Daniel the Tourettes Engine was enjoying his life on the Land of Somewhere, but he still had lots to learn. “You're a special mixed-traffic engine,” said Wilbert Vere Thompson. “You can pull coaches and freight cars with ease, but you need to learn from your mistakes.” Daniel knew what Wilbert Vere Thompson had meant. He could well remember that dreadful accident on his first day, even parts he wasn't there to recollect:

Everyday, Wilbert Vere Thompson would come to the station to catch his train. “Hello,” he would always say to Derek. “Don't let the silly freight cars tease you. Don't be impatient. Remember, you can never be as fast as strong as Gary, but you can still be a useful engine.” Derek would often puff away with a pleased face after these conversations with Wilbert Vere Thompson, but internally he would have feelings of inadequacy, knowing that he'd never be the strongest and best engine to complete work.

There were lots of freight cars and Derek spent practically all day pushing and pulling them into place. There was also a small coach and two weird-looking things his engineer called “cranes,” because they actually were cranes. “That's the breakdown train,” he told Derek. “The cranes are for lifting heavy objects, like engines, freight cars, and coaches.” “Interesting to know,” replied Derek, “but I have this strange feeling that this is meant to blatantly foreshadow the breakdown train being used later on.”

And indeed he was correct. One day, Derek was working in the yard when suddenly he heard an engine's whistle.

“OH HOLY DOG PISS!” A freight train came rushing by much too fast. The engine was Daniel and he was pissed off and frightened (but leaning slightly towards pissed off). His brakes were on fire. “AW SHIT!” he cried. “THESE ASSHOLES ARE PUNCHING MY ASS! I'M FUCKING RUNNING OUT OF CONTROLLING DICK!” “On! On! On!” yelled the freight cars. As he was still yelling things like “DAMMIT! MY TITS ARE OUT OF CONTROL! PISS! SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!” poor Daniel literally disappeared. “What the hell?” said Derek the Steam Engine.

Soon came the alarm! “Daniel is off the line!” cried the signalman. “The break—” He fell off the building and onto the ground before he could finish his sentence. “Oh dear,” he said. Derek was coupled to the breakdown train and off they went. “Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” he puffed, pretending to be like Gary. “Fuck those freight cars and their tricks! I hope poor Daniel isn't hurt.”

Daniel's engineer and fireman were checking him all over to see if he washurt. “Never mind, Daniel,” they said. “It wasn't your fault. It was those damn wooden brakes they gave you. We always said they were no good.” “THAT BITCH,” cried Daniel. “BITCH! AW, SHIT! OH, PISS! AW, NO! DAMMIT! FUCK! SUCK MY DICK! OR COCK!FUCK. EAT MY TITS, YOU BASTARDS! PISS! HOLY PISS! ASS! MOTHERFUCKERS, I'LL RAPE YOU IN THE ASS! DAMN!”

Derek pushed the breakdown train aside. Then, he spent the rest of the day pushing and pulling the unhurt cars out of the way. He zoomed hurriedly towards another car, but he just bounced away with the car untouched. “What the hell?” he said. He tried again and again, but it didn't work. Eventually, after three days' worth of tries, Derek gave up.

They later left all the broken freight cars and with two cranes, they put Daniel back on the rails. He tried to move, but he couldn't, so they put Daniel back.

Back in the present, Daniel was getting ready to pull some coaches. “Take care of those coaches, Daniel,” said kind, little Edmund. “They don't like being bumped.” “Shut up,” Daniel muttered. Everyone came to admire Daniel. “Ah, damn! I'm a fuckin' splendid-dick engine,” he thought and suddenly let off steam. Wilbert Vere Thompson suddenly became showered with water. “Holy shit!” Daniel cried.

Just then, the conductor blew his whistle and Daniel thought they had better go. “Move it, fatass! Move it, fatass!” he puffed to Edmund. “Don't push! Don't push!” puffed Edmund. The coaches were complaining, too. “Don't go so fast! Don't go so fast!” But Daniel wouldn't listen. Nearby, Derek was at a platform, annoyed by the complaining. “Everyone shut up! Everyone shut up!” he snapped. A nearby crewman was annoyed by the chaos going on. “You shut up first! You shut up first!” he snapped.

When Edmund and Daniel stopped at the next station, the entire train missed the platform entirely. “AW DAMMIT! FUCK! ASS!” cried Daniel. They had to go back to let the passengers out. But nobody seemed to notice the issue with Wilbert Vere Thompson, or him getting wheeshed and wet earlier. So, Daniel felt happier.

They passed the field where Daniel had his accident. The fence was mended and the livestock returned. They ended their journey before returning home. Daniel was still wondering what Wilbert Vere Thompson would say about him letting off steam.

The next morning, he spoke to Daniel severely. “If you can't behave, then I'll take away your orange paint and have you painted purple.” Daniel didn't like that all and said, “I don't like that at all. Aw, tits! Piss.” He was very aggressive with the salty coaches as he brought them to the platform. “Shut your dick holes! Just fucking move, you dumbasses!” he called to them. “Bellsack! That motherfucker Gary doesn't have to fuck his own coaches and he's only painted piss-poor purple! Shit!”

To make Daniel even more pissed off, this time nobody came near him. “Ass! I'll show those fuckers!” he said. “Those faggots think that Gary is the only asshole who can pulling fuck coaches! Tit dirt!”

“Come on! Move it! Washcloth!” puffed Daniel. “You're going too fast! You're going too fast!” replied the coaches. “Suck my dick...or cock!” replied Daniel. “Eat my short ass, dammit!” He tried to go faster, but the coaches wouldn't let him. “We're going to stop!” they said. “We're going to stop!”

“Huh? ...WHAT THE FUCK? Dammit. Holy shit...what the fucking hell just happened?” Daniel asked his engineer. “The brakes are on. Leak in the pipe most likely. You banged the coaches hard enough to make a leak in anything.” “HA HA HA!” laughed Daniel. “I bang coaches hard enough to make them leak! Holy piss!”

“SHUT UP!” snapped his engineer. “This is serious!” “FUCK YOU, DICK!” Daniel snapped back. “How are we gonna fix this?” asked the conductor. “We can do it with a newspaper and a leather bootlace,” the engineer replied. “Now, where the hell are we gonna get any of those?” questioned the conductor. “Ask the passengers,” said the engineer.

“Awwwwww, shiiii-iiiitttt,” Daniel said glumly.

“You have a newspaper and bootlaces,” said the conductor to a smartly-dressed man. “Please give it to me.” “Absolutely not!” replied the man. “My newspaper and bootlaces will be soiled, permanently ruining them, and that would never do!” “Then,” said the conductor, “I'm afraid the train will have to stay where it is.” The passengers complained at the conductor, calling him a worthless peasant for making them take care of the situation instead of doing anything about it, and telling him what a horrible railroad it was.

After some further events (I can't think of anything at the moment and just want to advance the story since we're near the end), the man finally handed his laces and newspaper over. The engineer tied the newspaper around the brake pipe, and Daniel was able to pull the train again.

But he was a sadder and wiser Daniel and took care never to bump coaches again. “Oh, penis,” he murmured sadly. “My big, hairy balls...or cunt. Ass.”