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Post by Kurt K on Sept 10, 2009 17:49:48 GMT -5
Season #2, Episode #1: ERNEST THE ENGINE CART GOES GREEN
Written by: Kurt Kaminer Thomas Pearce Tristan Garrett
Proofread by: CJ Griggs
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Sound of telephone being picked up and dialing. The following is heard from the speaker: Hello. Welcome back to the Other, Other Railway. For information, press one. For timetables, press two. For cancellations, bugger off.
It was summertime, and all the environmentally-conscious lunatics had crawled out of their energy efficient caves to complain that the Large Controller's ballast isn't graded...
...with organic topsoil.
Despite the presence of these curious protesters and their vegan socks, Ernest and Company were quite content with their jobs, and for once, it seemed as if the railway was working as it should. Trains were on time, deliveries were made promptly, and the post train was as slow as humanly possible.
Needless to say, we can't have any of that, can we? No, we can't. That's why the Large Controller visited the sheds one evening to stir up trouble, after Ernest, Gail, and Stevie had finished their day's work.
"Engines, I am here to inform you of some news regarding energy efficient transportation." "Good, I like bicycles," responded Ernest. "It's not about bicycles, Ernest." "Aha! Then you're an anti-cyclist road hog." "No, I'm not." "Yes, you are."
"All right, all right, enough already," interrupted Gail. "What did you come to see us about again?" "Energy efficient transportation," responded the Large Controller, wiping his brow. "Good, I like bicycles." "SHUT UP, Ernest!" The Large Controller took a deep breath. "Just for that, you get to be the test bed for the new project." "What new project?" asked Ernest. "Our new Green Machine, an energy efficient prime mover for locomotives." "What? Give up my 8 cylinder diesel? Just how 'efficient' is this thing anyway?" "You'll see. They'll re-motor you tomorrow." Ernest wasn't looking forward to it.
"Tomorrow" came, and Ernest was positioned under the shop crane ready for his new engine - but no engine was in sight. Soon, the shop foreman arrived with a few workmen.
"Right then, let's get this thing installed." called out the foreman. Ernest watched as the workmen winched his old motor out of his engine compartment, and set it down. Still no replacement in sight. Then one of the workmen rolled in a cart.
"Here it is, sir - the new Green Machine motor."
Ernest was horrified. The new motor was small, square, and looked very much like a...
..."Washing machine?" exclaimed Ernest. "Just what do you expect to accomplish with this?" At that moment, the Large Controller entered. "Ah, there you are, Ernest. I see you've met the Green Machine." "Green Machine?!" exclaimed Ernest. "It's a ruddy washer!" "It's an electric motor within a combination washer/dryer, Ernest, and you're going to learn to live with it while we run our tests." "What makes you think you're 'going green' with this nonsense?" "It's an Energy Saver. Oh, and do be careful - my laundry is still in it."
With that, the Large Controller spun on his heel and proceeded to leave the sheds. "Sir," interrupted Ernest, "might I ask one question?" "What is it?" "Just what do you intend to use for batteries?'" "Spoiled lemons from the supermarket."
"I say, you there, workman!" called the Controller. "Yes, sir?" "Are we ready to upgrade our corporate image?" "Yes, sir." replied the workman. "What do you mean, upgrade our corporate image?" inquired an already testy Ernest. "We're putting Prius badges on you." And with that, the Large Controller left.
About an hour later, Ernest was ready for his first job of the day - fuming and fussing worse then ever before. Now that's bad. "Washing machine and lemons as a motor, indeed! It's surprising that I move in the first place."
Ernest was coupled up to a string of freight cars, the work order was given, and he set out. The train wasn't that long, but it was unusually heavy, having been loaded with steel beams for highway construction on the other side of the valley. Ernest knew this meant a trip up and over the largest grade on the railway, and he was understandably skeptical whether a clothes washer powered by lemons could get him up and over.
Much to Ernest's surprise, he came to the top of the hill and over with considerable ease. As he began to coast down the other side, his driver applied the brakes.
...but Ernest didn't slow down, and the heavy load made him gain momentum quickly. "Driver! Slow down!" "I can't, Ernest - your new electric brakes have failed!"
Ernest began to rocket down the hill. His wheels rolled faster and faster! He rattled and shook! His cars biffed and bashed! The rails creaked and groaned! The driver was thrown round and round! And Michael Brandon was fired as narrator!
While a certain narrator was being handed his severance pay, Ernest's new motor began failing rapidly as he rocketed down the line in the direction of the fairgrounds - right where the eco-friendly protesters had set up camp. Just as he rounded the bend next to the fairgrounds, Ernest's access doors flung wide open as the combo washer/dryer exploded, showering activists in a sea of dirty laundry straight out of the rinse cycle, including 10 pairs of the Large Controller's gigantic long johns. Everyone ended up soaking wet - but more importantly, someone complained that the laundry wasn't vegan-friendly, and that the lemons were not organic.
Not more then two days later, Ernest was back in the shed, receiving his old diesel prime mover once again by specific orders of the Large Controller. The Large Controller was in an unusually good mood, as he had not received any further complaints from environmental advocacy groups - supposedly, the protesters had moved on to a location less likely to fight back.
"Ernest, it looks as if this electric motor was a complete failure" said the Large Controller. "Yes, but it proved one thing" added Ernest. "What's that?" "Folks rather deal with a stinky diesel then your lemon-scented laundry."
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Post by Kurt K on Nov 20, 2009 23:40:05 GMT -5
Season #2, Episode #2: OUTFISHED
Written by: Thomas Pearce Kurt Kaminer
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It was a smelly time on the Large Controller's railway. Seafood was at an all time height of popularity, and vessels of all kinds were bringing in loads of fish by the hour. The word had been passed out a week before: "Bring your own nose plugs."
The engines didn't mind. None of them could smell. Ernest, Stevie, and Gail had been transporting reefer cars from the harbor to destinations over the entire railway with the same steady regularity as the Large Controller's office clock.
Wind once an hour. Batteries are expensive, you know.
Even so, Gail was hoping for a change of pace. One night, when Ernest had returned from his run, Gail piped up. "Ernest," said Gail, "I've grown a bit tired of the fish run - it's become a bit monotonous. Is there any chance that I could trade one of my fish runs for your gravel delivery?" "Oh, I wouldn't mind, and I'm sure the Large Controller will agree," replied Ernest. "Excellent." "Did you have any particular day in mind?" Gail: "I might be able to swap on Tuesday, possibly." Ernest: I'd like to do so, Gail, but there's a problem. You see, on Tuesday- Gail: Possibly Tuesday. Ernest: Of course, of course. Possibly. You see- Gail: Yes, I know. Ernest: Know what? Gail: You didn't tell me. Ernest: I was about to say that on Tuesday- Gail: Possibly Tuesday. Ernest: I know it's "possibly," and if you'd let me finish... Gail: Why are you getting mad at me? I'm not getting mad at you. Ernest: I'm not! I'm just trying to tell you that on Tuesday- Gail: Possibly on Tuesday. Ernest: Not again! Gail, you're making my wheels warp. Can I finish? Gail: Yes - you'd be finished by now if you weren't babbling so much. Ernest took a deep breath. "Gail, on T-u-e-s-d-a-y, I cannot-" Gail: Why can't you? Ernest: Because on Tuesday- Gail: Possibly. "Oh, enough already," exclaimed Ernest, who promptly left the sheds.
Sure enough, Tuesday came, and so did the Large Controller, who seemed unusually smug. "Ernest," he pronounced, "A new boxcar has arrived, and I need you to take it down the branch line on a special mixed goods train." "That's very nice," said Ernest. "Perhaps you'd like to advise my crew about the new work order. We're not owned by HiT Entertainment just yet, you know." The Large Controller glared at Ernest, and left the yard. "Nincompoop," remarked Ernest.
Stevie bustled in soon afterwards. Ernest told him of the new boxcar. "Well, that should be fun," remarked Stevie. "I've grown a bit weary of the fish myself. Controller seems to know what he's doing." Ernest nearly choked on his diesel fuel. *cough, cough, cough* "'Know what he's doing?' You have a lot of es-steam for that fool today, don't you? Controller never knows what he's doing. He sits in his executive chair and carps that we smell of spoiled mackerel." A long silence prevailed, until Stevie broke in. "Is there ever a time that you're not complaining about the Large Controller? You have a one-track mind." "Two." "Possibly." "Not again!" "What did I say?" "You don't want to know!" "Time to go, Ernest; can't keep the Special waiting, and I'm due for a pay raise." called his driver.
Ernest clattered reluctantly down the line to pick up his "special." Must mean it has a hobo in it.
Meanwhile, the Large Controller was admiring the new boxcar as it was being loaded, and was walking all about with typical pomp. More accurately, he was using his considerable girth to hide the fact that the car carried the following reporting marks and notice on it's side: "HiTX" - "Return to HiT Entertaiment when not in use." "Sir," called the shunter, pointing - "See this? You do realize that this is an oversize height car - it requires that the line have a minimum clearance of-" The Large Controller interrupted. "I see everything, I hear everything, and I know everything. I come to a yard and improve it. My methods are revo-lutionary. There is no reason to advise me of anything relating to this car, for I already know about it." "But, sir-" "But nothing!" exclaimed the Controller. "There's Ernest - now couple him up and make it snappy!" Ernest was coupled up, and began to pull. But his train didn't move. "Pull harder!" yelled the controller. "Sir-" interrupted the shunter. "Never mind! PULL!" "I am, you fathead!" replied Ernest. Everyone fell silent. And that was all the shunter needed to tell the Large Controller that he hadn't released the brakes on the car he knew so much about.
After the Large Controller had breathed down Ernest's manifold about the brake incident... ...he became quite sooty. Serves him right. By then, Ernest was headed down the line with his train. The line curves here to cross the river, where a glimmering new trestle spans the river. Word has it that the Large Controller fooled a government contractor to build it for him, free of charge. Ernest didn't care, provided it didn't collapse under him. Though knowing the Large Controller, anything is possible.
But it didn't collapse. Something else happened.
*CRRRRRRRRRRUNCH!*
The boxcar's extended-height roof slammed against the bridge with monumental force, and tore off until the entire boxcar was roofless. Copies of Roget's Thesaurus flew out of the gaping hole and landed all over town. Onlookers were stunned, overwhelmed, astonished, bewildered and dumbfounded. "Oh, well," said Ernest, "I guess that eliminates the railroad's safe shipper discount." Just then, a voice called out. "Opening Christmas presents, are we?" remarked a smug Stevie, who was quite conveniently on the adjacent line. Ernest said nothing. "A fine can of *HIC!* worms you've *HIC!* pried ajar, Ernest," remarked the Large Controller, having emerged from Duffy's Tavern. "Gail is now stranded at the other end of the line behind you, and Stevie can't deliver his train either. Quite honestly, I-"
The Large Controller stopped. Everything was silent.
"What's that smell?" asked Ernest. "Phew, that is bad," remarked Stevie. "Even worse then the Large Controller's beer breat-"
The Large Controller cut him off.
"It's Stevie's FISH TRAIN! Get those reefers out of here!" "You heard the Large Controller, Stevie," called Ernest. "Benihana's is waiting for their sushi." "Says the engine who just delivered a supersized tin of sardines," retorted Stevie. "Enough with your red herrings!" exclaimed the Large Controller. "Stevie, go put those cars somewhere useful. Preferably near a lawyer's office." Stevie puffed off. "Right, then. Gail will have to take your trucks Ernest, and bring the wreck crane," finished the Controller. "In the meantime, bugger off! The new "Beer-o of the Rails" TV special is on at the Tavern, and I don't want to miss it!"
Gail soon arrived to remove the undamaged trucks. "Now Gail, didn't I tell you about Tuesday-" "Possibly Tuesday." "FORGET IT!"
It took workmen several hours to pry the boxcar loose, for the piles of Roget's Thesaurus had rendered it stuck, caught, jammed, and immovable. Work crews had to re-title the books "The Wide World of Railroad Fiction" before the car would allow itself to be yanked free.
Ernest and Gail didn't get back to the sheds until evening, but they found it unusually quiet. "Where's Stevie?" asked Gail?
(Cut to a shot of Stevie backing the fish vans onto a siding, aside a certain office building. The building's sign reads: "Law Offices of Fishy, Stinkum & Lox - Keeping YOU from being FLOUNDERED.") "That ought to do it," remarked Stevie, puffing off. *A clock ticking is heard*
BOOM!
Let's just say that the Law Offices of Fishy, Stinkum & Lox no longer needs to worry about sushi delivery.
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Post by Kurt K on Nov 22, 2009 21:44:09 GMT -5
Season #2, Episode #3: ERNEST THE DISCOUNT ENGINE
Written by: Thomas Pearce Tristan Garrett Kurt Kaminer
Based on a story by: "Joe the Peathingy"
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Ernest and Gail were at the docks. No,they didn't have the flu. It flew away.
"I can't stand it here," complained Ernest. "The salt water corrodes my lovely touchup paint, and the whole place smells of a fishery - and I can't even smell." Gail saw this as an opportunity. "Ernest, would you like to trade jobs? I'll do the dock switching for you, and you can take care of my job of shunting cars in the business district." Ernest couldn't believe his luck, and immediately accepted.
What a fool. That's right, a fool. Where's Mr. T when you need him?
Ernest soon arrived at the business district, which was comprised mainly of some expensive restaurants, lots of automobiles, and a gigantic retailer by the name of Marco Walton's. If you didn't get that joke, you're a real dimwit. As it was National Credit Card Spending Day, the store was having a 24 hour sale. A big sign was hung outside under the big "Marco Walton's" banner: "ALL WALLS ON SALE."
Ernest complained endlessly about the hustle and bustle of all the shoppers as he rolled down the siding to the loading platforms. "It's madness!" "Put up with it, Ernest," replied his driver. "I don't want to." "You have to - now look where you're going." "I'm not looking." "You need to look." "I'm not looking!" "Ok, suit yourself." (Ernest runs into a bunch of shopping carts with a loud bang and metallic smashing noises). "Told you so."
Just then, the manager of Marco Walton's stormed through the service doors. "What is that irrrrrritating noise?" he boomed in a high, nasal voice. "Who are you? Where's the usual locomotive? What are you doing here?" "I'm Ernest. Gail has been reassigned to the docks." "Eh! What makes you think you can do any better?" "I beg your pardon?" "Railways are useless - if I had my way, everything would come by truck!" "I'm sorry that you woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, sir, but the railroad has assigned me to deliver your inventory." "BAAAAAHHHH!!!" yelled the manager, as he stomped inside.
"Now there's a temperamental individual," remarked Ernest's driver. "Never mind him, maybe he's Simon Cowell's cousin. We've got a job to do.
Ernest spent most of the morning delivering and removing cars, but not without being constantly bossed. By afternoon, Ernest lost patience. "Stop looking like rotten fish!" shouted the manager. "I always do when I see a crab!" retorted Ernest. "Just how did you get to be manager of this store?" "BAAAAAHHHH!!!" "Obviously not via public relations." "And not by knowing a nosy, useless locomotive either!" "You know, if I were like you, I'd chuck myself in a rubbish bin for the good of my own sanity."
The manager, obviously not a man of many words- "BAAAAAHHHH!!!" Yes, we know that.
As the manager walked away, Ernest hatched a plan.
"Driver," said Ernest "I have an idea." "Do tell." "Go inside, buy a telephone, and get back here." "A telephone? Whatever for?" "Trust me - just get it, and don't let the manager see you."
10 minutes later, Ernest's driver was back with the phone. "Good." said Ernest. "Now plug it into that socket over there. Right there. No, there. To the left. RIGHT THERE, you idiot! Yes, there. Now bury the receiver in that trash bin, put the handset on my anticlimber, and press 'TALK.'" Ernest's driver did just that.
"*Ahem!* Attention Marco Walton shoppers!" boomed Ernest, in his best hammy announcer voice. "Now, more then ever, your family needs the money-saving benefits of Marco Walton's unadvertised specials! Right now, all computers are discounted 70% off their advertised prices!" A silhouette of shoppers go screaming and hollering past the automatic doors. "That's right - 70% off! But wait, there's MORE - and we're not just any other infomercial, folks - all automobile tire installations are free, today only!" A silhouette of shoppers go screaming and hollering past the automatic doors in the opposite direction of the first group. "But we're not through yet! All camcorders are 50% off for the next 30 minutes!" Two silhouettes of shoppers - traveling in opposite directions - slam into each other. "Please note that batteries are not included, some assembly is required, availability subject to supply, items may vary, valid in-store only, based on per-unit price, qualified purchasers only, void where prohibited, prohibited where void, one per household, photo identification required, not combinable with other offers. Side effects may include shopper's stupidity. Thank you for shopping at Marco Walton's."
Just then, the manager came storming out the back of the building in a storming rage. Pretty much no different then before.
"That's it - I'm ordering you both to leave now! Go down that track and don't show up again!" he yelled. "But, sir," began Ernest. "Never mind! Get lost!" "I beg to inform..." "I don't care! Get moving, and move fast!" "Very well." Ernest reversed back down the dead-end siding at top speed, only to obliterate the trailers of two Marco Walton tractor trailer trucks that were sitting on the rails. "TOLD YOU!" remarked Ernest, sarcastically.
Ernest rocketed out of the lot and down the line back to the yard. "Driver! Stop!" "What is it Ernest?" "See that fancy restaurant over there? Ask them if you can borrow that sign they have out front."
* * *
Later at the sheds, Gail spoke to Ernest as he returned. "Did you enjoy Marco Walton's, Ernest?" she teased. "Not exactly." "So you met the manager. He makes the dockside look grand, doesn't he?" "I should have known it was a trick!" "Don't worry yourself about it, Ernest. I told the Large Controller that you wish to work the docks again." "Why, thank you Gail. I appreciate it - but why would you want to do that? After all, you were clever enough to get rid of the job in the first place." "Look at it this way: You don't think that badly of the docks now, do you?" "True, but what about you?" "It doesn't matter. He'll cool off by morning."
"Are you sure of that, Gail?" asked Ernest nervously.
A sign is perched at the back entrance of Marco Walton's, bearing the message: "FREE RESTAURANT VALET PARKING, TURN HERE." A conga line of irritated motorists are flowing out onto the street, honking and shouting.
"BAAAAAHHHH!!!"
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Post by Kurt K on Nov 22, 2009 22:44:42 GMT -5
Season #2, Episode #4: ERNEST AND THE STINKIER CHEESE
Written by: Thomas Pearce Kurt Kaminer
Adapted from a true story by: Jack Kneiss - as on the Penn Central, during the mid 1970s. -----------------
It was a lampooning time on the Large Controller's railway. If this doesn't explain the episode title, go away.
Ernest was pulling a mixed freight train towards the junction by the river, when his driver received an unusual message from the signal tower. "Hey, Ernest" called the tower over the radio, "want some free cheese?" "Free cheese?" Ernest and his driver rolled up the bend to the junction, to be greeted with a pair of mammoth crates of cheese wedged on the rails. The tower operator approached, and told them that Stevie had been by earlier with a train of reefers - one of the car's doors had broken open, and the cheese had tumbled out onto the line. Apparently, the door had broken free down the line as well - something about rust and workmanship. Not that this railroad contains anything of "workmanship" - as Ernest's coupling broke, and his entire train rolled down the line and disappeared from sight.
*SMASH!*
With one train out of the way - in a manner of speaking - the tower operator and Ernest's crew agreed (surprise!) upon using the wreck crane stationed down the line to clear the cheese. The tower operator was quite adamant about doing so quickly, as he was worried it was Limburger. "It isn't Limburger," protested Ernest. "But what if it is?" countered the tower operator. "It isn't! Do you smell anything?" "Yes. Cheese." "Never mind."
The tower switched the points for Ernest to back onto the other line as he set off for the wreck crane.
The wreck crane was shiny and new, which caught both Ernest and his driver by surprise. Literally caught, because the "new" car had just snagged Ernest's buffer. "That explains it!" yelled Ernest - "Large Controller got this one from the dollar store as well!"
Ernest got himself untangled from the buffers, brought the crane to the junction, and the cheese was loaded up. "Where on earth do we take it?" "I can answer that," called the Large Controller, who parachuted down to the scene. Ernest rolled his eyes. "Take it to the back yard," said the Controller, smelling of gin, and a bit dizzy from the landing. "What? You want us to haul this stuff to your backyard? We're not your own, personal-" "That isn't what I meant. I want you to take this back to the yard." "Well, that's different. You do know that you shouldn't take Duffy's Tavern with you when you sky dive-" "Just do it!" "Plugging Nike again, are we?" chortled Ernest, as he rolled away.
Ernest pulled into the yard, just as the Large Controller began his pitch to convince the damage claim agent that the cheese was a write-off. "It's no good anymore! It's unsanitary! There's a lizard on it!" protested the Controller. It didn't matter that the giant package was still sealed. "Yea, yea, it's a write off - you can eat it now."
The Large Controller had Ernest put one block in a spare reefer car, and told him to fetch the workmen with the forklift for the second block. That was a mistake. One workman told the other about it, and pretty soon, the word spread to town.
Just as the Large Controller was calculating how much of that butter would last him through the month - yes, the month - feast, a rumbling sound emerged. Ernest felt it too. "Is it an earthquake, driver?" "No, but it might as well be - look!"
Hoards of stop-motion animated villagers tore down the road to the yard - on foot, by bicycle, and via automobile; all highly intent on getting themselves a piece of free cheese. "NO!" yelled the Large Controller, but it was too late. The mob had already descended on the cheese, and was divvying it up fast. A lumberjack had arrived fresh from a job, and began slicing off a piece with his chainsaw, splattering melted cheese all over the manager from Marco Walton's - the discount retail chain. Ernest broke out in uncontrollable laughter.
It didn't subside until two hours later, and it took another hour to pry the Large Controller out of a port-a-potty that the mob had locked him in.
The Large Controller slept in a chair that night, under an umbrella, next to the reefer containing his last block of cheese. Ernest, Stevie, and Gail stuck around to tease him about it, well into the evening, but by nightfall, everyone had fallen asleep.
Just then, that lizard returned, hanging upside down from the Large Controller's umbrella. He though it was safe, as he peered down at the Large Controller's head - after all, his mouth gaped open like a fish whenever he snored; anyone - including a reptile - had to stop and watch.
Unfortunately, this lizard was watching with too much enthusiasm, and lost his grip. Down he went, straight onto a certain gaping orifice on the Large Controller's face.
"PHBBBBBBBBBBBBFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
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Post by Kurt K on Nov 30, 2009 21:14:38 GMT -5
Season #2, Episode #5: A SUGAR COATED HIT
Plot by: Ben Jenkins
Teleplay by: Kurt Kaminer Thomas Pearce
Proofread by: Shawn Kelley
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Even the Large Controller enjoys a holiday at Sodor's Half Price Hotel. It was the Inn thing to do. This meant the Controller needed to hire a contractor to run his own mess of a railway while he was gone, primarily because half the staff deserts the moment he leaves. Unfortunately, this often meant hiring visitors from a nearby island with inclinations towards television productions. You guessed it. Sodor, and a certain entertainment company that shall remain nameless.
Word is, they like to produce hits.
See, this company would pay the Large Controller for running the railway, in return for letting them film embarrassingly ridiculous videos with his locomotives. Something similar to what you're watching right now.
Naturally, the greatest cheapskate in the world wouldn't pass a deal like that that up, and the Large Controller has won that title for 3 years in a row. He would have made it 5 years, but some idiot wrote a letter to the railway praising him for his wonderful management and staff. Now that's what I call an idiot.
Nevertheless, the Man From Glad and his cronies soon arrived on an immaculate steam special. Ernest and Stevie - who were all intent on doing nothing, as usual - were disgusted. "Just look at that. Pomp, circumstance, and not a single ounce of touchup paint! It's revolting," complained Ernest. "That thing gets more care then the Large Controller's cat," muttered Stevie. "Have you any idea what on earth is descending upon us?" "Yes. Morons from space." While the Controller and his temporary replacement exchanged mock pleasantries, Ernest secretly wished for something to happen. Anything. Just so long as it involved the need for excessive touch-up paint.
"Stevie," asked Ernest, "Isn't Gail due with a goods train?" "As a matter of fact-" Stevie had no time to finish. Gail rocketed by with her mixed freight, knowing all too well who had just arrived. Coal dust from open hoppers and track grime flew everywhere, turning the whole station - and the Steam Special - black and brown with filth. "My shirt! My shirt! My dry-cleaned, Brooks Brothers, $250 shirt!" bellowed the Man From Glad. "Ah, there's my train, have to go-" called the Large Controller nervously, as he ran at full tilt onto a departing OnTrak train. Too bad they're never OnTrak - it derailed 50 feet out of the station. "Bugger!" yelled the Large Controller.
While the Large Controller caught a bus, Stevie and Ernest watched the new administrator, followed closely by his team of assistants with fake smiles. They returned the glare. "Jones, we need to get the locomotives psyched up into being Really Useful so they look good on camera," said the Administrator, addressing a stooge. "Right now, they're just causing Confusion and Delay." *BANG!* Everyone looked to see that that a tire had blown on the Large Controller's bus, and that he was flipping out inside. "Yes," said the aid, ignoring what just happened. "But what do we do?" "Get them active, birdbrain." "Why don't we have the locomotives compete with each other to find out who's the fastest?" "No, I don't think that will work." "Why?" "It just won't. We must think of something else. Wait - I've got it!" "What is it?" "The engines will have a race!" "Isn't that what I just sai-" "No, it isn't!"
The race was soon set. Gail and Ernest were chosen, seeing that they both satisfied the director's desire to shoehorn as many brightly-colored objects as possible into his film. "Remember, when driving a train, you can't lose track," he reminded, giddily. Gail and Ernest grimaced. "Get set...GO!" The two locomotives set out with unusual enthusiasm...
...backwards.
"If you can't convince them, confuse them," said Ernest.
Meanwhile, a second camera crew was harassing Stevie in the sheds. "Now Stevie, you must act as if you're ill. You have a problem with your engine." "Ok." "That's right. Take 1!" Stevie: 'Ohhh, I'm not feeling well - my boiler is aching.'" "CUT! Stevie, you have a problem with your engine, not your boiler." "I have no engine." "It doesn't matter." "It does matter - the children need to know the difference!" "I don't care, boilerbrain!" "Why don't you get stuf-!" "Keep the film rolling! We'll have a Youtuber redub him!"
Gail and Ernest weren't having the best of luck either. Since neither of them were paying attention to where the points were set, they had wound up on an old line out in the middle of nowhere. "Now this is a fine mess you've got us into," complained Gail. "Where do we go from here?" "I don't know. It isn't my fault we ended up here," retorted Ernest. "I didn't say it was your fault, I said I was blaming you." quipped Gail. "Gail, the last thing I want to do is insult you. But it is on the list. Let's get out of here before those wannabe Tinseltown twits show up and ruin my plan." "What plan?" "I don't know." "Well, that helps," replied Gail, as they rolled away.
While Ernest was devising a plan that he obviously knew nothing about, a certain Controller on a certain sandy beach, was having a certain drink in a certain lounge chair. "Ah, yes. One must take life with a grain of salt," mused the Large Controller. "...plus a slice of lemon, and a shot of tequila." "Excuse me sir," called a waiter, "but you are wanted on the phone." "Bring it here!" "Yes sir." The waiter brought the phone. "Hello?" called the Large Controller. "Hello? HELLO? Waiter, there isn't anyone on the line." "The telephone connection wasn't long enough to reach, sir." "Cheap help," remarked the Large Controller, as he plugged the phone cable back in. "Yes, who is it? This better be important, I'm in a meeting." "I'm sorry to have interrupted your tequila," said a strange voice, "but you must return to the railway at once." "Hah - when pigs fly! Who is this?" "One of your stationmasters, sir. It isn't looking good sir; they are intent on filming a movie." "So long as I get paid!" "It's entitled Ernest & The Magic Railroad," continued the voice. "So?" "They're brining Alec Baldwin to play Mr. Conductor." "I'll be there immediately."
Ernest and his driver tried to hold back their laughter as they hung up. But not for long. The Man From Glad had spotted them and was running up. "What should we do?" asked Ernest to his driver, nervously. "When in doubt, mumble!" "About what?" "Beer."
"What are you doing here, little Ernest?" asked the Administrator in an eternally patronizing voice. "Musty phenolic yeast enzymes!" shouted Ernest, doing his best John Cleese impersonation. "Wash your mouth out with soap suds!" shouted the Administrator, who ran off, ears covered. "Well, that did it."
It certainly did. The Administrator ran so fast that he tripped right onto an old flatcar, which started rolling downhill, out of sight. A faint "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelp!" faded into the distance.
Ernest left to join Stevie and Gail at the station, fingers crossed - if locomotives had fingers - that the Large Controller would show up soon. He did. Ernest did his best to fake surprise. "Well, paint me purple and call me Barney, if it isn't the Large Controller!" "Never mind that, Ernest," said the Large Controller. "Where's this Alec Baldwin and his magic railroad fairy dust?" "Um - er - oh - he left when he heard you were coming." said Ernest. "He did?" asked Stevie. Ernest pulled forward on the points and slammed Stevie on his side. "OH, yes, he did! I saw it with my own eyes! I even told him that if he came back, there would be trouble! You know that if anything like that were to happen-" "Stevie..." said Ernest, grating his non-existent teeth. "Erm - sorry." An uneasy silence fell. "Listen, you three," said the Large Controller, "If I find out that someone dragged me from that sandy beach - uh - I mean, that important meeting for nothing-"
But the Large Controller never got to finish his sentence. A man in what appeared to be a blue jacket whizzed by the station at an alarming speed, whistling a warning. Little did the Large Controller realize that it was the Administrator, who had run into a bucket of blue paint during his travels.
"Why, it's-" began the Large Controller... "...MR. CONDUCTOR!" finished the locomotives.
The Administrator tore out of the station - after all, his flatcar didn't have brakes, so what could he do? - followed closely by the Steam Special at top speed, which was half-cleaned, half-sooty, and still had soap suds on it. Word has it that they tried to run it through the car wash.
"There's your Alec Baldwin, sir!" remarked Ernest triumphantly. Stevie and Gail eyed Ernest with suspicious amusement. "So it was," said the Large Controller. "I'm sorry I doubted you. NOW GET TO WORK!" "Yes, sir," responded the three locomotives, doubtfully. "Very well." replied the Large Controller, "I'm going to Duffy's Tavern."
And he walked away.
"That's one pesky TV crew down, zero to go," mused Ernest. "So it is. What do we do now?" asked Stevie. "Do? Nothing, of course." "But the Large Controller-" protested Gail "Large Controller, Sir Topscam Fatt, Bubblebrains - it doesn't matter! The job's done, isn't it?" "Yes, but-" continued Gail. "Precisely. Simply follow his lead." "How do we do that?"
"Be lazy."
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Post by Kurt K on Nov 30, 2009 21:15:04 GMT -5
Season #2, Episode #6: DOWN BY THE SOCKS
Plot: Thomas Pearce
Teleplay: Kurt Kaminer Tristan Garrett
----------------------------
Ernest was resting on a siding when a bossy yardmaster git rudely awoke him from his slumber. "Argh - what is it now?" muttered Ernest, still dozing. The yardmaster - who didn't care about Ernest's slumber - kept bellowing. "Wake up, you nit! Gail had to go to the Works for emergency repairs. There are two goods trains awaiting their destinations that you must take in her place." "Is that so?" replied Ernest with a hint of skepticism. "Yes, it's so," boomed the yardmaster, "now get moving or its the rubbish train for you." "Persuasive today, aren't we?" Ernest quipped back, as he rolled off.
Ernest hated Gail's work. It ran through the industrial area of town, where an old Vacation Army Thrift Stop had a loading dock. Thanks to environmentally-friendly policies, this store was required to recycle all of its unsold merchandise - namely, the Large Controller's old clothes. "Bother his clothes," complained Ernest. "Why don't they let the stuff decompose?"
Truth is, it would, but the moths refused to eat it.
This said, Ernest rolled down the line until he could reverse up to the store's loading dock. A pair of hopper cars awaited. That's right - hopper cars full of the Large Controller's old long johns.
If HiT can do it, so can we.
Though Ernest generally paid little heed to the Controller - much less his seedy old clothing - this train was the last straw. "Blast these things!" shouted Ernest. "The Large Controller would do better to incinerate these." "No, I take that back. That would ruin a perfectly good incinerator."
Just then, Stevie rolled by. "Hello, Ernest! You're taking the clothing train today?" "I wouldn't call it clothing, and yes," replied Ernest. "Well, I think that's fun!" "No, it isn't!" "I don't think its so bad." "Yes, it is!" "I think you're being negative." "Stevie, for so much thinking, your smokebox isn't doing much of it."
Just then, a guard's whistle blew, and Ernest rolled out of the siding. Mistaking the whistle for an end-of-day notice, every employee of the thrift shop skipped out.
Ernest made it to his destination, and unloaded the clothing. Wonderful, ain't it? Nope. Ernest had to make 5 trips back to the store before it was empty. Word has it that the director wanted lots of footage. (Ernest runs from left to right and right to left at alarming speeds, and crashes offscreen).
Ernest was just making his last trip up the big hill to the factory when he passed Stevie. "TAXI!" called Stevie. Ernest, not in the mood for shenanigans, began to snap back, but didn't notice he had passed the crest of the hill in the meantime. Before Ernest had realized it, both he and his trucks began rolling downhill, out of control. "STOP!" wailed Ernest, but the freight cars had too low an IQ to understand what "stop" meant.
But it was too late. Ahem - too late. Too late. "CUE THE SOUND EFFECTS, KNUCKLEHEAD!" Oh, never mind. Ernest opened his eyes to find-
*CRASH!*
Well, that was a delayed reaction.
Ernest opened his eyes to find himself buried under endless rubble insider the manager's office at the thrift store. An extra-large sock sat perched over his top headlamp. The manager had stern words for him. "Engines are not supposed to barge their way into walls!" he roared. "And another thing," he said, leaving, "If I ever catch you painting my car with ranch dressing again, I'll have you scrapped!" "Ranch dressing?" wondered Ernest, completely befuddled.
Stevie came later to extract Ernest from the wall. This was nothing new to Ernest, and he was beginning to get used to it. Soon, Ernest, along with various undergarments, was back on the rails. "Welcome back, tubesocks!" teased Stevie. "Have you been nipping at the Psychedelicoal again?" "No more then you have been smelling the delights of the Large Controller's gym perspiration." "Never mind."
A silence fell all the way to the yard, until a thought came to Ernest.
"Say, Stevie would you know anything about ranch dressing?" "No, can't say that I've ever tasted it." "Don't be silly. An incident involving ranch dressing." Gail, who had just returned from the Works - and had overheard the conversation - rolled forward. "The Large Controller's Pinto blew itself up last night with a load of the stuff in the boot. Word has it that he repossessed the salad bar at Wendy's." "He'd do better to repossess a Chevy."
And with that, our trio retired to the sheds for a good night's rest. Even though the day had started out badly for him, Ernest felt quite happy as he dozed off to sleep.
He had purposely bumped the Pinto the night before.
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Post by Kurt K on Dec 4, 2009 21:12:13 GMT -5
Season #2, Episode #7: PARTY HEARTY
Plot: Nicholas A. Jacovinni
Teleplay: Kurt Kaminer Thomas Pearce
----------------------------
Ernest was shunting an OnTrak train early one afternoon, when it came to him that not a single car had derailed that morning. "That's odd. Ever since the Large Controller put OnTrak decals on his cars, they've always found a way to-"
SNAP! BANG! CRASH!
"-derail," finished Ernest.
Ernest stared at the bogies buried in the ballast. Apparently, the rails had split from their rotted wooden ties from under the cars. Ernest kept watching as a pigeon came to rest on the roof edge of one of the cars, causing the entire car to topple over on its side. "Looks like he didn't get the memo," remarked Ernest, "No passengers on the roof for safety reasons."
Just then, the stationmaster approached. Ernest didn't see him, and the stationmaster was doing his best not to make any noise either.
"Psst!" whispered the stationmaster. "Huh? What was that?" remarked Ernest. "PSST!!!" "RUN, IT'S A SNAKE!" yelled Ernest, as he tore off at top speed down the line.
The stationmaster watched in disbelief.
"Hey, you!" "Yes?" "Can I take this train to Sodor?" "You can't take it anywhere, buddy, it belongs to the railroad - though I could do something for $40 bucks."
Ernest was running out of steam - which was odd, for he's a diesel - when he saw Stevie ahead. "RUN! SNAKES!" yelled Ernest. "Ernest, you fool - there aren't any snakes!" Ernest came to a screeching halt. "No?" "NO!" "Then where are they?" "In the Large Controller's legal office. What are you doing here, anyway?" continued Stevie, "aren't you helping with the Large Controller's surprise birthday party?" "I didn't even know it was the clod's birthday. How old is he?" "He leaves his left blinker on when motoring on the highway." "Answers that question."
Just then, one of Stevie's boxcars fell apart. "Oh well. It'll only be the Large Controller's 465th insurance claim this week," quipped Ernest. "But that was a shipment of monogrammed napkins for the party!" Ernest rolled his eyes. "Stevie," he began, "Has anyone ever told you that 'if a job isn't worth doing, it isn't worth doing right?'" "No." "You should, it's the Large Controller's motto. I'll clean up this mess and follow you with the back half of your train."
Stevie puffed off with what was now the first half of his consist, leaving the broken boxcar and the rest of the cars behind. "Clean the area up well, Ernest!" called Stevie, "I don't want the Large Controller to know what happened - or to see those napkins!" "Leave it to me!" called out Ernest.
Ernest switched onto Stevie's line and smashed into the remains of the boxcar, scattering steel, wood splinters, and napkins everywhere. "That ought to do it." remarked Ernest, as he pulled away with the remaining section of the train, leaving an absolute mess behind. "A little extra work for the Large Controller's Cheap Chop & Body Shop won't hurt."
Ernest and Stevie arrived back at the Big Grimy Station, to be greeted by the stationmaster, who was making an announcement: "*Ahem* - Passengers, I wish to inform you that the 4:00 OnTrak Express is now standing on Platform 3. We hope to have it back on the tracks again shortly." He turned to the engines. "Well, there you are, Ernest," he remarked. "No sir, I'm here, not there." "Where?" "Here. Stevie is there." "Stevie is there, but he's here." "Well then, I can't be there if he's there, can I?" retorted Ernest, testily. "But you're both here, and you're there!" "QUIET!" shouted Stevie, who let off steam, drenching everyone in sight with water vapor. "We're all here - what's all the commotion about?"
"Well, I wanted Ernest to bring a boxcar of party favors from the joke shop this morning," said the stationmaster. "Then why didn't you say so? I'll go and get them." "Well, there is a problem - a meter maid has parked their vehicle on the crossing just outside the station, and refuses to move it until the Large Controller pays his overdue bill." "Is anyone in it?" "No." *CRASH!* "Well, that solves that," remarked the stationmaster.
Soon, all the engines - save for the OnTrak Express, which had suffered another breakdown - had assembled at the docks for the big celebration. The wharf had been cleaned especially for the occasion - almost half of all the soda can litter had been picked up.
The other half had been chucked into the bay.
A special podium had been built for the event, which spanned two sidings and stretched to the wharf's edge. Bleachers had been set up on the other side for the event. They were jam-packed - attendance included the town drunk, the meter maid...
...and no one else.
The Large Controller stepped up to the podium. "Stinking paparazzi. Never around when you need 'em," he remarked, not realizing the microphone was on. "Ahem - sorry. Ladies, and gentlemen," he began, Ernest began to whisper. "...and engines, fatso." "This is indeed a red letter day," continued the Large Controller "Because red paint was on sale." "...for today is my birthday." "Wow...who cares?" "But it is special for other reasons too..." "Because at least one train ran on time." "...today marks the 500th run of the OnTrak Express service." "If it's running." "The OnTrak Express - which, unfortunately, couldn't be here due to mechanical difficulties - our most reliable service..." "If stationary" "...has provided the community with an unmatched-"
The Large Controller's voice was drowned out by a loud, approaching whirring noise accompanied by a clattering against the rails. "GREAT SCOTT!" boomed the Controller. The OnTrak Express had become a runaway, and was heading straight for the podium. Just as the Large Controller jumped out of the way, straight into the murky water; the Express shattered the podium to bits, and derailed in a heap at the end of the siding, taking out a couple of old sheds with it.
Ernest, Stevie, and Gail couldn't hold back laughter as the Large Controller fished himself out of the filthy bay. "This is worse then the time you tried to use the dynamite train to incinerate my old laundry!" boomed the Large Controller.
"You'll have to admit, it was a bigger blast then this."
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Post by Kurt K on Dec 9, 2009 0:36:45 GMT -5
Season #2, Episode #8: ERNEST THE RADIO CONTROLLED ENGINE
Written by: Kurt Kaminer Thomas Pearce Tristan Garrett
---------------------------- A sign is seen outside the yard: "Welcome to the Large Controller's Railway...Boldy Going Nowhere."
The hot topic of the week was the Large Controller's annual Cookoff Contest, a sensational celebration of everything related to the culinary delights of deep-fried lard.
We never said television wasn't fattening.
Invariably, the Large Controller needed his engines to haul the supplies, so on the morning of the event, he walked into the engine shed... ....and promptly rolled at top speed into a wall. He was wearing Heelys skate shoes.
"Student driver," muttered Ernest.
"Stevie, Gail," announced the Large Controller, "the Cookoff Contest is this afternoon, and I need you to fetch the supplies for my Delectably Oily Homestyle French Fries." "Oh yes, the lube oil," quipped Ernest, as he visualized a tank car with the label "cooking oil" peeling off, revealing "Phillips 66" underneath. "Ernest, if you keep this up, I'll sell you to another railway," replied the Large Controller. "So what? I don't work here. I'm a consultant." "Consultant? You'll like what I have in store for you then." "I don't like it already."
Gail and Stevie left to ketchup with the lube oil, while Ernest was left with the repairmen, who were installing - amongst other things - an orange beacon on his roof, and warning stickers on him that read "DO NOT WASH: This locomotive is undergoing a scientific dirt test." Once the men were done, the Large Controller dropped in again. Very carefully. And he still fell on his derrière.
"Sir, if you want to go rollerskating, do so at a roller rink," quipped Ernest. "I'm perfectly capable of using these shoes, Ernest." "So I see."
The Large Controller ignored his quips, and spoke with the workmen. He turned back to Ernest. "Ernest, you are now a radio controlled shunting engine."
Ernest thought he would bust a coupling.
The Large Controller thought he would drop by the tavern for a drink.
* * *
Like it or not, Ernest quickly learned the new system. He ignored it.
As soon as he was done shunting trucks in one siding, he was directed to another siding to do the same thing over again. Ernest complained all the while. "Radio controlled. Humph. He probably bought the equipment at Radio Shack."
Just then, Ernest saw a big empty lot to the left. People had gathered, and miniature cars were speeding along the pavement in all directions. Ernest paused to watch, and thought a bit. "It's a good thing that I'm not on their frequency-"
"YIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!"
Too late - he was. Ernest shot forward and ricocheted down the line, his trucks clattering behind them with a vengeance, pulverizing the contents within them. Even the trucks' Bluetooth headsets fell off.
Disaster lay ahead.
As usual.
A great big tanker of cheap cooking oil - the same used to make the Large Controller's Delectably Oily French Fries was sitting in a siding up ahead. A drunk hippie, thinking the tanker was loaded with booze, had opened the valve just enough to make cooking oil splatter all over the right of way - perhaps he put it on sprinkler mode. At any rate, Ernest skidded over the oil and began to slide with the momentum.
Worse yet, it was all downhill - and just ahead were the fairgrounds, where the Large Controller was just starting to kick off his Cookoff Contest. Did I mention the points were radio controlled too? They were. Guess what?
You guessed it, the Large Controller was making another speech. Never mind the points already!
People scattered as Ernest plowed into deep into the grass, and flung picnic tables everywhere. Ernest didn't come to a halt until he was half-buried in the dirt, and a roast pig lay staring up his nose.
"So he did buy it at Radio Shack," grumbled Ernest.
The Large Controller was furious, and rushed down from the platform to tell Ernest off - but he had forgotten all about his Heely shoes. Before he realized it, the Large Controller careened off the podium, and wobbled down a small hill on the fairgrounds...which led to a waterslide. The Large Controller was pitched into the air, and somersaulted into the pool below him...
...displacing all the water on impact.
Everything was showered in a sea of chlorinated water. Contest patrons who hadn't run fast enough were washed out of the park by the Large Controller's tidal wave.
The Large Controller glared at Ernest. Ernest glared back. There was a long silence.
"Sir, has anyone told you that you're perfect?" asked Ernest. "Perfect?"
"Yes."
"...a perfect idiot."
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Post by Kurt K on Dec 22, 2009 13:25:53 GMT -5
Season #2, Episode #9: BOGGED DOWN
Story by: Thomas Pearce
Screenplay: Kurt Kaminer Thomas Pearce J.D. McHenry
----------------------------
Ernest was sleeping in the sheds when a voice called out. "Look alive, Ernest!" shouted his driver. "I'd rather look dead, if it means I can sleep in," growled Ernest. "I'm tired." "Well, you can forget about being tired," said his driver, "the Large Controller wants us to haul a freight special to the docks." "A freight special? On Sunday morning? What is it, the Large Controller's breakfast or something?" "He didn't say." "He said the exact same thing when he burnt down his apartment building when trying to BBQ on the balcony. For that matter, remember the time when-" "All right, all right, you made your point."
Soon, Ernest was rumbling down the line, and so was the Large Controller's stomach, as he set out to visit Duffy's Tavern.
Ernest arrived at the warehouse depot where a string of freight cars was waiting for him. The shunter, keen to visit Duffy's as well, told Ernest that he could "couple his own flippin' trucks!" In appreciation of this fine camaraderie, Ernest leaked oil on his shoes and set off.
Up the line was a junction with an old switch tower controlling it. One line led to the wharf, the other to an old, rickety branch line that was abandoned. This would make the switch tower irrelevant, but we hereby order you not to believe such obvious facts. Shut up or go read a book. This ain't Awdry.
In this old tower was supposed to be a signalman controlling it, but he was at Duffy's Tavern getting schnokered. Costs too much to hire him in the first place, anyhow.
As Murphy's Law would have it though, he had thrown the points to the diverging route. Perhaps he's trying to land a job with HiT Entertainment.
Naturally, Ernest knew nothing about it, and the signals for the junction were conveniently absent, so he ended up pulling his train down the diverging route anyway.
Nevertheless, Ernest did notice something peculiar. "Driver, do the rails seem wobbly to you?" "How should I know?" replied his driver.
At that very moment, the rails sunk straight under Ernest and his cars. Before anyone knew it, they were buried in 6 feet of mud - the line hadn't been maintained in such a long time that the ground had turned into a muddy marsh - and Ernest was in it.
"Do you know now?" asked Ernest?
Ernest's driver tried reversing him out of the muck, but it was no good - he was firmly stuck, and so were the cars, who didn't take kindly to the mud. Within seconds, they began chattering vigorously on their Bluetooth headsets, complaining to the Actor's Union about their working conditions.
"I'm going to radio for help," called out Ernest's driver over the racket made by the cars.. "HUH?" called Ernest. "I'm going to radio for help!" "I can't hear you!" "I'M GOING TO RADIO FOR HELP!" "YOU'RE GOING TO RATIO THE KELP?" "NO! RADIO!" "WHAT ABOUT IT?" "I'M GOING TO-"
The noise became unbearable, until Ernest's driver couldn't stand it any longer.
"QUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIET!!!" The cars fell silent. "If I wanted to hear cell phone chatter, I'd sit in a grocery checkout lane packed with inconsiderate soccer moms, you twits! SHUT UP!"
The cars didn't say another word.
For a month.
Soon, Stevie arrived with a winch to pull Ernest out of the mud. "Still mucking about, are you, Ernest?" "Just get me out!" replied Ernest. "How much are you willing to pay?" "Oh, enough with your sarcasm and get to work!"
Ernest was uncoupled from his cars, and strong cables were fastened between the two engines. The drivers checked the fastenings, and called out.
"Are you ready? PULL!"
Stevie took a mighty heave, and pulled against the cable with all the steam he had. For the slightest of moments, the cable stretched almost 25 feet - then snapped back with enough force that it pulled Stevie into the swamp right along with Ernest.
Perhaps they shouldn't have used gigantic rubber bands.
Predictably, Gail arrived soon afterwards.
"Why don't we use a crawling pentaspastos crane?" asked Gail. "What in the name of Britt Allcroft is a pentaspastos?" asked Ernest, skeptically. "Heck, I don't know, I saw it in a commercial. Why don't you ask Jeeves the Butler, genius?"
After a short squabble, Gail was hooked up to Stevie with cables of which everyone was assured were not rubber bands.
They were bungee cords.
*SPROING!*
...and Gail was stuck too.
Having heard the news of Ernest's predicament, the Large Controller arrived in his VW - though he wasn't expecting to see Gail and Stevie stuck with him; nobody had informed him of that.
"Gail! Stevie!" he boomed, "what on earth are you doing in there?" "Learning how to swim, sir- well, what do you think we are doing?" Gail retorted, testily. "We were trying to get Ernest out," said Stevie. "And you got yourself in," muttered the Controller. "Never mind that, just get us out!" called Ernest.
The Large Controller looked around. The OnTrak Express couldn't come down the line without any catenary, and no other locomotives were left. "Well, here goes nothing," said the Large Controller...
...as he hitched up his VW to the tow rope.
If you don't know where this is headed by now, you're a bigger lummox then I thought.
Yep, the Large Controller is stuck in the muck too.
There was a long silence. Stevie broke it.
"Have you thought about the evening?" said Stevie, gazing at the late afternoon sky. "What about it?" said Gail. "It's the part of the day when you figure out how you wasted your afternoon," quipped Ernest. "Oh, never mind that, Ernest," said Stevie. "You wouldn't be happy if there was a fireworks display."
The Large Controller started at Stevie's comment.
"Stevie, you have it!" he said. "Have what? Charm? Charisma? A good personality? Optimism?" "Enough with your narcissisms, Stevie," shot Ernest.
The Large Controller wasn't listening, and had the workmen open Ernest's freight cars. Inside were countless pallets full of illegal, high-powered fireworks.
"Sir," said Stevie nervously, "what are you going to do?"
* * *
15 minutes later, Ernest, Stevie, Gail, the freight cars, and the Large Controller's VW were strapped down with powerful bottle rockets. "Ernest, can I take back that comment about fireworks?" inquired Stevie. "NO!" "All right, just asking."
The rockets were lit, and everyone took shelter as smoke and sparks filled the air.
Ernest, Stevie and Gail shot down the line and out of the bog, as a loud roar was heard ahead. The trio looked up to see the Large Controller's car shooting skyward - with the Large Controller in it. "I wonder if he has parachutes in that thing," quipped Ernest.
Almost a second later, Stevie caught sight of the freight cars, which had all launched skywards with the accuracy of an out-of-control Formula-1 vehicle. The cars hung in the air for a moment, then came back down with equal rapidity, splashing straight into the harbor.
"Cargo delivered!" shouted Ernest, as the three locomotives ran into a conveniently placed mound of flour.
The evening dawned as the three weary locomotives pulled into the sheds, and fell asleep almost immediately.
...and four hours afterwards, the Large Controller and his car splashed into the harbor.
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Post by Kurt K on Apr 30, 2010 21:56:30 GMT -5
It's the SEASON FINALE!
WHO CARES?
Season #2, Episode #10:SNOW, SLUDGE & SIDEPLATESWritten by: Kurt Kaminer J.D. McHenry---------------------------- It was Christmas time on the Large Controller's railway, mainly as the set designers had an overstock of fake snow. Ernest hated the fake snow. It would get caught in his wheels, run down his smokestack, and the Large Controller would pelt him with snowballs when he wasn't doing his work. Oh well, at least he doesn't have to shovel his driveway. ...he has to shovel his shed entrance. Ernest, snowplow fitted, tries ramming the snowdrift in front of the sheds to no avail. Having had enough, he backs down a good few car lengths, then speeds forward at full speed. Not only does he clear the snow, but he takes out the shed doors, everything inside it, demolishes the back wall, flies over the interstate, and comes to rest in a billboard that proclaims "What does Christmas mean to you? Shop at Marco Waltons."Ernest was soon dragged back up the bank into the shed, but not after having broken three tow ropes and sailing back into traffic, nearly obliterating a certain British television personality passing by in a Yugo, yelling "POWWHER!" Think of the poor Yugo. Nevertheless, once Ernest was back in the sheds, a very special work order was dispatched to his driver, direct from the Large Controller. It still smelled of fast food."Ernest!" said his driver, far too enthusiastically, "we have a job to do!" "Not the Christmas tree again, driver." "How did you know?" "You're overacting." * * * Shortly following, Ernest was rolling down the snowy line to pick up his flatcar of pine needles on a stick. Ernest didn't say much; he was too preoccupied with the thought that some politically correct moron would force them to call it a holiday tree. But nobody did. Ernest thought that they might get stuck in a snowdrift. But they didn't. His driver thought that someone else might get stuck in a snowdrift. But they didn't. Nobody expected the city's code enforcement to complain. But they did. "What do you mean I need COWCATCHERS? I don't catch BLOODY COWS!" bellowed Ernest, backing the flat car to the town's square. "You will see right here, that city code 370H55V-V-WV-I prohibits permitting non-approved locomotive shaped objects from traversing dingy county roads without proper sideplates or cowcatchers," replied the inspector. "And stop blowing fake snow in my face." "Rubbish!" replied Ernest's driver, "we've been along here hundreds of times, and have never had an accident...if you exclude the dynamite train." "That makes it worse!" The inspector opened his book and proceeded to write Ernest up as a "Regular Law Breaker," but ended up dribbling ink all over himself instead, as Ernest blew noxious diesel fumes in his direction. "Bah, yobbos!" yelled the inspector, running for cover, "I'll be back!" "Only in a re-run!" retorted Ernest. The Large Controller heard about the incident, and arrived at the scene fuming. Stevie and Gail pulled up a few minutes later with an OnTrak train, and Ernest filled them in. Stevie thought for a moment. "Sir, I have a plan..." * * * An hour later, the Large Controller's podium was set. A crowd had formed, expecting free food, while and Stevie and Gail had been rolled onto the street rails. Just the thing that would bait our overzealous code enforcement friend with. As it did. The Inspector drove his car up to cite Stevie and Gail, but didn't expect what came next. Ernest careened into view from behind a tree-lined siding, gleaming with rusty sideplates and a pair of scrapyard-bought snowplows that dragged bad enough to grind a groove in the tarmac. Ernest charged the Inspector's car, sending it straight into Farmer McCrawl's big, brown pig pond. The crowd cheered, and the Large Controller handed Ernest the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen," said Ernest, "if I may - I wish to share something heartfelt about the holidays and this event. Happiness isn't the gift of giving, nor is it the joy of receiving..." "...happiness is a code enforcement officer in a pond of poo."
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