Django Durango

“Diesel told me the silliest story today while I was helping him get his trucks back in order,” said Percy. He backed into the Shed next to Edward. “It was about you,” Percy told him.

“Really?” said Edward.

“Why are you listening to Diesel about anything?” scoffed Henry.

“Because,” said Percy, “Diesel lies and his stories are funny when you know that. Like today, he said that Edward told this story to him, but I know he was lying.”

“I should like to hear this story I told him then,” said Edward.

“Well,” began Percy. “One day, said Diesel, Edward puffed into the docks. Emily and Gordon were there already. Then The Fat Controller arrived too.”
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It was to be the Storybook Festival on the Skarloey Railway. People from near and far would come to admire the engines and hear the stories that had been written about them. All the little engines had received new coats of paint for the occasion, and were quite excited.

Rheneas gave Duncan a bump on accident as he was shunting his trucks into place.

“Mind the paint!” hissed Duncan. “I’ll no’ have it scratched before the Festival. Not that I expect anyone will notice if it is,” he huffed. “Every year they come to see the Little Old Engines, not poor Duncan, no sir. All the work I do, and none of the credit–”

Skarloey was sitting at the other platform watching them. He laughed. “Now, now. I don’t think The Thin Controller would be very happy if his favourite engine didn’t look his best,” he said, and he winked at Rheneas, like this.
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One evening, the other mountain engines came into the Shed to find Shane Dooiney already there and looking gloomy. They asked him what was the matter.

“A tooth broke off one of my pinion wheels,” he said sadly, ”and they say they have to replace it.”

“That’s not so bad,” said Patrick. “They know how to mend us at the Steamworks now. You won’t have to go to Switzerland like we used to.” Alaric and Eric agreed reassuringly, but Wilfred, Culdee, and Ernest were more sympathetic.

“Those were Godred’s wheels, weren’t they?” asked Ernest.

“Yes. They say they can’t just weld the tooth back on,” explained Shane Dooiney. “They can’t trust it not to break again. They’re going to give me new wheels instead.”

“When you used to tell me about Godred to scare me,” sniffed Patrick, “he sounded quite silly indeed. You ought to be happy not to have his silly old wheels anymore, Shane.”

“He was silly,” said Culdee, “but our Railway might have closed if not for him.”

“How’s that?” Alaric and Eric were listening raptly too.
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“What colour paint would you like, Duck?” asked The Fat Controller.

Duck heard the question, but he was certain that he could not have heard it correctly.

“Beg pardon Sir?”

“All the engines on this Railway may choose what colour they would like to be painted,” explained The Fat Controller.

“There isn’t a livery?” asked Duck in confusion.

The Fat Controller laughed. “Not as such, no.”
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“Come on, love. I thought I finally found him a girl who understood how this was going to work. Someone who wasn’t going to get emotional about it,” Virgil appeased. “You knew what you were signing up for.”

“Oh, I know! You explained it so nicely, just like one of your bloody lyrics! ‘He’s only any good when he’s doing something bad,'” Petunia fumed.

“Then I don’t know why you’re acting so wounded about it. You knew he was going to step out on you. That was the whole point!”

“HE. FUCKED. MY. SISTER.”

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