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Driving Lessons
Chapter 16 Waiter! There's a dragon in my rice!
The restaurant was nice, England had to admit.
They were sat next to a window at one end of a long low room completely decorated in red swirling patterned wallpaper that gave England a strange feeling that he was sat in a giant smoothie blender. It was very disconcerting.
But not as disconcerting as the food. He'd asked for chips, and China, dressed imperiously in red silk, ignored him and ordered a rice dish for him.
There was a lot of consternation over the use of chopsticks.
China sighed at England's failure as rice flew around the table. "Oh damn… bloody hell…" England muttered as he failed to get a single grain of rice into his mouth.
"I mean what's wrong with a good old knife and fork. Or even a spoon?" England said for the thousandth time as China snapped his fingers and had cutlery brought.
England was beginning to think that the Nations were in league against him - this encouraging him to eat foreign foodstuffs was wearing on him. He longed for some beans on toast.
It was also disquieting to have a panda cub sat opposite him chewing bamboo shoots.
"Why is the panda here? And how did you get him through Animal Control at the airport?"
China looked at him, "You worry too much about small details."
"I don't think smuggling exotic animals through British Customs is a small detail," England pointed out of the window at the large 20 foot dragon sat in the yard eating what looked to be fried seaweed. "I don't call that a small detail."
"Don't be rude! That's Mr Ping. He's very sensitive. Belgium, Hungary and Poland all said you'd be like this."
"What do you mean? Like what? Have they been talking about me?"
"Arthur! Everyone is talking about you. You've got yourself a terrible reputation as a lady's man."
"Lady's man!" England almost choked on his fried rice.
China nodded wisely.
"Why is there a six-foot panda over there?" England pointed across the restaurant. "Is it some kind of promotional carry-on?"
China frowned and looked around. So did panda (the small one). The small panda squeaked, jumped off its chair and onto China's lap.
"Oh no…" China muttered, then said something in Mandarin, picked up panda (the small one), put him/her in England's lap (much to his perplexity) and went across the room.
England tried to pat/stroke the bear's head but it turned and glared at him so he stopped.
China approached the figure and began yelling in very angry Mandarin.
England assumed the figure understood as, even though England could not see its features, it looked dejected and hung its head.
It was quite comical. The small slight figure of China shouting at a six-foot tall Panda.
"Some kind of cabaret," England muttered.
He swore the panda said, "Idiot." But surely panda's can't talk?
England cut up his beef and fried rice with a knife and fork and watched the enfolding drama. Behind the panda (the big one) who sat with its head down, a large window looked out onto the street where England could see a figure peering in. A figure dressed head to toe in a black cloak. There was no mistaking that pale face and the knife flashing in their hand.
"Belarus. Oh bugger. She's stalking me," England told the panda (the small one).
The large panda was being severely harangued by China. England couldn't tell if the large panda had said anything back but the large furry costumed figure was being beaten quite soundly by a small Chinaman brandishing a large wok.
He felt rather sorry for whoever it was. "I bet they're on a minimum wage as well," England told panda (the small one). "Poor bugger." He was still trembling over the idea of Belarus stalking him.
He looked through the window nearest to him where there was an equally scary sight - the dragon, Mr Ping, breathing on the glass and looking very troubled.
England realised being glared at by an angry dragon was most unsettling. He assumed Mr Ping was worried for China's safety. England wasn't. China may be tiny but was a master in at least four martial arts and had invented a few besides.
It was only when the large panda took off his head (not literally - the costume head) and answered back in a mixture of broken Mandarin and Russian that England realised it was actually Russia in the panda costume.
"Well, who'd have thought?" England asked Panda (the small one sat on his lap - not the large one, who would never have sat there).
The panda looked back at him and shrugged but continued chewing bamboo shoots.
It was rather like a domestic row between a divorced couple, England mused.
Russia was working himself up to a big argument and then there was a roar behind England and, Mr Ping, evidently worried about his friend China, shoved his huge snout up to the window breaking the glass and England found himself face to face with a 4000-year-old dragon.
"Oh! Excuse me? Do you mind? Your head is in my rice. Waiter! There's a dragon in my rice!" England yelled.
The dragon growled at him, lifted its head and opened its mouth.
England leaped to his feet and ducked under the table with Panda. A burst of flame roared across the restaurant.
Russia broke off from his argument with China and jumped through the other window where Belarus was waiting.
"Brother!" Belarus cried with joy.
Russia fled down the street, followed by Belarus. "Brother!" she yelled. "Come back and we can become one!"
In the restaurant, Mr Ping looked quite pleased with himself for chasing off Russia. China batted him on the nose as flames began to lick around them, "Mr Ping! That was very rude!"
Under the table, England had found a stray fortune cookie. He dreaded to open it, but Panda did it for him.
"Love will find you…" England read out. "I bloody hope not!" he told Panda.
Panda gave him a queer look.
The dragon had by now crashed through the other window causing humans to run for it. As only Nations could see him, it is unknown what the poor passers-by thought was happening.
England crept out from under the table, and hurried out of the restaurant. Flames were catching hold now and people were running around with fire extinguishers.
China took Panda from him, "Thank you for looking after Panda, Arthur," China said as they watched Mr Ping pick up a car and chew it.
But England had already set off down the street, jumping back as a fire engine whizzed by. He really did not want to get mixed up in this nonsense. He wondered vaguely if Denmark and Prussia would pick him up in their taxi. He realised he had no money for taxi or bus fare. He pulled out his battered iphone and watched around the corner as the firemen got their hoses out (he was glad no-one was hurt, however, the sight of the dragon eating a Ford Fiesta disturbed him very much).
There was no answer from Denmark or France's phones. He tried Germany but then remembered that Germany hated him but it was too late to hang up…
"Ja?" Germany sounded annoyed. "Österreich? Was willst du?"* (What do you want?)
England frowned, forgetting that Germany still thought this was Austria's telephone number. "What?"
"Was?"
"Germany? I was wondering if you would be so kind as to…" England began to say. He wondered why on earth he thought Germany would be kind to him. As far as he knew Germany did not like him and the feeling was mutual.
"England?" Germany did not sound happy. But then again he never sounded happy.
"Ja. I mean oui. I mean yes. Could you…?"
"I have still not received recompense from you regarding my car."
"Yes well… I've been rather busy."
"Yes. I heard about you and France…"
"We are not a couple!" England yelled, rubbing his temples.
But Germany wasn't listening, "And you destroyed Italy's restaurant. I had shares in that restaurant."
"I didn't…!"
"And Miss Liechtenstein! Apparently, Switzerland is after you!"
"What?" England was worried now.
"You have got yourself a very bad reputation," Germany told him.
"I didn't do anything! Switzerland was bloody there the whole time!"
"And splitting up Spain and Belgium like that. And stealing Austria's phone…"
The list seemed to go on and on. "I didn't. I haven't," England asserted.
"Moving in with France has really made you an awful person."
"I haven't. We are not a bloody couple!" England yelled again.
He stopped dead when he saw China watching him. He hung up and said lamely, "Germany…" as if this was an explanation.
"He doesn't like you," China said simply and then added, "Do you need a lift home?"
"Yes please," England said, much relieved.
China nodded, "Hop on then," pointing to the dragon. "You hold Panda. Don't drop him and I'll drive."
The journey home was everything England had feared and less.
Anyone in London looking up would be startled to see a scruffy (England had had no time to change after his visit to the hospital) blond man carrying a panda clutching a small long-haired Chinaman around the waist and both apparently flying through the air in a sitting position. Dragons, or at least this dragon, could not be seen by humans.
Mr Ping flew quite slowly actually. His huge leathery wings spread out 60 feet either side and beat a languorous passage over London. All the pedestrians and traffic below knew of this was sudden gusts as the two Nations, the dragon and the panda flew overhead. They were about 100 feet up in the air England surmised as he clutched China, his legs dangling either side of the massively scaled hide. Mr Ping felt surprisingly warm and the scales, as large as dinner plates, were smooth.
"Could have done with him in the War," England thought, "That would have shown the Luftwaffe."
He resisted the urge to scream as China deftly directed the dragon over the Thames and they banked sharply to the left. There appeared to be no reins. At least Panda seemed unconcerned.
Below them, the London streetlights came on like twinkling fairy lights which reminded England of something. "Hey Tinks? Tinkerbell? You there? Have you seen this? It's like being in a Harry Potter film!"
"Don't bring Tinkerbell here, Arthur. Mr Ping doesn't like fairies."
"How can you not like fairies?" England asked, appalled.
"They remind him of elves," China said.
England had no reply to this. He was starting to feel a little nauseous.
"Do not vomit on Mr Ping. He will see this as a grave insult!" China warned him. "You are nearly home now anyway."
England wasn't sure if it was good to be home. He dreaded what he might find there.
He soon found out, even before he got off the dragon.
Mr Ping landed with a flump on Germany's Mercedes - which gave England some satisfaction.
But Mr Ping was not happy as England saw, with first pleasure and then horror, that his broken window had been replaced with a stained glass window. It showed St George slaying a dragon.
"It wasn't my idea!" England protested as Mr Ping roared and bellowed.
"Arthur! How rude and inconsiderate!" China exclaimed.
Even Panda tutted.
England leaped out of the way as the 20-foot dragon rampaged down the street setting off car alarms as he went.
If Mr Ping was causing devastation to London's streets, England severely worried about the state of his home, particularly if France, Prussia and Denmark were there.
"If you lot are bloody partying…" he began to say as he went in.
China had sped off down the street, trying to tame his dragon.
In the kitchen, everything seemed to be in order. There was a strange smell of beer, garlic and sauerkraut which led him to the sitting room where he found the three Nations, who were all oblivious to his presence.
"I'm telling you that that explosion was awesome, man!" Prussia yelled.
"I agree! It's crazy. But that dude needs more beer and there should be more women in it," Denmark agreed.
They appeared to be watching some movie, England surmised.
"Ah eet needs more l'amor!" France said.
"That guy's a rubbish shot. He should have used a better gun," Denmark said. (England doubted that Denmark knew anything about guns.)
"Yeah but that guy there is the real baddie," Prussia said.
"I do not zink zo. He eez ze hero. You can tell. So handsome, so sexy."
"I think he's going to bring about the downfall of the Western world. A bit like you and your aftershave," Prussia said.
There were exclamations to something on the screen.
"Wow! I did not expect that!"
"Well, that puts a different perspective on things. I thought he was the villain!"
"What are you watching, chaps?" England asked as he stepped into the room.
"Dude! That guy there is going to bring about the end of civilisation!" Denmark yelled, waving a beer can around and pointing at the television screen.
"Ja! And I would not have done that! What an amateur. Where's his gun? I mean what an idiot!" Prussia said.
"You're watching Gardeners World," England said.
"You're back early, mon ami," France said.
"This is crazy stuff, England," Prussia said.
"That guy there is undercover," Denmark said confidently.
"It's bloody Gardeners World!" England told them.
"Downton Abbey isn't on 'til later," Prussia told England.
England shook his head, stepped forward and switched over the channel eliciting howls of protest.
"Man!"
"I want to watch the end!"
"We'll never know how it finishes!"
"They plant herbaceous borders, some geraniums and then prune that plum tree," England replied. "I want to see the nine o' clock news."
"You're such a buzzkill," Denmark whined.
"Yes yes…" England wasn't listening. He was watching in horror at the news headlines which showed a fire at a Chinese restaurant, a UFO spotted over the Thames and then mild earth tremors causing a plethora of car alarms to go off, as well as mysterious cracks to appear in London's streets. A large man in a panda costume was also seen being chased by a small girl in a dark cloak carrying a knife.
"Date went well then?" France said, watching the news.
Denmark and Prussia laughed.
Neither laughed when they found themselves on the other side of England's front door.
England would have kicked France out too but took pity on him as he did have a cast on his foot.
Apparently, Denmark and Prussia's only accommodation in London was their taxi or a storage locker at Kings Cross tube station (they took turns sleeping in it - Denmark complained that it was too small for his fantastic hair) and neither were willing to share with France.
There was another knock on the door just as England switched on the kettle for a 'brew'.
"Your bell does not work, Arthur," China told him.
"I know this," England sighed, "What do you want?"
"My dragon is missing," China said, entering the kitchen without even a 'by your leave'. England's left eyebrow twitched.
China placed his backpack on the floor where Panda climbed out and toddled off into the lounge.
"I hope he's house-trained," England said.
"He is, but I doubt France is," China replied as they heard France cooing over the panda cub.
"So basically there's a dragon bombing around London causing havoc?" England asked.
"He's a dragon. It's not a Nation," China countered.
"True. I bet Pru and Den between them can cause more damage."
"Pru and Den?" China looked confused.
"Prussia and Denmark." England felt ashamed that he'd slipped into calling them by their nicknames.
"Ah, anyway make me a tea. I need one after tonight. Honestly, a runaway dragon is very difficult to keep track of," China said, sitting down.
"Will you get him back okay?"
"Who? Pru and Den?"
"No. Mr Ping. Why on earth would you want to get Prussia and Denmark?"
"Ah yes. He's very sensitive though."
"Who? Pru and Den?"
"No! Mr Ping!" China stared at him. "What's wrong with you, England? I think you are going round the bend. Mr Ping is very old. He got burgled many many years ago."
"Oh my word." England handed China a mug of tea.
China sniffed and looked suspiciously at the chipped 'I heart Blackpool' mug. "You must really hate me, England," he said.
England ignored him. "Did he claim on the insurance?"
"Insurance?"
"What got stolen?"
"Oh some treasure," China said airily, still looking at the mug suspiciously.
"Insurance should cover it. I'd ring them up."
"It was 2000 years ago, Arthur," China said. England noticed that China only used his human name when he was being condescending. Which was quite a lot. "In a land far far away," China added.
"Ah right. Yes. Before such civility existed. Foreign lands I expect."
"I doubt even Britain had insurance agents back then," China replied.
"No probably not."
"So after that, he's always been particularly sensitive. And depressed."
"Yes well, some awful people around. Thieves and all that… You can't trust anyone these days."
"Dwarves," China said knowingly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"It was dwarves."
"What was?"
"Who stole his treasure."
"You can't say that now. It's not PC."
"What?"
"Politically correct."
"I don't think you're right in the head, Arthur. You've turned very odd in the last few decades especially lately since France moved in with you."
"We're not bloody living together!"
At that moment, France limped in, dressed in a red silk dressing gown, his hair in rollers, a face-pack on. "I'm going for a bathe, mon cher," he told them. The panda cub had followed him and was looking the Frenchman up and down.
"Zis panda person told me I was an idiot," France added and shuffled back out.
"He's not bloody living with me!" England reiterated when he saw China's eyebrows raise.
"Of course not. It's just that he's always here and he sleeps here…" China left the sentence hanging.
"That means nothing! He lives here at the moment but he doesn't live with me. Well, he does but not in the same room. He has Alfred's room."
"Yes, okay," China pulled a bottle of something clear out of his backpack. "Anyway we need to talk about Hong Kong."
"You've got custody of him now, China. It's nothing to do with me." England eyed the cool clear liquid being poured into a glass.
"You know you have some responsibility, Arthur."
"Oh bloody hell… him and his sodding fireworks. Ninety-nine bloody years. You wanted him back, China. He's yours now."
The phone rang.
"Hello?" England had taken a sip of the clear liquid and it burned his throat.
"Yo dude Artie! I need to come live with you!"
"Alfred… it's not a good time."
"I don't care. I'm having a crisis… It's either that or I live in the White House basement for four years with Tony." The American yelled.
"Alfred… wait what? Tony? As in Spain Tony?"
"Nah! Tony my alien dude friend."
"Alfred, I've told you, there's no such thing."
"Well anyway, I'm coming over!" the American yelled.
"Your room is being let out!" England yelled back.
"Not to that roller disco again?"
"What?"
"Nothing… it was nothing to do with me. I told Prussia…."
"What?"
"Anyway…" America said quickly. "I'll be over soon on the red-eye!"
"What?" England asked again but America had hung up. He turned to China, "Do you want to take America off my hands?"
"You should make him your colony again," China said and poured out another glass.
"You're not helping," England replied as he took another sip of the liquid.
When England woke the next morning he was still fully clothed (for which he was grateful). He was in his own bed with a panda sat on his chest, China laid on side and France on the other.
There was a yell outside. Or to be more precise, there was yelling outside. Angry German yelling.
"What in God's name have you done to my car?"
**To Be Continued**