Caillou was laying in his cell at Rikers Island while being held until trail for destroying the PBS Kids building when the guard turned on the tv, when heard it was Shining Time Station, he screamed because he was forced to watch the show during a punishment a few months back for copyrighting the Mario Kart Wii
The fluorescent lights of the Rikers Island cell hummed, a stark contrast to the cartoon world Caillou was used to. He lay on the thin mattress, the scratchy wool blanket doing little to ease his discomfort. The weight of his impending trial pressed down on him – the PBS Kids building… he hadn’t meant to completely destroy it. It was just a… passionate expression of his artistic vision.
Then, the guard flicked on the ancient, wall-mounted TV. A cheerful, almost mocking, train whistle filled the cramped space. Caillou’s blood ran cold. It was Shining Time Station.
A wave of nausea washed over him, a flashback to the “copyright infringement incident,” as his lawyer called it. The months of forced Shining Time Station viewings… the endless chugging of Thomas the Tank Engine… the saccharine smiles of Mr. Conductor… it was all too much.
“NOOOOOOOOO!” Caillou shrieked, scrambling away from the TV as if it were a venomous snake. “Turn it OFF! Please! Anything but Shining Time Station!” He curled into a fetal position, hands clamped over his ears, the jaunty theme song echoing in his nightmares. The other inmates, used to the cacophony of prison life, barely glanced his way. They’d seen worse. But for Caillou, this was a special kind of hell.
Soon the guard screamed for him to shut up or he would get whipped!
Caillou’s scream died in his throat, replaced by a strangled whimper. He knew that tone. That was the “I’ve-had-it-up-to-here-with-your-whining” tone. He’d heard it from his mom, his dad, his teachers… and now, a hulking guard with a face like granite.
“Shut it, baldy!” the guard roared, his voice echoing through the cell block. “You wanna get whipped? ‘Cause I’m just about ready to make it happen! You think I wanna listen to your caterwauling all day? You’re lucky you even get TV!”
Caillou squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking out. Whipping… the thought sent shivers down his spine. He’d heard stories. He didn’t want to find out if they were true. He pressed himself against the cold wall, trying to disappear, trying to block out the sound of Shining Time Station, trying to become invisible. The cheerful music and the threat of violence warred inside his head, a horrifying symphony of despair. He was trapped, utterly and completely.
Meanwhile in Moorestown NJ, Harry Strack was getting ready for school when the press arived at his home to talk about Caillou’s recent arrest, Harry-a big hater of baby shows said he was glad Caillou was in jail, as well as Dora who was still in a Mexico jail
The sun peeked through the blinds in Harry Strack’s Moorestown, NJ bedroom, painting stripes across his posters of vintage video games. He was pulling on his favorite t-shirt, emblazoned with a pixelated spaceship, ready for another day of 8th grade. That’s when he heard the commotion outside.
A gaggle of reporters, microphones bristling like antennae, were camped out on his front lawn. His mom, looking flustered, was trying to shoo them away.
“Harry! Harry! Can you give us a comment on the Caillou situation?” one of them shouted.
Harry, a self-proclaimed connoisseur of quality television and vehement detractor of anything aimed at toddlers, knew exactly what they were talking about. He pushed past his mom, a grin spreading across his face.
“Caillou? That whiny, bald menace? Good riddance!” Harry declared, striking a heroic pose. “He finally got what he deserved. Serves him right for inflicting that garbage on innocent viewers. And Dora? Lock ’em both up and throw away the key! Maybe now kids can finally watch something decent.”
He paused for effect, then added with a flourish, “It’s a victory for good taste everywhere!”
The reporters scribbled furiously, their cameras flashing. Harry basked in the attention, a champion of discerning entertainment, ready to defend the world from the scourge of baby shows, one soundbite at a time.
Later, Caillou was taken to the lunch hall to eat his hated food: Meatloaf, Peas and Mashed potatoes
The clang of metal against metal echoed through the cavernous Rikers Island cafeteria. Caillou shuffled along in line, his orange jumpsuit feeling like a brand. The smell alone made his stomach churn: a sickly sweet, vaguely meaty odor that could only be one thing.
He reached the serving window, and his worst fears were confirmed. A gray, congealed slab of meatloaf sat swimming in a watery brown gravy. Beside it, a mountain of pale, lumpy mashed potatoes and a scoop of sad, overcooked peas. It was his culinary nightmare, a trifecta of everything he hated.
He stared at the plate, his appetite vanishing completely. He could practically taste the blandness, the mushiness, the utter lack of flavor. He’d rather eat dirt. He knew he had to eat something, but the thought of forcing down even a single bite of this… stuff… made him want to gag. He reluctantly accepted the tray and shuffled towards an empty table, trying to avoid eye contact with the other inmates, each one a potential threat in this brutal environment.
Later that afternoon, a tv was turned back on, it was another Shining Time episode, Caillou screamed in his jumpsuit and soon pooped in it
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cell block as the guard, seemingly enjoying Caillou’s torment, switched the TV back on. The familiar, saccharine notes of the Shining Time Station theme song filled the air.
Caillou’s carefully constructed facade of control shattered. He clamped his hands over his ears, but the sound burrowed into his brain, replaying the horrors of his forced viewings. His breath hitched, his body trembled, and a primal scream ripped from his throat.
“NOOOOOOOOO! NOT AGAIN! PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP!”
He thrashed against the thin mattress, his eyes wide with panic. The stress, the fear, the sheer overwhelming loathing for Shining Time Station… it was too much. His bladder and bowels, already weakened by prison food and anxiety, gave way. He soiled himself, the warm, foul-smelling mess adding another layer of humiliation to his already unbearable situation.
He lay there, sobbing uncontrollably in his soiled jumpsuit, the sounds of Thomas the Tank Engine and Mr. Conductor mocking his despair. He was broken, defeated, and utterly alone.
But soon a news report came on from WABC, it was announced that Kevin Duala, the UK Blue’s Clues host and a friend and classmate of Caillou was still in critical Condition in a DC Hospital after he was stabbed in his cell 3 days before
Amidst his own personal hell, a flicker of something other than despair crossed Caillou’s face as the news report flashed onto the screen. The WABC logo was prominently displayed in the corner. The anchor’s voice, usually a drone of impersonal facts, now carried a somber tone.
“…and in other news, we continue to follow the story of Kevin Duala, the beloved former host of Blue’s Clues in the UK. Mr. Duala remains in critical condition at a Washington D.C. hospital after being stabbed in his cell three days ago. Sources say the attack was unprovoked. Duala, a classmate and longtime friend of Caillou, the Canadian child star currently incarcerated at Rikers Island, was reportedly working on a children’s literacy program within the prison system. We will continue to update you as this story develops.”
Caillou’s breath caught in his throat. Kevin? Stabbed? He hadn’t seen Kevin in years, not since they’d both been bright-eyed kids dreaming of changing the world through children’s television. They’d bonded over their shared love of learning and their desire to make a positive impact. The news report cut through his self-pity like a knife. He was wallowing in his own misery while his friend, a truly good person, was fighting for his life. The irony was almost unbearable.
Meanwhile in the prison ward of GW Hospital in DC, Kevin laid in his hospital 2 days after he got in to fight in his cell at a DC jail where he was being held for aiding Steve and Joe in buring down the Mental Peoples home in Cherry Hill NJ
The image of Kevin, lying helpless in a hospital bed, flashed through Caillou’s mind, replacing the saccharine smiles of Shining Time Station with a stark and brutal reality. Kevin, who always had a kind word and an encouraging smile, reduced to this…
Meanwhile, across state lines in the prison ward of George Washington University Hospital in DC, Kevin Duala lay unconscious, two days after the brutal attack in his cell at the DC jail. He was awaiting trial for his alleged involvement in the burning of the Mental Peoples Home in Cherry Hill, NJ, alongside his Blue’s Clues predecessors, Steve and Joe.
The irony wasn’t lost on Caillou. He was in jail for artistic expression gone awry, while Kevin, who had dedicated his life to helping others, was now a victim of violence, accused of a heinous crime. A wave of guilt washed over him. He had to do something. But what could he do, locked away in Rikers Island, wallowing in his own filth and despair?
