This was a rather hard one to decide upon. Originally the plan was to write up about the 'Comedy Night with Billy and Charlie' I mention below, but that fell through when I couldn't think of a really satisfactory ending. So this sort of came about. It's also a two parter, I'll do that occasionally, just for maximum laughs and to recharge my batteries. So yes, hope you enjoy.

...

"What are you waiting for?"

"Death."

"..."

"Oh, right now? This party to end. Though the way it's going, the two are not entirely mutually exclusive."

"Oh, hush, you."

Emily and Henry looked at the clock. 5:30. Another four hours to go.

Every railway has it's own quaint little rituals that it went through every so often. Well, if you replaced the word quaint with frustrating. Once every month or so, the tank engines across the Island (save for those on narrow gauge) were locked into the Shunting Yards behind Knapford and forced to endure a entire night's worth of awful puns and rather inappropiately racist remarks from Charlie and Billy respectively. Cameras were set up to make sure no one sneaked in or out who wasn't required to. If the engines managed to make it through the night without cracking and rushing for the nearest shed, they were rewarded a day's holiday in which to relax, go drinking, sleep in the sheds, anything they really wanted.

While this was going on, the tender engines had this one night to make like it was the last day of their lives and do whatever the hell they wanted this ranged from the mild (Edward always went for a evening in a sound proof shed with a fine wine) to the confusing (Every year, on the dot, Connor ordered a great deal of butter in an attempt to make him go faster, in his own words) to the extreme (James temporarily declaring himself President of Sodor and demanding every single bit of beautification products be given to him). Usually the Fat Controller ended up wondering why he even bothered.

But if the tank engines won, that meant that the tender engines lost. And so, they were given a fate even worse than that of Comedy Hour at the Shunting Yards.

They were put into the yards at Wellsworth, and were forced to endure a painfully long night listening to the speech maker (James) in a specially chosen decor (Chosen by James), eat food and drink catered to the host's taste (James's tastes) and listen to long, long speeches from the host (James's speeches were often considered to be the final great hurdle Buddhists had to overcome before reaching enlightenment. Few ever managed to endure them) as music played that would make Terrance the Tractor lose his smile.

In the corner of the yards, Edward was staring in horror at the variety of directions, which included a neon pink coloration of the back end of the station, a banner that read 'Come All Ye Less Fabulous' stretched across the yard and a very large, very bright disco ball that occasionally blinded the engines. "My god." he breathed "I would have taken on Diesel 10 five times over if I knew I never had to do this again."

"I-I-It's probably not th-that bad, in the l-long run." awkwardly lied Molly.

"That paint is luminous! Like hell that's going to come off in the morning."

"H-H-Have you tried a c-c-c-cocktail?" Molly smiled sheepishly. "It's, er, rather s-s-strong."

Edward had a sip. His face turned the color of fermented turnips and almost vomited up the many little sausages on a stick that were burning in his fire. "Dear god in heaven! It's like tasting liquid magma!"

James was none too happy either. Not least because he had been denied anything that would allow him to have actual fun, and he was aware that at the end of the night, everyone would get their revenge on him by pouring a large mixture of coal dust, quarry dust and wet fish over him. It was a unique revenge created especially for him, and he was aware that there were many who were growing rather restless already.

"I swear to the heavens, if we weren't trapped in here-"

"Calm down, Connor, ye'll give yeself a heart attack." Murdoch looked around grimly. "Ach, but why can we not have some peace and quiet? Too much noise."

"Well, on the plus side, I can see our host looks rather well." muttered Neville, as James swaggered about, trying to ignore the hostile glares he was getting from nearly everyone around him. "If he ends up dead, I'm not going to be surprised in the least."

"How did Stephen get out of this?" Connor asked.

"There was a bit of debate as to what kind of engine he was, and to save annoying him, they decided to let him off the hook. Lucky son of a gun." Hank grinned down at the others "Howdy fellas. Mind if I join y'all for a bit of a drink?"

"Uh...sure, Sheriff Woody, whatever you say?" Neville began backing away very quickly as Hank and Murdoch began to try and out-drink the other.

Gordon wasn't doing too hot either. Caitlin had idled off a moment ago, much to his embarrassment, as he had actually been hoping to impress Henry and James with the fact that his 'special friend' actually seemed into him. But no, she was with Emily now, probably complaining about him. He seethed crossly as Hiro backed down next to him. "I have had it up to here, Hiro!"

"I understand, Gordon, more than you know. But I fear it is not likely that our views will be listened too. I have tried talking our 'host' out of making a 'speech' but he is adamant that he will go ahead."

"If he doesn't end up murdered by the end of the night, I will have lost my faith in enginekind."

"You had faith?"

"Don't get mouthy with me, Hiro. We're just lucky that Spencer isn't here-"

"HELLO LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!"

"OH CRIKEY!" Gordon backed down fast and hid in the shed. "Don't let him see me!"

Spencer steamed off the turntable, wearing a feather boa and with a very large top hat. "I have been requested to say a little something before our illustrious host gets up and ruins the whole evening for us! A-ha-ha, a-ha-ha!" His laugh grated into everyone's ears as they took their places reluctantly. James stood besides Spencer, smirking. This was his cunning plan, to let Spencer take the heat and the punishment while he slipped away and hid in the nearest hairdressers.

"Can't believe we have to listen to this. For a 'fast' engine, he sure knows how to drag it out, doesn't he, Emily?" Caitlin got a knowing nod in return. They watched as Donald and Douglas began openly singing aloud "Auld Lang Syne" like their lives depended on it. They probably did.

"I wonder what the others are doing at this moment." Henry murmured as he drew level with Molly and Edward.

...

Elsewhere, at the Search and Rescue Centre, Rosie tipped back her seventh bottle of shandy and drunkenly giggled at Belle, who was looking a little red in the face after only her fourth. "Aye, y'know...y'know sommut, Belle?"

"Er, know lot of things, Rose."

"You're my bezzie mate!"

"Awww, You're my bezzie mate too!" Belle hiccuped loudly. "I'm so glad I got to- HIC -spend the day with you while the others do most of the actual work- HIC!"

"Ah, who needs boys anyway!? Girls just wanna have fun!"

...

At Tidmouth, Toby laughed maniacally as the other engines banged on the doors.

"Come on Toby, let us in, it's freezing!"

"Yeah, I really don't want to have to use the old sheds at Ffarquhar! They smell!"

"This is the one night I get to actually have a berth at Tidmouth, and you're not taking that from me! It's mine, all mine! Mwhahahahaha!"

"Toby, how much did you have to drink?"

"Can it, Henrietta."

...

"Whatever it is, it's bound to be more fun than what we're having right now." dourly noted Edward. Molly too looked gloomy, as Spencer continued onwards. With a flourish, he tossed his face back like he was trying to whip his hair out of sight, only for his boa to be sent flying.

There was a loud crack, a scream and suddenly the disco lights went into overdrive. The collective "Ooohs!" and "Aaahs! and "Get it out of my eyes!" filled the yard and the town beyond.

At last, with a great deal of effort, someone managed to reach the variety of switches on the wall that controlled the electricity, and with a wild sweep of their buffers, turned the lights back on.

"Thank you, whoever that was!" Caitlin blinked a couple of times to try and regain some sight. The first thing she saw with this newly returned vision was...James, lying on the ground, moving not a inch and with a strange, sticky looking substance pooling underneath him.

It was fair to say that for the next three minutes, there was complete pandemonium.

"Faire taire, mesdames et messieurs!"

Everyone blinked, and turned to see a rather unfamiliar engine standing there. Well, to most of the engines, he was unfamiliar. Gordon only groaned. "Oh dear god in heaven, Axel, what are you doing here?"

"Ah, it is lucky I happened to be, how you say it, in the neighborhood, n'cest pas?"

"Who is this? I don't believe we've been introduced."

"This, Neville, is Axel. He was the Belgian representative on the Great Railway Show. He's...out there, shall we say?" Edward looked at James. "Is he dead? Someone should check."

"Can't see any drivers around, no fireman either. They've probably all gone home and are enjoying themselves right now." Henry moaned. "Selfish gits!" Axel whistled loudly to get his attention.

"I do believe that we have on our buffers a crime so serious, so depraved, that I have decided to step in and solve this...this-" Suddenly, a random piano started playing what was attempting to be dramatic music, as Axel's face twisted into a face so hammy that Brian Blessed would feel threatened "-MMMMURDER!"

There was a rather stunned silence following this.

"Well-" said Edward at last, as he finally recovered control of his tongue. "-I mean, are we really sure he's dead?"

"There was a gunshot, man! I don't know where you come from, but that and the body seems to indicate that it's a strong probability!" Conner rolled his eyes, and muttered to Neville under his breath. "I think his brain is going."

Edward snarled, and would have made a lewd comment about Conner had not Axel immediately rolled forward and let loose a sharp blast on his whistle. "Ladies and gentlemen, please! Arguing will get us nowhere! We must find the culprit before he strikes again, and strike again he will! So, let the MMMMMURDER investigation begin!"

"Do you have to always say it like that?" Gordon looked to the side. "Wonder what the others are doing right now?"

...

"Quick! Huwwy up with that tunnel!"

Stanley frowned as more wooden boards were passed to Whiff and his crew. "I don't really get why it is we're still boarding up the tunnel to Misty Island. I mean, we all know they're still not there!"

"It doesn't do any harm!" Stafford snapped, before detonating the seventh explosive of the night just to make sure there was no concievable way to reach THAT PLACE without resorting to boat.

TO BE CONTINUED.