A/N There's a scene in this chapter for my FanFiction buddy. Respect my Thomasverse. There's a method to my madness.

Hey, it's me, Thomas. This is the story of a time I was too stuck-up.

I had worked my branch line for many years and knew it well.

"You know just where to stop, Thomas," laughed Driver. "You could almost manage it without me."

I had become conceited. I didn't realize Driver was joking. Later, I boasted to the others.

"Driver says I don't need him now.". I let his joke go to my smokebox, but it didn't last.

"Don't be so daft," snorted Percy.

"I'd never go without my driver," said Toby earnestly. "I'd be frightened." He's always been cautious, at least as long I've known him.

"Pooh!" I boasted. "I'm not scared."

"You'd never dare."

"I would then. You'll see."

The next day, the firelighter came. I drowsed comfortably as the warmth spread into my boiler. Percy and Toby were still asleep. I suddenly remembered.

"Silly stick-in-the-muds!" I chuckled. "I'll show them! Driver say I can manage without him. I'll just go out and then I'll stop and "wheesh!" "That'll make them jump." I soon found what had happened, but all I knew then was I was moving.

I thought I was being clever and really I was only moving because a careless cleaner had meddled with my controls. I soon found my mistake. I tried to wheesh, but I couldn't. I tried to stop, but I couldn't. I just kept rolling along. I didn't dare to look what was coming next. There was the stationmaster's house! The stationmaster was about to have breakfast.

"Horrors!" I cried and shut my eyes.

The house rocked, broken glass tinkled, plaster was everywhere. I had collected a bush on my travels. I peered into the room through its leaves. I couldn't speak. The stationmaster was furious. His wife picked up her plate.

"You miserable engine!" she scolded. "Look what you have done to our breakfast! Now I shall have to cook some more!"

She banged the door. More plaster fell. This time it fell on me. I felt depressed. Workmen propped up the house with strong poles and laid rails through the garden. Then, the Scottish twin engines, Donald and Douglas arrived.

"Dinna fash yourself, Thomas. We'll soon have you back on the rails," they laughed. Then, they rescued me.

Donald and Douglas, puffing hard, managed to haul me back to safety. Bits of fencing, the bush, and a broken window frame festooned my front, which was badly twisted. The twins laughed and left me. I was in disgrace. There was worse to come.

"You're in a lot of trouble, Thomas." Sir Topham Hatt didn't know about the cleaner yet.

"I know. I'm sorry, sir.". I felt dreadful about what had happened.

My voice was muffled behind my bush.

"You must go to the Works and have your front mended. It will be a long job."

"Yes, sir."

"Meanwhile, a diesel railcar will do your work."

"A d-d-d-diesel, sir?" I spluttered.

"Yes, Thomas. Diesels always stay in the sheds 'til they're wanted. Diesels never gallivant off to breakfast in stationmaster's houses."

I went to the Works and, due to how I was feeling, had a nightmare about getting hit by Gordon's Express the following morning. When I was about to be hit, though, I woke up in tears and had to be comforted by a workman who assured me it was just a bad dream and dried my tears.

A/N Thomas was unhappy in this story, which means, in my Thomasverse, he needs comfort because I'm Thomas sensitive. The last scene's something I imagined inspired by something Rosie Angelina wrote about James having a nightmare at the Works and being comforted by a workman. However, I changed up the nightmare to make it different in more than just who it was.