A note to readers: These 'Tales' will be presented out of chronological order. Luckily, the year each story takes place is made very clear, allowing for readers to easily construct a timeline of events.

Also, because of this anthology format, some events and/or characters referenced may confuse the reader, as they will get a proper explanation and/or introduction in future Tales and/or Bibliographies.

Thomas Comes to Breakfast

Written by the Reverend W. Awdry and BNSF1995

Proofread and Corrected by Broa Island

The Isle of Sodor: 1961

Thomas the Tank Engine had worked the Ffarquhar Branch Line for many years and knew it very well. With his two coaches, Annie and Clarabel, he had been keeping passenger traffic on the branch moving and justifying its continued existence in the eyes of British Railways.

One August afternoon, he arrived at the western terminus at Knapford.

"You know just where to stop, Thomas!" laughed his driver, "You can almost manage without me!"

Thomas knew his driver was joking. It would practically be suicide for a non-faceless engine to run crewless.

Later, back at Ffarquhar, he was talking with Percy and Toby, the other two residents of the branch.

"I've heard BR is putting that DP1 into full production", said Percy.

"The Deltic?" asked Thomas.

"Yes," replied Percy, "and apparently, they're going to be used exclusively on the ECML."

"Gordon won't like that..." muttered Toby, referring to Gordon's brothers and cousins.

"Well, let's just hope one of those English Electric Type 4s don't replace Gordon" grumbled Percy.

"BR won't force diesel traction on the region, Percy" Thomas reassured. "The Fat Controller won't allow full dieselization. Maybe he could save some of those failing diesels on the mainland."

Thomas was, of course, referring to BR pressing diesels into service with little to no testing just to get rid of steam faster. So far, few classes were proving themselves reliable, the others suffering from various mechanical defects and other design flaws that hindered or completely neutered their capabilities.

The next morning, Thomas was the first to awaken. He drowsed comfortably as he fired himself up and the warmth spread through his boiler.

Then, all of a sudden, he started moving.

"Wait, what the bloody 'eck?!" he cried.

He didn't know that a careless and lazy cleaner had meddled with his controls to make it look like he had done his job. What the cleaner didn't know, however, is that the controls of non-faceless vehicles must always be set to neutral so they can control themselves, the controls only used by human crews in extreme emergencies. And since the cleaner had moved his throttle and brake levers, Thomas was completely helpless.

He tried letting off steam to alert Percy, Toby, or anyone in the yard, but he couldn't. He tried to stop, but he couldn't. He just kept rolling forward.

He didn't dare look at what was coming next. There was the stationmaster's house! The stationmaster and his family were about to have breakfast.

"OH, GOD!" screamed Thomas, and he shut his eyes. His wheels left the track and crunched the road.

CRAAAASH!

The house rocked, broken glass tinkled, plaster was everywhere. Thomas had collected a bush in his travels. He peered into the room through his leaves. He couldn't speak.

The stationmaster was furious. His wife picked up her plate.

"YOU MISERABLE ENGINE!" she screeched, "JUST LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO OUR BREAKFAST! NOW SHALL HAVE TO COOK SOME MORE!"

She banged the door. More plaster fell, but Thomas didn't notice. He was too busy contemplating the fact that woman cared more about her breakfast than a 52-ton steam train crashing into her house and almost killing her and her family.

Soon, the breakdown gang arrived. Workmen propped up the house with strong poles, and laid rails over the road and through the garden. Using powerful jacks, they put the last rails under Thomas.

Percy switched onto Thomas' line, and, pulling hard, managed to get him back on the rails. Bits of fencing, the bush, ceramic shards from the plates thrown by the stationmaster's wife in fury, and a broken window frame festooned his front, which was badly twisted.

Thomas was in disgrace. Fortunately, though, that was the worst thing that happened to him that day.

"I'd like to start," the Fat Controller began when he arrived at the scene, "by saying that I am in no way blaming this incident on you, Thomas. I'd have to be insane to do that. Turns out a cleaner meddled with your controls and overrode your ability to control yourself. He's been given the sack and turned over to the police. You'll have to go to the works to get your front mended, during which we'll finally straighten your running plate."

"But what about my branch line, sir?" asked Thomas, his voice muffled behind the bush.

"I wish it hadn't come to this, but BR is forcing me to test an experimental single-car version of a Metro-Cammell DMU. I'd have Kate take over, but she's badly-needed on the mainline."

"A d-d-diesel, sir?!" Thomas spluttered.

"I'm sorry, Thomas. Rest assured, you won't be replaced by one of those boring multiple units, mark my words."

That day, Percy did Thomas' passenger runs while Ruby took Thomas to the Steamworks. Thomas knew the incident wasn't his fault, but he couldn't help but feel he had let the railway's reputation down. He also knew that he now owed Preston an apology.

And what of the cleaner? He was charged with destruction of property and reckless endangerment and sentenced to 25 years in prison. He was never released, dying of pneumonia in 1971. As for the stationmaster's wife, she was chewed out by her husband for thinking eggs and bacon were somehow more important than the safety of their children, to which she agreed and apologized, even helping the contractors who repaired the damage to their house.

And the railcar? Well, that's a story you already know, but do you know what really caused Percy's crash with that brake van? That, my friends, is a story for another day…