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Driving Lessons Chapter 43 Cry Havoc!
In the Tower of London…
"I'm bloody innocent!" England yelled, beating his fists against the door. He considered using France's head to beat the door with instead of his hands but couldn't be bothered. The Frenchman was now unconscious and that was a better condition to be in at the moment, at least he wasn't bothering England.
How did he end up here? How did his country end up being at war with Spain (or the 'Paella War' as the media were calling it).
He sat on the bench, "This is the winter of our discontent," he said discontentedly at France who snored.
He'd already been back to the Palace once to try to sort stuff out only to be appalled by some despot putting Irn Bru in the teapot and finding his brother now the personification of the UK. Perhaps he should have really left them all to it. It wasn't his fault if Russia kept sodding off. Surely he was still in the sock shop? And surely detrousering a prince of the realm was not as bad an offence as putting Irn Bru in a teapot, wearing the wrong tie or interrupting an Englishman's bath?
Although England doubted that anything would come of this 'Paella War', especially now Gibraltar had been brought into the equation - forgetting it was Gibraltar who had gotten them into the mess and dragged Spain into it but only because someone had said something to someone else who had then told someone else… England was still confused over the details of this and was still unsure how any of it had actually happened. All England knew was that if he hadn't been called away to sort out the idiot American's almost destruction of London by his pizza delivery service none of this would have happened.
He glared at France. It was all his bloody fault. That French tart. His life had never been the same since he'd moved in. And now Belarus threatening them with the bread army... no, it was red army… damn that idiot Italian… it was just too much.
After this stream of consciousness, England took off his old regimental tie and wrapped it around France's neck and was about to tighten it when there was an unpleasant vibrating feeling in his buttocks. Thinking it was some new trick by the Frenchman he tried to ignore it.
It was his phone. Which was a huge relief for everyone concerned (even though there was just himself and France present in this hovel of a cell).
England almost dropped the phone in shock and then prodded, poked, pressed and then finally 'swiped' the said device.
"Hello, who's this? I cannot tell who the dickens I am talking to!" he said. After France had changed all the contact names, he had no idea who he was talking to - it said 'Sexy Hombre'.
It was Austria.
England would not have described Austria as 'sexy' or a 'hombre'.
"It's me, Austria! England, what on earth is going on? Why have you declared war on Spain? And are you out of your small and disturbed mind, kidnapping Russia?" Austria shrieked down the phone. "I and the other Central European countries are stuck in the middle of this!"
"Pipe down you idiot," England said. "I didn't declare war on Spain and I certainly have not kidnapped Russia!"
"Well the gossip chain says…"
"You mean Portugal told Spain who told Gibraltar who told Hungary who told Poland who told…"
"Nein! It was actually Spain who told Romano who told…"
"Romano? I thought he was in London delivering pizzas or trying to deliver pizzas?" England wondered briefly if Romano was still stuck on the North Circular Road. (He was. He was sat smoking a cigarette, having been stuck in his car for three hours. He was plotting England and America's downfall whilst also attempting to chat up the woman in the next car.)
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Arthur. Romano then told Lithuania who told Poland who told Liz who told me."
"So your Government didn't bother to inform you?"
"I'm too busy for politics, Arthur. I have a symphony to write and a busy psychotherapy practice run."
"I'm amazed anyone goes to you, Roddy," England said through gritted teeth. He knew Austria hated being called 'Roddy'.
"Well it's all thanks to you and Francis. In the past few days I've had a severely disturbed driving instructor, a hairdresser and her friend, quite a few policemen one of whom can't even bear to hear a French accent without breaking down, a nurse who was sent because she was burbling about a Frenchman being hundreds of years old who she treated for a broken foot. She seems to believe that you're both immortal gay vampires. I blame all these vampire movies around."
"You mean like Twilight?"
"You've seen it?"
"Of course not!"
"Romania got in touch the other day and he was annoyed that his castle was over-run with teenage girls looking for vampires."
"Yes well, he's a weirdo as well. I'm amazed you're in touch with him."
"One has to keep in touch with one's former subjects."
"You're not an empire anymore, Austria." England said. He was bored now. If the Germanic ex-Empire wasn't going to help him then so be it but he should stop moaning.
"Where are you anyway? I can't get hold of anyone! That young idiot America has gone radio silent. Canada said he's in a top secret meeting - as if! His bear is running the show I think."
"Mr Kumajiro is behind this?" England asked, appalled.
"Well I think so, don't you?"
"It was you lot who voted that I shouldn't have a military!" (Actually, thought England, it was Mr Kumajiro who had been in charge of that meeting.)
"I didn't vote! I'm not on the UN Security Council. Nor am I rotating."
England knew Austria meant a 'rotating member' but it made him snigger anyway. Lack of sleep and tea made him feel spacey.
"Never mind are you going to help me? I need to find Russia," England asked impatiently.
"So you didn't kidnap him?"
"No of course I didn't, you daft Austrian! Last time I saw him he was going into the Sock Shop."
"I don't believe you and neither will Belarus."
England ignored that. "Now I'm in prison," he said and then added, "With France."
"Best place for you both, not before time either," Austria said. "Honestly there's a few people here who have put good money on you two being locked up." (England could imagine the uptight Austrian checking his wallet as he said this.)
England glared at the phone.
"What did you do apart from kidnapping Russians, starting a war with Spain, split up Spain from Belgium, destroying Germany's car by dropping a desk on it, un-authorised usage of a dragon in a capital city, causing a chemical spill with that cake of yours, and then getting thrown off that allotment. To be honest that final one really took the biscuit." Austria took a deep breath. He was actually sat in the Austrian Embassy checking his expense account and writing (on parchment) a letter to his Head of State telling him to evacuate Vienna in case the Russians invaded.
England rubbed his temples as he listened to his litany of crimes. Most of them weren't even his fault, or even France's to be fair. Also they hadn't dropped a desk on Germany's car - it had been an antique bureau. There was a difference.
He hung up and wished he could slam the phone down instead of just pressing a button. He was getting nowhere. He looked through his list of contacts. They had all been changed by France and he had no idea who was who. (The author has put the real contacts in brackets for simplicity.)
'Sexy Hombre' - Austria.
'Butts and Buns' - England had no idea (this was actually the stripper agency that had employed Francis - why it was on England's phone is anyone's guess)
'Mr Love' (this was actually Germany - Francis' sarcasm evident here)
'Denpru' (this spoke for itself, but England didn't twig that effectively France joined Denmark and Prussia together as if they were one entity)
'Mr Fluffypants' (Russia)
'Le Grande Derrière' (Spain)
'Signor Crybaby' (Italy - obviously)
'Signor Bigdick' (Greece)
'Double D' (Ukraine)
'Princess Crazy' (Belarus)
'Goldfinger' (Switzerland)
'Goldilocks' (Poland)
'Lillykins' (Liechtenstein, obviously)
'Sex God' (England hoped fervently that didn't refer to him - it didn't, it was Lithuania)
'BigSpender' (Estonia - who was very rich and owned several hotels although none of the Nations realised this)
'Mr Wang' (England was disgusted at this until he realised it was actually Yao Wang and so had not been changed)
'Mr and Mrs Sequinpants' (Sweden and Finland)
'Small annoying person' (could be anyone - but it was actually Sealand)
'Emperor Palpatine' (Mr Kumajiro)
'Luke Skywalker' (America)
'Snake Hips' (Cuba)
'Chapped Lips' (Canada)
'Darth Vader' (Mr Panda - who England did not even realise had a mobile phone, let alone knew that the panda had his number).
He gave up and picked one.
He expected 'Darth Vader' to be Russia. It wasn't.
A voice shouted down the phone at him in Chinese about a missed Badminton match. England tried to explain that he wasn't ordering a Chinese takeaway, which made the voice shout even louder and then called him a 'fathead' and hung up. England thought then that he'd rung China so he rang again. There was no answer. England swore.
He took a guess and tried 'Luke Skywalker' and was relieved when America's voicemail answered, "Yo dude, you reached the Hero! I'm probably on some secret mission rescuing some lame-ass limey dude who can't hold up his own trousers. Or I'm on the boss level of COD. Call me back or leave a message to reach the Hero. If it's the Prez, you've reached the voicemail of Arthur Kirkland. Seeya, wouldn't wanna be yer!"
England sighed and said, "Alfred, you need to ring me back urgently. I'm stuck in the Tower of London with France. No that's not a pub or some kind of video game, it's a fortress where the crown jewels are kept. No that's not a euphemism or anything," England sighed. He never knew what to say to these voicemail things. "It was built in 1078," he added as if this would help and then began to go into a personal history of the tower. He was about to say something about a siege when America's voice cut in.
"Jeez what yer on about?"
"Alfred!" England had tears in his eyes. "I thought everyone had forgotten me!"
"We have."
England frowned, "Who's the 'we'? Have you found Russia?"
"Nah. But I found Pru and Den who are helping me."
"Oh dear God…"
"Then I got your lame-ass message."
"You just ignored me - I've been locked up here and I thought I was never going to get out!"
"It's been two hours dude," America said.
"How do you know? You weren't even there!"
"Man! Canada told me. Actually Mr Kumajiro told him who told me. He said it was for your own good. You and France sneaking into the Palace and stripping some Prince or something." America as usual sounded very vague.
"WHAT!" England yelled but the phone had died. Without so much as a 'battery low' or anything the phone was about as much use as a brick in England's hand. He hit France several times over the head with it.
France stirred and England actually tried to step back before the Frenchman tried to molest a part of his anatomy but then realised he was still handcuffed to him.
"Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows," England said to himself.
"Oui…" France burbled. "Le derrière."
England shuffled away from him quickly.
He was about to start praying (something he did only sporadically) when the door suddenly imploded.
England doubted it was due to his praying.
"You were only supposed to blow the lock!" came a familiar voice.
"Well how was I supposed to know? I only used a spoonful of the stuff."
Prussia strode in, thankfully his '5 metres' were now covered up. He was followed by Denmark.
England, who seemed to be channelling Shakespeare, said, "What light through yonder window breaks? Well actually door…"
"What's wrong with you?" Pru exclaimed. "Did they torture you?"
"Nah, he's always looked like that," Den said.
"Kesese! Look at France! Quick pass me a marker pen and we'll draw on him!"
"What did you use on the door?" England asked.
"Your Yorkshire pudding mixture. We found it in the fridge in a tupperware box. Honestly, I've never so much tupperware. Almost as much as Austria. He uses it when he goes to Embassy dinners and fills them up."
England preferred not to think about Austria's domestic arrangements. He'd had enough of the damn ex-Empire for one day.
"Did you arrive with America?" England asked hopefully. These two on their own were just awful, he assumed the 'brains' behind the operation had to be America.
"Ja! He's outside neutralising some guards," Pru said, he was busy drawing a moustache on France's upper lip.
"Can you get us out of these bloody handcuffs?"
"Woah! You two are seriously kinky. Aren't they, Den?" Pru said, looking up.
Den nodded, "Doesn't surprise me, dude. Francis usually carries pink fluffy ones around. We're a bit surprised about you though, England."
"Well I'm not surprised. Nothing surprises the Awesome One!" Pru retorted.
"We are not a bloody couple!" England yelled. "Get us out of these damned cuffs!"
"Calm down dearie and put yer knitting down before you drop a stitch," Pru said, finishing off drawing spectacles on France's face.
"Yeah… get thee to a nunnery!" Den added, grinning.
"Wait what? Shakespeare? How do you know…?" England began to say but was interrupted by a ridiculous image that now filled the doorway.
America was dressed as a Tower of London Guard, completely bedecked in red and gold, with ruff neck, red tights, pompom shoes and large black hat. He was also carrying a staff, although this had a balloon on it. "Look at this! It's great isn't it?"
"Why are you dressed as a Beefeater?" England asked.
"Is that what they're called? Do you have to eat beefburgers? Are they the same as hamburgers? I'm not sure about these tights though, man."
"Are they squashing your Florida?" Pru asked.
"Damn right they are!" America said and adjusted his tights self-consciously.
England groaned.
"Right men, let's go!" America said.
"Can you break these handcuffs, Alfred?" England asked him.
"Sure dude!" America said, stepping forward, he then stepped back quickly. "Woah! Francy-pants ain't wearing any pants!"
"I know," England said through gritted teeth.
Den and Pru stepped back.
"Jeez, nobody warned me!" Prussia said, as the rainbow flag slipped off the Frenchman.
"The lady doth protest too much, methinks!" Den said and thumped Pru on the back.
"Where are you getting all this Shakespeare from?" England asked, amazed.
"Prince of Denmark, 'Amlet, innit?" Den replied with a shrug as if this explained it all.
"I don't believe you've ever read Shakespeare in your life!" England said. He doubted Den could even read.
"I haven't, I know a bit of 'Amlet though," Den said.
"Right, never mind that men, let's shoot off these cuffs," America yelled. "Stand back!" He pulled out a gun and stepped forward.
"Wait! Where did you get that gun? What have I told you about carrying guns?"
"That it's illegal in this backwards country? Aw man…" America looked crestfallen. His crest was definitely felled.
"And they're dangerous. Give me that thing," England said, trying to grab the thing off America.
"It's mine! You can't have it!"
"You should listen to your dad," Pru said.
"He ain't my dad!"
England (one-handed - his other was cuffed to France) wrestled with America for control of the gun and then accidentally pressed the trigger.
There was a disappointing 'pop'.
"It's not even real!" England exclaimed when he examined the toy cap gun.
"'Course it's not. You said they're illegal over here," America replied.
"Well how did you think you were going to blow off the lock on these handcuffs?" England asked, exasperated.
America shrugged, "Force of will?"
"I am surrounded by imbeciles…" England said.
"Is that Henry IV?" Den asked.
"No, it's me," England replied.
"No, I don't mean Shakespeare or 'Amlet, I mean that miserable looking dude over there." Denmark pointed to the doorway.
King Henry VI stood there. He was pleased that he could dissipate and appear anywhere at will and even better that he could 'home' in on people he knew. Namely, his Nation. Although he was less pleased when he remembered that he'd been imprisoned in the Tower 500 years before.
"I didn't get that job," the king said mournfully. "Why are you in here, Arthur? This is a dreadful place. Full of ghosts…" he added.
"Yes, you for one!" England said. "For God's sake! Can no-one help me?"
"Aye, I expect someone will be along shortly to take your head from your shoulders…" the King said morosely, remembering his own execution.
"Jeez, he's a ray of sunshine isn't he?" Pru said.
"Rubbish at Mario Kart as well," America confided.
"What job did you go for, dude?" Den asked him, trying to slap the King hard on the back and finding his hand going straight through.
"I rehearsed for a play written by someone called Shakespeare."
"Yeah he's rubbish he is," Pru said. He and America had, between them, gotten hold of England and France and were trying to pull them apart. The handcuffs held - of course.
"What role?" England asked, batting America away. Being pulled and stretched was doing nothing for the beginnings of the mother of all headaches.
"Myself."
"Don't know that one," Den said.
"I died here at the age of 49…" Henry said.
"It sounds like you died on stage as well, man," Pru said wisely, looking at the King.
"You could have been a star!" Den said wonderingly.
"You died in this cell?" England asked the King. He shivered.
"Not this one exactly but…" Henry looked around, depressed.
"In the name of John Wayne!" America yelled. "Why are we listening to this dead loser? We have a world to save! I say we dress Francy-pants in pants and get the hell outta here, before the feds get here!"
England actually had to agree with his ex-colony. They were wasting time.
America picked France up and threw him over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. "Come on dudes let get some pants on this guy and get outta here!" He stormed off, with England being dragged after him - his left hand attached to France's right, his face uncomfortably close to France's hairy thighs.
"Can't we dress him in your uniform?" England said running down some steps after America.
"Nope. This fancy dress costume is mine now!"
"It's a Guard costume… I mean uniform… what about your jeans, Pru? Den? I mean they're bloody awful but at least they cover Francis' modesty." (England winced at the word 'modesty' - France had never been modest in his long years.)
"These are yours. We raided your wardrobe." Pru said.
"Oh bloody hell…"
"I've got a weapon that can help!" Den said and help up a butter knife.
"Is this a knife I see before me?" England said. "Wait? Did you steal that from my cutlery drawer? I recognise it!"
"Might have…"
"Shut up you blokes! We have to get past the sheriffs!" America said. He looked ridiculous in his Beefeater's costume. The hat was askew on his head and the staff he held had a pink balloon tied to it.
"The better part of valor is discretion," England said as they peeped around the corner.
"Will you shut up with this Shakespeare dude?" America whispered.
"I can't see anyone," Pru said.
"Can't we send the dead dude to see if there's any police around?" Den asked.
"That, my idiotic Nordic nutter is a good idea," England said and turned to Henry, "Your Majesty could you just make yourself invisible and go see if there's actually anyone around?"
"I can't just dissipate like that," moaned Henry.
Pru showed him a fist. Not a big fist but a fist nonetheless.
Henry did - dissipate that is, with a singularly depressed look on his face.
"I hope he comes back," Den said. "I kinda like him."
He did. Just as England was about to say that if you can't even trust dead monarchs anymore who can you trust, Henry re-appeared.
He looked out of breath. Which was weird.
"There are no guards around. And no executioners block, Arthur."
Arthur raised an eyebrow and fingered his collar.
"…But a big black horseless carriage has arrived…" the King continued.
"It's called a car, man," America said with barely disguised impatience.
Henry ignored him, "With some big men with sunglasses…"
"My dudes the CIA!" America yelled. "Yay! They should be able to help us. They're under my command."
"Really?" England was unsure about this, he doubted anyone was under America's command. But had no choice in the matter as America carried France across the car park and therefore pulled England along with him.
"Behold!" King Henry said, pointing at the 'horseless carriage' - a large black MPV. "The gloomy shade of death!" he added, needlessly, one thought.
"Sorted. We'll get in here and get my dudes to release you and Francy, that is unless you want to stay attached to Francy…? Okay okay don't hit me, I don't know, you two are so gay, man… and we'll go rescue Fat Russkie and save the world from Miss Belarussia!" America announced, punching the air and then dropping France on the pavement.
But his euphoria was suddenly cut short as a window wound down and a white paw emerged, pointing at them.
"I have a bad feeling about this…" England muttered.
England was right.
As they hesitated and as Pru wisely said, "This ain't right…" a bunch of well muscled black-suited men leaped out, grabbed them and shoved them in the vehicle.
Mr Kumajiro glared at them. He stroked a cat on his lap, "I've been expecting you!" he said.
To be continued...