SCP-8888-J

Item #: SCP-8888-J

Object Class: Cernunnos

Special Containment Procedures: [Redacted by order of Dr. Marsden]

Description: SCP-8888-J is a male, two-year-old goldendoodle that answers to the name "Triscuit." He was born at an Amish puppy-assembly blacksite in Pennsylvania, where he was purchased by Dr. Eugene Marsden, Site-59's payroll director. SCP-8888-J's particular sub-breed of goldendoodle1 possesses unique characteristics that make raising one difficult, such as:

Severe, nonstop anxiety.

Twelve different skin conditions, which cycle depending on external factors such as weather, political climate, and winning North Carolina State Lottery numbers.

Sexual attraction to broken glass.

Chronic, bloody, explosive diarrhea, which is triggered by even-numbered air temperatures in the Kelvin scale.

Nonstop awareness of the finality of death, coupled with an immovable conviction that the afterlife not only exists, but is run by dog-hating sledgehammer goblins who never share their cheeseburgers.

A heart of gold.

A buildup of trace metals and corrosion from said heart in the bloodstream, resulting in chronic hemorrhaging.

Militant opposition toward the Second Vatican Council of 1962-1965.

Refusal to eat any traditional dog food that does not include at least one AAA battery.

Sub-clinical narcissism.

Speech capabilities in English and Estonian, but exclusively at moments when a talking dog is neither expected nor wanted.

Six built-in years of extensive training in small firearms.

Feline leukemia.

SCP-8888-J's anomalous effects manifest through causing his owner, Dr. Marsden, to no longer have the mental capacity to leave SCP-8888-J at home or with a sitter, leash him, or neuter him.

To date, all attempts to enforce the containment of SCP-8888-J have resulted in Dr. Marsden threatening to accidentally sell our payroll data to the Chaos Insurgency. As such, SCP-8888-J has been classified Cernunnos.

Incident 8888-J-42

Date: 6/29/2024

<Begin Log>

[Junior Researcher Tim Acikgoz carries SCP-492222 on its second procession of the day, while singing the sacred chant that keeps it sealed.]

Acikgoz: …Stop. Bottle up and flask it / homeboy here's gonna stay in his casket / nobody asked it, to tisk my tasket / ain't no mothafuckin' Easter basket / Unh. Unh. Check it —

SCP-8888-J: [Scream-barking.]

Acikgoz: …no.

[The sound of uncut dog nails slipping on linoleum.]

Acikgoz: No. NO!

[8888-J gets on its back legs, begging to be picked up.]

Acikgoz: MARSDEN!

[Dr. Marsden enters, giggling hysterically.]

Marsden: Triscuit! Noooo! I am so sorry. He's such a silly little potato-brain sausage.

Acikgoz: Get your fucking dog off of me! NOW!

Marsden: Dude. Relax. He's just showing affection.

Acikgoz: DON'T CARE. THIS THING'S ABOUT TO EXPLODE. MOVE HIM.

Marsden: Oh my god, literally chill. Are you allergic to unconditional love or something?

SCP-8888-J: Gimme your earwax, bitch.

Acikgoz: Wait, what?

SCP-8888-J: [Whimpering]

Entity inside SCP-49222: I DO NOT HEAR DOPE RHYMES, MORTAL.

[Acikgoz keeps moving forward, beatboxing in terror. SCP-8888-J runs in tight little figure-eights around his heels, trying to trip him.]

Marsden: Dude, quit stressing him out, just let him French your ear canals.

<End Log>

Incident 8888-J-89

Date: 7/30/2024

<Begin Log>

[In the corner of a fortified room of Site-59, SCP-8888-J obsessively licks a flashing red button under a lifted molly-guard. The voice of Site Director Lisle Naismith can be heard offscreen.]

Naismith: So, what was it you wanted me to see?

Marsden: Look at him!

Naismith: What, you mean your — JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, MARSDEN!

Marsden: [Laughing hysterically.] Lookit! His liddle leggies are shakin', he's so scared! Lookit him! Such a nervous lil fella! Awwww, relax, buddy!

Naismith: THAT IS THE DETONATOR FOR THE ONSITE NUCLEAR WARHEAD!

Marsden: I know, right? Probably thinks it's a dog treat, poor lil trooper.

Naismith: GET HIM OUT RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.

Marsden: But this is the only room where you can't hear the thunderstorm!

<End Log>

Incident 8888-J-171

Date: 9/10/2024

<Begin Log>

[The entire staff of Site-59 is gathered in the situation room. The camera occasionally shakes. Muffled air sirens are heard in the distance.]

[Director Naismith flips through papers, standing over the central table. He has not slept in 29 hours.]

Dr. Augsberg: Whenever you're ready…

[Naismith sighs.]

Naismith: …long story short, O5 command has just verified that the Codename SABLE DOMINION entity currently laying waste to the Eastern Seaboard came from —

Marsden: Can you sit?

Naismith: — came from Corbenic. Contact with the Three Moons Initiative has been —

Marsden: Can you sit, Triscuit? Sit? … GREAT JOB — oh, now you're not sitting, you silly-billy-bingus-brain, you!

Naismith: — contact with the Initiative has been sparse, ostensibly due to heavy losses on their end. So I doubt we're going have the kind of call-in-the-cavalry situation we've been promised by —

Marsden: Triscuit just peed. Do we got any paper towels?

Naismith: —THAT WE'VE BEEN PROMISED BY O5 COMMAND, BUT FORTUNATELY, SOMEONE AT SITE-19 JUST UNSEALED THE DOCUMENTATION ON AN EXPERIMENTAL THAUMIEL —

Marsden: Paper towels? Anyone? — oh, he peed again.

Naismith: Okay — Marsden? Wanna know something cool? The SABLE DOMINION entity just telekinetically laid spider eggs in the brains of five million people. They hatched. And now those people are dead. If you could kindly quit playing with —

Marsden: Hey, guys, could you keep it down? My dog's trying to pee.

[Naismith's eye twitches.]

Naismith: Well, everyone? If it's all the same to you, I'm going to postpone this meeting until I'm done drinking myself to —

[Gunshot.]

Marsden: GAAH!

Researcher Daniels: WHOA!

Augsberg: Someone just shot Marsden!

[Naismith falls to his knees, weeping with joy.]

Naismith: Lord God Almighty, though I have not spoken to You for some time in my foolishness, Your providence this day has compelled me to offer thanks to You for the first time in twenty —

Marsden: Bad Triscuit! No! That was NOT silly-billy of you!

[Another gunshot. Naismith falls over, bleeding from his leg.]

Naismith: …Marsden.

Marsden: What now?

Naismith: Did your dog just shoot me?

Marsden: Yes, yes, that's a thing he does, you don't need to be mean about it, he loves you.

[All other staff flee, screaming.]

Marsden: COME ON, guys! It's a low caliber! Just push him away with your knee or something!

[No response.]

Marsden: Ugh… I gotta get this bullet out… Triscuit? Can you stay while Daddy gets the first aid kit?

SCP-8888-J: Give me attention right now or I'll have a seizure.

[Marsden pets him.]

Marsden: I'm so glad I paid $50,000 for you!

<End Log>