Hey, what's up everybody? It's your pal, the Depressed Moderate Bitch, and here's a fair warning that this has a similar plot to Stomach It, with the main difference being that I'm going to try not to fuck it up this time. As it is, this can be considered a rewrite- I'd rather not waste anybody's time, so may as well get it out of the way now. (By the time of this upload, Stomach It has already been deleted.) This story has a different meaning to it, and I'm hoping to make what I'm trying to convey much clearer.

I was originally going to try to release this on July 4, but then I decided not to disrespect my country like that. I decided to push this back much later, but due to certain circumstances I figure I ought to just try to finish my drafts and upload them and keep going. This doesn't have a consistent update schedule, which isn't unusual for me. I will say that I plan to finish this within eight months maximum, which is sadly all I can offer- I'm hardly disciplined. (Stomach It took just a few days shy of a year. Anyway, I'll shut the hell up about it now and try not to mention it again unless anyone has questions for whatever reason.) It occurs to me that rewrites might typically be released all at once, and I sadly cannot make too many excuses for the circumstances surrounding this story without getting a bit personal (as in, more than I already do). Please bear with me; if not, that's fine too, as I can't tell you what to do or what to think of me, and whatever you might think of me is probably warranted.

One more thing: This story is set in 2022. As our best President- you know, that one- said, "Always make sure to set your shitty non-historical fan-fiction slightly in the future, especially if it's an issue that you're going to blatantly disrespect." With that said, please keep in mind that this is less angsty and more 'all in good fun', which I understand is a weird take for a story about something... "serious"... but hey, I'll do what I want.

America stood, scowling slightly at the fact that it was his turn to present at the World Meeting. Everyone looked at him rather expectantly. America stared at each of them in turn. Fuckers, he thought. I bet they're just waiting for me to be wrong.

America cleared his throat. He shuffled a little bit and then opened his mouth, coughed, drank a glass of water, coughed again, and then cleared his throat again. "There was a shooting the other day in Minnesota, and some kid took a video of it, so... uh... I guess I'll just show a minute of that."

The nations watched as America clumsily signed into his spare email (which of course was not used for anything except World Meetings). He typed in the password and went to YouTube. He opened the playlist section and clicked on the only playlist, '4/13/22', which had only one video. He clicked on it.

"This video went viral," America explained, "because the kid uploaded it here, and when he was being interviewed by reporters he plugged his YouTube channel. Didn't even mention the video, but I can assure you that the man with the gun in this video is the shooter."

He hit play.

The other nations watched in silence. America had already seen the video a dozen times, but he watched anyway. Perhaps it was a bit crass to show the others this video, he thought. So what?

The kid in the video let out a swarm of expletives. Gunshots could be heard in the distance. America lowered the volume a bit.

The kid was breathing very hard, camera shakily pointed at the door. The teacher stood next to the door, holding a mug in one hand. For a moment all that could be heard was the kid breathing and a girl in the background talking rather rapidly, and then there was a much louder gunshot, followed by the door bursting open. The shooter could be seen— pale kid in a black hoodie and jeans, really nothing too unusual except for the weapon in his hand.

The teacher immediately leapt into action, smashing the mug against the shooter's head and kicking his knees in. She pried the gun out of his grip and stood above him for a few moments, panting. The video ended.

"Thirteen students died and nineteen were injured. As you can see, this teacher managed to save her students' lives." America looked up to find that the other nations looked somewhat horrified. "Attacking someone doesn't always work out," he added. "But it's better than nothing. That was, uh, one of the more deadly shootings to happen in the past few months."

Everyone just stared. "Um... anyway... California is on fire extra early this year and my boss told them that they can't get federal aid because they don't deserve it. Some other states are starting to get really pissed off because they give more money to the federal government only for the President to tell them they can't have any amount close to what they put in. Also he's really homophobic and that's clear now so I'm really sorry if any of you are offended. I'm not homophobic and I regret my decision. I'm very sorry. Are there— are there any questions?"

England raised his hand. The other nations seemed fairly shocked. What were they shocked about? They'd all been to war before; nothing America said or showed them was even remotely close. "Yes, England?"

"Are you okay? You keep talking about all this violence and death in your country."

The other nations murmured agreement. America bristled. Who could blame him? It wasn't like the other nations actually cared. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be? It's not like I was the one that was shot."

England raised his hand again. "Do you have any solutions?" He asked. This same question came up every World Meeting. The answer was, of course,

"...No, I don't. Second Amendment and all that. It's not worth it."

"Can't you pass something about that?"

"No, 'cause most states wouldn't be on board— and anyway, it's not worth it. I can't take everybody's weapons from them anyway."

"Can't you just... take their weapons away? Why do they need them?"

"For self defense."

"Why do they need a deadly weapon for self defense?" England prodded.

"Because the bad guys also have a deadly weapon."

"So you're fucked," England concluded.

"Precisely."

It was China's turn after that. He didn't have much to report on, but the other nations hounded him about rumors anyway.

Sorry that it was so short and that there's so much goddamn A/N. I promise that I'll keep the shit to a minimum and the substance to a respectable amount next chapter, which should (hopefully) be very soon. If you'd like to leave a review, go ahead, but with an original draft of... I think it was 755 words?... there's not much to comment on. The second chapter, it should be noted, will also meet up with the summary. I am very sorry for not getting to the point with the first one. I promise that there was a reason, however slight, for it.

(Sorry, this next bit isn't important, but I want to immortalize fleeting optimism here.) Things are on a respectable incline for me; let's just say that I might be doing fairly bad right now, but that just means that I've got a better chance of doing only a bit bad, or neutral, or dare I say moderately good? That's what I call a victory, my dudes! Cheers!

Anyway, have a good night/day and stay safe and hydrated and try not to die. If the formatting is off I'll try to fix it, but I'll probably fail, so... so that's cool.