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Driving Lessons Chapter 34 - Moonage Daydream
At the test centre, England sat with his head in his hands, moaning softly. Even the cup of tea and custard cream did nothing to raise his spirits.
"When I heard you were all going to see Big Brother France pass his driving test I thought I should come along. Mr Pascal, one of the Secret Service men let me go. He's really not so bad. He said that I was a bloody idiot anyway." All this was said at 100 miles per hour by Italy who was waving his arms around at the same time.
England had to agree with 'Mr Pascal's' estimate. He was also wondering why Italy spoke about 'going to see France pass his driving test' as if it were some kind of performance art. It certainly didn't feel like it.
"He said I wasn't a security risk although he still thinks it's my fault that there is going to be an apocalypse or Armageddon. I can't remember which one. Do you know which one, Big Brother France?" Italy continued without pausing for breath.
France shook his head, "Ah, mon petit cher… you should not worry yourself over such things. I do not."
Italy looked at him through half-closed eyes, "Okay!" he said cheerily.
England slowly and gingerly, as if he were recovering from an operation, stepped outside to look at his poor car.
"It's probably best you don't look, mon cher…" France said.
England looked at his beautiful car. His pride and joy. His 'baby'. There was a crumpled front and rear bumper and a huge scratch down the rear left wing. A medieval King sat in the back seat still screaming silently. England understood what he meant.
"I hate you. All of you!" England yelled. "Especially you!" he yelled at France.
"But not me though?" Italy said, bouncing from foot to foot.
England snarled at him.
"It's not so bad. A bit of paint and a hammer to straighten out those bumpers…" Prussia said, swaggering outside and putting an arm around England's shoulders.
"Don't touch me…" England growled, flinching at the idea of someone putting a hammer to his beautiful car.
"Woah! Calm down! No need to go all Battle of Trafalgar on us!" Prussia said. "He's as whiny as Austria," Prussia muttered to Denmark.
"Ah mon cher… I expected zis. I expected a breakdown sooner or later. I blame ze boy living avec nous." France said, referring to America's recent habitation of England's home.
"You are I are not living together!" England yelled, finally standing up. "You are all going to bloody well leave my house and my country and…"
Ten minutes later as England drove them back to the sports centre, he was still lecturing them.
"…And I want my home and garden back. No more bloody horses and dragons…" England continued.
In the back seat, Denmark was slurping noisily through a straw from a can of Carlsberg. Italy was looking at the Dane worriedly. The slurping sounded some great suction machine.
Prussia was staring out of the window and seemed to be 'thinking'.
King Henry VI was staring at the back of France's head (France was in the passenger seat) still seething after France had slapped him. It had been the only thing that had stopped him from screaming.
"Dude, get Tino to send you money again. Tell him that if he doesn't send money you'll go back and live with them in Helsinki," Prussia finally said to Denmark.
Denmark nodded, slurping noisily.
"That's extortion! Blackmail!" England said, appalled.
"Ja!"
Denmark extricated the straw from his mouth and said to Prussia, "Or ask your bruder for money?"
"Nein, he won't lend me any. Not after the last time…"
"The roller disco?" Denmark asked, raising an eyebrow.
"After that…"
"The ball pool?"
"After that…"
"That ice cream van that you drove through the German Embassy's grounds?"
"Could have been that. I thought it would be good. How was I to know that ice cream cornets weren't appropriate for a State visit? Bunch of misery-guts."
"Ja."
"I like ice cream…" Italy said quietly.
They finally arrived at the Sports Centre. England slouched out of the car towards the centre muttering. "They will rue the day, Tinks. You shut up, Captain Hook. What do you know about it?"
"Is Signor Inghilterra saying something? Luddy thinks he might be having a nervous breakdown," Italy told them as they stepped in the Sports Centre.
King Henry VI said to them, "I don't think Arthur likes me."
"Nobody really likes you, mon cher," France said in commiseration. "If you cheered yourself up a little and perhaps wore somezing a leetle less, je ne sais pas, less gloomy, non?"
"You should dress more teutonic," Prussia butted in.
England twirled his car keys and watched their retreating backs, "I have a cunning plan, Tinks. The cunningest of plans… oh yes…" he laughed evilly and then glanced quickly around. "But shush my friends," he continued to his invisible allies, "Tell no-one!"
"Tell no-one what, dude?" America yelled coming up behind him.
"Aaargh! I really wish you wouldn't do that!" England yelled at him.
"Are you talking to yourself again?" America said and then without waiting for an answer said, "So did Francy-pants pass then or not?"
"Not."
"Well that's to be expected. I mean these Europeans can't drive can they? It's a proven fact."
"I'm a European!"
"Yes but you're not really, are you?"
"Yes I am."
"Yes but you're not, are you?"
"Yes I bloody am."
America thought about this and then said, infuriatingly, "Yes but you're not though really."
"Bloody yanks…" England stomped off after him into the centre...
…To be told they could all go home and the possible 'thermonuclear device' had actually turned out to be a coffee bean grinder.
"I bloody told them…" England muttered, stomping back out. "But oh no… nobody bloody listens to me. Well they will soon when I unleash my secret weapon. Oh yes…"
"It's a sign of madness if you talk to yourself," America said, jogging up beside him.
"You lot will rue the day!" England said, darkly and got in his car. "All of you!" he shouted, slamming the door.
"What's he saying?" America asked as the others followed him into the Secret Service's black people carrier.
"Dunno. Den, did you ring Ber and Tino?" Prussia said.
"I texted them and they said they were going to come across and discuss it…"
"Poor petit cher…" France said sadly.
"Yeah poor petite chair…" America muttered, not understanding at all.
"I worry about him," France said, looking soulfully out of the back window at England as they sped away, leaving England sat in his car in the car park behind a line of cars queuing to get out.
"We all do…" America said, not really listening.
"You do?"
"What? Who? No not really. Mad as a box of monkeys," America replied. "Come on, who's up for MacDonalds? King Henry dude?" He then turned to 'Gaston' who was driving, "Take us to the nearest fast food restaurant and make it snappy!"
Behind them, England seethed. Then there was a banging on the window. He jumped half out of his skin. "Please don't let it be one of the dead kings…" he muttered to himself when he saw a fuzzy hazy figure. It wasn't. It was Canada.
"My brother left me behind! He always does!" he said forlornly. "My country's bigger than his as well…"
"Ah yes. Matthew. Get in. I can give you a lift to the airport."
"Because of this nuclear bomb in your kitchen there aren't any planes taking off," Canada told him. He then turned to Mr Kumajiro who had already called 'shotgun' and was getting into the front passenger seat. "Is there, Mr Kumajiro?"
"No there isn't. But I was staying in London anyway for the rest of week. I have important business to conduct," the bear said importantly.
"It wasn't a bloody nuclear bomb! It was a bloody coffee bean grinder!" England yelled, ignoring the idea forming in his head about Mr Kumajiro having 'business' in the city.
"You have to admit though, it looks very suspicious," Canada said from the back seat.
"Suspicious? How? How can it be suspicious? I didn't order the damned thing!"
"That's not how the security services are seeing it though, are they, Mr Kumajiro?"
"No, they're not. Agent Washington told me in confidence that there would be questions asked…" the polar bear ladened the words 'questions asked' with hidden meaning. Certainly hidden to England.
"Who in God's name is Agent Washington?" he yelled.
"I'm saying no more," the bear said, but tapped his nose with his paw.
"Mr Kumajiro has level 4 security clearance," Canada explained to England.
"What?"
"The equivalence to a four star general," Canada said.
England wondered if he'd slipped into some kind of parallel universe where bears were important people with 'business contacts' and had security clearance. He shook his head.
He soon found out when he got home and found the other Nations there. The Secret Service/CIA men had apparently been replaced by two new ones - according to France - who named them 'Francois' and 'Sebastian'. Neither looked like a 'Francois' or a 'Sebastian' and to England they looked exactly like the others. But they both saluted Mr Kumajiro much to England's disgust.
France greeted him, looking gloriously excited, "Mon cher, I have to tell you, don't get angry…"
"Angry about what? I'm already angry. I've been angry since the 11th century and stop bloody calling me mon cher!" he said. There were still some bomb disposal men in his kitchen, trying to carefully put the coffee grinder machine thingy back together. They looked nervous. He had no idea why they looked so nervous. It wouldn't click with him until later as to what or who had made them tremble.
"Ah oui," France shrugged this off as if he'd expected this. "Danemark and leetle Prussie are putting up a huge erection in ze lounge."
England shuddered, "I don't want to hear any more. And what the bloody hell are these idiots still doing here?" he pointed at the bomb disposal men.
"They have to fix the coffee grinder! They took it to pieces thinking it was a nuclear bomb. I thought you knew. Do you have problems with your memory as well? Because Luddy says he has problems with his. He has whole centuries missing from his memory. I know because he told me and I think I know where they went but I'm not allowed to say…" Italy said, his arms windmilling round and round.
England did not understand any of this at all and tried to ignore Italy pulling out a large pan and proceeding to make pasta. He had no idea where the packets of pasta had come from. His own kitchen cupboards were now a mystery to him since France had moved in.
He went into the lounge with trepidation. The large 'erection', said with such creepiness by France, was a tent. Prussia and Denmark were trying to erect it and failing badly. One was holding one end of a the large bright red, blue and yellow striped material and the other was holding the other.
The word 'pop-up' on the box was a misnomer. It did not 'pop-up' at all. The box had a photograph of two happy smiling shiny children and the instructions said: 'for ages 4 years upward'.
"It says hold out the top two poles…" Prussia read slowly.
"There aren't two top poles!" Denmark said.
"How many are there?"
Denmark held up a large clump of metal and red, blue and yellow canvas. "Four." He said finally. England was amazed he could count that high.
"Hmmm…" Prussia scratched his head.
"Man, I need a beer."
"Get that bloody thing out of my bloody house!" England yelled.
They ignored him. "I'm pulling two poles but nothing's happening," Denmark said. His mouth hung open and he looked more gormless than usual.
"I never have a problem with putting up erections," France leered.
England closed his eyes. He'd expected that remark.
"I can't see the TV!" America complained.
"You're supposed to have bloody flu!" England yelled.
"I'm convalescing! I'm trying to get my XBox to work but your TV's rubbish and I can't see for Pru and Den getting in the way!" America yelled back.
England was about to battle his way through the unopened tent that filled his lounge and bodily throw the 'Awesome Trio' out but he was interrupted…
"Zere is someone coming up the garden path," France announced. He looked concerned. He was twisting a duster in his hands.
"Who is it? Please tell me it's the US Consulate come to take Alfred away? Or the German Embassy? Or even.. The Danish Embassy, although God knows I think they've washed their hands of him."
"Yes, that was after he got the Crown Prince drunk and they rode a motorbike through the grounds while wearing gorilla costumes," France said.
Denmark and Prussia high-fived each other.
England shook the image away from his head and went through to the kitchen, ignored Italy who was singing some aria while he stirred a quite nice-smelling but suspicious-looking (to England) pasta sauce.
"I have a terrible feeling about zis," France whispered to England as he was about to open the door.
Nobody had actually knocked or even used the doorbell, England thought, but he sensed an ominous presence behind the door. "Do you think it's suddenly got cold?" England asked, turning round to look at Italy and France.
They obviously did. Both had stopped in their tracks. Italy had a dripping spoon halfway to his mouth, France was looking pale and shaken. Henry VI was hiding under the table muttering about 'dark forces'.
Before England could say anything more the doorbell played 'Jingle Bells' and then there was a clang and the tune died in the air as someone or something ripped it off the wall.
And then the door splintered from top to bottom and a piece of lead piping appeared in the hole.
England jumped back. "Oh my God…" he cried. He knew who it was.
"Dobroye utro, comrades!" the large figure said as it came storming into the kitchen through splinters of wood, carrying with it a flurry of sleet, "Or is it dobriy den?" the figure gave England his doorbell back.
"It's erm… I have no idea. How nice to see you, Mr Russia," England said but was shoved out of the way by the two CIA men. England suspected they would regret their attempts at 'security clearance' with Russia.
"Mr Russia we need you to drop the weapon and put your hands in the air." But 'Francois' did not have chance to finish as he was pinned by his throat against a wall by one very large Russian hand.
'Sebastian' was face-palmed and fell flat on the floor.
"Oh non! Zay are just innocent humans who are protecting leetle Alfie!" France whined and ran to 'Sebastian' and cradled the man's head. "Talk to me, Sebastian!"
Russia just shrugged and dropped 'Francois', who fell to his knees, clutching his throat.
"I came to see Italy," Russia said simply.
Italy jumped into England's arms, "Save me Signore Inghilterra!" he cried.
"Get off me!" England said, dropping him.
Russia smiled. He was twisting a piece of bathroom plumbing into a heart. England noted, with a surge of repressed anger that it was from his own bloody bathroom.
"We have a business deal to conduct," Russia said.
"What's going on? Who called me 'Alfie'?" Alfred said coming in. He saw Russia and then the downed CIA men and looked concerned. "Aw man! They were going to go out and get me some icecream!"
"There will be no more ice cream…" Russia said ominously.
England felt a shiver run down his back.
Prussia and Denmark, crowding in behind America, took one look at the downed Secret Service men, Russia and then at France attempting a rather too enthusiastic mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and slowly crept out. They obviously got entangled in the tent and ran out of the front door.
England couldn't help but smile at this. At least he'd got rid of two of the Nations…
Canada, however, didn't seem too bothered. "Hello Mr Russia, are you here for the security meeting?"
"Oh da! That as well!" Russia said cheerily.
"You're not supposed to know about that!" Mr Kumajiro told Canada. "I doubt you have the security clearance."
"Mr Kumajiro!" Russia cried, delighted and dropped his bathroom plumbing and ran forward taking the polar bear cub into his arms giving him a huge hug.
"Get off me!" the bear said.
"What security meeting?" England asked, trying to ignore the still choking CIA man who was trying to radio in 'back-up' and 'Sebastian' coming to consciousness being snogged by France.
"United Nations Security Council meeting," Russia told him, putting the polar bear cub on the ground and patting his head - something England would never dream of doing. (Mr Kumajiro glared up at the Russian and kicked him in the ankle, Russia didn't seem to notice.)
"Oh yeah… we forgot to tell you," America said, stuffing some cookies in his mouth.
"So that's why you're here? Not really to see me?" Italy said, from under the table.
Russia bent his 6 foot 2 inch frame down and peered under the table. "I'm here to see everyone. Even you, Mr King Henry!" (Henry VI trembled.) "Mr England texted me!" he said this happily. "Nobody ever ever texts me not unless I order them to. Like Estonia and Lithuania…" here Russia seemed to go off into a little reverie and then shook himself out of it. "But Mr England did. He invited me here… to stay…"
To be continued…