ONE FOR THE BOOKS

Despite not being owned by The Fat Controller himself, Samson still regularly visits the railway to aid in odd jobs. Whenever he does, the engines are often less than pleased to see him. This isn't without reason - Samson is a very egotistical engine, and thinks very highly of himself.

One day, Samson pulled into Knapford Station with a smug smirk on his face.

"Hello, engines of Sodor! It is I, Samson, the strongest tank engine any of you will ever…"

He trailed off, realizing that hardly anyone was in the station. The only engine that was there was James, who didn't seem too interested in talking.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, disappointed, "I thought I was going to get a welcoming party!"

"Everyone has more important things to do than have a party for you every time you show up," James snapped.

"That's not true! I'm very important! I-"

"Ssh, or I won't hear driver!"

Samson was about to retort when he noticed a crowd of people on the platform surrounding James' driver, who was sitting on a crate with a red book in his hand. James grinned as the driver looked down at the book and began reading from it dramatically.

"And off went James. Stations and bridges flashed by. The passengers leaned out of their windows and cheered, and soon they reached the terminus. Everyone said, 'Thank you, James.' and the Fat Controller said, 'Well done, James. Would you like to pull the Express sometimes?' 'Oh, yes please'!"

The driver looked up at the station clock and gasped.

"Sorry, folks, that's all for today."

Everyone clapped and began to disperse. James beamed.

"Thank you, thank you. He missed the ending with Gordon, but I'm alright with that. It's lucky my amazing adventures were documented in this book."

"Especially the one with the bootlaces," the driver chuckled. James glared.

"I thought we agreed never to speak of that again."

"What is going on?" Samson demanded, "Why does that book mention your name?"

James' driver flashed the cover of the book. It had a bright picture of James rushing through the countryside, his smart red paint sparking in the sun. Above it printed in large text was "James the Red Engine." James smirked as Samson struggled to find words.

"Jealous, are you, Samson?"

"Of course I am! Why do you get a book and I don't?"

"Because I'm such a splendid red engine," James grinned, "Everyone wants to learn all about me, not to mention see me in these lovely photographs. That's why my sales are the highest."

Henry pulled in with a local train and had heard everything.

"Oh, shut up, James. Your book doesn't have the most sales."

"And how would you know? You're just jealous that The Thin Clergyman likes me more than you!"

Henry snorted.

"Pah! He's said publicly he disliked writing your book the most thus far. That shows something, doesn't it?"

James' face froze with horror.

"Come on, James," said his driver as he clambered into the cab, "We have to go to the photo shoot."

To his surprise, James said nothing as he puffed away. Samson was more puzzled than ever.

"Thin Clergyman? James? Books? What were you two on about?"

Henry raised an eyebrow.

"So you haven't heard?"

"No, I have not! Is James the only one to have a book?"

"Perish the thought," shuddered Henry, "Most of the engines that have been here since the early days have had their own book written about them. Edward, Duck, Gordon… Even Oliver will have his own soon, or so the The Thin Clergyman says. He's the one who writes the series, you see."

"Do you think that… possibly, I have my own book too?"

Henry thought for a moment.

"I know all the books, and you weren't in a single one of them." Samson's face fell. "Besides, if you did have one, I'm sure we would've heard from you already," he added wryly.

Samson's sadness quickly turned into anger. He let off steam furiously as he hurried away. Henry rolled his eyes.

"I should've seen that coming…" he muttered.

As he headed up to Ulfstead Castle, Samson could think of nothing but his apparent lack of his own book.

"It's not fair! Who does this 'Thin Clergyman' think he is? Not giving me a book! Huh! I deserve one more than

does, that's for sure!"

He was still fuming when he pulled into the castle station. Stephen and Millie sat close by, eyeing each other curiously.

"You can ask if you like," whispered Millie, "but I'm not going to get my funnel bitten off."

Stephen sighed and rolled up to a dejected Samson.

"What's the matter, Samson?"

"Oh, you wouldn't understand, seeing as you probably have your own books like everyone else but me does," groaned Samson mournfully.

"Do you mean that series of books called The Railway Series?" Stephen mused.

"Yes! I think…"

Stephen began to laugh.

"There's no need to feel ashamed, Samson! I don't have any books in that series either!"

Samson was surprised.

"You don't?"

"Certainly not!"

"But Stephen, I thought you had other books about your history," pointed out Millie, "I recall the Earl reading them to tourists a few times."

Stephen chuckled.

"Oh, yes, I've forgotten about those!"

Samson's eye twitched.

"How many books has this 'Thin Clergyman' written?" he burst out.

"Oh, er… They're not written by the Thin Clergyman, Samson, they-"

"I mean, everyone else on this whole railway seems to have at least one book, and yet I don't! Why?!"

Stephen and Millie winced.

"Ah, you may not be in a book, but you will receive a very special job!"

Samson, Stephen and Millie looked over in surprise to find the Earl walking along the platform. Samson instantly became more cheerful at the prospect.

"Oh, thank you, sir! What is it, sir?"

"I need you to collect two vans in that siding over there," the Earl explained, "They're filled with photography equipment meant to be taken to Tidmouth for a special photo shoot! I've been asked to supply it by my good friend Wilbert, and of course I was happy to oblige!"

"What's it going to be used for, sir?" Stephen inquired.

"Why, I'm glad you asked! Wilbert is going to be making the cover for the newest Railway Series book that's being published very soon! Oh ho ho, isn't that exciting?"

For once, Samson was speechless!

Soon, Samson was coupled up to his train, and was already grumbling dreadfully as he set off. Stephen and Millie watched him go, quite relieved.

"Taking two vans! Two vans! To a photo shoot for a series that I'm not even a part of! It's undignified!" Samson complained.

"What's the matter, Samson?" giggled the first van, "Don't you want to be important?"

"No! I mean, uh, I already am! It's just that Thin Clergyman doesn't see it my way!"

"Maybe he doesn't think your adventures are that interesting," suggested the second van innocently.

"Not interesting? I've had plenty of interesting adventures! Like, um…"

"Oh, like taking coaches up to the quarry!" put in the first van.

"Or almost scrapping the Fat Controller's car!" added the second.

"Don't forget the time he took one truck down to the Docks! Didn't The Fat Controller order Thomas to teach you how to take proper trains, Samson?" snickered the first.

The vans laughed - Samson, however, wasn't too pleased with being reminded.

"Well, er, yes… Perhaps my adventures haven't been the most… flattering."

"You can say that again!"

"Maybe that's why I haven't had a book written about me! I just need to have a proper adventure, where I come out on top! Oh, I know! I could glide into Tidmouth in style! Then The Thin Clergyman will have to put me in a book!"

"Oh yes, because that's going to work," huffed the second van, to which Samson bumped the train.

"Ow!" cried the vans.

"That'll teach you! The Thin Clergyman can put my excellent handling of trucks in my book! Hah, I'm sure people would love to read that!"

The vans glanced at each other knowingly as Samson continued to boast all the way to Tidmouth.

"Hmm… Puff back a little, James. You're taking up too much of the shot."

James grunted bitterly and reversed.

"Beg pardon, sirs, but why does James get to be on the cover when there was no story about him?" Duck asked.

The Thin Clergyman attempted to reply but James cut in first.

"Don't you take this away from me! I deserve this more than you do!"

"I don't see how this is in any way a victory," murmured Duck, "You're only in the corner…!"

"You're

about to be in the corner if you don't shut up-"

The Fat Clergyman stepped up, waving his arms.

"Please, stop this nonsense. You're all supposed to be smiling, like you just got the news that Oliver is going to be restored."

"It's hard to get excited when it happened such a long time ago…" huffed James.

The Fat Clergyman sighed.

"How The Fat Controller puts up with this every day, I'll never know…"

The Thin Clergyman patted his friend on the back.

"Never mind, at least our equipment will be here soon."

As if on cue, Samson puffed in with the vans rattling behind. He tried to come to a gentle stop, but instead bumped his vans again.

"Ouch! Stop doing that! We have precious cargo, you know!" the vans screeched indignantly.

Samson smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry…"

The two clergyman exchanged dismayed looks.

"Oh, dear… I hope our load isn't damaged…" The Fat Clergyman said anxiously. He opened a van door, revealing crates upon crates of photography equipment - and all were in one piece.

"Perfect!" He turned to face the engines. "Just wait a moment while we set it up, and we'll take the picture."

The clergymen set to work, leaving Samson very cross.

"They said I was clumsy! Hmph! First they don't put me in a book, then they insult how I go about my work! Bother those clergymen!"

"Hold your wheesht!" fumed Donald, "These gentlemen are very kind! Something someone th' likes o' ye would nae understand!"

"I'm very kind!" Samson said smugly, "All I'm asking for is to be given what's earned!"

"Earned? Ye're th' most accident-prone engine a've ever known, 'n' that's saying something," scoffed Douglas.

"Having plenty of accidents just shows how dedicated I am to my work!"

"And I thought James was deluded..." Duck muttered.

"I heard that!"

As the engines were arguing, the Fat and Thin Clergymen were setting up the equipment. Film was put into the camera, and everything was almost ready. The Thin Clergyman peered through lens to see how the picture would look.

"Should I get The Fat Controller to pose in front of Douglas now, Wilbert?" The Fat Clergyman asked.

"No, not yet. I want those tankers moved first."

The Fat Clergyman looked up and noticed a line of tankers behind Donald and Duck.

"Why?"

"If they're left where they are, it'll ruin the entire composition," The Thin Clergyman explained.

"I see. I'm sure we can get an engine to shunt them away."

Unfortunately for them, the only one in a convenient position to do so was Samson.

"Excuse me?" The Fat Clergyman said loudly, trying to make himself heard over Samson's boasting. Samson stopped talking at once, and glared down at him.

"Would you mind pushing those tankers, please? Preferably to the siding with the water tower beyond the buffers."

Samson grew crosser still. He wheeshed steam at the clergymen and reluctantly went off to do as he was told. The engines were agape.

"Rude engine, isn't he...?" the Fat Clergyman murmured.

"Indeed..." the Thin Clergyman agreed, his voice dripping with disapproval.

Samson was switched to the track with the tankers on it.

"Worse and worse!" he stormed, "I don't get put in a book, I don't even get to be a part of the photo shoot, and they still treat me like a servant! This is a horrible adventure!"

Unsurprisingly, Samson was so cross that he paid little attention to what he was doing. He bumped the tankers hard. The tankers had been on the siding for a long time and, though Samson didn't notice, one of them was now leaking fuel onto the rails. The water tower approached closer and closer.

"Ye ought tae slow doon, Samson," called Donald, "or ye're going to have an accident! ...again."

Samson rolled his eyes, and tried to put on his brakes, only to find that he couldn't! His wheels slipped on the fuel as it continued to leak. He tried to drop sand on the rails, but it was no use - his wheels wouldn't lock.

"Oh, no! H-Help! Help!" Samson shouted, as his attempts to stop continued to be futile.

The engines and clergymen watched in horror as the tankers crashed through the wooden buffers. To Samson's alarm, the tankers didn't stop, and the front tanker collided with the water tower. It swayed for a few moments before crashing down in Samson's direction. Water splashed everywhere; Samson was soaked from smokebox to cab. His face reddened as he saw the predicament he had gotten himself into.

"Um… oops," Samson chuckled nervously.

The Breakdown Train was soon called, and Harvey, Judy and Jerome were quick to respond. Harvey was dismayed yet unsurprised as he saw Samson smiling sheepishly among the demolished water tower and rolling stock.

"Oh, Samson, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" Harvey sighed.

"That's what I'd like to know too!"

Samson gulped as The Fat Controller sternly stepped down from the Works Unit Coach.

"Samson, what were you thinking about? Now the engines won't be able to get water here until a new one is placed!"

The engines glared.

"Y-Yes, sir," mumbled Samson.

"One would think that you would've learned not to get distracted while doing a simple favour."

"I'm sorry, sir, it's just… I was so cross that I wasn't in a book like the others that… I guess I lost focus."

The Fat Controller put his hand to his face.

"Just because you're not in one of those books does not mean you can lower your work ethic in order to get one. The Thin Clergyman writes what he wants to, Samson, regardless of your 'input.'"

"Yes, sir…"

The Fat and Thin Clergymen exchanged a look and walked over to The Fat Controller. The Thin Clergyman knelt down and whispered into the The Fat Controller's ear, leading him to nod approvingly.

"That's a brilliant idea!"

"What is?" Harvey inquired.

The Fat Controller chuckled.

"Wait and see," he said and winked.

Harvey watched curiously as The Thin Clergyman strode up to the accident.

"So, Samson, I hear that you wanted to star in one of my books, do you? Well, I've considered the matter, and I've decided you quite deserve it."

Samson's face lit up at once.

"R-Really? Even after the mess that I've caused?"

"Oh, especially because of the mess!"

Samson's face faltered, confused. The Thin Clergyman signaled to The Fat Clergyman behind him. He walked alongside with his signature camera in his hands. The Fat Clergyman aimed to take the shot of Samson and the camera flashed.

Over the next several days, Samson was swiftly repaired, though he wasn't keen on heading back to work - he thought the engines would be cross with him about the water tower. As he pulled into Knapford Station, he was relieved that there were few engines there, but became crestfallen as James was once again at the platform with shining red coaches. James, however, seemed to pay little attention to Samson. James' driver knelt against the wall as he waited for the guard's whistle. He snickered to himself as he turned the pages of a dark green book. Samson took no notice, until James at last looked over at him. He could barely contain his laughter.

"Well, well, well! Look, driver! We're in the presence of the most famous engine on the island!"

For a brief moment, Samson's spirits were lifted.

"Famous?"

"Oh yes, of course!" James continued, enjoying the game, "Your picture is everywhere!"

James' driver showed off the cover. Samson turned as white as a ghost when he saw what the cover looked like. The picture was the same as the one The Fat Clergyman took of him at the crash site. Above it read…

"Samson the Silly Engine?!" Samson yelled hysterically.

"Classy," quipped James.

"The foreword is worse," the driver said, turning the page. He was about to start reading when James cut him off.

"Can I read it? Please?" he pleaded.

The driver chuckled and held the book up to James' face.

"Dear friends," James read, immediately stifling laughter, "It's lucky that this engine isn't owned by The Fat Controller, because he is one of the most horrid I've ever met! I couldn't believe just how severe his mishaps were! Samson may not be happy about me writing these stories, but I certainly had a jolly good laugh myself! The Author."

As James had been talking, more and more engines had arrived at the station. He and the others burst into laughter.

"It looks like The Thin Clergyman has a new least favourite engine!" chortled Henry.

Stephen pulled alongside a defeated Samson with a train of tourists.

"You could even say your adventures were 'one for the books'!"

Samson covered himself in a cloud of steam.