RAISA Notice

The following documentation appeared within the Foundation’s database on ████/██/██, occupying the SCP-6275 slot. Previously, there had not been a file present in this location. The anomaly described below does not resemble any known to the Foundation. Proper SCP documentation is pending investigation of other anomalous phenomena occurring alongside the appearance of SCP-6275. See Addenda for details.

Containment Chamber-A19, where many laughs await you

Item #: SCP-6275

Object Class: Joke

Special Containment Procedures: Cakelike joy above all and for all is mandatory for FUNdation personnel reading this file. Laugh until your spine spaghettifies and unbuckles underneath the blacklights. And then laugh some more.

SCP-6275 simmers in the salt-flats of a standard humanoid aquarium-style bounce-house at Foundation Facility Area-███. Personnel interacting with SCP-6275 are instructed to be serious, as they are extensions of the Foundation and cannot experience what is instead gifted to the reader. Interviews with SCP-6275 are VERY FUNNY and VERY EASY to do. SCP-6275 wants to see you.

Description: SCP-6275 is a funny man who can shout loudly. He is similar to all the other comical things you know and love except He has a nautical coating for variety’s sake, and that means He is very, very humorous.

SCP-6275 is an underwater-clown. There’s no mistaking SCP-6275 for anything other than an underwater-clown. His hair can taste purple, blue, chewy, or happy. He can wear a clown-suit, or a you-suit, or even an entire hell-suit. Sometimes He’s the size of everything in your mind’s eye and at other times, He’s a forever-burrowing invisible drill. SCP-6275 can be a painting. SCP-6275 can be real. But SCP-6275 is always an underwater-clown.

Looking at, consuming, or being near SCP-6275 will allow you to howl your head off like a solar flare! He may do silly things like a silly man. He may go BR-BR-BR-BR-BR or WOO-WAH like a funky guy! He may do nothing, but you will still laugh, because He is funny. This attracts you! The festivities will carve your face into a fool, and melt away the outside muck. Loosen your tie, watch your coworkers transform into buffoons, and throw away your feelings. It’s time to start laughing with SCP-6275! If no one gets goofy with SCP-6275, He just might grow legs and swim away!

Did you know all life, on a cellular level, from the blue whale to the receptionist to the Candidatus Pelagibacter communis is actually laughing? SCP-6275 has done absurd things that people would not normally do because He knows this. Sometimes He will argue with a family of naval destroyers, have lunch with the number 7, or balance the great barrier reef on His noses! SCP-6275 once burst through the floorboards of John Adam’s summertime home in 1921 and licked every potted plant in sight, including the man’s dog! This is supposed to amuse you.

SCP-6275 is as hilarious as He always was, in the before-times! He taught the gloomy, soapy sponge-fields how to laugh! He visited the man-fish tribe, and invited them to the surface for screw and paper-plaster soup! The Kings of the Inside-World made SCP-6275 their noble jester, and so long as He danced, their shipwreck kingdoms of wood and algae would prosper! Did you know such strange things are happening right under your nose? In the ponds? In a puddle after a storm? In a glass of water? Underneath the surface?

And now, SCP-6275 has come to you, Researcher! He’s come to laugh and make merry, with a punchline at the end. The adventures and secret world of SCP-6275 is yours to chronicle, catalogue, sell, read, appropriate, control, digest in your own terms, and contain. Ask about His past lives (Ha!), or the fight with the Goo-Goo Trawler (Ha!), or The Great Leviathan of All Nothings (Oh No!). It will be funny, as a funny interview will demonstrate.

Dr. Man: I am serious.

SCP-6275: I AM SILLY.

Dr. Man: You are being silly.

SCP-6275: BUT I CAN BE SILLIER.

Dr. Man brandishes a large needle and pokes SCP-6275’s head. Pop! Dr. Man is wet.

Dr. Man: You cannot be silly.

SCP-6275: PUNCHLINE.

The Foundation cannot be silly, but SCP-6275 will be.

That is His purpose. He will be funny for you now.

So laugh until your stomach frowns!

Concurrent with the appearance of the above file, Area-███ security programs reported several faulty containment mechanisms within Humanoid Containment Chamber-S19, located on Subfloor-3. Personnel were immediately dispatched, and found the exterior of the chamber in a state of disrepair. Its entrance was slightly partitioned, and a large concentration of Chthamalus stellatus (Poli’s stellate barnacle) was growing on the door. When asked, personnel could not recollect if Chamber-S19 was in use, or which anomaly, if any, was contained within. Site documentation displayed the chamber as inactive and vacant since its construction in 1997. Inside, the chamber was found to exceed its possible dimensions in length and width, continuing onwards indefinitely. All sources of light built within were nonfunctional. An FD6-Harbinger Series drone was used to explore the chamber prior to any potential manned incursions. Relevant documentation has been attached below.

00:00 - Measurements recorded. Chamber ceiling is 18 meters from the ground. Length indeterminate. Drone proceeds forward in complete darkness for one hour and twenty one minutes. 40 minutes into this expedition, the song “Octopus’s Garden” by British rock band The Beatles is heard. This continues for the duration of the log.

01:21 - Chamber walls become narrow. Growths of jagged, rotting coral sprouting from all directions are seen. Scintillating, green bubbles are present. Portions of the coral form segmented, moving indentations on their stalks and sing along to the music. Several members of control personnel briefly laugh to themselves.

01:39 - Coral growths intensify in aggregate, constricting the drone’s navigation. A sufficiently sized opening is eventually found. Beyond this point, the chamber is more spacious. Walls are various shades of blue, and appear to be rotating. Floor is coated with innumerable amounts of Pterois volitans (red lionfish). They writhe and thrash, deprived of water. A low hum originates from the mass of fish below. Drone proceeds.

02:01 - The spines of the fish become longer as the drone continues. It comes to a large mass of spines, a field spreading outward in all directions. The tips of the spines bear frowning, yellow sponges. The eyes of the sponges track the drone as it moves forward. At a certain point, they begin to wail.

04:55 - The spine field opens into a clearing, where the skeleton of a massive, decaying whale is seen. Several heavily damaged marble columns and water-logged pieces of wood surround the area. Fish-like entities with human legs emerging from their fins frantically run, sometimes banging into a piece of material, or the wall. A fish-entity steps on a rusted nail embedded in a wooden plank and laughs before collapsing to the ground. This prompts four observing personnel to laugh uncontrollably. A large, horned angler fish of indeterminate species floats into view. It repeatedly coughs. When it turns around, it becomes apparent that the fish is made of cardboard. Richard Rummens, personnel, remarks that it’s “replaced, just like everything else.”

05:32 - Chamber slowly becomes devoid of all features, transitioning into complete darkness.

08:49 - A noise is heard, and control personnel are unable to discern if it is laughter, screaming, or “something else”. It intensifies in volume as time goes on. Observing personnel Jack Haiten is missing from the control room.

10:12 - All control personnel are certain it is screaming. Observing personnel Kabir Noo is missing from the control room.

10:30 - Drone detects an object ahead, indistinguishable at this point. Remaining two members of control report the smell of putrid salt water.

11:29 - The source of the screams, the object, comes into view. It is a massive, rotund entity with the appearance of a clown dressed in traditional, multi-colored clothing, slumped against the back wall of the chamber. Its hands and feet are webbed, not unlike fins. Its face remains contorted into an open-mouthed expression, and a stream of tears fall from its eyes. The screaming transitions into laughter, though the entity still does not move.

All personnel are missing from the observation room.

The drone is pulled downwards towards the entity, and turns around. Haiten, Noo, Sanders, and Rummens, the four personnel manning the exploration, are suddenly present inside the chamber. Their bodies have been heavily mangled, with clusters of barnacles attached to their skin, and heavy perforations that continuously leak water. Haiten dislodges a piece of coral from his mouth, causing a polka-dotted balloon to emerge from his throat. The personnel laugh, and their laughter is indistinguishable from the earlier noise.

One after another, each personnel moves forward and enters the clown-entity’s body, passing through it entirely. The drone follows.

The interior is black. No features can be discerned.

Haiten: (Laughs) It’s so fucking funny. But It wasn’t always like this.

Sounds of gurgling and heavy breathing are heard.

Haiten: It’s like— when you try to remember a joke. And you’ve heard it so many times, told it to so many people. But you just can’t get it right. It stops being funny. Your whole delivery is shot dead in its tracks— (Laughs)

The sound of laughter overpowers all audio..

Haiten: You don’t know what you were laughing about. Sometimes the entire setup’s changed. Whatever used to be there— whatever used to be here. Fuck. (Laughs) It’s too damn good!

The laughter continues for a number of minutes, trailing off into silence. Sounds of waves crashing are heard.

Haiten: I can’t even remember what the punchline used to be.

Connection lost.