Acknowledgements: thank you to the following for reviews/favourites/alerts/ PMs: rowerlovesastronomy, browsofglory,imiregretsnothing, icococandy, GalaxyGirlEm, gnomiegnome, itsalwaysbeme, Sarite, weirdonamedbrie, the Oracle of Akemi, CriticalThinking, RebelsAdvocate, eleanoralovesananias, TheMoonRaven, RoseRune, aphDadmark, Still a Lover of Franchises, Deciduous Forest 208, Yu-Gi-Oh Trekkie 99, RaptureChamber, StealthSage, yukia9tendo, Mondmaedchen, Bayboo20, England 2410, mossflower1234, ChildoftheMoon86, Gwen-Van-Well, The Silent Lilac, Supergrassaysyaaasss, Azmine Junet, febrezedtrash, magondala, BrownieTheFangirl, ppurpple, mssunnymuffins, espeon64, oh-cripe-my-fish, Renchikara, LucediDio,mirrorkirby64, quity190, Kathryn Daughter of Hestia, Elizaveta Hedervary - Hungary, spooky ghost flower, nightowlof2, Mondmaedchen, Siemsen, gintama200, phyllite, ravengal, not-philosophical, magicflyingmintbunnies, AllHellBrokeLoose666, GoneInASecond, Shikyoblossom20, theworldofhetalia, Acvodadkawall, skywolf2001Thank you to the following for reviews/favourites/alerts/ PMs: Browsofglory, Rowerlovesastronomy, Fryingpangirl, GalaxyGirlEm, gnomiegnome, itsalwaysbeme, Sarite, weirdonamedbrie, the Oracle of Akemi, CriticalThinking, RebelsAdvocate, eleanoralovesananias, TheMoonRaven, RoseRune, aphDadmark, Still a Lover of Franchises, Deciduous Forest 208, Yu-Gi-Oh Trekkie 99, RaptureChamber, StealthSage, yukia9tendo, Mondmaedchen, Bayboo20, England 2410, mossflower1234, ChildoftheMoon86, Gwen-Van-Well, The Silent Lilac, Supergrassaysyaaasss, Azmine Junet, febrezedtrash, magondala, BrownieTheFangirl, ppurpple, mssunnymuffins, espeon64, oh-cripe-my-fish, Renchikara, LucediDio,mirrorkirby64, quity190, Kathryn Daughter of Hestia, Elizaveta Hedervary - Hungary, spooky ghost flower, nightowlof2, Mondmaedchen, Siemsen, gintama200, phyllite, ravengal, not-philosophical, magicflyingmintbunnies, AllHellBrokeLoose666, GoneInASecond, Shikyoblossom20, theworldofhetalia, Acvodadkawall, skywolf2001
Driving Lessons Chapter 32 - The King has lost his crown
"Why do they need a protest march for the rights of gay rodeo riders?" England turned to ask France but predictably, France was already out of the vehicle and dancing with a man in rather tight leather trousers.
England sighed and abandoned the Hummer at the side of the road. There was nowhere it was going anyway as there were vehicles in front and behind him, nobody was going anywhere.
He shouted, "Alfred! You're supposed to be ill at home!"
Maddeningly, Alfred ignored him.
A small polar bear dressed in rainbow colours came up to him and called him a 'fathead'.
England thought it might have been Mr Kumajiro or whatever the hell it was called and wondered why small bears had issues with him.
"Alfred? Damn and blast it all!" Someone bumped into him. "Excuse me, madam, or I mean er sorry, my good Sir. Nice er trousers…"
"Mon cher, what is wrong?" France called out and jived up to him. "You look very bothered about somezing."
"You can cut that out!" England said as France kissed him on the cheek. "Alfred is over there and he said he was bloody ill and now he's ignoring me!"
France, despite still having a pot on his foot was managing to dance with a (presumably) gay cowboy. "Ah I do not zink…" he began to say.
"Alfred!" England finally spun the 'American' around.
"I'm not Alfred!"
"Oh really?" England said suspiciously.
"Yes! Don't you recognise me? I'm not carrying a gun, I'm not shouting and I'm polite."
"Stop pretending to be Canada! You're supposed to be ill. What a bloody fibber."
"I don't know what my idiot twin brother has said but… oh bonjour Uncle Francis!"
"Ah…" England said utterly deflated.
"And before you have a go at me…" Canada began to say but they were interrupted by Poland jigging up to them.
Poland placed a rainbow scarf around England's neck, "Oh honey! I'm so glad you've come out!"
"Yes well I'm glad I'm out as well," England said thinking of the mess in his house, the problems of getting rid of all those kings and the general problem of how to extricate America from his bedroom.
"I think you're very brave," Poland said, smiling at him.
"Well it's not been easy I can tell you!" England told him, thinking of dumping the kings at Buckingham Palace. The fact that he and Poland could possibly be at cross purposes never entered his head.
"No but it's not really, like, a surprise," Poland continued. "We all expected it!" He was wearing a rainbow cowboy hat and carrying a whip. England could not see if he had a horse.
"It's been a bloody nightmare. But Francis has actually been a bit of a help, kind of…"
"Well we all expected that, honey. We were all just surprised it's took so long!"
"Well, I think I did rather well. I mean I only just decided what to do this morning."
"Really honey? Some people take years!"
"Did you have problem with your kings as well?"
"Kings?"
"Yes getting your kings out of the house?" England was genuinely interested.
"My kings?"
"Yes, getting your bosses out of the house? Don't they visit you? I've had to deposit three Georges, an Elizabeth, and two Princes of Wales at Buckingham Palace. I lost a George."
"You lost a George?" Poland looked utterly confused. "What on earth is a George? I honestly think you've lost your mind, England. I did wonder when we went out last night. I think Katya might be right."
"Why what did she say? Does she have problems with her kings?"
"I have to go now, I have my hair to wash…" Poland said and began to hurry away.
England sighed. He quite liked the rainbow scarf though. But didn't like the parade in which he was slowly being carried away. "Erm excuse me… I'm not really… excuse me…" he said as he tried to battle his way back to Canada (if it was him, England wondered if it was America pretending to be Canada as he'd been caught out and about with 'flu').
"Matthew!" he managed to shout.
This time 'America' did turn round, "Over here Uncle Arthur!" Matthew called back and waved.
Ah so it was Canada. England battled through various camp cowboys and a very fabulously dressed rodeo clown and got to Canada's side. "Oh my God!" he managed to pant.
"I know! It's great isn't it? The parade's going so well. Apart from that great black thing stuck there blocking everyone… I mean what kind of bozo parks a car like that…? It's not my brother is it?"
"Er no… well… it is your brother's.. But I drove it… parked it…"
"That black thing? The one with the Carnival king sat on the bonnet?" Canada said.
"What?"
"And that poor forlorn-looking young man huddled in the back being terrorised by Uncle Francis?"
Canada was right. The 'Carnival King', the man dressed as Uncle Sam on stilts was indeed sat on the bonnet of the Hummer and he was drunk - quite possibly passed out.
Also France was indeed terrorising a young man who was in the back seat. England realised with horror that it wasn't just any young man. It was Henry VI. Not one of England's most illustrious kings. Someone who, when alive, had been astoundingly ineffectual and prone to melancholy. This seemed to be exacerbated now he was dead. Especially with France's face pressed against the back window of the Hummer and miming kissing the poor man. No wonder King Henry VI was huddled in a corner of the back seat, his hands clasped around his knees, rocking side to side.
"Oh bugger…"
Later…
"So I go to get rid of some Kings, a Queen and two Princes of Wales and one Nation, and come back with another King, another Nation and the Nation I tried to get rid of…" England was talking to himself. In his bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror. Was it his imagination or was he looking much older than his 1000+ years?
They had had to abandon the Hummer or whatever it was called and hitch a lift with some gay cowboys which France had thought was delightful. This was only slightly less uncomfortable than hitching a ride with an invisible dragon.
Downstairs, America and Canada were playing Guitar Hero, whatever that was. England had been appalled to get back home to find Alfred dancing around the sitting room with cats in his arms (they all seemed to have taken a liking to him and followed him everywhere). When England had turned the music down and asked him what the bloody hell he thought he was doing and why wasn't he lying upstairs 'ill', the American had said he had felt 'a little better' and that 'playing Dance Revolution' had 'helped'. One of the CIA agents had apparently gone out and bought a 'dance mat' whatever that was.
He realised far too late that his life was not his own.
"Mon ami!" France called up to him.
"For God's sake!" England called back. "Can a man not sit in the loo for a few minutes?"
"Zere are some parcels zat have arrived pour vous!"
England sighed, washed his hands, combed his hair and stomped downstairs. He side-stepped the two Nations dancing in his front room and went to the kitchen (the CIA men had wisely declined to be in their 'competition')
"What?" he said.
France nodded at the table. There were indeed some parcels - all with the markings of an online shopping channel emblazoned on them. "Well I didn't order anything," England said.
"Neither did I. Although we really could do with a decent coffee maker and coffee grinder," France told him. He was wearing pink marigold gloves and holding a long handled sponge. The latter object he waved at England.
"I'll grind you in a bit!" England yelled and wished he'd not used that particular phrase. "And get that thing out of my face!"
"Oh lala! It's not in your face, it is in my hand," France said.
"Then get that bloody thing that's in your hand out of my bloody face."
"You shout too much!"
England was about to start opening the parcels when Italy came blundering in.
"Senore Inghilterra, I ordered them!" The Italian still had his eyes closed and he looked dishevelled.
"What the bloody hell are you doing here? I thought you left last night with Germany?"
"I nearly did but then Senore America said that he was going to have a Let's Dance competition and also Ludwig said he was going to go and help the Neighbourhood Watch people with their complaints against you and I didn't want to complain about you and they all looked a bit scary. They held a big meeting about you in their meeting hall last night and they were all dressed up in cloaks and I got scared so I came back here and I wanted to be in the dance competition because I can dance even though Romano said I can't and also Signore Russia texted me a really creepy text telling me to get ready to take over the world!"
England stared at him, "Russia wants to take over the world with you?"
France staggered backwards dramatically, "I told you! Nobody would believe me. Every-time I have seen Ivan he has said something about destroying all of us! Eet eez terrible! We must do something!" he began to run up and down the kitchen, waving the dishwashing implement around in England's face as he did so. England was sorely tempted to get hold of the thing and shove it down France's windpipe.
This panic caused Italy to panic as well and he ran up and down yelling, "Aargh! The Russians are coming, the Russians are coming!"
A small voice said in a corner of the room, "Who is Russia?"
England looked across to see Henry VI sat in the corner, still wearing his ermine cloak, a childish paper crown on his head, looking thoroughly miserable.
"Oh er… he's er… you won't know him. I don't think we had any dealings with Russia back in er 1430 or thereabouts. I didn't meet Russia for another 100 years. Oh dear God…" He looked around after his little monologue and found France, Italy and Henry VI hiding under the table. France was telling the King how terrifying Russia was.
At least they seemed to have gotten over their initial enmity, England thought.
"Anyway, shouldn't we er… open these packages?" he asked no-one.
'Marcel', the Secret Service detail for the day walked in and stared at the packages. "Are those from Mr Russia?" he asked.
"Well yes but I'm sure…" England trailed off as the Secret Service man was immediately on the walkie-talkie.
"We have a code 499, I repeat a code 499. Yes I don't know how. Big Bad Wolf was here and ordered some things with Bo Peep."
"Who in God's name is Big Bad Wolf and Bo Peep?" England asked.
'Marcel' looked at him, "Mr Russia and Italy, Mr Kirkland."
"Oh right. What on earth do you think is in those parcels?" he asked.
But Marcel wasn't listening to him he was nodding to whoever was talking to him on the walkie-talkie. He then switched it off and turned round, "Lieutenant-Colonel Jones, Sir? We need to get out now."
Alfred, all flushed from playing whatever it was, came dashing in, "I ain't leaving! I'm not going to DC, man!"
"We need to evacuate the building, Sir," 'Marcel' turned to his colleague, 'Pascal'. "Evacuation of Prince Charming and Snow White now."
The other CIA man nodded and grabbed America and Canada and pretty much threw them out of the house.
Italy ran after them, "It wasn't my fault!" he shouted. Henry VI, having somehow got along quite well with Italy after huddling together under the table, hurried after them. France sauntered past and pinched 'Marcel' on the bum as he went.
"What in the name of Emmerdale do you think can possibly be in those parcels?" he asked.
Around him the house was being sealed up by plastic sheeting, some people arrived in full Hazmat suits with Geiger counters. "I'll put the kettle on shall I?" he said, hiding the ginger nuts under the sink.
"We believe there could be a small thermonuclear device hidden in those parcels," Marcel was telling the assembled Nations.
Italy burst into tears, his face pressed against France who tried to console him.
"I really don't think it is," England said, sipping from his I 'heart' Blackpool mug. The radiation clear-up team realised he was still in the house (he was busy hiding the teabags and 'good' biscuits) and shoved him outside to stand with his fellow Nations.
"Man! This is so cool!" America yelled, punching the air.
"It could spark World War 3, Sir," Marcel said gravely.
One of the Hazmat suited scientists took England's mug from him and ran a Geiger counter up and down it.
Next door, George IV was glaring at them over the fence, "You are ruining mine and Rosemarie's honeymoon!" he called.
England glared at the scientist who had taken the mug from him, "That was the finest cup of PG Tips you'll ever find, you imbecile!" He then shouted at George IV, "And you can shut up, you're supposed to be bloody dead!"
"Don't you oppress me!" George IV shouted and then looked at Henry VI, "At least I was a better king than you!" he said.
"That's debatable," England muttered, looking from one to the other.
"Come on Rosemarie, let's go to Margate!" the dead King yelled and stomped off.
And so, for the second time in a week, the whole area was evacuated by the security services.
"How long do you think we'll be here?" England asked someone as they were shown, along with another 2000 or so people into a local school sports hall designated as the local evacuation shelter.
He was not given an answer. Instead he was given a number and he, France, Italy, America and Canada, along with Henry VI and Mr Kumajiro slouched off to find themselves allocated to numbered camp-beds and given a blanket each.
"This is all your fault, Italy, you little bloody fool," England hissed.
America and Canada were already playing volleyball with some local kids - the ball had bounced off England's head twice already.
"Zis is just terrible!" France wailed, face down on a metal rickety campbed. "I cannot live like zis! No wine! No style!"
"Oh shut up."
"I don't understand it!" Italy wailed, hugging Mr Kumajiro, who was struggling in his grasp. King Henry VI had tried to stroke the curmudgeonly bear but the bear had bit him.
"What did you bloody order with Russia?!" England asked.
"I thought it was just a pasta maker!" Italy wailed.
"So what's the problem? Eh?" England addressed this to Marcel.
"This, Mr Kirkland…" Marcel showed England a series of text messages on Italy's phone - all from Russia.
"The order has gone and soon Russia will have a foothold in Rome!" the text said.
"We think that Mr Russia was going to attack Italy first, seeing them as a vulnerable point in Western Europe." Marcel explained.
"I think that he was just ordering stuff from QVC…" England said skeptically.
Marcel ignored him but showed him another text, "We will make preparations to take over the world!"
"Now that is odd, but it could be…" England began to say.
"I thought he meant Braginski-Vargas Pizza Huts all over the world! I never thought he meant anything else! I don't want to take over the world! I have problems with my pants in a morning, I don't think I would be very good at world domination." Italy wailed.
France nodded wisely and said creepily, "You can tell me all about your pants, leetle Italy…"
"And then there's this…" Marcel said.
"Cast on 22s, k2p2 repeat for 5 cm."
"Oh my God!" England exclaimed.
"Yes we think those are the nuclear codes!" Marcel said.
"Who would give this moron the nuclear codes?" England asked, pointing at Italy. A ball hit him in the head again.
"I've got the nuclear codes for the States!" America yelled for all to hear.
"Dear God help us…" England muttered.
Sat on the next campbed, Mr Kumajiro was texting Mr Panda, "Yo Panda, these guys are such losers, LOL. Mr Russkie sent stupid Italy a knitting pattern and they all think it's the nuclear codes. Anyway, are we still on for Badminton on Thursday if you can get away from China?"
France turned to England and said, "Mon ami, I have to get out of here."
"Oh for God's sake, France. Just because you don't have your fancy wine, you can't just walk out. I suppose we have to stay here until the all clear. Bunch of idiots…"
"No you don't understand. I have my driving test later."
"Driving test? What?"
"Well you have not taken me for any driving lessons lately but I know how to drive so I thought I could pass anyway. I am very clever."
"Oh my God…" England thought hard. He could actually get rid of France. If the idiot passed his test then he could bugger off. That would be it. His side of the contract would be complete.
He jumped up off the camp-bed and yelled, "Hurrah!" He then practically picked France up and headed for the door and… were met by a wall of Secret Service men (Gaston, Marcel, Philippe and Pascal according to France). They were going nowhere…
France collapsed in tears. "Oh non! And poor Gilbert and Denmark are out there all alone and afraid…"
England doubted this very much. "I'm sure they've scarpered."
"Zay were living in your car, mon cher!"
"What?"
To be continued…