Fan Fiction

C.B.

I felt the need to explain C.B. from the old soundtrack to the new one, so here comes a poorly-written short story that's more like StEx mythology gone wrong rather than fan fiction. It was slightly modified as of 2-15-03.

C.B. was eventually pried off of Greaseball, and rebuilt. Shiny and new rolled the red caboose into the train yard. As he went through, a hush fell over the engines and trucks, while the coaches giggled and blushed. Public Enemy Number One felt rolling stock stares reflect off of his newly semi-glossed flank.

Still, eyes were the only things that greeted C.B., and the path to his slip was just about the loneliest trip he had ever made. Feeling neglected and all too solitary, he shut out the world in slumber, his subconscious waiting for the Starlight Express.

"C.B.," said a gruff voice. "Red Caboose!" A cloud of smoke puffed into his face.

His eyes fluttered open to a stranger, though his spit curl and Vegas drawl were disgustingly familiar.

"Good, you're awake. Bad news, little buddy."

"Hold up a minute - who ARE you?" C.B. demanded drowsily.

The steamer seemed taken aback. "I guess they did a good job. C.B., I've been converted, it's me, Greaseball."

The caboose almost lost his wheels. "Whoah! YOU'RE Greaseball ???"

"Of course I am! Bust listen, this is important. C.B., all of the others have...well, they've elected to banish you from the train yard."

"WHAT?!?!?!?" C.B.'s jaw dropped. "They can...they can do that?"

Greaseball nodded. "Sure can."

Public Enemy Number One stiffened. "Well, who's taking me? Where are they sending me? When do I leave?" He exercised a careless front.

"They thought I should take you, because of...old ties - you know. Also, Belle will be along. She's...she's gone. That last race with Rusty was the beginning of the end for her. We leave for Seattle tomorrow." With that, Greaseball rolled off.

The next day's ride was lengthy, tense, and utterly silent. Even so, before C.B. had thought of what to do with himself, he was alone. Suddenly, C.B. heard a strange 'zapping' noise, and whirled around to face whatever had snuck up behind him.

There stood Electra. "C.B.!"

"Electra! What are you doing here?"

"I'm electric...is this not the American center for technology? Listen, it's a good thing you arrived when you did. My components have been slacking off, and they need someone to mind them. What do you say to being my electric caboose? We could go back to the next race, and show Greaseball who's boss once and for all."

"Anything to prove that traitor wrong! Better yet, why don't we get him re-converted to diesel?" C.B. exclaimed.

And so it went.