Sodor Island Parody Pack

The Runaway

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Thomas simmered happily as he waited for Henry to come.
“Hope he hurries up, I’ve got a meeting at 5,” moaned Thomas.
The driver, guard and fireman were all waiting for Henry to arrive.
“Excuse me a moment,” said the fireman. “I need to go to the little boys room.”
He turned around and was just heading to the loo when he saw a man with muscles the size of Wembley Stadium and tattoo’s placed everywhere possible.
“Hello Les,” he said to the fireman.
“Oh, erm, hello Dennis,” stuttered the fireman. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
“Not really,” replied Les. “When you’re waiting for some tight wannabe-fireman to pay off the huge debt he owes you, it’s never a nice day.
“Well, erm, yes, about that, I have your money waiting for you. If you wait in Annie, I’ll give it to you once I’ve finished in the gents.”
“Very well then,” said Les. He clambered into Annie.
“Pooh, he stinks of goat kebabs,” moaned Annie, as she sank to the ground when the fat man stepped into her.
Meanwhile, Dennis snuck under Annie’s windows so that Les couldn’t see him. Then he clambered into Thomas’s cab, and turned the brake handle. Then he ran out and went back to stand with the driver and guard.
Henry was just arriving when Thomas felt his wheels moving.
“Hang on; I haven’t learnt how to drive myself yet” he thought. “Something must be wrong.”
He was right too. He started going faster, but he couldn’t do anything.
“Help, help,” he yelled.
“Good Lord,” exclaimed the guard. “How the heck did he do that.”
“Erm, I don’t know,” stuttered Dennis the fireman. “Maybe he’s learnt to drive himself.”
“Oh good,” said the driver. “Now I can retire early and live on that island in Hawaii.”
Suddenly, Les leant out of the cab window.
“You git, Les. I’ll get that money yet.”
The driver and guard looked at Les.
“Erm, he comes to my alcoholics meeting every Thursday. I don’t know why he bothers; he’s doesn’t even try to stop.”
“I smell Bulls***” said the driver. “Now let’s rescue Thomas.”
“Why?” said Henry. “If he crashes and dies, maybe I’ll become the title character.”
“You wish,” shouted Percy.
Meanwhile, an inspector had boarded Harold the helicopter. Harold took off into the sky, but the takeoff was rather rough.
“My, that takeoff was a bit rough wasn’t it,” said the Inspector. (See, I told you so).
“Oh shhhhhod off,” uttered the pilot.
“Hang on a moment. You’re drunk aren’t you?”
“Oh no. Pleashe don’t tell the airfield owner. I might get the shack.”
The drunken pilot started crying and hugging the inspector.
“I DON’T WANT THE SHACK,” he wailed.
“Look, get off me and fly the bloomin’ helicopter, you drunken’ plonker.”
The pilot tried his best, but he had Harold flying all over the place.
“Holy crap,” yelled Harold as he almost crashed into a bush near the branch line bridge. Fortunately, he only had a happy face back then, so he didn’t start crying.
“Try shome of my boosh,” insisted the pilot.
“I certainly will not,” said the Inspector, with sweat running down his face due to resisting temptation.
Meanwhile, Thomas was exhausted; not with having gone so far, but having gone so far whilst carrying a fat person.
“I hope I fall off the end of the set soon,” he sighed.
“As he approached the station, he saw Harold land. Then he saw the inspector staggering out.
“You were right, Shhhwweatheart. That boosh wash shmmmashing.”
The inspector staggered to the platform, waiting for Thomas to arrive. Thomas was now going slow enough for the inspector to act. Judging his moment, the inspector lept for Thomas’ cab. Unfortunately, his judgement was pretty bad, and he missed the cab entirely, jumping right into the side of Thomas, and he fell on the rails and was killed instantly.
“I’ve had enuff of thish,” uttered the drunken pilot, so he blacked out so he didn’t have to do anything else. Fortunately, he landed on Harold’s controls. Harold flew forward; right into the side of Thomas, knocking him off the rails. The runaway was stopped.
“Oh, thank you Harold,” said Thomas sarcastically.
“Think nothing of it,” whirred Harold. “Glad to be of service, anytime.”
“I was being sarcastic, you imbecile.”
“I shhhhaved the d-d-day,” shouted the pilot, before vomiting on Harold.
Soon, the driver and Dennis the fireman arrived, as well as the Fat Controller.
“Well, I have plenty more people to attend my alcoholics meeting next month,” said the fireman.
“Oh no you won’t,” said Les, who somehow remained unharmed. “Come here and pay me.”
Suddenly a police car arrived, and arrested Les and the drunken pilot. Fortunately, Les loved prison life, so it wasn’t too much of a problem for him.
“The policeman called Dennis the relief-fireman over.
“Now, look, technically, he didn’t do anything wrong, so I saved your ass by arresting him. But he’ll have to be released in 13 hours and 21 minutes, so I suggest you pack your bags, get a false moustache and glasses, and move to somewhere where living conditions are so squalid that no one would think of looking for you there.”
“Skeg Ness, here I come,” said Dennis, and he ran off to start a new life.
“Now, if you’d have had those cowcatchers fitted to that engine there, none of this would have happened,” said the policeman to the Fat Controller.
“Oh, they protect you from helicopters, do they?”
“Right, for that sarcastic comment, you can spend the next 13 and a third hours in a cell with these two,” shouted the policeman, who threw the Fat Controller into the police car. Les smiled. He knew the next 13.333333333etc. hours would be lots of fun.
“Phew, we must never let this happen, Thomas,” said the driver.
Thomas agreed with him. Well actually, deep down, he didn’t. He’d found the whole thing rather amusing.

Sodor Island Parody Pack