Before the real parody, a non-sequiter.

Trains like racing.

It's a fact of life. It's so much a fact of life that Sodor law dictates that every train has to race against their brethren at least once a month. Their lives may involve working as hard as they would if they were slave labor, but that doesn't mean that they can't have a bit of fun too – the heavy responsibility that hangs on the racers to keep their human passengers and cargo alive by the end of the speed-limit-breakage be danged.

However, nobody likes racing against Thomas. For Sodor law also dictates that any train racing against him comes second by default.
Because, you know, Thomas is 'just that awesome'.

They tried to slow him down once or twice, just to give them a sporting chance of actually accomplishing first place. Unfortunately, these attempts resulted in either a severe reprimand from The Fat Controller, or Thomas ending up doing something else that 'proves' his superiority against all the others anyway. Even worse and thankfully rarely, the slowdown would work but they'd both reach the finish line together, which was even more painful as it proved that they could, in fact, win were it not for Sodor law.

It was despicable. It was disgraceful. It was another adjective beginning with D.

But, because they were trains, they had to put up with it.


Tank Engine Clichés Again
Alternate Title:

I Never Said I Wouldn't Try To Beat the Crap Out of The Great Discovery

Disclaimer: Stanley and the role he plays may have been exaggerated for the purposes of this parody. It might not be a big deal, because the series tends to exaggerate character traits for story reasons anyway, but I figured I'd say because I know how picky people can be. Did that make sense?

The story began, as usual, with Thomas doing all the jobs on the island. He was so dedicated to being A Really Use----
What was that?
Oh, sorry. He was so dedicated to being A Credit To The Railway that he didn't mind making all the other engines obsolete in the process.

"Uh, that's not what we usual—"
Yeah, whatever, it's A Credit To The Railway from now on.

Suddenly, a little narrow gauge called Duncan puffed up beside him, smirk on his face. He liked to tease the tank engine from time to time, even though previous episodes have dictated that he didn't – it was disputably the result of a personality change overnight. "If you want to get to the New Location quicker, try taking the left track, and then the right."
Thomas quickly chuffed off without so much as a thank you.

"How rude!" steamed Duncan. "He could at least bother to point out that the left track goes to the Big Station." And he followed him.

Five minutes later, however, both trains chugged back the way they came, covered in brambles. Apparently, they had discovered a disused track and came across – unbeknownst to them – the mysterious town of Another New Location.
Dun dun duuuun.

Duncan quickly ran off to tell everyone he knew, who then in turn informed His Royal Fat---uh, I mean, The Fat Controller, who was with his wife at the time. "A hidden town has been discovered! Come quickly! And get here fast afterwards!"
(And if you don't get that joke, you're probably not old enough to be reading this.)

Needless to say, he did and he did, and upon arrival looked a weird combination of happy and hungry. "Flatten my top hat! This is the ancient town of Another New Location!"
Dun dun duu-Yes yes, we already did that bit.

Thomas and Duncan gasped. They had heard stories about Another New Location.
"Legend has it," said TFC, "that Another New Location was the first town ever to be built on the island of Sodor---"
"Wait," piped up Thomas. "If we've heard stories about it, why are you telling us them now?"
"Because the little children don't know the story yet."

Thomas, deciding to play along, searched for the so-called little children. "What little children? I don't see any little children."
Duncan nudged him. "Aren't the children on the other side of the television scr—"
"Yes, but we're not supposed to know that, so shut up."

TFC beamed at the two engines. "This is a Great Discovery. Thomas, you have been a Really Use--"
Ahem.
"Sorry. A Credit To The Railway. I am very proud of you. You shall be in charge of restoring Another New Location for the rest of the film."

Thomas beamed. Duncan didn't. "Wait a dang minute!" shrieked the latter. "I discovered Another New Location too. I was the one who told him where to go. Maybe, just for once, you could give some of the credit to me, and Thomas can take a back seat for once. How's that for a plan, huh?"

"Fascinating question, Duncan. Now take Thomas back to Tidmouth Sheds for a victory cult song celebrating Thomas's greatness."

Duncan grizzled for the whole journey back.


And now for something to advance the plot.

Thomas was very much enjoying being in charge of Another New Location. It was the closest opportunity he'd ever get to actually being the Fat Controller…well, besides all those other times that he got put in charge of something, but they were irrelevant to the story.

"Oh, by the way, Thomas," piped up a random train, "a new engine's gonna be arriving soon. His name is Stanley and he's got a white coat of paint and he's faster and stronger and way cooler than you."
Thomas scoffed. "OK, random train, I'll keep that in mind," he reassured it, having already completely forgotten what it just said.

One musical montage later, Thomas chugged on over to The Docks (can't forget the last chapter, now can we?) to deliver some random supplies that would never be used again. However, when he arrived at the washdown, he saw…

A long white engine sitting where he would normally be, confidence and reassured-ness floating around his every being. His name was Stanley, and he was already proving to be faster and stronger and way cooler than Thomas. Everybody liked him, and he was very efficient at doing Thomas's regular work. His eyes were lavender one minute and sea green the next, and he had long flowing hair that reached up to his funnel even when hair was unusual on trains, and he hath telekinesis and levitating powers and he could shove trucks through walls without even trying and handle Annie and Clarabel with ease---

Hey, you know what, cut the description. I'm just gonna go ahead and call him "Marty Stu" for the rest of this parody. That'll probably sum him up more than an over-the-top description from the minds of HiT ever could.

"Hello Percy, hello new engine," Thomas called to the trains in the washdown. "I didn't know someone new was coming. I got a new shed the other day. Look at me, am I not new grand?"
One second later, the two of them quickly turned to acknowledge the blue tank before going back to their bubble bath.
"That's strange," muttered Thomas to himself. "Trains normally reply to me immediately after I say hello. That means they don't like me anymore!" Needless to say, he got rather peeved. Unjustifiably peeved, but peeved all the same.

"Percy," he called to his friend, "stop talking to Marty Stu and talk to me. I just got here and I demand your attention."
"But Thomas," Percy piped up, "I talk to you all the time, and so does everyone else. Is it really so bad that we're all making friends with the new engine? Aren't you the one who always goes on about having to introduce newcomers into the fold by talking to them?"

"Oh, wait, no. That's Emily. But the point still stand--"

"Don't care, I'm in charge, stop talking to him." And he puffed off without another word.

Percy turned to the newcomer. "Sorry about that, Marty Stu; Thomas can get a little clingy about our attention sometimes."
"Oh, don't worry about it," boomed Marty Stu in a voice that could turn butter into milk, or was that the other way around? "The important thing is that everybody else loves me and that I'm the best around here."
Normally this degree of self-obsession wouldn't be advocated, not even for moral purposes, but Percy didn't mind it this time. Despite being loyal to Thomas for the majority of his Sodor lifespan, he'd decided to drop everything and go for Marty Stu as a best friend instead; whether it was because of his special Stu powers or Percy's naivety he didn't know.

Hot dang, does this movie ever have a power complex.


Sadly for Thomas, he heard more and more about Marty Stu as he continued his jobs around the island, mostly from the scarce few girl engines. "He's really being A Credit To The Railway!" "It normally takes trucks AGES to get used to new engines, but they took to Marty Stu within mere seconds." "I heard he's fantastic in the engine sheds!" "I wouldn't be surprised; look at the size of those buffers!" "Much bigger than Thomas's!" "He's probably a better express engine too despite not being built for that sort of thing." "Ooh, he can pull MY express any day!" Things like that.
This made Thomas, if you'll pardon the gratuitous cliché, Very Cross. He'd consistently been the greatest engine of all of Sodor for the best part of a lifetime, and now some guy he'd never seen before was going to steal his thunder. Literally so – through circumstances he was too angry to recollect in detail, Marty Stu had weaseled his way into being in charge of restoring Another New Location.
Tired and angry, Thomas decided to go home to Tidmouth Sheds after a long day of angst. He'd probably be able to see things clearer in the morning, and he didn't feel like returning to the shed (although it was right next to him at the time of thinking this).

Meanwhile, Marty Stu was talking to the other trains outside of the aforementioned sheds, exploding a few trucks with his mind in between sentences just to show off. "Hey, I heard Thomas hasn't exactly taken a shine to me," he was joking. "Does he think I'm going to usurp his position or something?"
"Nah," Toby wheeshed. "He's just jealous that he's no longer in the public eye 24 hours a day."
"He really shouldn't worry, Stanley. A few more days of exposure and you'll soon become an unseen and unheard background character just like the rest of us," observed Lady as she chugged by.
Toby looked around to find the speaker. "Huh? Who said that? Have the magical pixies arrived again?"
"Toby, for the last time, there are no magical pixies. They're just a side effect of you slowly losing your mind and you have to tolerate it like the rest of us."
Emily's words were ignored as Toby went chasing off. "Mr Buzz, I need the pixie catching device!"

"Just the same," mused Marty Stu, "I'd like to do something to make him like me a little better. Maybe I could keep his spot in his shed warm for him until he gets here in a bit; he could do with a nice warm resting spot."
"How'd you know he's coming this way?" Henry gasped.
"Hello, I hath telekinesis, remember?"
Edward somehow forgot that the word for mind-reading is telepathy in his astonishment. "You never cease to amaze me, Marty Stu," he smiled amicably as Thomas's spot was taken.
"That's because I'm Marty Stu, the greatest engine of all." Everyone laughed with him.

Unfortunately, Thomas chose just that time to show up. Life's a ditch, isn't it?

All right, calm down, the shocked arriver thought as he saw that spot-stealer crack another joke. There has to be a logical explanation for this. Or at least one that doesn't put him in such a bad light. He could simply be trying to make up for the unforgivable crime of being more awesome than me, which is nice of him for trying to rectify. I should probably ask him what's going on and give him a chance to clarify himself.
Then the procrastination clouds set in. They could do that sometimes. Nah. I'm too tired to do it right now. It's less energy to jump to conclusions. I mean, I know it's the more painful option, but I haven't angsted enough today anyway.

So Thomas's response to Marty Stu's cheerful "Hey Thomas, what's up, man?" was naturally to run away, tears falling, crying "Everybody hates meeeeeee!"


The next day, The Fat Controller was receiving an important phone call. "For goodness sake, Topham, come back to bed," purred his wife. "I'd say 'come quickly', but that would be a bit hypocritical given your performance last time."
"Sorry, darling," said the superintendent, "but this man claims to have really important news for me, and I can't hang up on him."

Indeed, the guard calling him seemed quite breathless. "Sir, it's a disaster. A truck has smashed into some oil cans up near Knapford Station."
"And?"
"And the crash splashed some oil in front of the station's flowers."
"Uhm."
"The oil then got caught alight due to a glass bottle on the platform."
"Aw."
"The whole station went up in the flames, sir, everything is ruined."
"So?"
"Two children got trapped in there and died, my little girl and my little boy."
"That's too bad."
"The budget is really going to have to stretch to get this fixed. Not to mention the trauma and guilt I have here in my heart. Money won't be able to fix that, sir."
"Poor you."
Sighing sadly, the guard decided to give him the other piece of news he'd received. "Oh, and by the by, Thomas has gone missing. Apparently thinks he's no longer A Credit To The Railway."

This evidently made TFC pay attention. "Bust my human analogy! Why didn't you say so, you buffoon?! Call everybody off their jobs and get them to search for him at once! We need him to fix everything, even if Marty Stu is currently doing a better job!"

The guard slammed the phone down, seething at the man's lack of priority. "I do not get paid enough for this. I don't."

Thus, the search call went out. All the other engines dropped everything they were doing and scoured the island for Thomas. After all, it wasn't as if they had any WORK to do, or any COAL to deliver, or any FIREWOOD to burn. No, all their lives focused around this one guy, and –

"Hey, where are you going?"
A confused Percy interrupted the narration at this point. For Gordon was chugging away from his spot in the scene, bringing James with him.

"Gordon, you're not meant to be doing that," cried a voice.
"Yeah," Percy added, "you're supposed to be looking for Thomas."
"No," repeated the voice. "For real. You two are not meant to be leaving the set. It interferes with the parody." Cue fourth-wall expansion as we discover the voice belonged to the author of Thomas and the Clichés.

"Lady, there's not going to BE a parody," growled the big blue engine. "Because there's not going to be a show to parody of."
"What, what do you mean? That sentence makes no sense; what are you tal---"

Before she could say anymore, James had bashed the cameras and the scenery, sending plastic trees and film reels all over the place.

"Attention, all Thomas and Friends personnel!" Gordon called to the rest of the room. "I've had a very long day, and I'm not in the mood to argue, so let's just get to the point. James and I have been working here for over twenty-five years and we are fed up to the back teeth with everything. Unfortunately, our contract prevents us from negotiation with HiT Entertainment, so we have to resort to more…drastic measures. Let us quit, with last paychecks, and there will be no more harm done to you and you can go free."

Thomas came chugging back in at this point, confused and lost. "Hey, I've been waiting for you guys for ages, what's going on?"
"Two of the big engines want to quit the show," explained the author.
"What? No! You can't do that, Gordon!" The tank engine chugged up, trying to talk some sense into the other trains. "This is my TV show and we can't let you quit when everything's still awesome!"

"Unfortunately, Thomas," James chuckled morbidly, "you'll just have to."

"Because if you don't," concluded Gordon, bringing out a very dangerous-looking lighter, "James will get out the gasoline and we light up this studio, and the show with it!!"