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Driving Lessons Chapter 22 - The Candy Man
"I am never ever ever taking you lot to 'Maccy D's' again or whatever it is you call it!" England slammed his foot on the pedal and drove off. He said the words 'Maccy D'* as if it were an abomination.
It had all started almost normally - for Nations that is.
"One cheeseburger happy meal with extra fries, a large coke, two chicken McFlurries… no wait, two galaxy ripple McFlurries, whatever the hell they are… right okay, just a minute… A batman toy… a cappuccino, a black coffee two sugars and a tea. Can you ensure that the tea is Yorkshire tea? Yes with milk. Don't for heaven's sake put the milk in first. You don't? Oh jolly good. Thank you… how much? Are you out of your mind?"
This whole diatribe was by England as they sat at the drive-through with England shouting up at the bored looking girl behind the counter. She looked back at him, utterly bored and, it seemed to England, as if customer service was not really her chosen career.
Sealand sat beside England in the front passenger seat, having 'called shotgun'. The boy kept correcting England and then telling America, France and 'Maurice' in the back seat (which was covered in clingfilm) what they were ordering and that 'Jerk Dad England' didn't have a clue.
"Can I claim back the cost of that coffee from your superiors?" England asked 'Maurice' as he drove the Bentley forwards, paid the cash and waited for their purchases.
The black-suited, sunglasses-wearing CIA man didn't answer, he just stared at England.
"Francis you can bloody pay for your cappuccino at the very least?"
"Well, mon ami, I would quite like to try what you call a McFurry."
"It's a McFlurry, Francy-pants," America corrected him. "I might give you some of mine," he added, feeling generous.
"And you, America. Don't you have your Bank of America credit card?"
"No, dude. It was taken off me. I went to a Comic-Con and spent 4 grand on Star Wars memorabilia."
"What?!" England yelled, just as the cashier opened the sliding door to the serving hatch and gave him their food order.
"Star Wars, dude. I got some great stuff. A replica stormtrooper helmet, a Jedi cloak and a gun that Princess Leia actually touched. Well, might have. It was on set."
England passed the bag of food to Sealand and then the drinks…
"What is this?" he enquired as his 'tea' was passed to him.
"Tea."
"I'm sorry but this is not a cup of tea."
"Leave it, Artie!" Alfred shouted from the back.
"But it's not a cup of tea. It's a polystyrene abomination!"
France nodded, "Eet eez dreadful, mon cher. Look at zis cappuccino. I have had much better in ze back streets of Marseille." He winked at 'Maurice' sat next to him.
"I'm not accepting this!" England told the server behind the counter. The server shrugged.
"Sorry Sir but that's how we serve tea."
"It's a disgrace. I would like to speak to the manager."
"Aw man!" Alfred suddenly wailed.
"What's wrong, Alfred?"
"I didn't get Batman!"
"Can't we just go? This is stupid," Sealand said.
"I agree with the small gentleman in the front," 'Maurice' said. "We are conspicuous and that is a security issue."
It was the most 'Maurice' had said - apart from telling France to stop touching him. "I'm not bothered about bloody security. What on earth do you think is going to happen? We're at a MacDonalds in bloody Finchley. I can't see any so-called security issues," England said, exasperated. He looked at his polystyrene cup with suspicion. If it were anything like the muck he'd consumed at the hospital then he was definitely going to have a bad experience.
"I think you make these names up," America said, stuffing his face with a cheeseburger.
Behind them, cars were pulling up and an impatient van driver tooted his horn and made a rude gesture that basically told England to move his vehicle or something unpleasant would befall him.
"Can you at least give me a slice of lemon to make it drinkable?" England asked the boy behind the counter.
The boy stared at him as if England had just landed in an alien spacecraft. "Next customer, please," he said flatly.
"Well. I'm going to write a letter of complaint to your managing director! Mr Ronald MacDonald himself!"
Someone banged on the Bentley's roof, "Oi! You gonna move or what, you posh git?"
It was the van driver behind them.
He was no longer behind them, he was stood glaring at England.
England quickly wound up his window and then glared back.
"Cool! Jerk Dad England getting into a fight!" Sealand said, eating his 'McFlurry' happily. "This is ace!"
England quickly drove off. "If any of you, and that includes you, Mr CIA man…"
"Maurice…" France purred seductively.
'Maurice' shuffled nervously.
"…Any of you get so much as a crumb on my upholstery then you are all dead!" England yelled.
"Jeez, calm down dude. You're a total buzzkill!"
And so England pulled into the driveway. He was dismayed as he did so. For several reasons. There was a dragon sat in his back garden, its huge head hanging over the back garden gate looking morose. Also, there was a horse stood next to the dragon and if these new inhabitants making his home look like a zoo weren't enough, there was Denmark and Prussia in his garage.
"Get out of my garage!" he yelled at them.
They looked up at him and then continued rummaging.
He spun round as Sealand said, "Uncle Den's a bit of a thief sometimes, Dad. Dad Swe says he's not allowed at our house on his own."
"What are you doing?" he asked them.
Prussia was putting some half-full paintpots, a rake, a spade and a hammer - all into a wheelbarrow.
"Where are you going with that?" he asked them.
"We've started our own DIY business," Den told him.
"You're bloody joking!"
"You've never supported us in our ventures!" Prussia told him and then turned to Denmark, "Come on, Den, let's go." And wheeled the implements down the drive.
"You're not just taking…" England followed them then stopped as America, France and 'Maurice' got out of the car. He did a double-take and then what followed was an apoplexy of rage such as France had not seen since France had debagged Richard I. Who, France recalled, had quite liked the experience. "What in God's right testicle, is that? What is wrong with you people? I asked you not to get anything on my upholstery and you've deliberately, deliberately, done just that!" he yelled and pointed. His face was bright red.
America stood to one side, slurping on his coke and watched. France hid behind America.
Prussia and Denmark ran down the road, weeving their way, the wheelbarrow's wheels squeaking.
"You are all degenerates! You have no morals. No respect for other people's vintage vehicles!" He continued to yell.
America shrugged. "What's he saying?" he whispered to Sealand.
"Dad's mad," Sealand said simply.
"Right!" England shoved them all into the house. 'Maurice' followed, casually putting a hand on England's arm when England grabbed America.
"Who was it?" England demanded.
"What?" France asked.
"You! I bet it was you! I know you've always hated me but this is despicable!" England yelled.
"Ice cream on the seat…" America said to Sealand as an aside.
"I did not have a McFurry, mon cher!" France whined.
"You!" England spun round to glare at America.
'Maurice' stood in front of the American. "I have to respectfully ask you to step back, Mr Kirkland."
England was not happy that he was not called 'Sir'. "It's intolerable. You'll bloody clean it up!"
"This is just ace…" Sealand said with wide eyes. "Tell 'em, Jerk Dad."
"Get to bed, Sealand."
"Aww!" Sealand stomped upstairs, clattering his bag behind him.
"Well… this is just great but I'm off to bed as well," America said.
"We'll sort this out in the morning," England said.
"Mon ami, what are you going to do about your mini zoo?" France pointed out of the window.
The horse, which England recognised as being Hungary's horse, was looking back at them through the kitchen window.
"Zsa Zsa Gabor!" France exclaimed. "Ah… we should keep her."
"We're taking her back tomorrow. And the dragon. I just hope the dragon doesn't eat the bloody horse. Do dragons eat horses? Oh God, Hungary will kill me."
"Calm down, mon cher. Have a cup of tea."
"Tea! Oh my God that tea from MacFlurries was bloody awful! It was an affront to tea!"
"I don't have a bed!" came a shout from upstairs.
It was America. "Tell Sealand to get out of the bed and let me have it! I'm older!"
"What happened to your airbed?" England called up.
There was a silence. "It won't blow up."
"There is a puncture in it, Sir." The CIA man said.
"Which one is he?" England asked France. "They look the bloody same."
"Zat is Renee, mon cher." France said camply.
"Really?"
"Oui."
"Maurice and Renee…" (England pronounced it Morris and Renny. France cringed.)
"Sleep on the bloody floor. I'll get you a bed tomorrow!" England called up.
"Can I have one of those racecar beds?"
"Whatever you like, just go to bloody sleep. Both of you!"
"Ah, eet eez like old times, you remember? When we brought up Alfred together?" France said, switching on the kettle, his face glowing.
"We are not a couple!"
"Mais oui…" France said, handing England a mug of hot cocoa.
England sipped it. "And what's all this about me being on Mytube or something?"
"I do not know. I blame Alfred for zis. I do not know how eet works."
"Hmmm…" England didn't believe him. He was still quite horrified by several things. Firstly, the fact that America had two CIA men who called him 'Sir' and seemed to think the American could be in danger. Then there was that bloody alien, Tony, who was a rude bugger. England had no idea where he'd gone to. Then there was the make-shift zoo in his back garden.
"Zoo!" he suddenly said, jumping up.
"What?"
"That horse! We have to get it in the garage before Mr Ping eats her. Hungary will bloody kill me!" England said, panicking.
"I will aidez-vous, mon ami," France said soothingly.
They went outside, only to find Mr Ping and 'Zsa Zsa Gabor' snuggled up. Mr Ping did not look happy when England attempted to lead the horse away.
"Oh well…"
"Eet eez l'amor!"
"Oh God! I'm going to bed." England trudged upstairs with his cocoa. He was alarmed to find France hopping up the stairs behind him. "What are you doing?"
"Going to bed!"
"Not with me, you're not. Go sleep on the bloody sofa!"
"But mon ami…"
England stopped outside America/Sealand's bedroom door. 'Maurice' or 'Renee' was stood, arms crossed in front of it. England could hear whispers and laughter from inside. "Get to sleep, you two!" he yelled.
America suddenly flung open the door, "You can't tell me what to do, can he, Maurice?" America asked. He stood there in his Superman pyjamas and waved a lightsabre at England (America, that is, not the CIA man. A CIA man dressed in Superman pyjamas would be very weird.)
"No, Sir."
"What's your wifi code?" America asked England.
"You don't need it, you're going to sleep."
"I need to do… stuff… on my ipad."
"Switch off your ipid, ipud, whatever it's called and get some sleep!"
"I wanted to show Sealand how to be a successful military nation who kicks ass."
"Get to bed!" England spun round and headed for his own bedroom.
What he found there made him head back out, slamming the door and running back down the stairs.
The rose petals on the bed, the champagne cooling in an ice bucket (where on earth had France got an ice bucket from?), the frankly horrid satin sheets and lastly, France sprawled on the bed in what the Frenchman obviously thought was a seductive pose.
England wrapped himself up in his Laura Ashley throw and attempted to sleep on the sofa. He kept a cricket bat in close proximity just in case…
Next morning…
England was dreaming about a mystical king, buried beneath Glastonbury Tor who would one day return when Britain needed him…He knelt at the moist earth…"Arthur Arthur you're needed…" and then felt a strange presence behind him, prodding him.
"Honhonhon…"
"Bloody France!" England yelled, and leapt off the sofa suddenly wide awake. It was a just a dream…
"Excuse me, but there is a German gentleman at the door." A strange voice said.
England almost screamed. His hair wild and stuck up on end, clutching his cricket bat. "I could have killed you!" he yelled.
The CIA man stared at him. The man was still wearing a dark suit and sunglasses and appeared to be perfectly groomed. England wondered if it was 'Maurice' or 'Renee' or whether somehow another one had been flown in. England also noted that the man had ceased addressing him as 'Sir'.
England dropped the bat. "What German?"
"At the door."
"I know that."
The CIA man said nothing. The man emanated disdain.
England headed for the door, hesitated as he caught a glance of himself in the hallway mirror. He was unshaven. His eyes bloodshot, his hair worse than he'd ever seen it, his eyebrows sprouted like little caterpillars, he had forgotten he was still wearing France's t-shirt that had some obscenity on it (in French) and too-tight jeans. The only thing he wore that actually belonged to him was his tartan slippers.
He opened the door, attempting to flatten his hair as he did so.
"Ah Germany…" he said with a sense of impending doom.
"Ja. It is me. My lawyer is not here. He is detained elsewhere on an important case…"
"Spain is actually in Benidorm with Ukraine, Hungary and Belgium, I believe. Poor chap," England told him.
"Well…"
England made him stand at the door and tried to peer round him to see if the dragon and the horse were still there. He wasn't sure if he was relieved when he found they'd gone.
"Can I come in? And why are you looking behind me?" Germany looked around suspiciously. "I hope you do not have France behind me ready to de-trouser me? I'm not falling for that again."
"That was in the War!" England said. "I wouldn't do that now!"
Germany did not look happy nevertheless and pushed past England.
"Sir, I need to see your credentials," 'Maurice' or 'Renee' said to Germany.
"And who are you?" Germany asked.
England stood at the door, scratching his head, looking for the dragon and the horse. If he'd lost either he was going to get his arse kicked. Perhaps Hungary was actually in Benidorm. He really hoped so. But China could still kick his arse. "Bloody dragon shouldn't have been here anyway," he said.
The CIA man refused to say anything. He just stared at the German.
Germany was not one to be intimidated, "Have you been picking up strange men in bars, England?" he asked.
England looked around and glared at him, "I bloody well have not!"
"I'm the security detail for Mr Jones, Sir."
England winced when the CIA man called Germany 'Sir'.
"Ah. I see. I hope that you are going to do something about the depravity that's going on in this house. And do you know this man here," German pointed at England, "He destroyed my car. A Mercedes Benz. He and his wanton boyfriend called me here to help them and then dropped an antique desk on it!"
England looked around at Germany and then back outside, "Germany did you see a dragon go past with a horse when you came up the road?"
"I think you are mentally ill, England," Germany said, pulling out his ID cards to show the CIA man.
"Hey dudes, have you seen this? Dude Artie's on Youtube!" America came skidding into the kitchen. He waved around his 'ipud' (as England erroneously called it).
England sat with his chipped 'I heart Blackpool' mug and stared at the screen.
He appeared to be on some internet 'movie' thing which showed him in a fight with Spain. Spain was throwing tomatoes at him and the clip was dubbed 'Epic Tomato Fight In Italian Restaurant see Englishman shout at a Spaniard'. Then there was the reports of the earthquake in the region of the Chinese Restaurant - also appearing on this Mytube thingy which showed him stomping off. Thankfully it didn't show him and China flying through the air.
"My reputation is in tatters. I just hope Her Majesty doesn't see this," he said despondently.
"Jerk Dad! Didn't you say you were going to teach me to bake?" Sealand announced walking into the kitchen. Under his arm England spied a book entitled 'How to be the Awesomest Nation Ever - Apart From Me, by Gilbert Beilschmidt'.
Germany fingered his collar and looked extremely nervous. All his bluster about compensation gone. Even America went pale.
"Is there a problem, Sir?" asked 'Maurice' or 'Renee' (England still had not worked out which was which).
"Cupcakes!" America yelled and ran upstairs. It was the evacuation code and suddenly everyone was gone…
England smiled at Sealand, who stood beside him with wide eyes. "Just pass me that flour and I'll get the mixer."
Author's Notes:
*Maccy D = the colloquial term for the fast food restaurant MacDonalds