Something Splendid!
While Thomas was venturing James grumbled discontentedly as he chugged along the mainline, pulling a dirty goods train laden with fresh hay to a farm near Wellsworth. The usually proud engine couldn't hide his disdain for such a job.
"Puh! Typical of the Fat Controller to have me pull a goods train!" James huffed indignantly, his frustration loud and clear in his voice.
James's driver chuckled and shook his head in amusement at his engine grumbling.
"Honestly, James. To think that you've been doing this for years," he remarked, gently teasing. The fireman chimed "And besides, James, it's just hay! It's not that dirty!"
James scoffed at the suggestion. "Ha! I'd like to see you two in my spot! Then you'd know EXACTLY what I mean," he retorted stubbornly, making his dissatisfaction adamant.
The driver smirked, enjoying the banter. "Oh yeah? Well, it ain't easy for us either, ol' boy. It's tough work getting you to move! Even before you became a big fluffy beast! Not to mention how hot and stuffy it can get in here!" he teased as he patted the cab, affectionately reminding James of their own struggles.
James rolled his eyes at the playful jab from his driver and kept his focus on the rails ahead. As they neared Crosby, a sense of nervousness crept over him. It was in one of the fields there that he had his infamous crash back in the 1920s, a memory he would rather forget.
As they approached Crosby, James began to feel a strange, tingly ache spreading throughout his frame. With each passing minute, the sensation worsened, causing him to grow increasingly uneasy.
He began wincing, lightly grunting from the dull pain. The mischievous trucks behind him seized the opportunity for their entertainment. With malicious glee, they began roughly bumping into James with increasing force, their chant of "On! On! On! On!" ringing out tauntingly.
James yelped in surprise as the forceful bumps propelled him forward, his attempts to brake proving futile against the relentless bumping. "Ah! Stop it!" he growled, glaring back at the troublesome trucks, his eyes flashing with irritation.
The trucks continued their assault, giggling maniacally as they kept bumping James with no sign of stopping. James could only whimper in distress as his speed increased, his brakes rendered useless and the aching pain coursing through his body intensifying with each jolt. Unable to regain control, he felt a sense of helplessness wash over him as he hurtled forward, at the mercy of the mischievous trucks. His driver and fireman's efforts were useless, unable to shut off steam or pull James's brake lever.
Eventually, they came around a bend and James felt his wheels slipping off the rails. The driver and fireman jumped out at that point. Panicking, James screamed as he began tipping over "Oh nonononononono! NOT AGAAAAII—!!!"
WHEEEESH!!
He unintentionally wheeshed a great amount of steam as he crashed into the field, his body being engulfed in steam and smoke. Everything in that moment went black.
James groaned, his eyes fluttering open to the harsh sunlight in his eyes. Despite feeling sore and dizzy, James's senses slowly began to come back to him, and he noticed something peculiar. Instead of the expected view of the field around him, he found himself staring directly up at the sky. Confusion clouded his thoughts as he realized that it didn't feel like he was lying on his side as he should be after a crash. Instead, an unsettling sensation told him that he was somehow standing on his tender, adding to his disorientation.
As James instinctively moved to shield his eyes from the glaring sunlight, he froze mid-motion, a sudden realization hitting him like a train. He didn't have hands, at least not in his current form. The memory of his monster form flashed through his mind, stirring up a mix of fear and curiosity as he grappled with the implications what was happening.
Hesitantly, James brought his "hand" to his face once more, the unfamiliar sensation sending a shiver down his spine. It looked like his front paw from his other form, but much more slender.
Gasping in shock, James unintentionally sat up without even trying, his newfound ability surprising him as he took in the sight of the rest of his grey body. The realization of his current state left him feeling bewildered. Looking down, almost hyperventilating as he inspected his new hands with fascination and horror.
"W-What is this?!" He whispered frantically, feeling his new, muscle-toned chest and red tuft of fur. By that time, his driver and fireman had arrived on scene, and what they saw of James was unbelievable.
"Should we get the breakdown train?" The fireman asked.
"And what? Tell them they have to rescue a derailed human train? I think not"
To be continued...
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You know what day it is.. Family gatherings, cats knocking over the tree, being asked strange questions- and not being able to hold a pose for a picture.
Now some of you may wonder, who's that strange blonde, held by mr eyebrows. It's high time I introduce Rebecca (No it's not THE Rebecca, she's just loosly based off of her) She's Scott's lovely wife (I'll share more of her lore later, I'm tired now)
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Duck: we have a problem…
Duck: it was very hot today and according to dress code and safety regulations, we’re not allowed to wear shorts while working.
Duck: however, Donald and Douglas figured out that it doesn’t mention anything about skirts so they showed up to work wearing their kilts.
Duck: they’re now in sir Topham’s office…
Duck: sir Topham doesn’t know if he should send them home to change because of the dress code and safety regulations, or let them wear them because it’s a cultural dress.
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