One day, Edmund was in the shed where he lived with the other engines. They were all bigger than Edmund and boasted about it. A few were even the same size as Edmund and they boasted about being bigger than him. Even smaller engines like Derek boasted about being bigger than Edmund. “The engineer won't choose you again,” said Gary. “He wants strong engines like us.”

But the engineer and fireman felt the engineer and fireman's butt. “Would you like to cum today?” they asked. “Oh yes, please!” said Edmund. So they lit his fire, made lots of semen, and Edmund puffed away. The remaining engines were pissed off at being left behind, as Wilbert Vere Thompson had forced any engines in the sheds that day to here his public reading of Left Behind.

Edmund worked hard all day. The coaches were fairly tolerant toward him and the engineer and fireman were very pleased with him. “I'm going out again tomorrow!” said Edmund excitedly to the other engines that night. “What do you think about that?” But he didn't hear what they thought because he was so tired and happy, he fell asleep at once. Next morning, Edmund woke up to find nothing had changed; Gary was still Gary.

“You watch me, puny little Edmund, as I rush through with the Express! That will be an awesome sight for you! Goodbye, puny little Edmund. Look out for me this afternoon!”

Edmund went off to do some cunting. He loved cunting. It was fun fucking with freight cars. He would go up quietly and give them a push. Then he would stop and the silly freight cars would go fuck into each other. [Don't ask how this works, just go with it!] “O̸͚̰͓̙͗͑̀́̐͘h̶̤̞̮͖̳͖̄H̸͕̤͇̅̐̓h̸͇̥̀̃͠͠H̷̱̞̫͒̎͒̾͝,”they cried, “w̵͙̣̄̓H̵͈͌ͅå̷̈́͜Ṱ̸̩̅e̵̜̱̎V̴̲̍ê̵͓̔R̵̘͗ ̵͚͊͊ĭ̸̯̙S̷̠̦̿̈́ ̸̪́͠ḧ̵͎̳A̴͙͔͒̽p̶̧͓̓͠P̶͎̐́e̷͇̩̒N̷̘̼̋ṇ̸́̓Į̶͕̒̆ǹ̷̡͂G̵̮̎?̵̣̤͒͛?̵̖̒!̶̱͛!̷͍͐̅”Edmund fucked around until there were no more freight cars, then he stopped to rest.

Meanwhile, Gary was thundering along the line, pulling the Express as always. He was proud that he was the only engine with the strength to do it. It was full of important people, including the founder of the railroad, Wilbert Vere Thompson, and Gary was seeing how fast he could go. “Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” he yelled. “Trickety-trock! Trickety-trock! Trickety-trickety-trickety-trock!” said the coaches.

As he was puffing along, Gary saw the tunnel David was in (remember that from two to three years ago, folks?), bricked up, dirty, and alone. “Oh no,” thought David, “Why did I worry so much about rain ruining my ravishing red paint? Will Wilbert Vere Thompson ever let me out again?” “David looks really sad,” said Gary, “so I'm gonna whistle at him to annoy him and make him miserable. The misery of other engines that aren't me are hilarious!”

He was almost there when suddenly he burst an extreme amount of smoke. And there was Gary going slower and slower in a cloud of steam. His engineer stopped the train. “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO ME?!” cried Gary. “I feel so weak.” “You've burst your safety valve,” said his engineer, “You're unable to pull the train now!” “Oh no,” said Gary, “and we were going so nicely, too! Great, now David's laughing at me!”

Everyone came to see the now-feeble Gary. Wilbert Vere Thompson scoffed and said, “These damn big engines are always giving me shit. Send for another engine immediately.” The conductor went to find one while the passengers uncoupled Gary who had enough strength left to slink onto a siding out of the way.

Edmund was still resting in the shed when the conductor arrived with his bad news. “Gary can't pull the express,” he called to Edmund's engineer. “Will you take Edmund and—” Edmund started puffing away. “Edmund?” called the conductor. “Edmund? ...Edmund?” Edmund was gone. “Fuck you, Edmund, you dirty bastard!” the conductor called to Edmund, actually calling the engine an offensive, antiquated slur the author chose not to type and only vaguely suggest to avoid the wrath of woke psychos.

Edmund arrived at the scene. “No use at all!” cried Gary. “Little Edmund can't push the Express!” Kind Edmund puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and pushed and pushed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed and puffed and pushed and pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed, but he couldn't pull the train.

“I was right,” said Gary. “What do we do now?” Several days of assessing the situation thoroughly, along with the pros and cons of any solutions, produced no results. Finally, Gary got an idea. “How about we let David do it?” “Hmm...okay,” said Wilbert Vere Thompson. “Will you help pull this train, David?” “Oh, yes!” said David. When David had got up steam, he puffed out. He was filthy and covered with cobwebs.

“Oh, I'm stiff,” he groaned. “Well, if you wish to relieve your stiffness,” said Wilbert Vere Thompson, “then you'd best do in a bathroom or somewhere private.” “Um...not that kind of stiff, sir,” said David. “Oh,” realized Wilbert Vere Thompson, “then have a good long run to ease your joints and find a turntable.”

When David returned, he felt much better. They then coupled him up. “PEEP-PEEP!” said Edmund. “I'm ready.” “PEEP-PEEP-PEEP!” said David. “So am I!” “Pull hard, we'll do it! Pull hard, we'll do it!” they both said. “Don't let your couplings go limp or the train...will flip,” the coaches chanted, well aware of their difficulty of finding a decent chant.

“We've done it! Hell yeah! We've done it! Hell yeah!” said the engines. The coaches, while glad that Edmund and David successfully pulled the train, couldn't figure out a good chant to accompany the engines' chanting, so they happily kept quiet. The train never stopped until they came at the end of the line. Everyone said thanks and Wilbert Vere Thompson promised David a much-needed coat of paint. On the way back to the sheds, the engines picked up the stranded Gary, preventing another potentially (and unnecessary) long cliffhanger for the readers that takes forever due to the creator being involved with other shit, including enhancing his portfolio, creating new webcomic issues, his paying jobs, and other stuff.

Anyway, all three engines are now great friends (for the time being, at least). David doesn't mind the rain now. He knows the best way to keep his paint nice and ravishing is not to run into tunnels, but to ask his engineer for a nice, thorough rub down when the day's work is over.