Hey guys, guess what time it is! That's right, it's time for the best crash of the season! Seriously, this episode's fun, but it's the crash that really sticks out in my mind. It's a really funny scene, and I hope that I do it justice.
Also, probably my favorite Edward vs the Sheds scene I've written thus far.
AaronCottrell97: I'm really excited to be doing stuff with Edward in the next two seasons. For...reasons. Yeah, it's okay. I think my opinion of it comes across as being a bit negative, but that's only because it's an episode I've not had much experience with.
Reality Rejection Service: Nnnnnnnope! ...He's going to be pissed when he gets out.
Bronze Shield: That's the Sodor way!
Game-Watch: One day I shall tell it!
Radical sandwhiches: Ha! Oh, don't worry, someone will be lording how rich they are over soon enough!
MattPrice01: Ah, a Young Ones quote...actually, this is pretty much the Young Ones with trains, isn't it? And that's...an apt comparison, really!
trestonfortson2016: Oh yeah. There's a reason for that, again. That one's a good one, I must admit!
CUE THE THEME!
The following is an extract of an actual conversation that took place in Gullane Entertainment during the filming of season 6. For sake of privacy, all names have been removed.
Guys, I don't know if we've established Gordon as a big enough dick yet. Or at the very least, the audience has forgotten it!"
"Right. Yoink."
"Where are you going with that camera?"
"It's Gordon. It's not going to be hard to remind people that he's a dick."
...
It was not.
All right, to start things off properly, the Fat Controller's engines love being really useful. You think it's getting boring to hear over and over again? Try having to write it over and over again. Anyway, this makes them feel important. As in feeding their massively bloated egos that keep swelling back up no matter how many times you prick them.
And no one has quite such a bloated ego as Gordon. Well...James could challenge that claim, but Gordon can usually shout about it much louder.
One day, at the Docks (Because apparently EVERYTHING important happens at the Docks now), Salty rolled up to Gordon and Percy, saving Percy from a chat on yet another boring subject...namely, Gordon himself. Somehow, Salty had apparently mastered the art of cat-like tread, and made not a single sound as he rolled up. "AHOY AHOY AHOY!" said he.
"Watch. Out." growled Gordon, and Percy immediately began looking the other way so that he could have deniability. "You shall make my paintwork all sooty!"
"Sounding a little bit like James, there, aren't you?"
"Shut up, driver."
"Pulling trucks be a sooty job, me old mucker!" said Salty, in a quite unusual bit passive-aggressiveness on his part. "But then, of course, ye be completely new to that sort of thing!"
"NATURALLY." said Gordon, who didn't see that as an insult. He is an idiot. "Express engines, like me and...no, just like me, they do not pull trucks." He paused and muttered to the side "Except for all the times I have. Besides, it would not be dignified!"
Percy's brain was once again acting up. "Dignified!?" He stated, realizing in horror that this was what his life was going to be like from now on. "What does that mean?"
"SILLY!" said Gordon, adding to Percy's complex. "It means-"
"That someone be too big for their buffers, ain't that the truth, Polly?"
"MRAWK! GOLD DOUBLOONS!"
Gordon responded to this by using a thought provoking rebuke that left Salty and Percy shaking in their frames- I'm kidding of course, he used his favorite word ever ("PAH!" for those wondering) and then sulked off, convinced that he had bested them in a verbal joust.
He had not. In fact, the verbal joust hadn't even taken place, as one of the competitors had managed to choke on his own foot.
...
That night, the fog rolled in once again. Somehow, it appeared that the weather was once again deciding to throw up two fingers to the Island and just do whatever the hell it wanted. And as the fog took over the Island, the trains coming into the docks became trapped in a massive jam, leaving waiting lines of trucks with no owners. This caused confusion and delay, not the first or the last time that this would happen.
The Fat Controller stumbled around in the thick fog for a bit until he reached the area where some of the engines were waiting. "Edward's still not back yet?!" They shook their heads. "Hmm...wonder if I should go and look for him!"
...
INSIDE SHEDWORLD.
Edward was insanely cackling to himself as he spotted the checkout till. "AT LAST!" He began to half-sob, half-giggle, as he made his way forward. "AT LAST! FREEDOM!" He rushed towards the exit, the glass doors, towards the freedom that he had craved for so long-
And smacked his face right on them.
This was mighty confusing for Edward, who was aware that the doors generally opened automatically. He paused, and then turned back to the checkout, and to the slovenly youth who was operating it.
"Hello there, sir!" He said, with as genial an attitude as he could muster. "There appears to be something wrong with your door."
"Nothing wrong with it." said the teen, reading his magazine. He didn't comment on anything else afterwards, meaning that Edward had to cough and continue.
"Erm, I wish to leave this establishment? Please? I'd like to go home at some point?"
"Need to buy something first. Then the door opens."
"That is...a unusual business practice."
The teen shrugged. "Works for us."
Edward was about to begin the process of flipping out, when his eyes caught sight of a large squeaky rubber shed toy that was right besides the checkout. He had enough money to buy three sheds, he had enough for that. "Then, I'll take one of those, and then I'll go, if that is all right?"
The teenager looked up. He looked at Edward, then at the shed toy, then at the doors, and then at Edward again. "You thick or something? You have to buy something from the second floor up."
Edward was floored. "But...But...But that's just plain daft!"
"It's the Shedworld way." said the teen, and returned his attention to the magazine. And no amount of pleading or screaming or ranting or bartering could get him to answer Edward's rapidly shifting moods.
Edward shook with barely contained rage and misery, as he stormed back towards the second floor escalator. "THIS IS EVEN STUPIDER THAN USUAL!" He bellowed impotently.
...
Hatt shook himself. "Eh, he's probably having fun." He turned his attention to the matter at hand. "'Enry, Thomas and Percy, you must go to t'docks at once to do work!"
"Who is this 'Enry, you speak of?" asked Henry, in a sarcastic mood.
"Don't be so bloody minded!"
"Yes sir!" said the three engines, and they all moved off towards the general direction of the docks. No one would notice, of course, if they had a quick little drinky on the way.
The Fat Controller waited until they were all gone to turn his attention to the big blue elephant in the room who was standing near the Breakdown Train and still stewing over Salty's words. "You too, Gordon. I probably should have told you this along with the other three engines, but...yeah, I've got no reason. I'm just in that kind of mood today. I need a big engine to take the trucks where they need to go today!"
"Then why not use Henry?!" steamed Gordon furiously.
"Because knowing him he'd probably bugger it up and crash into something. Considering that there are some trucks that were going to go on the Flying Kipper earlier, I don't want to take chances. So...jog off."
"TRUCKS!" shouted Gordon as he puffed away. He couldn't believe it!
For...some reason.
...
Gordon was, to put it mildly, not happy that he had to pull the trucks. He waited impatiently as they were shunted into place. "HURRY THE HELL UP, YOU SLOW IDIOT!"
"Why the rush, Gordon?" asked Thomas, knowing full well what the rush was, and not caring.
"If I must pull trucks, once again, then I shall show that brine soaked, grog drinking Salty how an express engine pulls trucks! That is to say, BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE!"
"Ohhhhhh, careful there, me lubber! Ye don't want to get too big fer yer buffers!"
But Gordon was already starting off with a long line of freight, pausing only to shout a loud "LATER PISS-ANTS!" back at the remaining engines. Unsurprisingly, the rest of the work got done a lot quicker with him out of the way.
Elsewhere, Cyril the Fogman was up at night. He is the reason that crime never sleeps, it is only because if they do fall asleep, they have nightmares of Cyril the Fogman! He watched and waited.
...
"So, Percy, are you...okay?"
Percy shrugged noncomittedly, and James sighed. He hated doing this. This whole 'trying to be a good friend' thing that everyone insisted on him trying to do. It was harder than it looked, restraining his somewhat blunt honesty and over the top mannerisms to act as a reliable (Stop sniggering you in the back, he's trying!) friend to Percy. "Okay...um...anything I can help you with?"
Percy gave him a look. "...Really. You? Help me?"
"Look, you spent all of last night depressed. That worries me, and as your...fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff-"
"Um, James?"
"-fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff-"
"James? Hello?"
"-fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff-"
"...Are you trying to say 'friend' there?"
"That word, yes. As your...ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffriiiiiendddd, I want you to be ultimately an okay little annoying troglodite, instead of a...depressed one."
"Touching as that is...it's my head. I've been mixing up words left and right and it's been getting to me a little bit."
James hesitated. This was...legitimately serious. He didn't know how to do serious. "So, um, have you been to the Works? There's...got to be some kind of pill or something, they're all over the place now."
"Yeah."
James sighed. "Do you want me to go with you?"
"..."
"...Ah. Fine. But if they give you a lollipop afterwards, you're giving it to me.
...
As morning broke, Gordon was still rattling along the main line at full speed. His slow goods wasn't exactly slow. "Now this is how you pull trucks!" He said. Once again, his talking to himself did not lend credence to his argument that he was, in fact, completely sane and didn't need a psych evaluation no sirree. As per usual, then there was trouble.
The signalman, who happened to be named Norris, accidentally had left the points set for the previous train. In this case, it would lead any train onto the old Peel Godred route that hadn't been used since the time of the First World War. Gordon, of course, didn't see anything wrong as he thundered on. That's strange, he thought, I'm on the branch-line. Oh well. WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG?
For the record, the word 'Gordon' in ancient Sudrian roughly translates into 'idiot'. In retrospect, it was a poor yet apt choice of name.
"AH SHIT! Express engines aren't supposed to go that way! ...Ah well, maybe it will all sort itself out." said the signalman, already preparing to change his name. It was too late to do anything else, as Gordon had already rocketed into the distance.
The old branch line was weak and rusty. Which raises the question as to why it was that points were even set onto that line in the first place, but whatever. There were signs warning all the train to go slow. But, well, signs work about as well on the Island of Sodor as diets do on the Fat Controller. Gordon saw it, and took it to be a red flag to his bull. "I'M AN EXPRESS ENGINE! AND THE BEST! I DON'T GO SLOW! MWAHAHAHAHA! I am a genius!"
He was not.
As he went even faster round the bend, the branch-line couldn't take it any more, the rails buckled, and...well...you can guess what happened next.
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH crap!" Gordon shouted as he shot off the rails like a cork from a champagne bottle. Luckily, the guard and both of his crew leapt clear as his train went into immediate disarray.
Gordon, meanwhile, was still going. He raced forwards towards a large open field. "HI BUTCH!" He had time to scream, before he plowed straight through a large mound of soil. "BYE BUTCH!" Butch was none the wiser as to what the hell had happened, for Gordon was gone before he had chance to even understand what had happened. Next, he slid into a sort of shed, whereupon a large pile of tires just so happened to be there. "OHHHHHHH THAT'S NOT GOOD!"
One tire in the mouth later, Gordon rushed on through.
...
"What are we going to do with all these cream pies, Bozo?"
Gordon plunged through the clown car, smashing cream pies all over his face. The clowns watched as he rambled on through at top speed, in bafflement. They turned to gaze at the car.
"Never mind, Bozo. I think it's been taken care of."
...
"Easy...easy...eas-"
There was a loud crash, and the Glass Pane Association watched in abstract horror as a big blue engine shattered the glass pane completely. It was so cliched, and yet the form of the cliche had never been so odd.
...
The mine defusal expert was baffled. He hadn't been sure why it had taken so long for his team to come over here and sort out the large collection of mines left here after World War Two, but they had arrived anyway. They hadn't expected them to be set off by what appeared to be a rampaging blue elephant covered in cream, soil and bits of broken glass, and with a tire stuck in it's mouth.
No one so many people came from Sodor to join him, if this was a daily day in the life of a Sudrian.
...
Gordon hit the barn door at a rapidly slowing, but still quite fast speed. His eyes were now firmly shut, and he bit down on the tire as he slammed through the other side, coming to a ungraceful stop in front of a very cheerful looking scarecrow.
"Awa-wa?" He managed to get out. No one was hurt...well, no one innocent, but Gordon was left feeling very undignified. And in pain. "What the Fat Controller gonna say?" He said in broken English.
The scarecrow offered no answer.
But Gordon found out what 'The Fat Controller gonna say' soon enough, as his tender was recovered from the soil, and Butch awkwardly began to set up towing him back onto the rails. "Well Gordon, you wanted to show Salty a thing or two, and you certainly did. You showed him what a massive prat you are if you ignore frigging go slow signs!"
"Sorry sir." mumbled Gordon through a mouthful of cream, glass, soil, wood and tire.
...
"So, how is Percy?"
"Oh, doing better than you would have thought." James looked proud. He had done a good thing on this day. He was sure this made up for all the bad things he had done over the past...decades? "Apparently the doctor's got him on some new type of pill. I mean, it's only a temporary solution, and the Works Diesel would have come up with something better, probably...but it is what it is."
"Hmm...really should get a more permanent and workable replacement for Crovan's Ga-Oh, look who it is!" Thomas crowed. It wasn't long after the crash and Gordon was back working at the docks. He snuck in as quietly as he could, face red with embarassment. Thomas decided to throw him a bone. "Come on, Lazybones! Everyone makes mistakes sometimes! ...Not as regularly from you, to be sure, but still. Even you...what am I saying, especially you!"
"Salty's sorry he teased ya!" said James. That was a lie. Salty wasn't, but he was feeling charitable today.
"And I am SORRY that I was such a big bossy boiler!"
And all the engines laughed, even Gordon.
Who promptly forgot the moral. Again.
You will notice a running trend with this particular blue engine.