Made for a contest by DonPianta. This story is completely random, and does not have a plot at all.
– – – – –
"You know him."
"You love him."
"It's James, the mutha fucking Splendid Red Engine. If you don't know who he is..."
"Get off Sodor, and read some books."
This was a story being told by James to Percy and Toby. Both Percy and Toby were asleep.
"And that's why you'll never be as splendid as I!" smirked James with pride.
Toby snorted, and woke up, "Oh, uh, is your tale done yet?"
"Yes it is! How'd ya like it?" asked James, happily.
Percy soon woke up, and yawned, "It was boring. More boring then Fat Man's bedtime stories."
Toby glared at Percy, "Actually, those were worse."
"Really?" asked Percy.
"Percy, do you really want to go to bed knowing what Fat Man did with his wife?" muttered Toby.
Percy screeched and shuddered, and hid back in his shed, with some mysterious powers shutting his shed doors.
All the while the conversation, James was fuming.
"Ooooooooooooooooookkkk. Let's get back to the REAL conversation..." muttered James, clearing his throat, "Ahem. WHY WOULD A TALE ABOUT THE MOST SPLENDID ENGINE ON SODOR BE CONSIDERED BORING?"
Toby somehow got a microphone and shouted into it, keeping a straight face, "I CAN GET LOUD TOO, YOU KNOW!"
James cringed, and rattled.
"Is there any other way to make my life more miserable?" asked James.
Toby smirked, "You had to ask, didn't you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked James.
James got his answer, he saw Thomas in the distance...
On his rails, going backwards.
"Uh Thomas, STOP!" called James.
Thomas slowed down, "What is it James?"
James was about to say something, but Toby interrupted.
"He was gonna say you were going too slow!" chuckled Toby, "Why don't you puff in faster?"
Thomas smirked, "Fine by me!"
Thomas puffed up a couple feet, back to where was originally, and puffed backwards rather quickly.
"THOMAS STOOOOOOOOOP!" yelled James.
Thomas crashed backwards into James. Even though Thomas was smaller then James, for some reason, James was knocked back really far!
James crashed through the back of the shed.
"Thanks a lot Toby," muttered James, "Now Fatty's gonna lock me up for another week."
But the fun was about to get better for James.
Or is it pain.
I don't know. I'm the author, your the reader. It's entirely your decision.
Just then, James' tender no longer felt any rails, and James soon realized something.
"Wait a minute..." he said.
He was at the edge of a cliff.
James was pissed, "WHO THE HELL PLACES A SHED JUST INCHES FROM A CLIFF?"
"Fat Man?" replied Toby.
"Oh yeah, that's right." muttered James.
With that said, James finally rolled off the cliff.
"DAMN YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU FAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTYYYYY!" yelled James as he fell.
"We won't be hearing from him in years." chuckled Toby.
Thomas was confused, "I'm sorry, but what just happened? And why did James fall off a cliff?"
Toby somehow facepalmed.
– – – – –
Meanwhile, James continued to fall.
"How far is this drop?" wondered James.
He's been falling for the past 10 minutes.
Just then, he saw two other engines falling from the sky.
"What... the... hell?" said James.
It was the twins Bill and Ben. They had goggles on their heads, and parachutes on their boilers.
"HIYA JAMES!" both twins said in unison.
"Having a fall,"
"To have a ball?" said the twins one by one.
James got more annoyed, "Instead of cracking up jokes like the Justin Bieber haters, why don't you hand me one of your parachutes!"
"Oh, we can't do that!"
"Your too fat!"
"To say the least,"
"Your such a beast!"
James became redder then his own red paint, "Go to hell..."
Ben turned to Bill, "We gotta land soon!"
"Activate parachutes!" yelled Bill.
"Oh please." muttered James, "Your train engines. How can a parachute possibly carr-"
James' question answered itself when Bill and Ben released their parachutes, and did not plummet to the ground. Now, James was all alone again.
"T-T-T-T-THAT JUST BREAKS THE LAWS OF PHYSICS!" screeched James, "AND WHY HAVEN'T I TOUCHED LAND YET!"
– – – – –
Meanwhile, on land, Donald, Douglas, and Henry were talking.
"Sae Henry, hows yer a scuttle life?" asked Donald.
"Huh?" asked Henry, completely confused.
"Ye ken... onie girlfriends?" said Douglas, helping Henry understand what Donald said.
"Oh...uh... no?" said Henry, unsure of what to say.
"Weel come noo Henry! Thaur main be someain special it thaur fur ye!" chuckled Donald, "Lit me hink ay a body!"
"That's okay Donald, you don't have to-" just then, Henry looked up at the sky, "Uh...guys?"
"Nae noo Henry! Aam thrang thinkin'!" snapped Donald.
While Donald was thinking of a girlfriend for Henry, James just happens to land on top of Henry, sending pieces of what used to be Henry all over the place. James was partly knocked out.
Douglas shouted, "Och mah God! Ye killed Henry!"
Donald said nothing. Douglas rolled his eyes.
"Uhhh, Donald?" asked Douglas, "Arenae ye gonna finish th' quote 'at we stole straecht frae Sooth Park?"
Donald sighed, "Noo noo, Dooglas, aam tay thrang tae continue 'at phrase."
James blinked his eyes once or twice.
"That was some ride down..." sighed James.
"Whit happened tae ye Jimmy?" asked Douglas, concerned.
"First of all, it's James," sighed James, "Second of all, why is Henry's face not on his model?"
Douglas chuckled, "Heh heh, 'at was partly yer daein'."
James sweat dropped, and turned his whole boiler around so that his face looked at the camera.
"Hey, Author," said James, "Would you mind dropping the Scottish Translator? It's getting on my nerves!"
"'Main 'en Jimmy! Th' Scottish Translatur helps th' authur it wi' uir lines!" chuckled Douglas, "Thes ainae George Carlin ye ken. God rest his sool."
"IT'S JAMES!" shouted James, "And I'm leaving now! I've got to advance the plot line!"
"Huir uv a weel. Guid luck tae ye Jimmy!" smiled Douglas.
James growled as he puffed away from the Scottish Twins.
– – – – –
James was alone and bored. He had been puffing for hours, and still no sign of a signalbox or a station anywhere.
"Hey Driver?" asked James, "How far are we from the next station?"
No answer.
James growled, "Oh that's right, I forgot. We HAVE no drivers. HIT really screwed us up."
James continued forth, and eventually he saw a signal box. Right next to it was a sleeping Whiff.
James held his nose, "Jesus H. Christ! This smells worse then Gordon's old paint job!"
Flashback...
James puffed by the paintworks, and saw Gordon being painted in vomit.
"Don't ask." muttered Gordon, "It's for marketing reasons. Fatty's decision, not mine."
James' face was as green as Percy, and he rushed off away from the paintworks.
End Flashback...
Whiff was asleep, so James decided to wait on a siding.
There were three tracks near the signal box. There was the one James was on, which was a siding. The one in the middle. And the one that Whiff was one. James was waiting for Gordon to pass by, since it was around this time when he came by with the express.
Usually, Gordon rumbled down the middle lane, so James didn't have to wake Whiff up.
But of course, do you think nothing bad will happen?
If you just said no, you've clearly never been to Sodor.
James soon heard Gordon's whistle.
'Bout friggin' time.' thought James to himself, 'Did he stop to take on 500 galleons of water?'
James was facing away from where Gordon was coming from, so James just patiently waited.
But he was wrong.
SMASH!CRASH! EXPLOSION!
You think that was James...
It wasn't.
Gordon was aparently on Whiff's lane, and Gordon just rammed into him. Whiff literally exploded into a million pieces.
Gordon, though, was paying no attention.
"Pardon me!" he growled, blowing a piece of Whiff's whistle off his face.
Whiff's face landed in front of James' face. James was absolutely terriorfied.
"Are you God?" asked Whiff, who was clearly dazed, and out of it.
James rolled his eyes, "No, I'm your conscience. And your conscience says 'Go to Hell'."
James puffed over Whiff's face, and continued on home.
– – – – –
Soon, James was FINALLY at his shed, where The Fat Controller was waiting for him.
He was munching on a cupcake, "Listen here James! You've been a very naughty engine!"
James was utterly susprised, "But what did I do sir? I've been going through hell all day long!"
The Fat Controller cleared his throat, "First of all, you blew up both Whiff and Henry. You also destroyed Thomas, Percy, and Toby's shed. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Plead the fifth?" asked James, sarcastically.
"Overruled." stated The Fat Controller.
James growled.
The Fat Controller took another bite out of his cupcake, and went on his way to Henry's Funeral.
James stayed in his shed all day long.
Soon, Oliver puffed into the sheds.
"James, you should've been there at the funeral!" commented Oliver.
"Spare me the details.." muttered James.
Oliver went on, ignoring James' request, "Well, we were all given pieces of old Henry to be placed onto us. For example, I have his whistle now!"
Oliver tooted his whistle, which now sounded like Henry's.
"So was your day just as great?" asked Oliver.
James' face fell.
"Great? Great doesn't. EVEN. FUCKING. DESCRIBE IT!" screeched James.
Oliver inched back into the shed, and went to bed, allowing James to be alone.
But not for long.
As James was asleep, Bill and Ben quietly puffed up to him.
"Shh." said Ben.
"Shh yourself!" shouted Bill quietly.
Bill and Ben tooted their whistled VERY loudly. Startling James.
"WHAT THE HELL?" spluttered James.
"Too tired to make a threat?"
"It's not your turn yet."
James growled, and looked directly at the cameraman.
"You should really turn that off. I'm not joking with you." muttered James.
The cameras cut quickly as James began to forcefully beat the living crap out of Bill and Ben.
And thus ends another typical day for James the Red Engine. Wait... that was a typical day, right?
– – – – –
Thank you for wasting your time with this fanfic. I hope I win the contest, but good luck to all the contestants.