Fine! Dear ARTIE,

Dude, that's totally not fair. And besides, you were in charge of helping me learn to read, right? So it's your fault! Hahaha!

And it was like, a... a 'figure of speech', yeah. I couldn't ACTUALLY die,

dude, that's crazy! 'Cuz I'm the hero!

From,

THE HERO. :D

Alfred,

My name is not "Artie" either. You know perfectly well what my name is, kindly use it.

I think it's very fair. And whilst I know that it was my job to teach you how to read, there was only so much I could do - you were an absolute terror of a child.

For once you're right – you can't die. At least, not in the traditional sense. Isn't it a pity? On the other hand, that gives me a lot more options, doesn't it? Remember, I grew up alongside my brothers…like them I can be rather creative when it suits me. Spain can attest to that. :grins: Ah, for the days of the Armada.

Sincerely,

Arthur.

Hello, England.

This is Maine, that often-forgotten northern state from "New England", which

ya should know, is nutin' like ya.

Do ya have chowdah ovah in England? If so, it can't beat mine.

Oh, an before I go, I AM NOT MASSACHUSETS! He is my brothah, I am not him.

Yours not-so-truly,

Abigail M. Jones (Maine)

Dear Abigail,

Hello there – it's been a while. I'm fully aware that you're nothing like me – for one thing you're female. Joking aside, that's a rather large difference.

No, we don't have chowder over here. I…well, I can't think of something we have that's anything like chowder actually. Perhaps it's because we don't have your type of clam.

Believe it or not, at least on paper I can tell the difference between you and Massachusetts.

Yours not-so-sincerely (two can play at that game),

Arthur.

Dear Arthur

I'm sorry if my mom annoys you, America can be pretty unpredictable, and I would love to send you some of my infamous Key Lime pie, oh well, anyway, I would love to have some advice on confessing my love to Russia, if you don't then I will ship France to your location in a heartbeat.

Signed

Tsuki M. Florida Jones

Florida,

Your…mother? You mean Alfred? I…my dear, you realise that I'm never going to let Alfred live this down. Many thanks for that. And whilst I'm sure your Key Lime pie is delicious, Francis has scarred me enough that I don't wish to receive overseas parcels. Apologies.

As for your love for Russia…well, I must confess I'm surprised, but who am I to judge? I suppose the first step is to ascertain whether or not he feels the same way. Please don't ship France over here – the channels barely wide enough as it is – if the wind's high enough I can smell his ridiculous perfume.

Thank you for your letter,

Yours,

Arthur.

Arthur,

I am not tormenting you, cher. It is totally legal for me to be here. Aaah

wait, I remember the parcel incident now. That was fun! I 'ave never seen your

face turn so many colors in 5 minutes except from that night at Alfred's place

ohonhonhon~

Bien, bien.. I will not go near your holiday home. Though I'd make a beau

poodle, non?

Ooh Angleterre you know very well which waiters costume I mean or do you want

me to get the pictures?

Let's do that again sometime, non? *winks*

Francis

Francis,

Kindly bugger off. I'm almost certain that you'd make a spectacularly ugly poodle, but if I were to turn you one I'd make sure to dye you green.

I….um…I don't know what pictures you're referring to. Or what you're talking about in fact.

Besides, it's all your fault. If you pin me down and pour alcohol down my throat I can hardly be expected to act rationally, can I? It was practically harassment.

No. Never again. In fact, just to make sure I'm abundantly clear – Non, certainement pas vous la grenouille stupide. Am I understood?

Arthur.