are a real thing, so BEWARE, boys and girls. Just get the regular Halloween kind with the orange filling. Don't be duped. I learned my lesson the hard way :(

So we sat at the table and the lights were off and it was dark and the candles flickered over our faces making spooky shadows.

"This is perfect," I said. "Looks like a ghost's natural habitat! I even left out some ghost food as bait to help lure him out."

France glanced over to where I put it on the table. "America, why did you leave out a paper plate full of cereal? !"

"It's Boo Berry!" I said. "That's ghost food! Ghosts like it! Just like you leave cookies out for Santa, and carrots out for the Easter Bunny, you leave Boo Berry cereal out for ghosts."

"Just how many ghosts are you looking to attract?"

:/

"Crap, you're right. I'm afraid of ghosts! I don't want any more than England to come! Better get rid of it." So I ate the Boo Berry, nomnomnom.

"Shall we begin?" asked France when I finished munching the cereal.

"YEAH! I already had my potty break and everything." You know. Just in case.

Let me explain for you Ouija n00bs how it works. The Ouija board looks like … well, a board. It has the alphabet on it, so that ghosts can spell things out to you. Like messages and stuff, like letter by letter. It also has the numbers zero through nine, so they can tell you numbers, like the lottery or something, I dunno. At the top it says 'yes' and 'no' so the ghosts can answer yes and no questions. And at the bottom it says 'goodbye' so when they get tired of talking to us normies and wanna go back to ghost stuff like watching you in your bed tonight they can. (Don't forget. She's coming for you tonight.)

France was gonna do it. Even though the Ouija board was an American invention and even séances in general aren't traditionally French, I just didn't wanna do it myself. I mean, what if bad ghosts come? Who do you think they're gonna be most pissed at? The person contacting them with the board, duh. Not the minding his-own-business, cool, handsome guy sitting next to him.

… I hope :(

I mean, I don't wanna end up all haunted. Remember 'The Ring'? I don't want my face all jacked up like those peoples who watched the video! (I'd put an emoticon here but there is none that do that fucked up look any justice.)

"Oh spirits," started France. "We seek to commune with you! Please come forth so zat we may—"

"Spirits? Dude, France, I only wanna speak to England! Don't you call a bunch of scary ghosts out in here!"

"Very well zen." France cleared his throat and said, "OH ENGLAND! AMERICA WANTS TO TALK TO YOU! GET OUT HERE!"

I glanced around the room looking and listening for any ghostly things to happen. A knock, something falling over, maybe even a voice. But I didn't hear anything.

"England!" France called again. "Come out! We wish to speak to you!"

"Yeah, come out, England! You want some Boo Berry cereal?"

We paused and listened again. I didn't hear anything. It was an eerie quiet. I was scared. I dunno why, I mean I'm not afraid of England, even if he's a ghost. But I AM afraid of the bad ghosts, like the ones in 'The Grudge' so it was spooky.

Then suddenly, we heard a loud KNOCK KNOCK.

"Oh shit!" I yelped. "They're gonna get us! Where's my gun?"

"Hmm." France wasn't scared at all. "I think zat was your door."

"Huh? Someone's at the door? Well, BRB." Cool people say BRB even off the interwebs.

So I went to the front door and opened it. When I did, I saw some childrens on my stoop. One was dressed as Mario, one as Weegee, and one as an Angry Bird.

"TRICK OR TREAT!" they all yelled together.

"What the …"

They held up bags partially filled with candy.

"It's Halloween?" I said to them. "Really?"

"Yep!" said the Angry Bird kid.

No way! I'd lost track of time! Had it really been that long? England's been dead and his lifeless body has been sitting on my couch as I hid away from everyone calling me a MURDERER for THAT LONG? Jesus …

"Trick or treat!" they said again.

"Pssh, you kids are wimps," I snapped at them. "It ain't even 5:00 yet! The sun is up in the sky shining brightly! What's wrong with you kids today, trick or treating so early? You're supposed to wait until it's completely dark!"

"My mommy says it's safer!" said one of the childrens.

"Whatever. I ain't even got my candy ready yet."

So I slammed the door on them. Childrens these days ...

I went back to the kitchen and sat down at the table with France.

"America!" he exclaimed. "While you were gone, I had a major breakthrough! England is communicating with me!"

"No way! Awesome! Did you ask him how he died yet?"

"No, no~ You don't just jump into such things as soon as you make contact. It is like making love. You start off slow, building it up, a delicate dance of give and take, until you know you can go DEEPER—"

"Jesus, is there anything you can't make about sex? We're talking about dead people here, yeesh."

France scoffed at me. "Peh. It was only an analogy. But I suspect England is used to you skimping on ze foreplay and just diving in, so I will ask him."

"Hey, that ain't fair. He doesn't give me much foreplay either when he tops me — oop. I mean he never tops, hehe."

France gave me a dickish ORLY smirk. Then he got to srs business. He closed his eyes and held the planchette over the board. (A planchette is the little wooden piece you move over the board. The ghosts are supposed to guide the person with it and point to stuff on the board.) "Oh, England," France began. "America wishes to ask you something. He wants to talk to you."

"Yeah, I do." I waved to the air. "Hi, England."

Silence.

"Are … are you sure he's there, France?" I asked. "I don't hear anything."

"Oui~, he must just be giving you ze le silent treatment. Because … well … you choked him to death and whatnot."

"I didn't choke him to death, GOD! Go on! Ask him! Ask him how he died!"

"Oh, OOOH!" exclaimed France way too excitedly, rustling my jimmies because it sounded a little sexual. "I feel England channeling through me! Yes, yes, he is communicating through me!"

France's hands were moving on the Ouija board. They were going to different letters, spelling something.

I watched and said the letters out loud as France's hands moved over them.

"S … U …" I repeated. I got chills because it was spooky, like I was waiting in my bed trying to go to sleep but I keep hearing weird noises wondering if they are just normal noises or a ghost is watching me. Y'all ever been there? Don't worry, you will tonight. "… C … K …" I continued. "… M …Y … C … O …" God, this was taking forever. I should have made some popcorn. Or popcorn BALLS. Mmm I love popcorn balls. Whoever gives those out on Halloween roxers my soxers. " … C … K …"

Then France stopped.

"Aw, crap," I said. "I probably should have written that down. I'm bad with spelling letters out loud. I need to see it written down."

"It said 'suck my cock,'" said France.

"Oh." :( "Aw, jeez. So I guess England's still really mad at me, huh?"

"Because you murdered him, no?"

"I DIDN'T MURDER HIM ZOMG!"

"Oh!" exclaimed France. "I am getting another message! Yes, yes, here it comes!" He moved the planchette over the letters. "F … U …"

"Welp, I can see where this is going," I sighed. "England is super pissed at me. Probably because one day I got bored and I dressed his dead body up in different outfits and took pictures just for the lulz. What, is having a fashion show with a corpse a crime? Sue me already."

"C … K …" continued France.

"England!" I said to the spooky air. "Quit being all pissed off! I'm sorry you got choked to death — oop." I looked over to France who had a shit-eating grin. "I mean, you choked yourself to death! On accident! Completely without making me legally liable! … but you don't gotta be a dick about it."

Then I saw the next letters were 'M' and 'E.' And that was it.

"Huh?" I said. "That's not what I thought he was gonna say … I don't get it …" :/

When England saw I was confused about his message, more letters came. France spelled out the clarification: IN THE ASS.

"Weird," I said, looking all contemplative. "Usually England says 'arse' instead of 'ass.' Like how he says 'loo' instead of 'bathroom' and 'Tardis' instead of 'phone booth.'"

"Does he?" France hesitated. "Oh, r-right! Silly me~ He did spell it zat way. I was … eh … paraphrasing."

"Are you supposed to paraphrase during a séance?"

"Don't question my skills as a le medium!" snapped France. "Ze important thing is zat you realize zat England meant for you to excavate his tomb, if one knows what one means~"

"No."

France huffed, all annoyed. "Very well zen! In zat case, he has one more message for you."

"ONE MOAR? ! It better be that I am not a MURDERER." England really needed to clear my name. If he didn't I might go to prison and if I do that how will I ever parkour again? I am into parkcour hardcore.

Now as France's hands moved the planchette all over the board, I learned something. That 'penetrate' is kinda a long word. 'My dead body' not so much, as those are short words. But 'penetrate,' yeah, that's a three syllables word! Also 'with your penis' – those are all short words.

Wait a minute …

"Jiminy Christmas!" I exclaimed, instantly losing my appetite for Boo Berry cereal. "Did he say to penetrate his dead body with my penis? !"

France was covering his mouth with his hand. "Pfft, I am sorry, America, I cannot keep a straight face—"

"But England's dead! I can't do that!"

"… you believed all zis? Surely you of all people would know séances are a farce."

"France, please. There's no time for a dictionary to look up what 'farce' means. I gotta figure out what to do about England!"

"Zis was a jo — hohoho~ Never mind, Big Brother will have some fun with zis." France cleared his throat. "America, I am fairly certain England needs you to have le intercourse with his body in order for him to be revived."

"OH GROSS!"

"It is like ze old fairy tale, no? Ze ones England told you about when you were but a small children. Sleeping Beauty cannot wake until she receives a kiss from her beloved."

"Uh, yeah, a kiss!" I said. "I don't remember hearing anything about the guy having to give her a thorough dicking."

"Ah, but zat was ze Disney version. In the original, grimmer version, he has his way with her. England just didn't want to tell you zat as a young, impressionable baguette."

"Dude, that's rape!"

"It's not rape if zey are dead."

"Sleeping Beauty wasn't dead!"

"NO, BUT ENGLAND IS!" France yelled at me. Then he snapped back into his normal, calmer, dickish self. "Please do not argue with your fate. You know now what you must do."

:/

Well, this blew. I didn't wanna bang a dead body! I mean, GROSS! Dead bodies got like germs and bacteria and ghosts on them. I don't want my dick to be haunted! But according to France, who was very trustworthy and totally wouldn't troll me I'm pretty sure you guys, England wanted me to violate his corpse. You know, with my penis and all.

I mean, I can't say it didn't surprise me. England does like to get saucy with me. When he was living he was almost always the one who initiated sex. Which was cool, don't get me wrong. Though sometimes it was a little inconvenient, like I'd be in the middle of playing Call of Duty or eating a Snack Pack or yelling at my Fantasy Football league on the Internets when they screw up like Michael Vick I mean if you can strangle dogs with your bare hands I'm sure you can catch a ball damnit.

You know another inconvenient time to be asked for sex? When your partner's dead.

But what choice did I have? England was taking longer to come back to life than he should have. Maybe he really was waiting for me to awaken him with my alarm clock of penis. Like a rooster crowing in the morning going COCK-A-DOODLE DOOOOO but I will leave out the A-DOODLE DOOOOO (so that only the cock is left.)

"Please stop crying, America," said France.

"England wants me to bone his dead body," I said, shaking a little. "What am I gonna do?"

"What to do? Use a condom. Zat is Big Brother's advice. Dead bodies are ripe with bacteria."

I couldn't stop crying :'D

"Hohoho," chuckled France, reminding me of Santa Claus. "I suppose zis prank has gone on long enough. America, I made up z—"

"You won't tell anyone about this, will you? !" I asked quickly, all panicked because it just occurred to me. "If I do this, I don't want anyone to know about it! I don't want a reputation as some corpse banger!" I mean, who do I look like, Ted? (Ted Bundy, not the talking bear from the movie by the Family Guy guy.)

France chuckled again and said with a rather dickish smirk, "Of course not."

Actually, he kept laughing and laughing. That arrogant, annoying French laugh he does. He seemed pretty amused by something. But then I kicked him out of my house, and guess who was laughing then?

Well, still him, but now he was out of my house so HA. In his FACE.

With France gone, I turned all the lights on and blew out the candles. Then I went to look at England. He was still on the couch where he'd been for days. Sitting and leaning limply against the back of the couch and the armrest.

I took a deep breath and reached for the sunglasses. I set them aside. England's cold, lifeless eyes stared back at me. I stared deeply into them, just to make sure he was still dead, and it was creepy.

I reached for England's zipper on his pants. I felt all kinds of super guilty. I didn't feel the same way when I took his clothes off earlier to try on different outfits. I guess because that was just for lulz. This was not for lulz. It was for necrophiling it up.

I unzipped his pants but pulled my hands away. They were shaking.

I freaked out. This was just a little too fucked up. I ran upstairs to my room, slammed the door shut, and hid under the covers.

X

All night long people kept ringing my doorbell or knocking. I could hear them talking and yelling outside. There were a ton of them! I knew what they were doing. Of course, they had come to say I was a MURDERER. I could tell from the ACCUSING way they rang my doorbell. They just wouldn't leave me alone!

I mean, I know it was Halloween night and trick or treaters were out Halloweening it up, but still. I know their REAL motive. Accusing me of MURDER. And now also NECROPHILIA. Even though I didn't even necropheel-him-up let alone go all the way with his dead body. ALL YOU CRAZY KIDS LEAVE ME ALONE! Go home and eat your candy corn. I know it tastes like shit but EAT IT IT'S HALLOWEEN!

I sat under the covers, eating the candy I was supposed to give to trick or treaters, trembling in fear. What if England haunted me because I didn't make sexy time with him? Or worse, what if other ghosts haunt me? Like BAD ghosts? The kind that will get you tonight when you lay down to sleep. They might get me too!

I was eating M&M's. They say the green ones make you horny. But I did not feel horny. They did not make me wanna screw a corpse. I mean, not that the M&M's company claims to promote necrophilia, I'm just saying.

"England, why are you doing this to me? !" I yelled out loud. "You know I don't wanna bang your dead body! WHY YOU TORTURE ME? !"

I paused and listened. I didn't hear a response.

"You're so mean!" I continued. "First you make fun of my PB&J and then you make me choke you to get off and now you're haunting me so I'll fuck your corpse! NOT COOL, DUDE!"

Suddenly, I heard a noise. A knocking noise.

"Aw, crap!" I yelped. "England's coming to get me! Look, I don't wanna have sex with your ghost neither! That still counts as necrophilia AND it's super scary! I'M AFRAID OF GHOSTS!"

Don't be deceived, boys and girls. Sex with ghosts isn't as fun as the people in the movies make it out to be. Sure, that chick liked it in the movie 'Ghost' (REAL ORIGINAL TITLE BTW) when her dead husband or whatever came up behind her while she was making a pottery and was acting all sexy, touching up all over her and then they boned. BUT TRUST ME! It's not like that IRL. IRL, it's SCARY. I mean, this is a GHOST we are talking about! When ghosts come around people don't call Ghostbusters for nothing. They do it because they are scared shitless from evil spirits from another realm and also because Tom Hanks is cool.

Unfortunately the Ghostbusters headquarters shut down after 1989, so I was fucked.

I heard the knocking again, and a voice. "Trick or treat!"

But I heard what they really meant. 'MURDERER!'

No one would believe me I didn't kill him! I was gonna start a war and go to jail and everyone was gonna be mad at me and all that spotted dick went to waste.

Eventually the noises stopped and no one came to my door anymore. I tried to go to sleep but I couldn't. I kept tossing and turning. How could I sleep when I knew England's ghost was watching me? Every little sound I heard scared me. Was that the ice settling in the freezer's ice maker, or England being all pissed off? (You ever notice how sometimes when people are mad, they just do everything LOUDER? Because, pssh, oh yeah, that helps the situation.) Was that sound the heater turning on, or England huffing because he's a mean ol' pisspot? Was that sound of Whaley splashing around in the water Whaley splashing around in the water, or England ... uh … splashing around in the water?

Things like that drove me nuts!

When I was scared, I hated sleeping alone. I always have been, ever since I was a young chittlin'. Really I should rephrase that to 'I hate being in bed alone' because if I am scared there isn't much sleeping going on. Trembling in fear and hugging a pillow, sure. But not much sleeping.

I just wanted someone to cuddle with. IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK? ! But who was I gonna call to come cuddle with me at such an ungodly hour? France? Pssh, no way. He'll just try to have sex with me and eew. Actually, now that I think about it, anyone I call late at night asking to 'cuddle' is gonna assume that's code for sex. There's no real way to say I'm a grown ass man who is scared and literally just wants someone to hold not sex so come over … no one's gonna believe that. (And when I type it out like that, it kinda seems a little pathetic.)

And I couldn't cuddle with Whaley or Tony. Whaley's too big and Tony doesn't cuddle. Plus that'd just be weird, ya know? You never saw Elliot spooning with ET, did you?

So I guess I just had to be alone for the night.

FOREVER ALONE :'D

I spooned my pillow hardcore. "It's okay, Mr. Pillow," I said. "We're here for each other. The ghosts can't get us under the covers like this. I-I think …"

That's the rules, right? They can't get you if you're under the covers? That's the way I was taught.

"There, there. It'll b-be okay, Mr. Pillow. I love you."

I took a big whiff of Mr. Pillow. Mmmm. Oh yeah. Hells yeah. Tide. I washed that pillow with Tide. Y'all know Tide is the best.

"Wait a minute!" I said suddenly. "No, I will not be seduced by your heavenly scent and soft curves! England may be dead and buried — well, he's dead, at least — but that doesn't mean I'll cheat on him!"

I grabbed Mr. Pillow and threw him against the wall. He slammed into it and then fell to the floor, knocking down my poster from Tiger Beat. I'm sorry you had to read that terrible act of violence, boys and girls.

"NO!" I screamed. "No, it will never happen between us! You had your shot! I know we may have had something long ago, before England and me hooked up, and I used you for desperate late-night masturbatory pillow humping, but those times are over!"

I hope you are picturing this dramatic. I was very filled with DRAMA and ANGST.

And INSANITY. Just then I realized how crazy I sounded. I mean, yelling at an inanimate object like it was a person? I don't live in Blue's Clue's house. Not all my stuff in my house is sentient. (But could you imagine? Living in a house where all your stuff talked to you? God that would make me hella paranoid. You couldn't take a shower or go to the bathroom or jerk off without them watching you.)

But yeah. Back to my craziness. I was losing it, you guys. Being scared and alone had driven me mad. And I had no one to comfort me.

I broke down, and yeah, it was still all dramatic.

"Oh, England," I sobbed. "I miss you. I don't wanna sleep in this bed alone. Even if you bitched the whole time about me hogging the covers or snoring or getting up too much in the middle of the night to go pee pee because I drank too much Coke before going to bed even when you said not to, it's still a million times better than sleeping alone. I wanna cuddle and just have someone to hold me. And to hide under the covers with because the ghosts aren't as scary if you're with someone else. Also that'd be one less ghost because right now you are one. What the hell was I saying? Oh yeah. I miss you. Like … a lot. I'd do anything to have you back …"

As the drama set in, I realized what I had said. I'd 'do anything.' Well, there was one thing I could do to bring England BTL (that's short for 'back to life'.) (I just made that up.) One thing that falls under the category of anything, I guess.

I weighed the pros and cons. Pros: I get England back. I don't have to sleep alone. I'll be less scared. Everyone will stop accusing me of MURDER. Cons: I have to put my penis in a dead body. Uh … do I really gotta write more than that? I HAVE TO PUT MY PENIS IN A DEAD BODY.

I don't really wanna do that. Call me old fashioned, but in general I'm only attracted to the living.

But if I couldn't survive ONE night of being scared, how would I go all the rest of the nights after this? England wasn't gonna come back until I banged him. Best to get it over with, ya know? It's like a Band-Aid. You just do it really fast and before you know it, it's over with and you've fucked a dead body.

I got up and immediately turned on the lights. Ghosts hate lights. It's harder to be spooky that way. I fished through a drawer and found what I needed. Then I headed downstairs with it in my hand. If you're wondering what it was, it was a condom. (Size medium because THAT'S NORMAL THAT'S WHY IT'S MEDIUM!)

When I got downstairs, I saw England still laying limping on the couch. I swallowed nervously. This wasn't exactly what I planned to do late Halloween night, but here we were. I took a shot of whiskey and a handful of Boo Berry cereal to calm my nerves.

"Here goes nothing," I said, wiping the cereal crumbs on my pants.

I couldn't do it on the couch. It just didn't seem right. I mean, not that doing it with a dead body was right anyway, but the least I could do was do it on a bed. I hoisted his body over my shoulder and carried him upstairs. It felt weird. I'd lifted him before, but he felt heavier now that his body was lifeless and he was dead weight. But I work out like a boss so that was no problem for a BAMF like me.

When I got upstairs, I tossed him onto the bed. Slowly I started to undress him. I started with his shoes and socks. I should have taken off his pants next, but I was getting seriously weirded out, so I took off his shirt. Oh, and I put those sunglasses back ON. Like I want his cold dead stare looking at me while I do this. UGH. That will haunt me like Slenderman does. Oh, he's coming for you tonight too. Just thought you should know.

With shaky hands, I slid off England's pants. He was still wearing underwear, if you were wondering. I never took those off when I played dress-up with his dead body. Y'all ever played dress-up games online? That's kinda what I did to England earlier. Except I did actually leave on the undies — I know you try to take them off when you play the games, don't you? Don't lie, you pervert. But that's okey, I ain't gonna judge. Because I'm sure whoever you played the game with was alive and not a dead body, so that's kinda normal. (If your dress-up game really was dressing a dead body, I AM judging. I mean WTF who would even make that? Also don't send England the link when he comes to, because he's already into too much freaky shit as it is.)

I was gonna take off his underwear, but I backed off and decided to undress myself instead. I started to take off my shirt, but then I was like, it's hella cold, it's almost November which is almost December which is almost Christmas, so I left it on. I kicked off my shoes and reached for my zipper.

"Any ghosts except for England, you better leave now," I said out loud. "This ain't a peep show. I don't want y'all getting off on this."

Then I thought about how ghosts are always moaning all the time, and I thought about them having ghost sex with each other or jerking it to us living peoples, and got a major case of the creeps. UGH. Did you know Kesha claims to have had sex with a ghost? That has nothing to do with anything, I just thought you should know. If you ever see a ghost covered in glitter, you know where it came from. I guess that's why she has a song about dying young. If she dies young, her ghost will still be hot.

With a deep, shaky breath I peeled England's underwear off like a wrapper from a Snickers bar. Snickers are my favorite. But there was no time for chocolate now.

England wasn't very sexy while he was dead. While his body didn't decompose because he is a country, it does still get cold. It was very cool to the touch, like a Wendy's Frosty. His penis was limp and sad looking. Normally seeing him naked got me feeling horny, but now it only made me feel sick. Kinda like certain foods only taste good when they're hot. Hot fried chicken? Mmm, yeah. Cold fried chicken? Ugh, get it away from me.

I ripped open the condom wrapper with my teeth. I was taking France's advice. I don't want no dead germs on my penis! Did you know that when you die, your body stops producing white blood cells, so there's nothing to fight off bacteria? The bacteria become rampant and take over and eat all of your body's tissue except your bones! That's why you should always use protection when sticking your penis into a dead body. *THE MOAR YOU KNOW*

I got some lotion and started to rub it on my penis. It's hard to put a condom on a limp dick! Y'all have seen the banana demonstrations. The first time I used a condom I put it on a banana for practice. Then I ate the banana. LOL y'all ever stuck a banana in your mouth as far as you can, bit down just a little, then looked to see how deep your teeth indentation is? To see how far you can deep throat like if it was a real penis? … no, just me? Okay …

Getting hard wasn't easy. I just wasn't in the mood. All I could think about was how ghosts were probably all around me, including England's ghost, and they were all haunting me and accusing me, and it was spooky. That's kind of a boner killer. I was gonna have to rely on physical stimulation only. If I touch myself enough, eventually I'll get hard. It just takes longer.

So I sat on the bed, next to England's dead body, jerking off my half-hard cock. I hoped Tony didn't walk in. I forgot all about him.

Finally, I was hard. Or hard enough. I rolled the condom over my penis. It was Trojan brand. I sure hoped the Trojan Man didn't burst into my room like he does during the commercials like "TROJAN MAAAAN!" because if he did that would be very awkward to see me about to violate a dead body. That's not good product placement for him, even though I'm sure he knows people should use condoms with dead bodies.

I squirted some lotion into my hand. With my other hand, I pulled one of England's legs so that they were apart. I spread him wide. Boy did this feel weird, holding his leg, which felt all limp and heavy. It felt even weirder when I pushed two lotiony fingers inside him. It was so COLD! Even colder than the lotion. Asses aren't supposed to be cold! They should be warm like warm chocolate pie. Not cold like Snack Packs, even though Snack Packs are delicious.

I cringed at the sound it made. SQUISH SQUISH. It normally didn't sound like that. I pulled my fingers out, squirted a little more lotion on my hand, and then pressed my fingers back in. I wanted it real slick in there. Dead bodies kinda dry out a little.

My boner was flagging because I was seriously squicked, so I needed to hurry up. If I went too soft the condom would slip off, and I didn't feel like putting another on I mean they're all the way on the other side of the room come on you guys. So I wiped my hand on England's clothes, and got to business.

I shivered when I entered him. Not because it felt good, but because it was cold. Like I'd just sunk my dick deep into a Dairy Queen blizzard. It's supposed to feel, like in the epic words of the Wiggles, like hot potato, hot potato. Not cold spaghetti, cold spaghetti.

Like a Snuggie, the condom helped shield my penis from the cold a little, but not enough. I was shivering as I started fucking him. It was the coldest sex I ever had, and I once had sex in Canada's igloo.

I wondered, as I rocked myself in and out of his spooky dead hole, how long it would take until he woke up. Like does he just gotta be penetrated, and like banged a little, and he wakes up during it? Or do I gotta finish? Jesus, imagine waking up to someone fucking your dead body. I mean, what do you say? It's not like you can just be like, 'Hey, sup?' because that's kinda awkward. Besides, it's not rape if they're dead.

But it didn't matter anyway, because England wanted this. He told me. He told me through France, who was a master of ceremonies. I mean séances. It's not rape if they want it. If England came to while I was banging him, he'd probably be happy. Like 'YAAAY YOU'RE SEXING ME!' except he'd say it more British like 'JOLLY GOOD YOU'RE SHAGGING ME!' or some shit. And then I would swallow down the vomit gathering in the back of my throat and finish just slightly less creeped out since he wasn't dead anymore.

As I thrust in and out of England's dead body, the movements knocked off the sunglasses. So then his cold, dead, lifeless green eyes stared deep into mine, unmoving but giving me a serious case of the jibblies.

"AHH!" I yelped, and forced his eyelids closed with my hand. One sprung back open, and I was even more freaked out.

I was starting to go soft. I was never gonna finish this way! I couldn't get off while in major creepytown.

"England, why did you do this to me? !" I yelled to him. I kept fucking him, even though I felt myself getting gradually more and more soft. "I don't like freaky sex! I told you this before! I just like it normal ways! WHY MUST YOU TORTURE ME SO? !"

Just then my iPhone rang. I glanced over to it on the nightstand. It was almost midnight. Who could be calling this late at night? Goddamn pollsters. I've had enough of you asking who I'm voting for!

NO WAIT. They must be calling to accuse me of MURDERING England! People just won't leave me alone! Pollsters called me every day to do that. I know when they ask who I'm gonna vote for they mean to accuse me of MURDER.

"I SWEAR I DIDN'T KILL HIM!" I yelled into the phone after answering it. This is how you should always answer the phone when a pollster calls. Go on, try it. I bet you'll get less calls if you do.

I listened for a reply. I didn't stop pounding into England's cold, lifeless body as I waited. The nasty, wet sound of me sliding in and out of his dead flesh almost drowned out the sound on the phone. But I could hear it. The sound of heavy breathing on the other line.

"Who is this? !" I demanded to know.

The only reply was more of the same heavy breathing.

It freaked me out and went even more soft inside of England. I tried banging him harder, but it was no use. The condom slipped off and I pulled out, leaving it inside him.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" I yelled into the phone.

I star 69ed that bitch to see who it was. But then I realized …

THE CALL FROM COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE

X

"OOOOOOHHH!" I said, flicking the flashlight under my chin on and off so that my face looked spooky. "SCARY, RIGHT? !"

The rest of the G8 stared back at me like WTF.

I flicked the flashlight on and off some more. "Don't you guys get it? It was coming from INSIDE the house!"

I didn't get it! We were having a world meeting thing today and since it was just a couple days after Halloween, I suggested to everyone that we'd share scary ghost stories. I told a great one and no one seemed to appreciate it! I told them so I would look cool! I mean, that was a pretty interesting story, am I right?

There was a long silence before anyone said anything.

Finally, Germany nervously cleared his throat. "I-I think that's enough ghost stories for today."

"Whaaaat?" I said. "Didn't y'all think that was scary?"

"I-I-I did," said Italy, who was hiding under the table.

"HAHAHA! … good."

"That was terrible!" said China. "Your ending makes no sense! What does call have to do with anything? We never learn if England wakes up! You didn't tie up loose end with France tricking you! You included many things completely unrelated to story! It barely even about ghosts at all! Story completely unravels as it goes! That was the worst ghost story I have heard in my entire four thousand year old life and if you live in my country I would execute you for bad story telling just like I execute people for frivolous reasons every day."

"Shut up, China," I said. "You ain't even in the G8. GTFO."

China looked pissed.

"I liked it," said Russia.

"Y'all missed the whole point!" I said. "There are ghosts and it was spooky and the call was coming from INSIDE the house!"

"That ending makes no sense!" said China.

"What, do you want me to say that instead of getting a phone call during the necrophiliac sex, I kept going, which took a long time because I was freaked out and also condoms make it so you have less sensation, but then finally came as I stared into that one, lifeless, still eye, and then rolled off him, tied off the condom and threw it away, cried myself to sleep, and didn't sleep for two more nights because England still didn't come back to life for two more days, because apparently France was just fucking with me, even though I was so sure he was for reals, and every time I tried to go to sleep every sound I heard sounded like a ghost and they were coming to get me, but then eventually England came back to life and it was rather uneventful because I was finely sane again and I didn't have to worry about people calling me a MURDERER anymore and then he just went back to his own country and our lives when on as normal? Because that would be a rather anticlimactic end, don't you think?"

They all looked very uncomfortable.

"Whaaat?" I said. "Come onnn. It's not like that was a true story or something."

Then suddenly England hurried into the room, wearing a scarf. "Sorry I'm late," he said, all rushing inside and stuff. "I had to speak with my bosses about my extended absence. I know some of you tried to contact me but for over a week I was unreachable." He sat down. "My apologies."

Everyone went like :O And stared. Especially at that scarf around his neck.

I sighed -_-

"Goddamnit, England."

(THE END!)