'SWOUNDS! IT IS HE!

Item #: SCP-9119-J

Object Class: Bad, bad, bad!

Special Containment Procedures: Oh, mercy me! See how the anger purples my face like a big, tasty plum! But alas, I must compose myself so that you good little fellows at home reading this may carry on our work.

SCP-9119-J is to be lockey-locked away in a standard Bad Little Hideous Person Cage for all of eternity. This cage is placed at the tippy-top of a long hoo-raying pole. When not in use, the cage is to be kept at Site-95.

At sunrise every day, Procedure 101-Fauntleroy is to be enacted. Failure to successfully carry out Procedure 101-Fauntleroy will result in a WK-class "Evil has triumphed over Good, and all the little birdies of the forest are weeping into their branches" scenario.

Procedure 101-Fauntleroy:

The cage is to be paraded on its pole about the town square by clowns and gleemen and dancers and jugglers and goblins and idiots and night-soil-shovelsmen and prancing little ponies, all hoo-raying the cage up and down through the air and singing the song SCP-9119-J deserves. It goes like this:

Hoo-ray! Hoo-ray! Gustav is in sore disgrace.

Hoo-ray! Hoo-ray! See the tears upon his face.

Mind your manners, mind our rage,

lest you join him in the cage.

Fol-de-rol-de-diddery-day, hoo-hoo-ray!!

Once the hoo-rayings have run their course, SCP-9119-J's cage-and-pole assortment is to be fixed in the firmly clasped fist of the statue of King Schnutel Twelve-Toes (Christ rest his poor soul, amen) as if Schnutel himself were giving his pole the greatest hoo-ray of all.

And with firm and accurate minds (so as to not be-banana the visage of our Great Ancestor) the cage on top of the pole is to be pelted with a never-ending cascade of bananas bearing greatest rot and possibly being the wee cottages of several wee maggots.

The townspeople are to chant "Behold! The monkey! Give unto the monkey his bananas for to sup!" as they do this.

This is to continue until Gustav cries "Oh, oh, oh! No more of these bananas, I pray!"

But little does the Hideous Little Thing know, the worst torments will be upon him yet. For then you are to cast his cage and pole down, down, down upon the soil, where starved hogs are to gobble him up.

And because the Lord knoweth a horrid little wastrel when He seeth, Gustav's soul will fall down, down, down into the cozy little smackings-chamber of Beelzebub himself.

Then, all the demons of Hades will queue up single file and each one will give Gustav a thorough thrashing with a willow-switch, an iron rod, and cannon-fire, in that order.

Once the Prince of Darkness sends a messenger to Site-95 to say "Huzzah, huzzah, for it is done," the site chaplain will pray a mighty plaint unto the Lord for to return Gustav's body and soul into our care for another day of hoo-raying.1

Upon Gustav's return, he is to be given the greeting of having the brain crudely spanked out of his head with Grandmamma's cane.

Once the brain has thoroughly been expelled from its little skull-parlour, Gustav is to do twice the usual evening chores with a sign reading "NASTY LITTLE LACK-A-BRAINS" around his neck. He will then mop up all the floors of site-95 using his brain as a sponge, jam his brain back up his nose with hot irons - and finally, be sent to bed without supper.

Should a containment breach occur, the Site Director is to sound his big brass snakings-horn, which will summon the Most Dreadful And Ferocious Snakings-Man from the bottom of the well.

And when the Snakings-Man catches up with SCP-9119-J, he will give Gustav a most exquisite flogging with jolly little serpents and vipers, before dragging the little beast back into his hoo-raying-pole-cage.

Description: SCP-9119-J is an anomalously naughty little boy named Little Gustav Donnerfick-im-die-Vümp, son of Wolfram Donnerfick-im-die-Vümp.

SCP-9119-J was born to a family of penniless farmers in the idyllic fields of Haferbreiheim, Osterreich, sometime in the 15th Century. On the day he was born, Papa and Mama died of leprosy in the midst of being kidnapped by Turkish slavers (as well as their interrogation by the Spanish Inquisition), so Grandmamma selflessly took Gustav into her care.

The years passed, and Gustav grew and grew into an older and marginally wiser boy. None dared say how old he had grown, because the Lord weeps whenever one of His children tries to complicate peasant life by counting higher than three.

Gustav's life was placid and unremarkable — save for one nasty little day.

One day, Gustav and Grandmamma were having their Whitsun Eve feast of Schnütsch2 consumed in silence.

"Grandmamma?" said Gustav.

"Yes, dear?" said Grandmamma.

"May we have something other than Schnütsch for supper to-night?"

GADZOOKS! The sky turned black! Blood rained upon the gilded streets of Kingdom Come! A cloud of biting flies shot out the ears of the Pope and blotted out the sun and moon! Grandmamma let out a single scream, never once stopping, for a year and a day!

"REPENT, GUSTAV!" cried Grandmamma.

"All right," said Gustav, "I'm sorry I didn't want to — "

"Actually, never mind, you're too hideous."

So Grandmamma went to work. She started a provisional containment site for Gustav by burying him in an old well and filling the well with the night-soil of hanged criminals. She sent word to the Foundation, who rode in with winged cavalry, to give Nasty Gustav the reckoning brought about by such fiendish defilement of table manners.

Addendum - Ethics Committee Inquiry

Log: Ethics Committee Hearing re: 9119-J

Date: 5/10/2022

Location: Site-95, Conference Room C

<Begin Log>

Site Director Shera Eccleston: This had better be good, Mr. Price.

Ethics Committee Liaison August Price: I was wondering if you could help me clear up some things about 9119-J.

Eccleston: Was the file not explicit?

Price: Not exactly.

Eccleston: Very well. Let's hear your questions.

Price: The entity designated "Grandmamma" - is she a powerful reality-warping anomaly that needs to be appeased with these containment procedures so that she doesn't cause a K-class scenario?

Eccleston: How dare you insinuate such a thing. Madam Hedwig Donnerfick-im-die-Vümp is a lovely woman who's just doing her best.

Price: …right. Is she still alive?

Eccleston: No.

Price: Fair enough. I mean, she was born sometime in the fifteenth—

Eccleston: She died a few weeks ago.

Price: And living that long isn't anomalous?

Eccleston: Uh, daily exercise and an antioxidant-filled Schnütsch-based diet? Obviously?

Price: Um…

Eccleston: Though, a copy of her consciousness has been integrated into the Site-95 intranet to help us oversee Procedure 101-Fauntleroy.

(The intercom suddenly activates.)

peasant.ai: MORE RADISHES

Eccleston: Sorry, one sec. You all right, Grandmamma?

peasant.ai: THE TURKS ARE INVADING I NEED TO BOIL RADISHES AT THEM

Eccleston: We already checked twelve times today. The wastebasket in your server room is not filled with Ottoman soldiers.

peasant.ai: ARE YOU SURE

Eccleston: Positive.

peasant.ai: OH THANK GOODNESS BE RIGHT BACK I NEED TO GO DIE OF SMALLPOX

Price: So, you're torturing SCP-9119-J because…

Eccleston: He's been naughty, yes.

Price: That's it?

Eccleston: Well, he's been very naughty.

(Price sighs, trying to find the words.)

Price: …okay. Being that this 1. Cruelty on a scale I haven't seen since 110-Montauk was drafted, 2. a middle finger to everything the Foundation Ethics Committee stands for, and — most importantly — 3. a gratuitous waste of resources, we might need to make some adjustments.

SCP-9119-J: Hello, Mister!

Eccleston: Take cover, he's behind you!

peasant.ai: EX-TER-MI-NATE

Price: Oh, um… hey there, little guy. Looks like you're out of containment.

SCP-9119-J: Yes. It seemed like nice enough indoor weather, so I thought I'd go gaily tra-la-la-ing around the hallways with my little hoop and stick.

peasant.ai: MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP

Price: Listen, kid… I'm sorry the people here have been treating you like this. I can only imagine what you must be going —

SCP-9119-J: Sounds complicated, Mister. Are we talking about horsies? I like brown horsies. Clip clop!

Price: Uh, yeah, horsies!

SCP-9119-J: Would you like to stay for dinner, Mister?

Price: Sure?

SCP-9119-J: Hm… thing is, though, Grandmamma doesn't have much to eat other than Schnütsch. I don't like Schnütsch very much.

(Price stares at SCP-9119-J for twenty seconds. Blood slowly flushes to his face. He speaks exclusively in Batmanesque whisper-growling from this point forward.)

Price: You what.

SCP-9119-J: Well, it's all right in a pinch, but if you have it every day, it tastes like carpets. …I think. I've never seen a real carpet. But I would like to someday!

Price: And what would you rather have instead of Schnütsch?

SCP-9119-J: That's a tricky one… ooh, perhaps a sugar knot. Or some raspberry cordial!

(Price approaches Eccleston)

Eccleston: …so, about those adjustments?

Price: Include battery acid.

<End Log>

Footnotes

1. And before you call it a contradiction, dear reader, Gustav's black little heart can only spend so much time in the Abyss before Lucifer sees him for who he is and grants him a nobleman's rank.

2. A traditional Haferbreheiman dish consisting of dust boiled in milk, garnished with leather shavings, and seasoned with the tears of your dear little Grandmamma who worked so hard to scrape this supper together for you!