The Tanked Engine

Title image...artwork by Henry Blair.

Very loosely, based on the children's stories, 'Thomas the tank engine,' and 'Sparky and the talking train.'

"All aboard!" Called the Slack Controller.

Swaying from one track to the other the tanked engine crawled away from the platform.

"Thomas! Will you get a move on!" The Slack Controller yelled, "I can walk faster than that! Backward!"

Cho-Cho! Cho-Cho! Cho-Cho!

"Sparky! Tell me what that damn train is going on about? He'd better not be bad-mouthing me?"

"He says that he's feeling a bit too drunk to move."

"All he has to do is stay on track. How hard can that be? It's not as if he can go wandering off anywhere else?"

"He says that at the moment he sees four tracks and they keep swapping places."

The Slack Controller wasn't amused. "Who the hell got this engine tanked up?"

Sparky just shrugged his shoulders.

"Just keep going, Thomas. Try and walk it off," the Slack Controller told him. "Sparky you go with him."

"Aw...do I have to?"

"Yes?"

Sparky's face dropped.

"Awwwww do I have to?" said the Slack Controller as he imitated Sparky. "That's fine coming from someone who says that they love trains so much that they reckon trains can talk to them? Left front wheel, left front wheel. What the hell was that all about then?"

"Okay, okay, I'll go. Geeze, you don't have to rub it in." Sparky replied.

"Come on Thomas I'll be riding with you," said Sparky.

Before long the swaying of the tanked engine started to lull Sparky to sleep so he went to lay down on a bench in the sleeping cabin.

Then not long after that Thomas started to sober up a little. It was lucky that he did because the very steep Station road hill was coming up.

"I can do it. I can do it." Thomas kept telling himself as he ran at the hill. He started making good progress as he wound his way up Station road hill.

"I can do it, I can do it"

After much effort, Thomas was nearly at the peak of Station road hill, when...

"I...can...do...it," then Thomas could feel his wheels starting to slip on the tracks as he started rolling backward "I...can...do with a drink. I...can't...do...it"

The driver ran into the sleeping carriage to awaken Sparky. But found him not asleep on the bench as he had expected, instead, he was out cold on the floor.

"Sparky! Sparky! Wake up, lad! You must have fallen off and bumped your head?"

"Is that you Ringo Starr? Can I have your autograph? Who is this Sparky?"

"You lad! You are Sparky."

"Me Sparky? But Ringo..."

"I'm not Ringo either lad, I just sound like him because he narrates this story. Yes, lad. You are Sparky. We need you to talk to the train." The driver began to panic as he could feel the train starting to pick up speed as it rolled backward down the Station road hill.

"Talk to the train??"

"Yes find out why its brakes aren't holding. We've tried to apply them but we keep rolling downhill, backward."

"Sir I think you need a psychiatrist, not a Sparky? Or at least a mechanic or engineer? But a Sparky? Whatever your problem is on this train it won't be a job for an electrician?"

The driver didn't know how to explain to Sparky about his special talent or even if the boy still had it.

"Try it, lad, just listen, see if you can hear anything."

So Sparky swayed his head to one side with his ear up in the air. Then he swayed it the other way putting his other ear up in the air.

"Yes, I can hear something..."

The driver smiled a broad smile.

"Chu-chu, chu-chu...whatever that means?"

The driver wanted to cry.

Exasperated the driver knew he had to try whatever he could to get Sparky to talk to the train. But then one of the passengers from first class came walking into the carriage.

"Could someone please tell me why we are heading back to the station?"

"Mr Mayor! We are very sorry but we are doing our best not to head back to the station."

"And why are you molesting that poor boy?"

"They think I'm an electrician, they want me to talk to the train."

The Mayor looked indignant, "Does the Slack Controller know about this?"

"Yes, it was his idea."

"His idea?!?"

The driver tried to explain to the Mayor about Sparky's special talent.

"Yes, the lad can talk to trains."

"Talk to trains? Is that right boy?"

"Apparently so," Sparky answered.

"Then what is it saying now?"

"Chu-chu..."

"Hell even I can understand that? Do you want to know what else this train is saying, driver? You're a bloody idiot! Now stop messing with this young boy's head and get us heading in the right direction." The Mayor stormed back to his place in the first-class carriage.

"Come on lad, let's get you upfront, maybe some fresh air might help."

After a few minutes in the cab, Sparky's face lit up. "Can you hear that driver?"

"What's that lad?"

"The train it's saying something."

"Tell me, lad. What is it saying?"

"Put, sand, on, track. Put, sand, on, track."

The driver was elated. "Of course! Put the brakes on full now! It will slow the train down enough for us to do that. We couldn't put them on too tight before in case we burnt the brakes out altogether and ended up with nothing to slow us down at all."

The train was able to start climbing the Station road hill again. Slowly but steadily.

"Thank you lad you did it!" The driver picked Sparky up and put him onto his big burly shoulder...but accidentally dropped him.

"You alright lad?" said the engine driver.

"Why is Thomas calling you butterfingers?"

"Good to have you back Sparky." The engine driver smiled. "And tell Thomas to lay off the booze."

"Thomas said he only drinks to get rid of his hangover."