A/N: Today, we expect praise lavished upon us, instead of the usual stones we get (we get no stones). Our intern wrote this chapter all by himself, because we have one of those! Totally. Totes McGotes. The song featured in this chapter is "Colors of the Wind." We hope you like lots of innuendo! (You do).
England gazed at his new woodland friend lovingly, marvelling at his inability to grasp the basics of the English language.
"This..." said England, patiently. "is a helmet. Say, 'helmet.'"
"HELMAT."
"No, say it with me... Hel-met."
"HAMBURGER."
"One more time..." said England, getting impatient. "HELMET."
"YES! YOU FOX, LET US BONE."
"That is not how you say helmet."
"Oops," said America, looking down. "My pants are off. Let's go swimming!"
"Ughhghhh," sighed England, looking around at the uncultured wasteland. There wasn't a tea shop in sight. "Hey, America... Are there beet roots here... in this... virgin... land-soil?"
"BRRRHG," said a grizzly bear, who was playing with pantsless America in the river.
"He wasn't talking to you, you gentle beast," cried the Eagle of All That is Good, tapping the bear on the nose. "Be gone with you! Go frolic somewhere else! I shall call upon you when I sing to the heavens!"
America turned to broski brows and wiggled his butt. "So why do you care about this... BEAT ROOHT? Is that right? Is that how you say it?"
"No, you're an idiot. I hate you," said England, hiding his boner behind the helmat. "And we came to this... virgin... soil-land... for beet root. To make borscht, the best soup. Ever. In all the USSR."
"Oh, I know what you mean," cried America, scampering onto the soil. "I'll dig some up for you, you sly devil!"
America shoved his hands into the dirt, and ripped from his loins two plump hamburgers, complete with ketchup and mustard. "These are what you seek! They are the blessed vegetable from Germania: Sky Meat God! Bow before our holy food!"
"You are an ass," said England, hiding his upgraded boner. "That is not what I meant. It looks like... I dunno... The red balls of an ox."
"We don't have those," sighed America. "And I would know, I am very familiar with red oxen balls."
"Herp derp," said France, who has been here the whole time, buzzing about their heads- as hummingbirds are oft to do.
"What an unfortunate thing to say," said England. "Perhaps we will return to the home country sooner than anticipated, we cannot dine on your barbarian foods. How can savages like you learn to respect Communism?" England turned to leave.
"We're not so different, you and I!"
"Shut up I'm leaving."
"WAIT! Please stay for my song!"
"What. What song? You're still half naked. And it's the good half... I mean, the indecent half that is exposed to the elements."
Less Discriminatory Views
You think I'm an ignorant virgin
And you've had so many people
I guess it must be so
But still I cannot see
If the virgin one is me
How can there be so much that you don't know?
You don't know ...
You think you own whatever man you land on
My ass is just a plump thing you can claim
But I know every whip and chain and fetish
Has a life, has a spirit, to be tamed
You think the only people who are people
Are the people who like to bone like you
But if you wake in the bedroom of a stranger
You'll learn things you never knew you never knew
Have you ever heard the Canada cry out randomly?
Or taught the silly Frenchman how to yearn?
Can you sing with all the voices of Romano?
Can you bone with less discriminatory views?
Can you bone with less discriminatory views?
Come run the hidden pine trails of my body
Come taste the sunsweet berries of my crotch
Come roll in all the sheets that surround you
And for once, never worry about those stains
The strap-on and the ball gag are my brothers
The condom and the handcuff are my friends
And we are all tied up to the bedpost
By Belarus, by Belarus, by Belarus
How far will the Canada go?
If you never ask, then you'll never know
And you'll never hear the Canada cry out in the dark
For whether we English or AMERICA
We need to sing with all the voices of Romano
We need to bone with less discriminatory views
You can bone the butt and still
All you'll bone is butt until
You can bone with less discriminatory views
"... How did you know I wanted to sleep with you?" asked England.
America began singing again. "I can sing with all the voices of Romano."
"... What? That doesn't make sense."
"Shut up and kiss me, you shiny banana tortoise."
Wham-bam-thankyou-England!
MEANWHILE, back at the pow-wow:
"Hey guys," said Cuba, through his cigar. "I think we should check out those new white people. Mayhaps they have some good ice cream/cigars/ladies."
"Huhhh?" said Canada, sounding rather heartbroken. "L-l-ladies?"
"Hahaha, we'll find one for you, dear Canada. Fear not!" Cuba said, with a hearty laugh, patting him on the back.
Canada wept.
Then they went to check out the white people. One was tall and angry, one was short and stout, and one was just right. Actually, there were a lot of white people, and it was a terrible time for everyone.
"Hey," said Finland, the "just right" one. "Are there people in the bushes? That looks like a man!"
"'''''" said Sweeden, the tall one.
"Meeehh, I'm scared!" said Latvia, the short one.
"...Freeze them," said Russia, the one-who-shall-not-be-named, as he blew into the bushes, freezing all but the cigar in Cuba's mouth. Russia's communist laugh filled the forest air, and the furry forest furries were filled with fear, for they knew the end would soon be upon them.
After an hour or two, Latvia's flaming homosexuality melted the native people, and they retreated to the safety of their village, carrying one of the wounded: Egypt.
"How did I get here? Who are you? Am I in the right continent?" asked Egypt.
"Hush now," said Greece-cat. "Save your strength."