The year was 1763. England and France had been fighting for 9 years with their colonies-
"Yeah?" America handed off a gun with a price tag attached to it to a grinning French soldier.
"Why are you trading... WITH THE BLOODY ENEMY?"
America waved to France, who merely wiggled his fingers at England. "Him and my brother are my best costumers."
"One does not simply trade with the enemy during war!"
"Why not?" America asked as he crossed his arms.
"It's in the rules of war!"
America raised an eyebrow. "...Rules of war?"
"Show me the rulebook."
"It's the unwritten rules of war."
America gestured to the air. "Then point out the unwritten rule that says I can't trade with France during the war!"
England pointed at the imaginary rulebook. "It's right here next to the rule that says you must be organized army in the middle of a war."
"Are you calling me unorganized, good sir?" America asked in a mock English accent.
"You're fighting with farmers. Inexperienced farmers who depend on sneak attacks."
"They're militia!" America's eyes narrowed. "You wear red. Bright red. And walk out into the middle of the battlefield and stand there with your musket like a target."
They glared at each other until America walked off to speak with his militia.
England ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I need to discipline that boy..."
Proclamation of 1763
America stared at the dirt line drawn on the ground.
"Yes?" England was standing on the other side of the line.
"What the hell is that?"
"Exactly what it looks like. A border."
"It just looks like you drew a line with a stick."
England huffed. "Quiet! Just don't go any further west from now on!"
"But it's cramped over here! What happens if I cross the line?"
"I just told you not to cross the line!"
America stuck a foot over the line. "Oh no! I'm over the line! And nothing happened!"
England glared daggers into his colony.
"Look. I'm west, now I'm not. West, not~."
"ENGLAND! YOU CAN'T KEEP TAXING ME LIKE THIS!"
England set his teacup down and looked at the furious American at the door. He was sitting in America's favorite armchair and his muddy boots were up on America's coffee table. "Why not?"
America pulled out a list of recent laws passed by the man in front of him. "The Sugar Act: Cutting me off from my rum-"
"You had the Molasses Act before and you didn't complain. In fact, the Sugar Act is cheaper."
"The Currency Act: I can't have my own money-"
"America, you had thirteen different currencies. It was confusing my merchants."
"Quartering Acts: Giving you permission to barge into my house and put your muddy-ass boots on my goddamn coffee table!"
"You've let me stay in your house before."
"That was from the goodness of my heart, not because you'd arrest me if I didn't." America cleared his throat. "Last, but not least... The Stamp Act: Making me pay just to write something down."
"It's only a few cents."
"But it's affecting everyone. The kids who want to write a