One evening, David and Gary were in the sheds with Daniel. Although Wilbert Vere Thompson didn’t have as low of an opinion as he did earlier about Daniel, whenever the chance came the other engines would talk about only bootlaces!

“Remember when you had to use a passenger’s bootlace to save your train and your ass?” they would cruelly mock. Daniel tried to get some comeuppance by mocking certain engines about when they got bricked up in tunnels or when they burst their safety valves and couldn’t pull coaches anymore, but they would just blow him off in disgust, thinking it was okay when they did such things and Daniel’s situation was much more embarrassing, invalidating any points he made.

You’d think he was a left-winger with how often others would bring up contradictory references to his poor past at often irrelevant times.

“You talk too much, little Daniel,” Gary said. “A mighty, massive engine such as myself, by contrast, has lots to talk about. Out of all the engines manufactured on God’s green earth, I am the only one who can pull the Express. Whenever I’m not there, they need more than one engine to pull it, usually two or three. Think about that! I’ve pulled the Express for many, many decades and never once got lost! I seem to know the correct way by instinct.”

Every wise engine knows that the signalman switches the points on the main track for the appropriate trains, but Gary was so full of himself, he had forgotten (and, of course, will play a major role later on in the story).

“Wake up, tiny Daniel!” Gary said the next morning. “What are you going to do today? Odd jobs? Oh, well. We live and learn. Now run along and fetch me my coaches! Don’t be late.”

Glumly, Daniel went off to fetch Gary’s coaches. They were all shiny with a fresh coat of paint. “Yay! We’re going on a trip! Yay! We’re going on a trip!” they sang poorly. “I wish I was coming along, too,” said Daniel. “It would be pretty bitchin’ to pull coaches and make a shitting zoom across the track.”

Noisily and greatly blowing a lot of steam, Gary backed onto the train. Wilbert Vere Thompson was on the train with other important people, and some lesser people who thought they were important, and some lesser people who knew all too well their social status and sunk into grief easily.

As soon as the conductor’s whistle blew, Gary started. “Lookitme! Lookitme! Lookitme!” he exclaimed, as the coaches glided behind him. “Poop! Poop! Poop! Poop! Poop! Poop! Poop! Poop! Poop! YouTube Poop! Goodbye, puny Daniel. See you tomorrow!”

Daniel watched the train disappear from sight and went back to work. He cunted some freight cars into their proper sidings, then went to get more coaches from another train. Daniel had just placed the coaches in front of the station’s platform, when he heard a sorrowful sound.

It was Gary, making a pitiful attempt to sneak back into the station without being noticed.

“Hey, Gary, ya piss-poor purple faggot!” Daniel called snidely. “Is it tomorrow already?!” Gary didn’t answer. He just let off steam weakly. “Did you lose your tomorrow?” asked Daniel. “No, my path was lost for me! I was switched from the main line and onto the wrong track! It took me forever to find the correct path to come back.”

“Perhaps it was fucking tomorrow!” said Daniel. “Out of all the engines shit on God’s gay earth, you are the only one who can pull the Express. You’ve pulled the Express for many, many dickhead decades and never once got fucking lost, ass-man!”

Meanwhile, all the passengers stormed the ticket window. “We want our money back!” they shouted. They kept on yelling at the man working at the window, getting more and more aggressive. They threw various object at the window, like pieces of luggage, their own shoes, and ultimately bricks. 

The angry passengers tore through the few remains of the window and grabbed the frightened ticket man. They beat him senseless, kicked him where it hurt, clawed at his flesh, and tore off his limbs one-by-one.

The angry passengers furiously attacked the remains of the ticket man, even where there wasn’t anything left to destroy. After around 5 days of this insanity, Wilbert Vere Thompson finally took the conductor’s whistle so loudly that all the passengers stopped to look at him. He then promised the group a new train as soon as possible.

“Gary can’t pull the Express,” he said. “Could you do it, Daniel?” “Aw, fuck yeah, I’m gonna do it, bitch!” Daniel replied eagerly. The Tourette’s Engine was coupled on and all the passengers got inside. “Do your best, Daniel,” said Wilbert Vere Thompson.

“Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!“ puffed Daniel.

“You’re pulling us well! You’re pulling us well! You’re pulling us well! You’re pulling us well! You’re pulling us well! You’re pulling us well! You’re pulling us well! You’re pulling us well! You’re pulling us well! You’re pulling us well! You’re pulling us well! You’re pulling us well! You’re pulling us well!“ sang the coaches.

Stations and bridges flashed by, the passengers cheered, and they soon reached the station. Daniel waited and waited but nobody arrived to uncouple him. Some passengers got off the train while others got on. Daniel then started up quickly. “No, no!” cried Daniel, “I'm still attached!” “Try to keep up! Try to keep up!” sneered Daniel. “Boo hoo! Boo hoo! A left-winger is much luckier than you!” the coaches taunted.

Daniel and the Express thundered through the rails and over the viaduct. At last, they had stopped at another station. Daniel had hoped that a stationmaster would notice him and uncouple him from the train, but as passengers exited and entered the coaches nobody arrived to uncouple him. 

When he was given the signal to depart, Daniel puffed away in a hurry, “Ha ha ha!” he chortled and stormed through the railroad. “No, no!” cried Daniel. “Not again!”

Almost as quickly as the express started, it stopped at the next station. Daniel was pleased that this speedy ride was shorter, but again no one came to uncouple him from the coaches. 

Daniel roared into the next station and thundered out to the next one. And arrived to the next one. And arrived to the next one. And arrived to the next one. And arrived to the next one. And arrived to the next one. And arrived to--

“WAIT A HORSE-SUCKING SHITTY ASS MINUTE!” snapped Daniel, as he and the Express came to a complete stop. “What kind of dick-head, dipshit, dumbass ending is this cock-stuffer?” “What do you mean by that?” asked his engineer. 

“Well, this shit is just the ending to that story from five years ago, where Derek was attached to the ass-end of the Express after he fucked around with Gary too much!” “Hmm. It is indeed,” realized his engineer.

“This is just plastic-cheap-ass, bullshit way of ending my introduction story! That dick!” retorted Daniel. “It is indeed,” replied his engineer, “but at least is an ending.” “Aw, the hell with it,” Daniel muttered, “I guess that’s true….AW SHIT!”