If It Were The 80s - SCP Foundation

Two young boys sit at a varnished wooden table, looking as if they are bored out of their minds. One of them speaks up, saying words to this effect. They both let out a long, drawn out sigh. This is clearly the height of suburban lethargy.

Suddenly, a rustling is heard from the bushes outside, and both boys jump with a start. Swiveling their heads around to look out the window, they see a barely glimpsed figure in the distance. The boys, both staring intently at this unknown intruder, blink simultaneously. Without warning, the figure is standing directly in front of the window, and it's nature is now perfectly clear. It is a statue, crudely carved out of concrete and rebar, with a hideous expression of malice spray-painted upon its face. One of the boys cries out the name of the apparition, and both display looks of sheer terror on their faces.

Both boys blink once again. Now the creature is in their kitchen, mere inches away from the two young lads. One could cut the tension in the room with a knife. The eyelids of the boys flutter down again. A crunching sound is heard.

To the delight of the boys, the vile creature holds in it's outstretched hands two halves of a Nestlé Crunch bar, held out in offering to them. A cheer is raised as they take the chocolate halves, and express their love for the statue, giving it a great big, warm, fuzzy hug. In the background, a mother nods her approval of this scene. From above, a narration comes in: "Nestlé Crunch: For the Kid in You."

Elsewhere, a YouTube video loads…

A forest environment is seen, with lush green trees, a babbling brook, and two meatheads stumbling half-drunkedly along a nature path. A gruff, masculine voice provides the narration: "Jack Links Beef Jerky Presents: Messin' With 682."

One of the men pauses, grabs his comrade by the shirt cuff, and points off into the distance, slightly off camera. The view swings around to show us just what he has spotted: A large, reptillian creature, hideous in complexion, tearing through the undergrowth. A big, shit-eating grin appears on the faces of both men. The second of the pair pulls out a bag of the aforementioned product, and slowly approaches the monster from beyond this mortal realm.

Raising its head, the creature sees the man approaching it ever so slowly, a stick of jerky raised in his hand. Without noticing the other hand reaching into a back pocket, the horrid abomination slowly approaches the moronic man, sniffing curiously at the meat-based product being offered to it. Cautiously, teeth that could saw a man in half pry themselves apart and attempt to take a bite out of it.

Without warning, the man swipes the jerky hand back while simultaneously swinging his other hand forwards, flinging a hail of pocket sand straight into the terrible monster's eyes.

Roaring with unbridled rage, the reptillian horror pounces upon the man, letting the teeth do what the teeth do best. His partner, lacking any sort of survival instinct, rushes to help his friend, only to have his upper torso caught up in the carnage. As the familiar jingle plays, the narrator fades back in: "Jack Links Jerky: Feed your wild side."

Elsewhere, an advertisement loads on a popular news site…

The image of a car wreck fades onto the screen. Flames wreath the scene as cries of agony echo from within the mangled frame of what was once a vehicle. The camera does not flinch for a second away from this moment of horrible carnage.

As the flames burn, yet another narrator comes in, this time a woman, with a slight British accent. "Every year, thousands of people are subject to accidents such as this. Hundreds more pay for them with their lives. Some, like Dr. Gerald, former owner of this vehicle, endure it almost every day."

The scene fades into the woman sitting against a light pastel blue background; her hands folded on her lap, her face holding an air of sympathy and warmth. "But you can help prevent tragedies such as this. Just a simple call to 1-800-555-6661, and a donation of your chosen amount can help us improve the infrastructure of our nation's highways, the safety conditions of the cars you drive daily, and save the lives of countless children. Donations of over twenty dollars will also have a portion of their money go to a program geared towards taking Dr. Gerald off the road once and for all."

Fading back to the burning car and agonized screams, the woman concludes her statement. "That's 1-800-555-6661, or visit us at www.deargodmakeitstop.org. And please, make sure that nobody has to suffer at the hands of Dr. Gerald ever again." Fade to black.

Elsewhere, in a seedy coffeehouse…

A man rolls up a poster on the wall. It shows a strikingly beautiful woman, her head tilted back with ardent glee. The image goes down just far enough to imply that she is completely topless, without showing anything too terribly risqué. Her hand is also in view, holding up a muffin, glazed over with white frosting, steam rising from the top, a small bite taken out of it. Below all of this, a tagline reads: "Try our new Orgasm Muffins! As seen on the SCP Foundation!"

The man wonders why in all the nine bloody blue blazes Starbucks is using something as smutty as this to advertise its products.

Elsewhere, in an advertising office…

A proposal is raised to use the plight of a young girl pregnant with some cosmic horror from beyond the stars as a mascot for Trojan Condoms is raised.

No more need be said on this matter.

Elsewhere, on a semi-popular horror writing site, a post is made in the forums…

"Alright, who the fuck said they were OK with all of this?"