Mike's Mojo
Hi all! Just thought I'd try my luck at writing a story focusing on the Arlesdale Railway. Hope you like it!
I do not own Thomas.
The miniature engines of the Arlesdale Railway are kept very busy indeed. They have passengers to take up and down their beautiful valley, general goods to deliver from station to station, wool to bring down from the local farms for tailors to make into clothes, and ballast to collect from their mine for all of Sodor's railways to use. But no matter what they do, they do it well and take their duties very seriously - sometimes a little too seriously, in Mike's case, which can get the small red engine quite puffed up in the smokebox.
One evening, Oliver was waiting to collect some ballast from Jock at Arlesburgh Junction. But the strong yellow engine was running late. The minutes ticked by, the Small Controller paced the platform, and Oliver grew more and more impatient. "Bother that Jock!" he huffed. "You'd think an engine with his stamina would never run behind schedule!"
"There's always a first time, Mr. Oliver," said Toad calmly. "Just be patient: I'm sure Jock will be along soon. He's a guaranteed connection, after all."
Oliver only snorted; but it wasn't long before they heard Jock's approaching whistle. "There you are, Jock!" sighed the Small Controller, as his youngest engine drew breathlessly to a halt. "What on Earth kept you?"
Jock looked abashed. "Sorry, Sir," he panted. "This load was a bit heavy, even for me. I stalled on the hill near the top station, and Sigrid had to come and help me up."
The Small Controller looked thoughtful. "I see," he replied at last. "This peak season must be taking a toll on your strength. Tell you what: I'll do what I can to rearrange the timetables so you can get some much-needed rest."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir," said Jock thankfully; but secretly, he felt a little embarrassed. Oliver's withering glare didn't exactly help either. I'm the strongest engine on this line, Jock thought. I shouldn't let these kinds of things happen!
That night, Jock told the other engines about his dilemma. "Never mind, Jock," soothed Rex. "These things happen to the best of us, you know."
Mike was less sympathetic. "Thanks to your going soft, I'll probably get stuck with more passenger trains!" he grumbled. "I knew this day would come sooner or later!"
"What are you going on about now, Mike?" Frank groaned.
"The day that the oh-so mighty Jock would prove himself to be just another spineless youngster - that's what!" Mike replied haughtily. "You know what I always say about young engines: they've got no stamina! No mojo!"
Bert rolled his eyes: he had heard this kind of talk from his elder colleagues before. But Jock was offended, and quickly rose to Mike's bait. "Then explain how strong I am!" he huffed defensively. "How could an iron workhorse like me have no mojo?!"
"Simple: your strength is nothing more than a front!" smirked Mike smugly. "A seasoned engine like me knows what strength and stamina really mean! I've never lost my mojo: never have, never will!"
"From what Duck tells me, Gordon's pretty seasoned himself," Bert pointed out, "but he still needs help on his own hill sometimes."
"Gordon's a standard-gauge engine!" scoffed Mike. "If an efficient miniature powerhouse like me couldn't get over some stupid hill, our railway's reputation would go straight down the tubes!"
Rex, Bert, Jock, and Frank all exchanged solemn looks. They knew Mike's arrogance all too well.
Mike was still ragging Jock the following morning. "I thought Bert had no sticking power; but you take the biscuit!" he said scornfully. "Never mind, though: you'll earn your mojo in time - although, judging by your little slip-up last night, it probably won't last!"
Rex raised an eyebrow. "Oh!" he said innocently. "And this is coming from the engine who lost his own whistle trying to shoo a cow? The engine whose injector failed, and who had to be rescued by the same engine he's lording it over?"
"What's your point, Rex?" asked Mike irritably.
"My point, Mike, is that it's a bit rich of you to say Jock has no stamina when you've had your own fair share of mishaps in the past."
"Not to mention ungrateful," put in Bert, "what with you repaying Jock with all this teasing..."
"No one asked for your opinion, Bert!" snapped Mike.
"Dry up, you lot!" growled Frank. "The Small Controller's coming!"
The engines straightened up and wore their most serious faces, as the Small Controller approached the shed. "Good morning, everyone," he smiled. "Not too much to do today. Jock, I spoke to Control on your behalf last night, and they agreed that a lighter workload might do you good for awhile. You can take the general goods in Mike's place; and Mike, you can take the morning passenger train."
Mike grimaced crossly. "I knew it!" he fumed, staring daggers at Jock. "I knew it'd come to this! Oh, sure, Jock: slack off like the weasel you are and leave your own friends to suffer the consequences! You youngsters think you're so entitled; don't you?!"
"That's enough, Mike!" said the Small Controller sharply. "You know I'd never make exceptions just for Jock! Now off with you, or I'll give you something to moan about!"
Still grumbling, Mike puffed away. Bert sighed wearily. "He'll be in trouble soon," he murmured. "I can feel it in my frames."
Mike snorted into the station to find the platform swarming with passengers from Duck's morning train. "Perfect. Just perfect!" he muttered, backing down on the coaches with a harsh bump. "Trust Jock to leave me with all these nuisances! I'll never get all that chatter out of my smokebox!"
"They're only enjoying themselves, Mike," called Duck. "Keep that in mind: it just might cheer you up!"
"Fat chance," retorted Mike. "What's the point of making others happy if you get nothing out of it?! Answer me that!"
"Kindness is its own reward, if you ask me," Duck said firmly.
"Guess what? I didn't!" Mike sneered. "So mind your own business!"
Before Duck could reply, the guard blew his whistle. Mike tooted back and hooshed away, leaving the pannier tank at a loss for words.
Mike made good time on his journey up the valley, but his temper didn't improve. It soured further when he arrived Arlesdale to find a party of hikers on the platform. "Worse and worse," he hissed fiercely, as his driver turned him around. "I'll give that yellow good-for-nothing an earful tonight - mark my words!"
"Simmer down, Mike," cajoled Sigrid, who was on a siding nearby. "Getting angrier won't do you any good."
"Pah!" grunted Mike. "That's what everyone says! If you think I'll buy into that malarkey, you've got another thing coming!"
"Cool it, old boy!" his driver admonished. "We've got a job to do, so let's do it. Whatever happened to determination and sticking power, eh?"
Mike's frown slowly turned into a sly grin. "You're right," he huffed determinedly. "I'll show Jock who's really got mojo!"
"That wasn't exactly what I meant," replied his driver cautiously.
"Ah, who cares? C'mon!"
But as Mike ran round his train, no one noticed a rattle from on top of his firebox...
Before long, Mike had set off back down the line, and was approaching the hill beyond the station. He did his best to climb it; but today, the going seemed tougher than usual. Mike was panting hard and nearly mahogany in the boiler, as his tender coupling strained against the coaches. The crest of the hill came nearer and nearer. He was almost there when there was a loud crack, a wheesh, and he came to a complete stop in a cloud of his own escaping steam.
Mike's driver looked him over, then turned to him looking especially severe. "You silly engine!" he scolded. "You've gone and burst your safety valve! If you hadn't been in such a mood and wasted so much energy this morning, this probably wouldn't have happened!"
"Well, don't just stand there!" Mike ordered indignantly. "Call Control, quick!"
Jock had just stopped at the Green with the local goods when the stationmaster ran up. "Leave those trucks please, Jock," he said urgently. "Mike's broken down on the hill, and the Small Controller needs you to help him home."
Jock giggled cheekily. "Really?!" he remarked. "And Mike says I'm the one with no mojo! Honestly!" He left his trucks in a siding, then set off up the line. He soon found Mike still fuming. "Well, well, well!" he smirked. "Looks like the line's reputation's going down the tubes; eh Mike?"
"Oh, shut up and get me moving!" hollered Mike furiously; but deep down, he knew he had been wrong to boast.
Jock ran on to the top station, got turned around, and headed back to the stranded train. He buffered up to Mike, waited for his driver to couple him up and drop some sand on the rails, then took a deep breath and began to pull with all his might. Pulling Mike and a full train the time the red engine's injector had failed was hard enough; but now, having to climb a hill as well, Jock was tiring quickly. "Don't give up, lad!" urged his driver. "You're the strongest engine on this line; remember? Make the Small Controller proud!"
With this encouragement, Jock felt his determination renewed. He snorted and panted furiously, and finally crested the hill. He sighed with relief as the train coasted effortlessly down the other side. "Guess I've earned my mojo; don't you think so, Mike?"
Mike could only go redder than ever with embarrassment.
That night, Mike apologised. "I'm sorry was so rude to you, Jock," he said ruefully. "Your rescue taught me that you youngsters aren't as wimpy as I thought."
"So I have earned my mojo?" quizzed Jock.
Rex chuckled. "You never lost it to begin with!" he declared. "Stamina's got nothing to do with how young or how old an engine is, if you ask me."
"A lesson Mike nearly didn't learn," put in Bert. "For all we know, that broken safety valve might have been a blessing in disguise!"
"Don't push your luck!" hissed Mike; but even he had to grin. "So, anyway, Jock, can we be friends again?"
"Of course," smiled Jock. "After all, who else is gonna keep coming to your rescue?"
"And who else is gonna help you set a good example to the line?" rejoined Mike, and all the small engines laughed.