SCP-8185 seen searching for ingredients.

Item #: SCP-8185

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8185 is kept in a standard small mammal containment chamber fitted with an appropriately model-sized kitchen on Site-54.

SCP-8185 is to be provided with cooking ingredients and Tupperware containers on a daily basis.

Description: SCP-8185 is a sapient northern raccoon (Procyon lotor) capable of preparing and cooking dishes of comparable quality to human made food. SCP-8185 is able to understand and communicate in English.

Discovery: SCP-8185 was discovered in the public grill area of Cooper Park, Cooperstown, New York, where various inhabitants of the town had come across a gathering of raccoons centered around SCP-8185, which was grilling and serving various plates of rotten food scraps and garbage to the non-anomalous raccoon population.

Multiple raccoons swarmed Foundation personnel during the initial capture of SCP-8185. They had attempted to reach and free SCP-8185, by latching onto its hindlegs and pulling downwards, while others began clawing at and biting Field Agent Skinner, who had grabbed SCP-8185 by the scruff of its neck. During transportation to Site-54, the following body camera interaction was recorded between SCP-8185 and Field Agent Skinner.

VIDEO RECORDING

[BEGIN RECORDING]

[Extraneous recording prior to the incident has been removed]

SCP-8185: What the hell’s your problem, pal?

Skinner’s camera suddenly shakes. Skinner then points it directly at SCP-8185, which is currently poking its nose through the cat carrier.

Skinner: Huh?

SCP-8185: Aren’t you a tough guy? Can’t even talk back to me, can you?

Skinner: Uhm, okay… You can talk, hm, that’s…

SCP-8185: Yeah, I can talk. Damn straight I can talk. I am out here, mindin’ my own business in the park. Great cookout for the family, y’know and you come out here, ambush me and uncle Pat, and toss me around. Lucky I had my guard down pal, or it would have gotten real ugly.

SCP-8185 is heard snickering in its cage, before light taps are heard, emanating from the side of the box.

SCP-8185: One, two, whoosh, swoosh.

SCP-8185 can be seen ducking and weaving within its crate.

Skinner: What are you doing?

SCP-8185: I was just showin’ you my moves. If you had gone at me mano a mano, I wouldn’t be in this car right now. But, I can look past you being a wuss, if you turn this car around. We can forget about this whole awkward encounter, yea?

Skinner: You certainly weren't trying to fight mano a mano. I'd demolish you in the ring, so shut your mouth. And besides, I don’t think you’re in a position to be making any type of demands.

SCP-8185: Nah, nah. I see how it is. You probably aren’t in charge, are ya’? Can't tell the driver what to do? What are ya', a little errand boy?

Skinner: No. I am a Special Agent, tasked with the most important recovery missions actually, in case you wanted to know. But the point is, you’re not going back, little guy. You’re coming with me. In case the carrier didn’t tip you off. So who's the errand boy now?

SCP-8185's face pulls away from the grate.

Skinner: That's what I thought.

SCP-8185 remains silent for the rest of the car ride. Occasionally faint scratches and sporadic whimpers can be heard. SCP-8185’s tail is seen hanging loosely through the grate.

[END RECORDING]

Addendum SCP-8185-A: Initial Interview

Interview Transcript

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

SCP-8185 sits at a desk, its head laid flat on the table. Its ears perk up as Dr. Gusteau enters the room, carrying a small manila folder in his hands.

Dr. Gusteau: Good morning! I’m Dr. Gusteau and I’ve been assigned as the lead researcher to study… well, you.

SCP-8185: Thank god, someone’s finally here. You must be the boss, yeah? Wearin’ a lab coat, callin' yourself doctor. Yeah, you gotta be the boss. You have to help me. My people back home, they must be worried sick. Ma’s fur must be turnin' gray as a rock right now.

SCP-8185 scratches the back of its ear with its hindleg, pieces of fur sticking to the individual claws.

Dr. Gusteau: Sorry, no can do. You are what we consider an active threat to normalcy. Even if we were to release you, they'd just send some poor Field Agent to come right back out and contain you again. You’re a special kind and I promise we will take care of all of your needs.

SCP-8185 shrugs.

SCP-8185: Well, I need to go ho-

Dr. Gusteau: Reasonable needs.

SCP-8185: Listen, I get it. Talkin’ raccoon, hell of a guy on the grill. Makes a terrific patty melt. You’re mightily impressed and think bagging yourself a trophy will earn ya' major props. But you’re the boss. What props could ya’ need? It ain’t worth a lick of salt with the things at stake here. I won’t have any needs, unless I can see em’ all again.

Dr. Gusteau plops the folder down on the table and glances at the initial page reading “Discovery Report”. After a slight chuckle, he glances back up at SCP-8185.

Dr. Gusteau: First of all, I am not the boss. I really am just Doctor Gusteau. One of many at this site.

Dr. Gusteau pauses shortly before shaking his head.

Dr. Gusteau: Anyways, second of all, you can’t talk or fight yourself out of this one. It’s protocol. You could be the most likable and charming raccoon in the city, and my opinion wouldn’t change. Tell you what though, how about I get you something to cook with, yeah? Make some of those patty melts?

Dr. Gusteau smiles, as SCP-8185 licks its lips.

SCP-8185: I mean, food’s cool, yeah. But…

SCP-8185 pauses, beginning to itch the back of its ears once more, large tufts of fur sliding off, with individual hairs slowly falling onto the table.

SCP-8185: Maybe some Tupperware too? Rough town out there. Rats been takin' all the good scraps, climbin' in little holes, our fat bodies can't reach in no more. Ya' know the city issued an order to lock all the dumpsters? Raccoonphobic council, tell ya' what.

Dr. Gusteau: Right, well that’s up to my supervisor. Typically nothing is allowed to leave this site, but I’ll see what I can do for you, okay? At the very least, I’ll get some of that food started for you, okay?

SCP-8185 locks eyes with Dr. Gusteau and extends its left front paw outward.

SCP-8185: It really would be important, ok? I promise, no funny business or nothin’. I just want em’ to know I’m still around.

Dr. Gusteau lightly grabs SCP-8185 paw and lets it attempt to muscle his hand up and down. SCP-8185 is heard grunting, but slight movement is observed.

Dr. Gusteau: Strong guy. I promise I’ll ask around.

Following the interview, Dr. Gusteau requested that appropriate ingredients were to be provided for SCP-8185. This request was granted.

Addendum SCP-8185-B: Video Recording

Foreword: Following the approval of ingredients being dispensed to SCP-8185’s containment chamber, a camera was set up to monitor its reaction and behavior.

Video Recording

[BEGIN RECORDING]

A large cardboard box is dropped from a chute installed inside of the eastern wall of SCP-8185’s containment chamber. The box makes a loud thump, causing SCP-8185 to hiss as its body tenses up. The box has a large film of duct tape covering up parts of the box. Sharpie text reading “Ingredients for SCP-8185” is seen covering the tape.

After a few minutes, SCP-8185 begins to slowly approach the box, sniffing around the edges, and pawing at its outside. Eventually, SCP-8185 opens the box and after an additional whiff of its surroundings, dives in head first, its tail being the only part of its body to remain visible, wriggling around, while SCP-8185 snickers.

SCP-8185: I've hit the motherload…

SCP-8185 emerges from the box, as it begins to tilt. Ingredients scatter across the floor, as SCP-8185’s head hits the metallic floor. Getting up on its hindlegs, it shakes its head.

SCP-8185: No rot and no mold. It’s still even got its color!

SCP-8185 sniffs itself, before grabbing multiple ingredients and wandering towards a small table. It sets its ingredients down, tilting its head in one direction, before swiftly changing to the other. It grabs a package of ground beef and begins gnawing at the plastic cover, peeling it off.

SCP-8185: I’ve seen Ms. Sullivan from the northside buy this brand before. No dumpster had stuff of this quality, even when the richies forgot to lock theirs that one month.

SCP-8185 hops onto the countertop, flipping the package upside down, as the grey meat slowly edges closer to coming loose, before plopping down in front of SCP-8185’s paws. It spreads the individual twists of raw beef, beginning to shape them into roughly round shapes, licking its fingers in between working them back into the pile of meat. SCP-8185 then takes a large handful, and stuffs it deep inside its mouth. Chewing a few times, before suddenly spitting out the remains.

SCP-8185: What the fuck am I doing. It’s fine, it’s all fine. Plenty of good stuff left, let's keep it out the mouth, yea'? Can't feed no one that stuff.

SCP-8185 finishes shaping up the last bits of the beef. Turning to the stove, it grabs a pan and sets it onto the electric burner. SCP-8185 drops the individual patties in and squishes them down with its paws. Slowly, the patties turned from a light gray and pink to an anemic gray. SCP-8185 pulls them from the heat and sets them onto a plate.

SCP-8185: God, that looks like shit. I’d kill someone with this, not even sure I'd feed it to the rats, even they deserve better than this garbage. Get it together you moron.

SCP-8185 turns back towards the stove, its tail knocking the plate onto the ground. Ceramic shards sliding across the floor, a slight scraping noise echoing through the chamber. The chunk of meat staying largely intact. SCP-8185 drops down and proceeds to eat whatever remained, before curling up into a ball and going dormant. Various whispers could be heard in its sleep, as it frequently twitched and turned. Only the following could be recorded by the microphone.

SCP-8185: You gotta be better. You have to be better. You'd be lucky for em' to touch ya' food again, you moron. Remember, it’s all for them. It’s all for them. Get it right.

[END RECORDING]

Note: Additional deliveries of ingredients would mostly be used inadequately or be instantly eaten by SCP-8185. While SCP-8185 grew in size, larger patches of barren skin became noticeable. Janitorial staff reported numerous personal injuries during the clean-up periods. Supply was to be halted at the order of the Site-Director. Dr. Gusteau protested and appealed the decision. Dr. Gusteau affirmed that if his appeal was granted and SCP-8185 would continue to waste the provided ingredients, he would cover the lost costs himself.

Addendum SCP-8185-C: Follow-Up Interview

Interview Transcript

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

SCP-8185 is kept in the carrier used during its initial transport to the site. Dents are clearly visible. Dr. Gusteau enters holding various pictures of SCP-8185 during its various cooking attempts. He sets all but one down neatly on the table, choosing to take another look at the final picture. He shakes his head and chuckles, before carefully pushing it through the grate of SCP-8185's carrier.

Dr. Gusteau: Good morning, glad to see you again buddy.

SCP-8185: I’m not your buddy.

Dr. Gusteau: Right.

Dr. Gusteau coughs and scratches his left arm.

Dr. Gusteau: I know you’ve been having trouble… adjusting to Foundation life. And trust me, that’s perfectly normal. That picture I just handed you, I want you to give it a look.

Something is heard rustling within the carrier, before a bundle of paper is tossed at Dr. Gusteau’s head, striking him on the nose.

SCP-8185: You came here to make fun of me, did ya’? Aren’t ya' so strong? Make fun of the beaten down raccoon, why don't ya?

Dr. Gusteau: No, I didn’t come here to make fun of you. Quite the opposite actually. I showed you that picture, because I want to remind you of what you told me at the start. You called yourself a “hell of a guy on the grill”. I remember it quite well, actually. This picture shows that. While the technique is certainly… unique, you are able to manage with everything I throw your way.

SCP-8185: You throw my way?

Dr. Gusteau: Site director has had enough, quite frankly. Cut funding to your cooking weeks ago. All these pictures here…

Dr. Gusteau hands the remaining pictures to SCP-8185, which stretches its paws out of the grate, revealing slight cuts and burns.

Dr. Gusteau: They’re all using my ingredients. Stuff I went to the store for, I even have this cute little notepad…

Dr. Gusteau takes a notepad out of his breast pocket, black and gray streaks run alongside the edges.

Dr. Gusteau: Reminded me of you, is all. It’s my SCP-8185 shopping list. I go out there every week.

SCP-8185: Ahh, I get it now. You come here, and remind me how all the nice stuff ya' buy me, which I transfer straight into dumpster fodder. Real kind of ya’. I’m not having it though.

Dr. Gusteau: No. Wrong again. I’m here to let you know, that whatever you toss out. I keep. The stuff that hasn’t kissed the floor anyway, or the inside of your nostrils, or the literal inside of your mouth. I eat it, colleagues think I’m crazy. Earned me the nickname “Dr. Racuckoo-n.”

Dr. Gusteau mocks the sound of a cuckoo clock while rotating his finger clockwise. He laughs and tries to peer into the carrier.

SCP-8185: Serves ya' right for em' to call you that, eating that garbage I've made. Not even Lou would eat that, and trust me, he's been a sewer raccoon. Might smell em' from here, if ya' try hard enough.

Dr. Gusteau: Listen, you're adjusting to a new place, new stove. Hell, have you ever used a stove before? Don't count yourself out, I know I'm not. So you shouldn't either.

SCP-8185 presses its face up against the grate, before swiftly pulling back as Dr. Gusteau looks back.

Dr. Gusteau: I know that this place is new, and it’s pretty scary. Family thousands of miles away. But, you’re not alone in this fight. I am putting myself directly into the crossfire of cafeteria gossip for you. Figure you wanted to know that, bud.

SCP-8185: Frank. The name’s Frank. Though, bud works just fine.

SCP-8185 reaches its paw back out of the grate, motioning it up and down slowly. Dr. Gusteau eventually grabs it, and this time gently shakes its paw.

SCP-8185: Strong guy, aren’t ya' doctor?

Dr. Gusteau: You can call me Jean, bud.

SCP-8185 snickers, and hands the pictures back to Dr. Gusteau, hesitating to return the final one.

Dr. Gusteau: Keep it, it’s okay.

[END TRANSCRIPT]

Addendum SCP-8185-D: Post Interview Recording

Video Recording

[BEGIN RECORDING]

SCP-8185 is seen staring at the door to its fridge, focused on an image, loosely attached by a piece of torn tape. It nods at it once, before reaching inside and pulling an array of meats and vegetables.

SCP-8185: I'm back.

SCP-8185 turns to the stove, waddling over with its paws full. It sets the ingredients down onto a cutting board, and begins to carefully slice carrots, celery and onion. As it removes the root end of the onion, SCP-8185 flinches as the knife comes down onto the wooden board. Its fur around its paw stained slightly pink.

SCP-8185: Fuckin' mother…

SCP-8185 turns to face the fridge again.

SCP-8185: It's okay. It's okay.

SCP-8185 washes its paws, its face scrunching as the water runs down the open wound. It looks up at a security camera, latched onto the western wall of its cell. SCP-8185 nods once, before continuing to prepare its sofrito, slicing the remaining ingredients quickly and precisely.

SCP-8185: Get ya' act together, man's hungry.

SCP-8185 adds splashes of oil to the pot, tossing its diced vegetables in, and stirring ever so slowly. A few minutes pass, before SCP-8185 adds bits of tomato paste and ground beef. SCP-8185 remains calm, unfased by the loud sounds of the beef cooking over the hot oil. SCP-8185 deglazes with a cup of beef stock, and red wine, before taking a whiff of the remaining drops in the bottle.

SCP-8185: Oof, coulda dropped a few more dollars on the wine there, bud.

Throughout the cooking process, as SCP-8185 tastes and reseasons its prepared ragu, it returns to the fridge, staring at the picture dangling above. After several hours of cooking pass, SCP-8185 takes a final taste of its created meal, closing its eyes, and slowly tilting its head back and forth. Its tongue wraps around its fingers, flicking off individual blobs of sauce into its mouth.

It carefully places some of the contents of the pot into a bowl, before tiptoeing over to the west side of its chamber, the bowl remaining perfectly still with each step. It finally settles down and peers up at the camera, before swifly shaking its head and rushing back over to the stove. Within seconds, SCP-8185 scoops a portion into a pink Tupperware container, before hurrying back to its spot. It slides the container across from itself, before looking up to the camera one final time, while eating a spoonful of Ragu.

SCP-8185: This one's for you, bud. I'm back, baby!

[END RECORDING]

Addendum SCP-8185-E : Dr. Gusteau’s Note

“Dear good bud,

I have a confession to make to you. All the recent meals you’ve been making me, from butter chicken to goulash to bolognese, I haven’t been eating all of it. Though I doubt you could blame me when you've been able to pack me multiple containers full! They’ve all been making the rounds around the office. Each dish you’ve made, smash hit!

I've got a request, bud. My birthday's coming up, and I've gotta host the company party. It's part of the culture here. Boots may be quite large for your back paws to fill, but I was wondering if you could help cater? I'll talk to the Director about it, if you'd still be willing to share your meals with the others. Though, in a way you already have been. Sorry again!

I know we may not be black and white or dive in dumpsters all that much, but I hope you at least have found a bit of Cooperstown at Site-54.

Your bud,

Jean”