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Driving Lessons Chapter 90 - Be Our Guest
England was rather surprised to put it mildly. He looked at Pierre, who looked back at him and shrugged. The Frenchman looked like Inspector Clouseau, England thought. He even wore the same beige macintosh that England heartily approved of.
"Oh Mr England!" Estonia said. He looked thoroughly surprised as well. Understandably so.
"Estonia! Are we in Estonia? Oh my word!"
"No you're not in Estonia!"
"Can we come in?" England asked.
"Well, is there anybody else with you? Apart from that demonic child you're holding?"
"Only this Frenchman." England nodded at Pierre.
"Well I suppose so…" Estonia looked around England and let them in, slamming the door quickly after them.
"What are you doing here?" England asked him. "Are we in Estonia? Mablethorpe?" (It's unknown why England had an obsession with the Lincolnshire seaside resort.)
"Certainly not!" Estonia said (whether the scorn was for the idea they were in Mablethorpe is not known). "Did anyone see you come here? Were you followed? Is anyone with you?" Estonia said a rush, quickly putting a kettle to boil over an open fire.
England looked around. He thought his house was a hovel at the moment (it never used to be pre-France, in fact England used to pride himself on his decor and home furnishings) but this was just a cave with a bare floor, an open fire, one chair and a table, nothing else. But then he noticed a door leading to another room and what was that? Computer screens? Really? Estonia quickly and firmly closed the door.
"I think you need to do some explaining," England said.
"Yes well… let's have some tea first, yes?"
Meanwhile at the German Embassy...
"Honestly, that bear is the most outrageous patient I've ever had!" Austria said, sitting at Germany's table and helping himself (both to Italy's delight and consternation) to the lasagne meant for that evening's event.
"I don't want to know," Germany said.
"You're eating my pastaaa!" Italy cried in delight.
"Yes I am," Austria said absentmindedly. "The things he told me…" Austria pulled out a bottle of tranquillisers and took one.
"You know they make you giddy," Germany reprimanded him, trying to take the pills away from him.
Italy, who had lived with Austria for centuries, had never seen Austria 'giddy' or anything in that region, stopped stirring something in a large pot and stared at him.
"I need this. The bear is positively sociopathic."
"He was responsible for almost causing a world war. It was because of him that England's cake became sentient. Apart from England and France and that orange idiot across the Atlantic, I think he's the biggest threat to world peace we've ever seen." Germany said.
"Germany Germany! Your vein is throbbing in your forehead again!" Italy cried.
At the word 'Germany', the wardrobe, in a corner of the kitchen, rumbled ominously and shook as if some large creature was inside. They all stared at it and then back at Germany, who shrugged. "I bet it's some of England's cupcakes? Who knows what's in there?"
That should have cause all round panic but there was too much preparation to do for the Embassy party and besides unbeknown to them all, there was something much worse in the wardrobe than even England's baked goods.
Over at England's house, Romano aka Santiago, was awaiting England and his ransom and talking utter rubbish to Turkmenistan about his credentials with the Italian Mafia of which he wasn't a member.
America sat in his cardboard box making 'vroom vroom' noises and totally forgetting that he should be at work and still not realising he was a hostage.
"Well that was a disappointing cup of tea," England said, rather rudely Pierre thought. England was also quite amazed that here in the middle of God knows where, Estonia had a Manchester United mug.
"So where are we?" Pierre asked Estonia.
"You won't believe it and I really want to know how you got here," Estonia replied.
"We're not in Aberdeen are we?" England spluttered.
"Erm no."
"Skegness?"
"No."
"Monsieur Angleterre, I really think you should be quiet," Pierre said, rocking the baby back and forth (who was now falling asleep having guzzled some warm milk and a soggy custard cream that England had found in his pocket).
"To be honest, you really can't stay here much longer. It's not safe for you," Estonia told them.
"I'll bloody say! It's freezing out there. Are you going to show us where the back of the wardrobe is?"
"War Drobe?"
"We came through the back of a wardrobe that was in Monsieur Angleterre's back garden," Pierre explained as if he were translating.
"You did? How weird." Estonia considered this and then set it aside. In terms of Nation weirdness from a scale of 1 to 10 it was about a 5. "This place is too dangerous for you." He said. "You should leave as soon as you can."
"Right then we'll be off. Just show us the direction we need to go in and if you see Prussia and Denmark you can tell them where to go as well."
"Prussia and Denmark are here as well?" Estonia looked horrified.
"Oui and Le France." Pierre added.
"And Scotland." England added to the list.
"Scotland!?" Estonia looked positively worried now.
"Where are we anyway? Estonia?" England asked.
"No, not in Estonia. This isn't my country," Estonia said. He was sounding more and more worried and kept looking towards the door containing the room with computer screens.
"What's in that room anyway?" England asked.
"Listen, I'm here under duress. This land has been trapped in a thousand year long winter…"
"Oh bloody hell! I know where we are!" England interrupted.
"Where?" Pierre asked, putting Charlemagne down on the rug.
"Bloody Yorkshire!" England shouted and then quickly hushed himself when Charlemagne stirred.
"No, not Yorkshire. Somewhere far far worse."
"Worse than Yorkshire?" Pierre went pale.
"I'll tell you something, I don't think this is London any more and I don't think it's even England and do you know what?"
Denmark wasn't listening. He was building a snowman. It was an impressive snowman - six foot tall and wearing a blue ribbon around its neck. A blue ribbon that he'd found. In the snow.
"I think this is…" But Prussia, who had been half watching his friend build the snowman and simultaneously marching up and down ranting, did not get to finish when a five foot tall beaver came towards them.
"Well you don't see that every day," Denmark said.
"Moron. What are you two doing here?" The beaver said.
"Blimey! We could make more money out of this talking beaver than the drunk duck!" Prussia said.
The beaver took off its head and Denmark fainted.
"I do not want anything, anything at all to go wrong at this party," Germany was saying to various Embassy staff. "Nothing. Do you hear me? We have that fool of a prime minister Boris or whatever his ridiculous name is, attending and that new royal couple…"
"They've left, Sir," one of the staff said.
"Who's left?" Germany's left eye twitched.
"The Duke and Duchess of Sussex. They've left to go to Canada," the man said.
"What!? That's inconsiderate! Just because I invited them to this party?"
"I think it was other reasons, Sir."
"I blame England for this. The man's a menace. Give me ten Arthur Kirklands and I could destroy the world."
"Canada eh?" A bear said, coming down the staircase and entering the room. The bear was dressed in a tuxedo (borrowed) and smoking a cigar.
"Put that cigar out! We don't allow smoking in here," Germany said. "And get upstairs. You weren't even invited. You're supposed to be hidden. HIDDEN!"
"Wow. I really don't like the negative feelings I'm getting from you. And your brother was really rude earlier." Mr Kumajiro said.
"Austria is not my brother!" Germany yelled. His blood pressure monitor beeped dangerously. "And Italy? Lasagne is not a finger food!" He told Italy who was bringing in enough lasagne to feed the entire population of Milan.
Italy ignored him. He seemed to be under the impression that he was now under Mr Kumajiro's orders.
"Fathead," Mr K said to Germany and wandered off still smoking his cigar, one of which he offered to the German Ambassador.
"The guest list now includes Their Royal Highnesses the Prince of Wales and his wife, the UK Prime Minister, the Vice-President of the United States and of course our own Chancellor Merkel," the Ambassador said, puffing on a cigar. "Really the quality of these cigars he gets are amazing. I wonder who's his supplier?"
"With a guest list like that nothing must go wrong, nothing!" Germany announced, picked up Italy and bodily carried him back to the kitchen along with the lasagne he was carrying.
Germany was going to be disappointed.
"Den! Den! Wake up! It's only Latvia!" Prussia said, patting his friend's cheeks really quite hard.
"Eh? Anyway I said to Olaf you can't put that there you'll leave a stain," Den murmured as he came round.
"Moron," Latvia said. The small Nation held their beaver head in one hand and a gun in the other.
"Why are you armed?" Prussia asked him.
"Why am I armed? Do you know where you are?" Latvia asked incredulously.
"Croydon?" Denmark asked, rubbing his blond head.
Latvia was about to answer when they heard voices. None too friendly voices.
"Ah I'm pleased to see you two!" England said, uncharacteristically everyone felt.
"Oh bloody hell, it's Captain Boring," Prussia said.
"Estonia!" Denmark jumped to his feet and hugged the Baltic Nation.
"Let go of me!" Estonia hissed. "I'm not going to live with you again."
"Well I say! Where's this wardrobe then?" England asked and then seeing Latvia he added, "Oh hello young man and why are you dressed like that?"
"Fancy dress party," Latvia answered glumly.
"Excellent. Of course I'm not really dressed for it though," England said.
Latvia looked him up and down and said nothing.
"Where are we?" Prussia asked. "Is it where I think we are?"
"It's not Croydon," England said to him and winked.
"I guessed that."
"It's S…" but Latvia was cut off by Charlemagne who giggled at the snowflakes falling.
"Right let's get rid of you lot. I mean erm… get you back to erm…" Estonia began to say.
"I'm going to that party!" Latvia told him. "I've already travelled through four portals to get here!" They added mysteriously.
"Of course you're going to that party," Estonia replied, batting Denmark's arms away from him. "The back of the wardrobe back to London is right here… somewhere…"
"It better be because I ain't staying here," Prussia answered, shivering violently.
"Bag," Charlemagne said.
"Ja, the kid's right," Prussia said.
"Where's the wardrobe, Estonia?" England asked. He was starting to look worried. He was also looking nervously over his shoulder. "If this is really where you said it is, I really really want to leave now."
"Oui but what about Monsieur le France?" Pierre asked.
"Oh him?" England waved a hand airily. "He can take care of himself."
Estonia walked up and down worriedly. "The portal should be right here."
"Where are we?" Prussia asked England. "I mean I think we're in…"
And then they heard the sound of sleigh bells…
"Will you stop taking those tablets? You're already high!" Germany hissed at Austria.
Indeed, Austria's eyes were wide open, unblinking and his pupils were huge. He seemed to be swaying slightly and had a moronic grin on his face. Germany had no doubt that if he'd asked him for money he would have got it. That's how drugged up he was.
"How many of these anti-histamines and tranquillisers have you had?"
"I've had three hist-antimines," Austria told him, "I'm allergic to bears! And erm.. I don't know." He then did something horrifying (in Germany's eyes anyway). He giggled.
Germany took several steps backward. "You have to pull yourself together! Chancellor Merkel and the rest of the VIPs will be here soon."
"Mr Austria do you want some mini pepperoni pizzas?" Italy asked and then said to Germany, "Finger food."
"Ja! Reppoponi pizza," Austria said like a drunkard. "You don't know less than I do but I know a lot," he burbled, poking Germany in the chest and wandering off.
Germany hurried after him but was halted by an official. "Sir? The Chancellor is here, as is the Prime Minister and…"
"Oh Mein Gott, quick man, go and get Austria and take him upstairs or anywhere," Germany said.
"Pepperoni pizza your Royal Majesty?" Italy asked inclining his head just before Germany grabbed him and pulled him away from the Prince of Wales.
"He's a Royal Highness not a Majesty, now get back into the kitchen and please change out of that apron!" Germany hissed but was distracted by a member of staff trying to corral a polar bear cub wearing a tuxedo and smoking a cigar back out of the room.
By the time Germany had turned back to Italy, the Italian was already cornering another VIP.
"So Mr Pence, me and Luddy usually stay in bed on a Sunday morning and snuggle and watch re-runs of Will and Grace and Friends, what do you normally do?" Italy was burbling at the Vice-President.
Over in another corner:
"You know bears are scoundrels, just scoundrels and more than that they're scoundrels. Have you ever been in England's garden?" Austria was telling the British Prime Minister. He was totally out of it, high on anti-histamines and valium. He looked high and sounded high. He was also hyper-active and was looking around the room frantically, twitching and tapping his foot. He poked the Prime Minister several times with his fork which was covered in béchamel sauce.
The British Prime Minister (not the same one that had previously asked England in a former chapter if he was drunk but a different one, a male with shocking blond hair) was also socially inept and rather drunk. "I've never been to England's house at all!" The British Prime Minister declared (this was no surprise as England detested him). "Perhaps I should invite myself round?" He boomed at the Austrian.
"I think you should!" Austria said, waving an arm around, which covered the Prime Minister's tux in more sauce. "I need to go now and find a piano," he said and weaved off around the crowd. He managed to dodge Germany and Germany's boss who both tried to grab him.
"Well if that's all that is going to go wrong then I will be pleased," Germany said to his boss, who nodded whilst watching the American Vice President being told all about Love Island by Italy.
Germany was about to be disappointed...
There was a deep rumble just as if the very ground was about to split open and hell and all its demons were going to spill out…
But it was 'only' Russia who charged into the room. Still dressed in his Red Army greatcoat, Ushanka hat and wielding a table leg. "Who woke me up?" He bellowed. "Where is my friend, Darren?"
"Oh no…" Germany groaned. His worse nightmare. He really really hoped none of the other Nations were with the Russian.
"Where is Darren?" Russia asked Germany, grabbing the German's lapels and lifting him bodily off his feet. His eyes were very very wide and there was a fearsome purple glow around him.
"Darren? I don't know a Darren," Germany replied. "Erm why are you here?"
"Is this England's house?" Russia asked, dropping Germany and looking around.
Germany was incensed by this, "England's house!? Are you kidding? Does it look like England's house?" Germany ranted. "It's clean for a start!"
Russia looked him up and down and then around the room. All the VIPs looked back at him, several backed away. He loped over to Austria who, drugged up, was playing 'jazz piano rock' which is something he would never ever normally do. In other words, Austria would sooner stick a fish in his eye and give his wallet to Prussia than do this.
"Have you seen Darren?" Russia asked Austria.
Austria stopped playing and his fingers clunked on the keyboard with a resounding crash. He said, "I don't know any Darren," and then promptly slithered off the piano stool and lay there.
"Is this your foot or mine?" Austria asked Russia, poking Russia's size 14 army boot.
Russia didn't answer but loped over to the British Prime Minister. He paused when he was about to ask if Mr Johnson had seen 'Darren' and that 'Darren' was his friend and stared at the Prime Minister's hair for almost a full minute, which a long time to be stared at by a psychopath. "Your hair is mad," the Russian said finally.
Germany hurried over. "Come along Russia…" he said. (Prime Minister Boris Johnson's eyes widened when he realised who had been addressing him about his hairstyle choices.)
"I'm sure there's some vodka over here," Germany told the Russian leading him away.
"I don't like you," Russia said to Germany, whose blood pressure monitor was now beeping constantly.
But there was worse to come…
Just as Germany thought he had Russia safely out of the way and in a corner with a bottle of vodka and some lasagne (Russia agreed it wasn't really finger food), there was a crash and the double doors were flung open. A sledge pulled by a pack of wolves skidded into the room.
To be continued…