Choo Choo Train Quotes

Don't ask me silly questions I won't play silly games I'm just a simple choo choo train And I'll always be the same. I only want to race along Beneath the bright blue sky And be a happy choo choo train Until the day I die.

I had now officially secured my front row seat on the train to Hell. Choo choo

Love will wreck your heart like a derailed train. So choo-choose your partner wisely.

He shook his head. “You’re a bit of a train wreck, aren’t you?” I puffed a bit of hair away from my face. “Choo choo?

Drivin’ the green train I’m all like, Choo-choo! Choo-choo! Can’t catch me!—Oh, poop! A

Cammie had diarrhea of the mouth. It was going to be all over the school and fast. I had now officially secured my front row seat on the train to Hell. Choo Choo!

Do the choo-choo train," - Emma Carstairs

Did that just happen?” I whispered. “Yep,” Hawk replied, grabbed my hand and tugged me to the door. “My dad just saw us making out with your hand on my ass,” I added detail, just to confirm. Hawk opened the door and pulled me through, repeating, “Yep.” “Well, at least I got my Jimmy Choos before I died. Now you can take me to the nearest railway crossing and I’ll throw myself in front of a train.

The train was parked fifty feet up, by a toy station that mimicked the one across the street. Hanging from its eaves was a sign which read TOPEKA. The train was Charlie the Choo-Choo, cowcatcher and all; a 402 Big Boy Steam Locomotive.

Pardon Me boy, is that the Chattanooga Choo Choo?

Don't ask it silly questions, it won't play silly games. It's just an awful choo-choo train and its name is Blaine the Pain.

Drivin’ the green train I’m all like, Choo-choo! Choo-choo! Can’t catch me!—Oh, poop!

When do they turn the streetlights on? Does each streetlight have a separate switch? Where did all the choo-choo trains go? Why don't people just draw their own money? Who decided that red means stop and green means go? Is there only one moon? Are all car honks the same? How do the police stop trees from growing in the middle of the street? Do people paint their own cars? What is a fire hydrant? Why don't people whistle when they walk? Where do airplanes live when they are not flying?

Like here it was that I entered that stage when a child overcomes naivite enough to realize an adult's emotional reaction as somethimes freakish for its inconsistencies, so can, on his own reasoning canvas, paint those early pale colors of judgement, resulting from initial moments of ability to critically examine life's perplexities, in tentative little brain-engine stirrings, before they faded to quickly join that train of remembered experience carrying signals indicating existence which itself far outweighs traction effort by thinking's soon slipping drivers to effectively resist any slack-action advantage, for starting so necessitates continual cuts on the hauler - performed as if governed lifelong by the tagwork of a student-green foreman who, crushed under on rushing time always building against his excessive load of emotional contents, is forever a lost ball in the high weeds of personal developments - until, with ever changing emphasis through a whole series of grades of consciousness (leading up from root-beginnings of obscure childish inconscious soul within a world), early lack - for what child sustains logic? - reaches a point of late fossilization, resultant of repeated wrong moves in endless switching of dark significances crammed inside the cranium, where, through such hindering habits, there no longer is the flexibility for thought transfer and unloading of dead freight that a standard gauge would afford and thus, as Faustian Destiny dictates, is an inept mink, limited, being in existence firmly tracked just above the constant "T" biased ballast supporting wherever space yearnings lead the worn rails of civilized comprehension, so henceforth is restricted to mere pickups and setouts of drab distortion, while traveling wearily along its familiar Western Thinking right-of-way. But choo-choo nonsense aside, ...

November 18, 2014: it’s a day that should live forever in history. On that day, in the city of Yiwu in China’s Zhejiang province, 300 kilometers south of Shanghai, the first train carrying 82 containers of export goods weighing more than 1,000 tons left a massive warehouse complex heading for Madrid. It arrived on December 9th. Welcome to the new trans-Eurasia choo-choo train. At over 13,000 kilometers, it will regularly traverse the longest freight train route in the world, 40% farther than the legendary Trans-Siberian Railway. Its cargo will cross China from East to West, then Kazakhstan, Russia, Belarus, Poland, Germany, France, and finally Spain.

became a blurry swirl of shapes and colors narrowing into a luminous spot of white light at the end of a black anoxic tunnel and dissolving into a rapid series of bright sharp images that I recognized at once from my childhood: long forgotten memories of important moments flashing by faster than anything I’d ever experienced, twenty to thirty frames a second, each one of them original, like perfect photographic slides from the archives of my young life, every scene compressed into a complete story with sights and sounds and smells and feelings from the time. Each image was euphoric, rapturous. The smiling face of my beautiful young mother / a gentle touch from her hand on my face / absorbing her love / playing in the sand at the seashore with my father / waves washing up on the beach / feeling the strength and security of his presence / soothing, kind-hearted praise from a teacher at school / faces and voices of adoring aunts and uncles / steam trains coming in at the local railroad station / hearing myself say “choo-choo” / the excitement of shared discovery with my brother on Christmas morning / running free through a familiar forest with a happy dog / hitting a baseball hard and hearing encouraging cries from my parents behind me in the bleachers / shooting baskets in a backyard court with a buddy from high school / a tender kiss from the soft warm lips of a lovely teenage girl / the encouraging thrust of her stomach and thighs against mine.

I had this book when I was a little kid," Eddie said at last. He spoke in the flat tones of utter surety. "Then we moved from Queens to Brooklyn--I wasn't even four years old--and I lost it. But I remember the picture on the cover. And I felt the same way you do, Jake. I didn't like it. I didn't trust it." Susannah raised her eyes to look at Eddie. "I had it, too--how could I ever forget the little girl with my name...although of course it was my middle name back in those days. And I felt the same way about the train. I didn't like it and I didn't trust it." She tapped the front of the book with her finger before passing it on to Roland. "I thought that smile was a great big fake." Roland gave it only a cursory glance before returning his eyes to Susannah. "Did you lose yours, too?" "Yes." "And I'll bet I know when," Eddie said. Susannah nodded. "I'll bet you do. It was after that man dropped the brick on my head. I had it when we went north to my Aunt Blue's wedding. I had it on the train. I remember, because I kept asking my dad if Charlie the Choo-Choo was pulling us. I didn't WANT it to be Charlie, because we were supposed to go to Elizabeth, New Jersey, and I thought Charlie might take us anywhere. Didn't he end up pulling folks around a toy village or something like that, Jake?" "An amusement park." "Yes, of course it was. There's a picture of him hauling kids around that place at the end, isn't there? They're all smiling and laughing, except I always thought they looked like they were screaming to be let off." "Yes!" Jake cried. "Yes, that's right! That's JUST right!" "I thought Charlie might take us to HIS place--wherever he lived--instead of to my aunt's wedding, and never let us go home again." "You can't go home again," Eddie muttered, and ran his hands nervously through his hair. "All the time we were on that train I wouldn't let go of the book. I even remember thinking, 'If he tries to steal us, I'll rip out his pages until he quits.' But of course we arrived right where we were supposed to, and on time, too. Daddy even took me up front, so I could see the engine. It was a diesel, not a steam engine, and I remember that made me happy. Then, after the wedding, that man Mort dropped the brick on me and I was in a coma for a long time. I never saw Charlie the Choo-Choo after that. Not until now." She hesitated, then added: "This could be my copy, for all I know--or Eddie's." "Yeah, and probably is," Eddie said.

Morris chopped off the girl's hand with a hatchet then guttered laughter. The poor mulato wailed, her stump pumping. "What'choo do that for!" Cutton bellowed. He hadn't even gotten his trousers off before Morris had pulled this move.

On the first day of school, a first-grade teacher tells her class they’re not babies anymore. They have to use grown up words. Then she asks the kids what they did that summer. The first kid says, ‘I got a bad boo boo.” Teacher says, ‘No. You suffered an injury. Use grown up words.’ Second kid says, ‘I rode on a choo choo.’ Teacher says, ‘No. You rode on a train. Use grown up words.’ Third kid says, ‘I read a book.’ Teacher says, ‘Good for you! Which book did you read?’ The kid says, ‘Uh…Winnie the Shit!

What's the difference between a teacher and a train? A teacher says, "Spit out that gum!" and a train says, "Choo choo choo!

Every time she passed the model train store she clenched her fists and said, “You did this . . .” And it was true, it was true, life as we knew it was coming to an end because 160 years ago or whatever, some old weirdo who was obsessed with trains had to invent trains because trains didn’t exist yet. Choo-choo, motherfucker, are you happy now?

No, no. Seriously. Tell me how I’m supposed to bring it up. Hey, boys, how about the three of you come pipe me down. I’ve been waiting for this train to leave the station since you made me your mate. Choo, choo!

I write in my free time due to the boredom of reality. It's training in a mental sense.

Rail attendants dismiss excited train hobbyists as “foamers” (foaming at the mouth as they board their choo-choos).

A grandfather asks his grandson what he did today. “Today I played with my choo-choo and I fell down and got a boo-boo on my knee.” “Now, Timmy, you’re a big boy. You should say, ‘Today I played with my trains and I fell down and got an abrasion on my knee.’ Okay?” “Okay, I’ve got it. I say ‘train’ and ‘abrasion.’” “You’re a good boy. Now, Grandpa’s going to read you a story. Which one would you like?” “How about Winnie the Shit?

There’s a heart-wrenching scene in Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer, the old stop-motion Christmas TV special, that has always resonated with me. After his run-in with the Abominable Snowman, Rudolph and his buddies seek asylum on the Island of Misfit Toys, a haven for crappy, deformed, and unwanted toys presumably built by an elf with substance abuse issues. There’s the choo-choo train with square wheels, the water pistol that shoots jelly, the cowboy riding an ostrich, the white elephant with pink polka dots, the infelicitously named Charlie-in-the-Box. “Hey we’re all misfits, too!” Rudolph squeals to his newfound friends, and everyone breaks into song. I cry every time I see it.

Parents say they can't wait for their baby to speak and say dada and choo-choo train, but that's a lie. The quickest thing children learn to do is shut up. Eat silently with your mouth closed, don't slurp, burp, or fart. Don't breath through your mouth or suck your teeth or chew your lips when thinking. Don't try to suck up the juice of an apple when you take a big bite. And don't speak wen the telly is on. Just shut the fuck up.

At the moment when Mrs. Griffin had been notified of her husband’s death, she was in bed with her lover at the Hotel del Coronado in California, and took the news that she was a widow rather well. She untwined herself from the arms of Admiral Paul Henry Bastedo who served under Secretary of the Navy Franklin Roosevelt, and proposed they get married in the morning so he could be her date at her late husband’s funeral. To the tabloids’ delight, the newlyweds took Helen Prindeville Griffin Bastedo’s private railway car to Lake Forest, Illinois, to attend the service. The act so outraged the Griffin family that they used their juice with Union Pacific to divert the train and the unlucky passengers coupled to Helen’s private car. The train choo-chooed deep into Wisconsin, denying the newlyweds their grand entrance to the funeral.

Is that true?” Javi asks. “You’ve been wanting something from us?” “It’s not a big deal,” I say with a nervous chuckle. “Just a thought.” Rome rubs his jaw and glances at the guys. “Sounds like more than a thought to me.” He makes a train whistle motion. “Choo, choo.

My head was swimming now, a pleasantly intoxicated dream state. I no longer knew or even cared what century it was. I was numb from the waist down, circulation cut off long ago cut off to my legs. The heavily painted faces and costumes of my geisha companions. the spare black-and-white walls the choo-choo train of tiny plates of jewel-like dishes - everything melted together into that rear full mind/body narcotized zone where everything/nothing matters. You know you're having one of the meals of your life but are no longer intimidated by it. Consciousness of time and expense go out the window. Cares about table manners disappear. What happens next, later, or even tomorrow, fades into insignificance. You become a happy passenger, completely submitting to whatever happens next, confident that somehow the whole universe is in particularly benevolent alignment, that nothing could possibly distract or detract from the wonderfulness of the moment.

Not sure I can keep this train from chugging down its path.  Next stop is more bad decisions. Fucking choo-choo.

You do realize you’re all on a crazy train headed straight to hell, right?” Payton asked. Mia smirked, “And I’m the conductor. Choo-Choo motherfucker.

The tunnel became the place of dares:Kids said that if you walked the tunnel at midnight, you might hear a train whistle, and if you didn’t run the half-mile length of darkness at top speed, the conductor would ride along in his ghost train and- Choo-choo, chopity-chop. Cut your head off too.

Do you often encourage servility in the souls of the black women around you?” “Do I—the—” He shut his mouth with a click and glared. “Again. You think like a wolf.” “Thank you. Now open up for the choo-choo train.” “Murder,” Jacob murmured. “I am going to commit a murder.” But to Eve’s surprise, when she stabbed some egg and a chunk of sausage onto the fork, Jacob opened his mouth and took it. He really . . . really . . . took it.