Cue the theme!
...
Well that's not right...how is that happening? Hmm? Oh, go ahead Ringo.
...
At Knapford Harbor, work was still going on to make sure that it would open on schedule. Percy was working hard at the harbor, and was enjoying himself immensely now that he didn't have any of the three engines breathing down his non-existent neck.
Today, the workmen needed stone for their new building, and Percy was pulling the stone to the building site, where Miss Jenny, a new forewoman, was waiting. Toby helped, but sometimes they would come across loads of stone that was too heavy. This meant that Percy had to fetch them for himself.
The second Percy had finished unloading the last of his stone, he puffed away towards the resting area, where Duck had brought cool, refreshing mugs of beer. Sometimes he met Thomas there, and this was one of those days.
"Nice job Percy! Fat Hatt will be very pleased with you!" Thomas winked, and Percy grinned back. The two downed their beer and were just about to talk about the latest tv show, when there was a odd sound. The source of this sound soon became clear.
A airfield was close by, and had sprung up rather quickly overnight. Percy would often here the airplanes zooming overhead, causing him to wonder if a nest of angry wasps had been left in his funnel again. But noisiest of all, and the source of the main noise, was a white helicopter that seemed to radiate smugness from every blade and every little smirk that he aimed down below.
"Stupid thing!" Percy said. "Why can't he go and buzz somewhere else!?"
"Well firstly, he's not a bee. Secondly, his helipad's here for the moment. They've been talking about reopening Dryaw station again and letting him be with the other planes."
"Thomas, stop using logic! You sound just like Toby."
...
One day Percy, although not of his free will, stopped at the airfield. He glared at the white helicopter for a bit, before finally getting bored and deciding to make conversation.
"Hello." he said grimly. "Who are you?"
"I'm Harold." said the helicopter in what can only be described as the most nasally RAF voice possible. "Who are you?"
"I'm Percy." The saddletank looked awkwardly and cast around for a topic of conversation. "What whirly big arms you have!" He was rather desperate.
"They're nice, splendid arms." said Harold proudly, and already Percy was wondering when the hubris would come into play. "I can hover like a bird, fly like a eagle, maneuver like a corkscrew and as charming as a fox. Don't you wish you could hover?"
There was just enough emphasis on the 'you' part to get Percy's gander up. "Certainly NOT! I like my rails thank you!" It was a weak comeback, but Percy was not used to moral outrage.
"I think railways are slow!" said Harold. "They're not much use and quite out of date!"
"Oh yeah!? Well I think helicopters are!"
Harold whirled his arms and buzzed away.
Percy looked up. "Well." he muttered, never one to admit when he had lost the argument. "Run then, you coward!"
...
Percy found Toby at Anopha Quarry, where he was casually sitting and thinking to himself. The tram glanced over to the scowling tank engine and sighed. "All right Percy, what's wrong this time?"
"I say Toby!" Percy groaned. "Damn helicopter's making me speak like him! That Harold, that stuck up whirly bird, thinks I'm slow and out of date!"
"Oh really?" Toby said, quite bored.
"Yes! Just let him wait, I'll show him!" Toby nodded as Percy rambled on, before closing his eyes and falling asleep. Percy collected his trucks and started off, still fuming in rage. "Stupid Harold! Stupid sky! STUPID EVERYTHING."
...
As he reached the watermill, Percy glanced around. "Huh. Typical." He yawned. "Nothing to do but pull trucks. I left the station why again?"
"Oh stop your moaning!" snapped Mr Carlin, who was already lighting up yet another cigarette. He suddenly glanced up and froze. The fireman, looking curious, glanced up as well.
Soon, they heard a familiar buzzing...
"Percy!" whispered Carlin. "There's Harold! He's not far ahead! Let's race him!" Carlin was really bored, in case you couldn't tell.
"Yes, let's!" said Percy, gleefully.
"Wait, shouldn't we-" The fireman was shut up as the train increased in speed. He fell back and decided to embrace the madness. Percy pounded the track, rushing past the ruins of the castle. Harold jolted in shock as he realized the challenge that was being thrown down. The trucks screamed and swayed back and forth as Percy pushed on. But they were trucks, so no one cared.
"Well I'll be a ******* ding dong dang!" said the driver, once more flashing back to a memory of Henry as he massaged his bruise. He had gotten it from Percy's increase in speed as well.
As they entered the valley, they spotted Harold, and the race was on! Harold swung down, clipping a bush and then swung out of sight briefly. "Go it Percy!" yelled the fireman, now fully in the action. "You're gaining!"
Percy had never been allowed to go so fast before, and was having a absolute blast of a time. "Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!" he cackled to the trucks, indulging in his inner Thomas.
"We don't want to, we don't want to!" they grumbled and wept. But it was no use. Percy was bucketing along with flying wheels.
And Harold was high and alongside, watching on and always just a step or two behind or in front.
The fireman was shoveling in coal for dear life. They eventually straightened out, and they raced over the tier bridge with such a display of speed you would have thought that he would take off eventually. "Well done Percy! We're getting ahead! Oh good boy, good boy!"
"He's not a ******* dog!" snapped Carlin, but even he was getting high from the speed and power that was being pushed into Percy at this moment. Percy rushed around a corner, and realized from his regular visits that they were nearing the end of the path. And sure enough, a distant signal warned them that the harbour wharf was near.
Percy whistled back. "PEEP PEEP! Brakes guard, please!"
Carlin, still keeping his eye on Harold, who was now neck and neck with Percy, carefully checked the train's headlong speed. They rolled under the main line bridge and came to a sharp halt on the wharf itself.
After a few minutes to catch their breath, Percy groaned. "Oh god alive! I'm sure we've lost. And I'm...I feel like I'm dying!" The fireman grabbed hold of the cab roof and scrambled up to look up into the sky.
"WE WON! WE WON!" He shouted aloud, deafening Carlin. "Harold's still hovering! He's looking for a place to land!"
Harold practically drooped onto the ground. Percy could hear his mournful grumbling even through the heroic trumpets that was playing through his mind.
"Listen boys!" The fireman called, as many workmen gathered about to see what the fuss was about. "Here's a song to Percy!"
"Can we not?" asked Carlin desperately.
"Said Harold Helicopter to our Percy, "you are slow!"
Your railway is out of date and not much use you know!
But Percy with his stone trucks made the trip in record time
Aaaaaaand we beat the helicopter on our own branchline!"
This was as far as the fireman got before Carlin and the workmen began pelting him with money just to shut up. Percy loved this. "Oh thank you!" he told the workmen. He enjoyed the last part best of all, and was a very happy engine.
The fireman on the other hand, was not. But who cares about him?