Hello there! Been a bit of a while, hasn't it? Allow me to quickly respond to a couple of my reviews from the previous chapters that have only now decided to pop up on my radar...yeah, my computer's weird like that.
TealSparkle- Hey! You're back! Ugh, tell me about it, school work is the worst. Still, power through! Yes, I am going to be here a while, and I have already started up my cloning machine to make sure that I don't die before finishing this epic. I imagine it's going to probably over take War and Peace at some point. XD.
lololandlol- Yeah, Bulgy's fate is a little harsh, but I justify it considering how much of a ass he was. And that steamroller's going to be making his debut this season as well, hope you enjoy that!
bigyihsuan- It's definitely an idea, and I think it's one I should probably consider. There are just one or two problems with that, however. Mainly, putting it in it's own seperate story to skip may make things a bit more confusing considering how many plot threads I'm planning on wrapping up. It could be solved with a little tweak at the beginning of Season 6, but still.
So if you guys could let me know what you think about putting Magic Railroad on it's own seperate thing, that would be great.
Also, quick note. Tugs Abridged is making slow progress. It turns out that making fun of it is a lot harder than I thought, considering it's more adult outlook. But I shall preserve!
One quick note. This story is going to be probably a little weaker than the others. Most of that is because it's Thomas telling the story,and, as has been documented, he's a idiot. Really big one. So his story-telling abilities leave much to be desired.
Lastly, I'd like to thank you one more time for sticking along for this crazy little ride of mine. I appreciate it more than I can say.
And now, CUE THE THEME!
...
1994.
"Sir Topham!" Britt Allcroft crossed the platform with some delight to shake the hand of her friend. "Lovely to see you again. Apologies it took a little longer than expected, but at least it's not as bad as the last time!"
"Lovely to see you, Britt." Hatt looked around. "David with you?"
"He's arriving soon, he's bringing Mr Asquith and Mr Angelis with him. Apparently there's still a little heat between the two following the events of Christmas 1992." She grinned. "You know how it is."
"Indeed. Now, step this way, and I can set you up for some transportation."
"Where are we heading?" Britt looked at Hatt with confusion. "I...I admit, it's been a while, so your information has been forgotten, I'm afraid."
"Well, the Skarloey Railway is one of the oldest on the entire Island. i recently bought out some of the lines for the oldest railway in the recorded history, the Mid Sodor Eailway, which went under in 1947. Now...well, I'll explain on the way, but there's a grand adventure being planned, and no mistake. Your camera grew may want to be there, it's going to be historic for the Island."
"Why weren't we told about this before?"
"Two reasons. One, the Skarloey Railway only recently came into my hands. Yes, it was rather sudden. One of the diesels from the Other Railway ran over the Thin Controller, as he was nicknamed, quite on accident. It was tragic and such, and since then, no one but me have been willing to take on the responsibilities. And secondly, the Skarloey engines are a bit shy, for the most part. They're not camera hogs like James, or Henry, or Gordon. They're just hard-working sorts...well, I assume so. I've noticed you split up your camera crew."
"Yes, well, this new railway is terrific and all, but I still feel as though our target audience would like to see how Thomas and company are getting along."
"No shortage of stories there." Hatt suddenly stopped, and turned around, a gleam in his eye. "It's funny you mention that..."
...
Later that night, the snow from December's chilly embrace had refused to melt, and was stubbornly locking itself around the shed doors. The cold wind blew and battered at the doors.
The engines were finding it hard to sleep. Harder than usual, that is. Which was odd, considering that James was working late at the quarry (Much to his dismay), Gordon was still taking out the midnight express, and Thomas had taken a few drinks and was now peacefully on the verge of a coma.
"So, the elections are coming up." remarked Duck to no one in particular.
Everyone glanced. "Don't be daft." muttered Henry. "We had a general election two years ago. Unless it's the Labor-"
"No." Duck clarified. "For the Island's mayor? You remember, once a new mayor is elected, he then throws a dart on a board to see how long he has in office until the next election comes around. I believe that system was placed into effect by Sir Jackson Daniels, the Arse Faced."
"Wasn't he the one who squandered away the Island's fortunes because he made a bet that the Titanic was going to never sink, ever?"
"The very same, Toby."
"Which one's our Mayor, again?" remarked Percy. "I keep forgetting."
"Are you talking mayors, or prime ministers?" muttered Gordon as he clanked in. "John Major-"
"Oh don't start that again!" Toby was aghast. Gordon could not stop railing against the fact that John Major was the most boring man in existence. "If he's boring and not raising too much of a fuss, that means he's doing his job. I'd rather a boring man take control and make sure that no one gets offended, than have a charismatic one ruin the entire state."
At that precise moment, the power went out. For the engines, this was a minor problem.
Outside, the Island began to riot as their television sets turned to blank screens. Wisely, the Mayor and his entourage were hurried rather quickly into one of the many bunkers lying around the Island, where they were forced to listen to the berzerk crowd going coo-coo for coco puffs outside, demanding the return of their precious EastEnders and Question Time.
...
Edward opened one eye lazily. "BoCo."
"Hmm?"
"Island's on fire."
"Huh."
"Bill and Ben are definitely locked in the sheds?"
"Uh huh."
"Then it's not our problem."
...
"What we need-" remarked Toby, as the sky turned red as a result of everything being set on fire "-is a story."
"A mysterious story!" Percy said, with great effect. Outside, the yobs had amassed and began throwing bricks at anything that even looked at them wrong.
"But-" said Duck firmly, as he decided that pointing out that there was a full scale war going on out there would make things worse "-it must have a happy ending!"
"Who put you in charge?" snarled Gordon, but Thomas opened his eyes.
"Driver told me a story once."
"Oh god, not the one about the lass from Crosby again." moaned Henry. "I like my coal where it is, I don't want to have to throw up again."
"He tells me other stories!" Thomas said defensively. "And what else are we going to do? No telly, no books, just the six of us in a airtight series of berths.
Everyone groaned and grumbled for a moment, but eventually settled down to listen.
"Once upon a time-" began Thomas.
"In a galaxy far, far away?"
"Shut up Duck." Thomas continued.
...
There were three little engines who lived in their own little shed on their own little railway.
The brown one, the only tender engines of the group, was called Duke. The green tank engine was called Stuart. And the blue tank engine was known as Falcon. They had lived in this valley for quite some time, and only knew their line. To them, the outside world was...a thing you told around the campfire.
Now Duke was old. Older, if it's possible, even than Edward. He had been named after 'his grace' the Duke of Sodor. At least, that's what he told the other two engines. In reality he was named after Baroness Kyndley's pet dog, who slobbered everywhere and was insane. It was a apt comparison to be made, for he too was proud to the point of insanity about his pedigree. And he often slobbered a bit when he got into a rage.
He was a classist bastard, who liked to keep the little engines in order-
...
"Little biased there, aren't you, Thomas?"
"Gordon, shut up and let me tell the goddamn story. Ahem."
...
Falcon was the more rambunctious of the two, but Stuart was no saint either. While they certainly liked Duke, there was something about him that made him very easy to mock. Perhaps it was the way he occasionally dressed up in royal garb if he felt the situation called for it. Or the times he would ramble on about having met Queen Victoria, and she had secretly desired to run away with him to the circus.
And whenever they did anything wrong (Which was often) such as accidentally smashing their trucks into each other, he would tut and remark "That'd never suit his grace!"
...
"Hey, a little respect would be nice, kay?"
"Toby, THIS IS MY STORY. I MAKE THE RULES."
...
Other engines came and went. But they don't matter, so I won't tell you their names. All you need to know is that Duke outlasted them all. That is one of the great mysteries of the modern Island, for it is rumored that Duke killed most of them and buried them in his shed- OKAY DUCK, I'll stop blaspheming against the all mighty and powerful Duke! Jeez, you're sensitive today.
They used to call him Granpuff, mostly because of his age. And if you're not laughing now, then get used to it because that's what they kept calling him, despite his insistence that they call him Duke or Your Holiness or even Fluffy the Rabbit when he was in a particularly weird mood. They were fond of him, but they grew very tired of having to hear about his grace. Stuart often fell asleep and Falcon would go on a massive rant about how Dukedoms were, in fact, a product of the bourgeois. Falcon was a reader of Karl Marx.
But mostly, they chanted at him, starting the time honored tradition of engines and trucks on this Island accomplishing their means by chanting loudly. They would chant "ENGINES COME AND ENGINES GO, BUT GRANPUFF GOES ON FOREVER!"
By chants, it was a relatively weak one. It didn't even rhyme.
"You, sires, are impertinent scalawags, have at you!" Duke would say, monocle in eye and puffing on a pipe. "Whatever are you young whippersnappers coming to, eh, eh, eh?"
"Never mind, Granpuff, we're only young once."
"Well, not so much in your case." muttered Falcon.
"You'd better mind- Morning Rheneas- unless you want to end up like that rascally rascal Smudger, indeed." Duke would puff on his pipe and wait for the inevitable questions to come about. Which they would. Probably five seconds later.
"Ooooh, Granpuff!" they would say, somewhat camply "Whatever happened?"
And so Duke would tell them the tale-
...
"Hold up."
Thomas glared at Henry. "What?"
"This is like a Russian Doll story! You're telling a story about Duke telling a story, and no doubt the camera crew there are recording it, so the narrator will probably tell the story- IT'S KILLING ME!"
"Yes, and I don't think Duke really acted like that." Duck said thoughtfully. "I mean, there are some old recordings made of him during the 30's, and he sounded more...well...sane, for one thing."
"Hey! Listen! Have you ever read a book!? And then seen the film they made of it?! No, these changes are for the better!" Thomas s eyes were filled with stars. "And someday, when I, Thomas the Tank Engine, shall make it to Hollywood, I shall present my Magnum Opus to the execs and they'll say "Can we put you on the Walk of Fame, Thomas?" and I shall scoff at them, for I deserve-"
"So what was in that coal he took earlier?" muttered Toby to Henry.
"Welsh coal. I was pretty out on it last time I took it."
"And now, BACK TO THE STORY."
...
Duke told them the tale of Smudger.
"Smudger, was a showoff. He was a bloody Yank, and you know you can never trust them! Not as far as you can throw them, anyway! He was loud and rude and boisterous, and often suggested that I was doing crude and inappropriate things with young ladies, the audacious cheek! He rode roughly, like one of them new fangled greasers, and he often came off the rails literally as well as metaphorically! We lost so many good trucks to that silly little sausage!
When I brought the breakdown train one time, I warned him to be careful, but he just laughed at me and called me a old sage.
"Listen, Dukie, who worries about a few little spills? Let me tell ya, when yous in the Bronx, yous learns a few things about roughness! Ya gotta be firm, or someone rides all over ya!"
"We worry here!" I said, with a pithy comeback. But he laughed, that very annoying braying laugh!
Manager grew cross. and said one day that he was going to make him useful at last. Smudger stopped laughing then."
"OOOH GRANPUFF!"gasped Falcon and Stuart "What did he do?!"
Duke would smirk with a cold glint in his eyes "Why, he turned into a generator. Still there behind our shed. He'll never move again." Duke smiled warmly "Just a little warning!"
After that, Falcon and Stuart were silent for several days."
...
"And that is how Christmas was made!" Thomas grinned. He was somewhat surprised to see all five engines staring at him in horror. "What?! Smudger had it coming! Oh what, it was a different time!"
"Please tell me you made that up."
"Maybe..."
...
For many years, the three were very happy. They took passengers on trips, pulled around trucks and even worked with the local blasting company known as . The gunpowder manufacturer paid for the Railway's continued success.
And then hard times fell upon the Island.
It was World War 2, and though the demand for weapons kept them working, there was a unfortunate side-effect. The mines and the hills had been completely stripped of all natural resources and other such valuables, and thus were closed on orders of Churchill, who came to the Island and spent many a day harumphing with Duke over the state of things.
Soon, the Railway was closed too. Many of the workers got new jobs working for the Skarloey Railway, but for the most part, the engines were left in the dark until the final day. A red train named, ironically, Skarloey, came with some more people from the Skarloey Railway.
"We'll take Stuart and Falcon!"
No one wanted Duke. Mostly because they were a little scared he may rip their heads off and drink their blood- Fine, that didn't happen. God, you guys are buzzkills! But they didn't take Duke. Really because they saw him as a relic.
"Cheer up Granpuff!" remarked Stuart. "We'll get a railway of our own, and then you can come and keep us in order! You'll like that!"
Duke laughed...but he didn't really believe it.
No one did, really. And as Stuart and Falcon were signed under the control of the Thin Controller, known simply as Mr Peter Sam, and were given their new names, they left the Mid Sodor Railway for the final time.
Duke's driver and fireman oiled and greased him said their goodbyes, covered him up with a tarpaulin and sheeted him snugly, placed him in the shed and locked the door for the final time. They had work to find.
And Duke was lone.
"Ah well!" he sighed cheerfully. "I shall not be forgotten! I shall prevail! A little nap shall not hurt me!"
Winter torrents washed down the mud and earth of the mountains around him, covering the shed and the rails, wiping out any trace that the Mid Sodor Railway had even existed, and that there had never been a time when trees and bushes hadn't grown around that little clump. You'd never have known a shed was there, let a lone a little dozy engine inside."
...
The winter wind was still buffeting the doors, and silence reigned before Percy spoke up. "THAT'S NOT A HAPPY ENDING AT ALL!"
"Ah." murmured Thomas "There will be. But that'll wait until next time."
In the silence that followed, Toby remarked at last. "Okay, a few things, Thomas. One, Falcon and Stuart weren't actually purchased by the Skarloey railway until a few weeks ago, they were actually sent to a few quarries and so on. Second of all, Churchill never came to this Island, in fact I believe his exact words regarding this was "We shall fight them on the beaches, unless those beaches are Sodor's, in which case, good god damn riddance to them. Thirdly, the entire story of Smudger was proven to be a myth, told to young engines to try and scare the pants off of them, so claiming that it's true is winning you no points here. Fourthly, HOW DARE YOU END IT ON A CLIFFHANGER! Fifthly, you should go into politics considering how much confidence you have when you lie through- Can anyone else smell burning?"
Everyone glanced outside.
"Huh." remarked Henry. "How did we never notice that?"
But no one noticed Thomas's face slowly changing from outrage at Toby picking plot holes in his 'genius' story, to one that Archimedes had probably had when he had discovered volume whilst sitting in the bath.
"Toby! You are right!"
"I am?!" Toby smiled. "Good! I didn't mean to be harsh about your story, but they could sue the-"
"I should go into politics!"
"What?" Toby gasped.
"I would be taking to it like a...forgive the pun, duck to water!"
"Wait..." Duck said with dawning horror.
"I shall become the greatest leader of this Island ever! Churchill shall smile down at me from the heavens."
"Hang on a tick!" Henry yelped, his mind coming to a rather awful conclusion.
"The arts would be a waste of my time, and of the Island's, when I could do so much more-"
"No!" Gordon snapped.
"-SO MUCH GOOD I MAY EVEN BECOME A GOD-"
"Take a breather!" Percy panicked.
"I, THOMAS THE TANK ENGINE-"
"NO!" screamed the other five.
"-SHALL ENTER POLITICS."