Well...this is an episode. Bearing in mind, a lot of the middle episodes of the Pack are relatively meh, the visuals are nice, but the plot and music don't really work together. For that matter, while I am delivering something quality, I also want to get through this set of episodes as quick as I can. So I hope you can understand if these aren't as good as usual.
AaronCottrell97: Well, I mean, quite.
Reality Rejection Service: True, too true.
Bronze Shield: Ha! Oh we'll definitely get some more of the Football stuff. As for the moles...eh, we'll see.
Game-Watch: Eh, probably.
MattPrice01: :D
JD145: I do! He's very good. I haven't watched that much, but I like it.
UGX7: I think so, yes! ...Still doesn't explain why he gave it to someone who didn't fly though.
AceHoneycomb: Ha! Sounds great! If a bit weird, but then again, coming from me it's a bit hypocritical. XD. Also, yeah, the FAQ will be updated soon.
CUE THE...less than impressive theme music.
THE PAST.
It was-
SUMMER?!
AGAIN!?
UGH.
Summer on the Island of Sodor, yadda yadda yadda, beautiful trees, sun was shining, birds sing yadda yadda yadda and zippedy doo da, zippedy day, my oh my, what a wonderful day-CAN WE MOVE THIS ALONG, LADS?!
Percy likes being in the sun because it means he's not by Gordon or James. It also gives him a chance to say hello to his friends in the Pack. What friends, you ask? Exactly.
"Hello Nelson!"
"Who...WHO THE HELL IS THAT?!" wheezed Nelson, who was too busy having to haul the fat ass of Byron around to really notice anyone, or even honk his horn at the little green so and so. He was having a busy day, carrying machines everywhere. Oliver was a pain in the ass, even as they passed over what had been recycled from the Big Dipper, he was having an attack of the withdrawals and kept smacking the loader across the head.
Day after day, Nelson was carrying carrying carrying. This, understandably, leaves him in a rather cranky and vicious mood. As could be surmised from where Alfie wished him a good morning and Nelson told the excavator to do something biologically impossible for any human or vehicle to do.
"Just ONCE I'd like to be carried! By a hot vehicle, if possible!"
"HA! Dream on, you freak of natur-OAK TREE! THAT BASTARD. LEMME AT EM. I'LL...I'LL...OOOOOOH!"
And that was the start of another fun day for Nelson.
...
That night, he had a dream. That one day, all vehicles would be equal.
And also that he was floating above the ground like a magic carpet. With a strange maniacal grin of joy, he realized that he was being carried upon a flatbed hauled by the rest of the Pack who all appeared to be in great pain.
"HA HA! SO IT IS NELSON'S DAY, IS IT?! ROUSE YOURSELFS, LADS! TREMBLE BEFORE MY MIGHT!"
Then the dream got weird, as Nelson became the Prime Minister of Sodor and then waged war against the rest of the world. And then something about being set on fire and executed at the stake for pilfering government funds,
It was a very weird dream is what I'm saying.
"WAKE THE FECK UP YE DEAD WEIGHT! Thomas has had an accident like the fecking nonce that he is! So get yer arse shifted and deal with it! NOW! What are we, a SOUP KITCHEN FOR ENGINES!? BAH! THIS IS ALL THE FAULT OF THE GOVERNMENT."
"You will be the first to die to my reign!" hissed Nelson.
"Oh really? Well...DO YE WANT TO GO THE SAME WAY AS NIGEL, EH?!"
Nelson was off like a flash.
Miss Jenny didn't actually know what happened to Nigel. But it was a good threat nonetheless.
"How does this keep happening to me?" wondered Thomas to himself, as he stared down at the cracks in the road. "I pay my taxes...relatively speaking. Ow...goodbye Wheel. You had a good run."
"HA-HA! YOU LOOK SO STUPID!" shouted Nelson as he arrived.
"Oh piss off." said Thomas, wearily. "Is this what it's like to be Edward?"
"We'll get you back in no time! ...Said no one EVER!" mocked Nelson. But secretly he was nervous. He'd never carried a steam engine before, and he hadn't wanted to. Ever. And for some reason, there was no sign of Harvey or the Breakdown Crane.
Thomas's driver and Nelson's operator attached the winch to Thomas. "PHEW!" shouted Nelson. "FATSO! You, my big mate, are heavier than a steamroller and a bulldozer put together! TIMES TWO!"
"Charming. And this is what I get as karma for teasing all the others for so long." said a weary Thomas. At last, he was winched on after the most singularly uncomfortable experience of his life.
Soon Nelson was on his way. He had to work very hard to drag Thomas's fat arse to the Works, but he did so nonetheless without complaining once.
He complained fifty seven times. That we know of. They were, however, making excellent time.
"You're not...awful at carrying."
"Ta! ...BY HECK THOUGH." Nelson threw up on the side of the road and carried on.
"I pull trucks and coaches all day long! It's good to be carried for a change."
"Well aren't you LUCKY?!" hissed Nelson very, very loudly. "I wouldn't know! Who would be big enough to carry me? i suppose you are fat enough to do it!"
"It's really nice up here. Not that you'd know."
"Bite me."
Soon they arrived at the repair yard.
"Well done!"
"Thanks sir."
"No problem, Thomas."
"WHAT ABOUT ME!?" howled Nelson.
"Oh, er...don't know who you are? Erm...which one are you again? Packer?"
"That's Bob the Builder and you know it." hissed Nelson, rage filtering through his barely restrained voice.
"Ah who cares. You're a really useful truck, whoever you are." He turned to his bodyguard. "Dont look so surprised, it's a ruddy loader, you see them all the time!"
"EEK! A MOUSE!"
"SIMPKINS, YOU TWIT." Hatt shook his head. "He's new."
"Leave Thomas here, Miss Jenny strongly wants you back. Something about castrating me if I didn't hurry you along."
"Oh I'll drive as fast as I can. Just...let me rest."
"No worries. I've arranged something for you!"
"I'M TAKING YOU!"
"Indoor voice, Percy, indoor voice."
"Oh that woman." winced Carlin, nursing some bruised ribs. "How we're going to f**k each other later I'll never know."
"TMI, Carlin. TMI."
...
"Ta lads!"
It was magical for Nelson to relax and watch the scenery go on by. True, Carlin did ruin it a little bit by letting out rowdy songs about sailors in close quarters at sea, but it was the thought that counted.
"Lovely day!"
"Damn right!"
Nelson enjoyed himself.
Right up til the part where he found out that the series had taken a slashing in the budget and that he wasn't going to be in any more episodes.
They had to carry him off then, too.
...
THE PRESENT.
As the traffic light turned green, James May started the scooter up again, and managed to travel a grand total of two more minutes on it before the scooter threw a fit, threw him off and threw itself into the sweet embrace of death.
"Well that's just perfect!" sighed James, as he sat in the mud and reflected on his life. He wondered vaguely if he would ever achieve his ultimate goal of making a house built entirely out of lego. Or if he and his mate Oz should go on the road again and do something related to wine. He could use a drink, that was for sure. He glanced down at the scooter's satnav.
According to this, he was currently somewhere in China.
Well, he thought glumly, there goes my hopes of going to the BAFTA's on time.
"Hello?"
James looked up towards the talking vehicle. If this was what death looked like, he was tired of running. "Hello."
"...You're one of those Top Gear lot, right?"
"Yes. And you're one of the Bob the Builder crew."
"...Sure. Let's say that's the case. ...Fancy a drink?"
"Where're the rest of your friends?"
"They lost me...it's fine. I think I actually know a secret way into the BAFTA's if you want."
"...You know what, live and let live is my motto." James nodded to Ned. "Let's go!"
As they moved off, they failed to notice the loud explosion from behind them. They also didn't see Oliver and Van Stig, still fighting like maniacs, fly from the wreckage and continue their battle in the same place that James and Ned had been seconds ago.
"You've lost, Mr Carrot!" crowed Oliver, still high on...everything. "Why don't you just give up now?" Von Stig hesitated for a moment...then shrugged, and burrowed underneath the ground. Oliver paused, scratched his head, and then let out a whoop of triumph. "I AM TEH GREATEST!" He bellowed. And no, that is not a spelling error. He literally shouted those words exactly to the world.
And as the others began to group up and turned...there was a loud roar, and once more the ground began to rumble.
Jeremy and Richard, who were still shooting the shit, turned around and glanced back.
At which point, everything seemed to shatter and rise up, street, houses, vehicles, the lot, as something arose from it.
It was Von Stig.
Or at least, it had the likeness of Von Stig. If Von Stig was now roughly the size of Big Ben's clock tower. And with every movement, he made a rather audible clanking noise.
"THOSE JAPANESE CARTOONS WERE RIGHT! Truly, this is the end of the world!" wept Max and/or Monty.
"ACQUIRING TARGETS. ...THIRTEEN TARGETS SELECTED."
"But there are only eleven of these idiots here." said a rather confused Clarkson.
"Yeah! ...Unless you count us." remarked Hammond, off hand.
Both men took a moment to realize what the other had just said. And then they looked back at the NorrisTron 6000. And then they began to scream very, very loudly a single word.
"COOOOOOOOOOOOCCCCKK!"
...
"And the nominees for Best Music in a Show No One cares about are as follows-"
"Good luck, James."
"Good luck, Ned."
"...Where do you think the others are?"
"Having fun, no doubt, selfish bastards. On an unrelated note, can anyone smell burning?"