Chapter Text
Daniel clings to his thin red sweater, his only protection from the cold German winter. Snowfall drifts from the sky as he watches from his small apartment.
“Damn capitalist,” he curses.
It had been many years since the wall* was torn down and life had not gotten better under the new American regime. Daniel longed for communism. He longed for a Dubai chocolate Labubu matcha, but under the capitalist dictatorship that was no longer possible. Daniel settled for a can of baked beans. He thought of Karl, his thick, busy beard. What would he think of Germany now? Tiger tears fall into Daniel’s beans.
“I remember when all I had to do to get a rainbow matcha latte was stand in line for a few hours, and now…”
Daniel looked down at his 18 year old hands, bloody, bruised, and covered in cocoa dust. He cried,
“Why- why did the wall fall? Why do I have to kill myself in the mines just to buy a new Labubu?”
Daniel’s head falls into his hands.
“Oh Karl, if only you were here to fix this.”
Daniel thinks of Marx’s manifestos he could fix this capitalistic hellscape, if only he were here.
Daniel heads into the Dubai chocolate mines for another 132 hour unpaid shift. If only it were a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Of course, it’s not, and Daniel knew it might never be again. Using his pickaxe Daniel chips away at the veins of Dubai chocolate. The Kratt brothers stood beside him, a solemn expression on their faces. Daniel continued to chip away at the cave walls.
“Hey Daniel,” Chris Kratt asked, “do you know what ever happened to the tellie-tubies?”
“I couldn’t say…”
This was a total lie, the Tubbies gave out tellie-tugies for five marks outside of his apartment. Daniel would complain, but the crime was the only thing that kept his rent low enough to keep him from living on the streets. Thumps echoed down the hallway before the voice of a short, leukemia stricken, bald, temper tantrum prone toddler. The glint of pistachio filling reflected off of Caillou’s head as his hands shot to his hips.
“You know Dictator Doc McStuffins needs more Dubai chocolate to pay for her Labubus,” Caillou lectures.
Daniel listens to the child, resentment brewing in his heart for the short little cancer patient. Calliou was the mine supervisor- he knew nothing of the proletariat’s struggle during a hard day’s work.
“Whatever, baldy,” Daniel murmured under his breath.
“Pardon me, Mr. Tiger, what did you say? I'm afraid I didn’t catch that.” Calliou asked sarcastically.
“I was just saying how much I love our glorious leader, Ms.-”
“Doctor”
“Right, Doctor McStuffins.”
“Good answer tiger.”
Daniel was relieved when the boy started to walk away towards the southern section of the mine, where the 24k gold Labubus were harvested. Growing slightly curious, he turned to his friend, Chris.
“Say, who made him boss anyways, isn’t he a left-over** too?”
“Elmo heard that his parents are rich Canadians and dear friends of McStuffins.” The little red creature responded.
“Fucking hosers, of course those damned syrup sippers would get their dirty, Horton loving hands into every corner of our lives.” Chris Kratt added.
Daniel looked towards the trail of Calliou and thought about the wealth of 24k gold Labubus held just a little further down into the cave.
“Good black god who is a woman, if I could just get one of those Labubus I could sell it and finally- sell it… oh my good black good who is a woman, I’ve become one of them.” The tiger began to sob.
Elmo patted the boy on his back, “it’s ok, Elmo knows how it feels. Before PBS shut down they sold millions of items with Elmo’s face on it. Elmo only agreed because he thought it would save PBS.”
A hush fell upon the three as they lamented in silence over the loss of their beloved PBS. Though the silence was not all that comforting as it was soon broken by three pairs of heavy leather boot steps marching down the mineshaft.
“Ugga but no mugga, this isn’t good.” Daniel moaned to his fellow miners as sweat dripped from his fur.
Daniel’s concern fell into confusion, why are the pirates here, they’re McStuffins top enforcers- unless? Daniel looked around at the charters, his friends, his former comrades working with him. They were here to arrest a radical. Could it be me? Daniel almost wished it was, a life without Marx-san wasn’t worth living.
“Well, well, well, look what that cat dragged in,” Jake teased as he grabbed Peg by the collar, his crewmates quickly restraining Cat who was mining next to her.
“No, not my plus one!”
Cat tried to claw his way to Peg, but she spoke up, “it's ok Cat, don’t fight it.”
Peg was forced into cuffs and shortly after, her knees.
“This here,” Jake announced, “is a traitor,” Jake draws his sword and places it on Peg’s neck, “and do you know what we do to traitors?”
The miners are silent.
“We put them down like rabid cats,” Jake adds without missing a beat.
“You can’t unflush the toilet pigs, a war is coming and the workers will rise again!” Peg called out, her last words falling on deaf ears as Jake, with a flick of his sword, divided Peg by zero.
Cat falls to his knees in agony.
*Yes, the Berlin Wall.
** Charters ‘left-behind’ after the great defunding and subsequent Skibo-Capital Civil War.