At his command, an unseen orchestra began playing the 1812 
overture, and the stars around them began bursting into fireworks 
with thunderous explosions in time with the music. The faster they 
went, the louder the sound became, and the stars and fireworks 
became infinitely stretched out as they finally passed the event 
horizon of the black hole. 


“My stars, it’s full of God!” 


The next thing Victor remembered he was standing in a drab 
wooden room next to Lolly, with Ripley and Bailey standing over 
near a fancy lever. 


“Thank you for visiting Herman Fuller's Fantastic Fun-Lover’s 
Funhouse. We hope you had a Fantastic, Fun-loving time,” Ripley 
said in an apathetic, monotone voice as she read the farewell 
speech off a cue card. “We hope you will always remember the 
special time you had here and that we will see you again some day. 
Please remember to rate, share and review Herman Fuller's Circus 
of the Disquieting on Yelp, social media, and the SCP Database. 
Thank you for your patronage, and have a disquieting day.” 


She pulled the lever, and once again a trap door opened up beneath 
them and dropped them down a chute. They travelled through it for 
about the same amount of time as the first one, emerging out of a 
slide behind the Funhouse and into a regular ball pit. 


“Did that really just happen?” Victor asked, who was seriously 


considering the possibility that he was coming off a bad trip or 
otherwise losing his mind. 


“I’m sorry, that didn’t turn out quite like | expected,” Lolly apologized, 
sheepishly casting her eyes to the ground. “They usually do behave 
themselves around the kids, but grownups alone can be a different 
story. | can tell you’re uncomfortable here, and | just wanted to show 
you why | love this Circus so much. It’s not just my home, it’s my 
paradise, and sometimes it hurts when other people don’t see it that 
way too. | know the Funhouse was a lot, and if it was too much you 
can go home. | won’t stop you.” 


“|...” Victor began, but then seemed to change his mind. “Actually 
Lolly, can we go to the petting zoo and see the Obama Llama?” 


A wide smile spread across her face, and she somehow changed 
her colour palette to match the red, white and blue of Obama’s 
iconic campaign poster. 


“Yes we can.” 


« Fuller Than Full! | Dread & Circuses Hub |Your Call Is 
Important To Us » 


Your Call ls Important To Us 


« Fuller's Fantastic Fun-lover's Funhouse | Dread & Circuses 
Hub | She Remembered Me » 


“No ma’am, thank you for calling. You have a disquieting day now. 
Bye bye,” Gary said, ending the inter-dimensional call with the flip of 
a switch on his antiquated switchboard. It wasn’t easy what he did, 
redirecting radio signals and landline calls from wherever they were 
supposed to go to his little phone box, but he did it eight hours a 
day, every day. 


The IV running from his arm was a constant reminder that the 
infernal machine was powered by his own blood and beating heart. 
The wires running out of the ports on the back of his neck were a 
memento that it used his own wetware to make up for its lack of 
modern electronics. The shiny silver bell crudely grafted onto the 
side of his face a mark of his eternal slavery to it. 


But hey, at least it had got him a job. 


A light on the switchboard began to flash, letting him know of an 
incoming call. 


“Hey there, this is Gary Gorham of Herman Fuller's Customer 
Service. How may | be of assistance?” 


“Ah, yeah, hi,” a distressed male voice said on the other end of the 
line. Wherever he was calling from, it sounded windy. “I’m calling 
because | bought a pack of your anti-gravity balloons...” 


“Ah, the Amazingly Ascending Aviator’s Anti-Gravity balloons. An 
excellent purchase. Are you having some trouble getting them to 
work?” 


“No no, they’re working really, really well,” the man replied. “I made 
a whole bouquet of them to see if | they could lift me up and...it 


turns out they can.” 


“| see. Now sir, if you had read the instructions on the package you 
would know that those balloons aren't to be used outdoors unless 
they’re tethered to 10 pounds of weight per balloon.” 


“Look, I’m not going to sue you or anything | just want to know how 
to get down! | must be a couple miles high already and if | keeping 
floating up the air will be too thin to breathe!” 


“Sir, | would suggest letting them go one at a time until you start 
gently floating down.” 


“Well | sort of tied them all together, and | can’t untie them, at least 
not with one hand. | can’t pop them either; these things are insanely 
tough.” 


“Yes, our anti-gravity balloons are made of the same...” 


“THEY'RE MILKING CLOWNS!” a hysterical guest screamed in the 
background. “THEY’RE MILKING CLOWNS!” 


“WELL NEXT TIME KNOCK BEFORE YOU COME BARGING IN!” 
an irate Clown shouted in response. “JERK!” 


“...did that person just say you were milking clowns?” the man on 
the phone asked. 


“No, they said cows,” Gary assured him. “City slickers can be a bit a 
squeamish at times. Getting back to your situation, | would 
recommend cutting the balloons off one by one.” 


“| don’t have anything to cut with.” 


“Then you'll have to chew through the string or ribbon holding the 

balloons,” Gary said. The bell on his face rung harshly, letting him 
know another call was coming in. “Sir, I’m going to have to put you 
on hold for a moment, but | will be checking back in with you. Just 
do your best to chew through the strings, okay?” 


“Okay. Just don’t hang up.” 


“| won't,” Gary promised. He saw that the new call was from the 
Employee Hotline and quickly switched connections. “This is Gary 
Gorham at Herman Fuller’s Employee Helpline. How may | be of 
assistance?” 


“Hey Gary, it’s Eugene,” a Clown said on the other end. 
“Hey Eugene. What’s up?” 


“I’m calling from Ikea. That Ikea. You know the one I’m talking 
about?” 


“| do. What are you doing there?” 


“Well Pius and | are still banned from the Utterly Bazaar so we 
thought we’d give this place a look.” 


“?’m here too!” Pius shouted into the receiver. 


“We've loaded up the Clown Car with a butt load of stuff. We must 
have driven a hundred miles through this store today. | was worried 
it might piss the staff off but | think it’s small enough that they 
perceive it as a fat-mobile. Those slenderman knockoffs really creep 
me out though.” 


“Did you know there are Humdrums trapped here?” Pius asked. 
“Like a lot of them. They look like they’ve been here for a while. 
Should we tell someone about that or...” 


“I’m sure it’s being looked after,” Gary said. “So why are you 
calling?” 


“Well that’s tangentially related to Pius’s point,” Eugene replied. “The 
Humdrums were pretty freaked out to see a Clown Car driving 
around. | laughed at them for being dumb enough to get stuck in 
here, but, ah...” 

“You can’t find the exit, can you?” 


“It’s not that | can’t find it. | just...haven’t found it yet.” 


“You have your Kaleidoscope keys on you, don’t you? Just open up 


a door...” 
“We can’t find a door. Not just the exit; no doors period.” 


“| see. Well, the Clown Car has doors on it so you could probably 
use those.” 


“But then we’d have to leave the Clown Car behind!” 


“We can’t leave the Clown Car, we only have three payments left on 
it!’ Pius objected. 


“So what do you two expect me to do?” Gary asked. 


“| don’t know, just tell Icky and Manny where we are. If we don’t find 
a door before they close we'll stash the Clown Car somewhere safe 
and leave it behind. We'll come back in the morning and try to find a 
door to bring it through.” 


“Eugene, we've got company!” 


“Oh God, the Humdrums are swarming us! They want the car! Back 
you savages! Pius, get the Bazooka!” 


“But it only shoots cream pies.” 
“They don’t know that you idiot!” 


“It's polka-dotted and has big pink balloon letters spelling 
‘KABOOM!’ on the side. | think they’ll know it’s not real.” 


“Let me know how this turns out fellas,” Gary said, hanging up and 
leaving the duo to yet another misadventure. He was about to check 
back in on balloon guy, when another call came in. This one was 
from the Complaint Line. “Oh boy.” 


He cleared his throat and put all his energy into maintaining a happy 
voice. 


“Thank you for calling Herman Fuller's Customer Complaint Line. My 
name is Gary Gorham and I...” 


“| brought my kids to see your Big Top show last Tuesday and 
despite being advertised as such it was not family friendly,” a 
woman said in a petulant tone. 


“’m sorry to hear that Ma’am, what was it that...” 


“REMEMBER EVERYONE, THIS IS JUST A DRILL,” somebody 
shouted from outside, followed by the whirring of a large drill. “I 
REPEAT, IT’S JUST A DRILL. NOBODY PANIC.” 


“| apologize for the interruption. Last Tuesday, you said? Oh, was it 
the part of the act when they force fed the guy sugar until he 
exploded? | know that may have been overly visceral but...” 


“No, that part was funny,” the woman replied. “I’m upset about those 
lesbian clowns openly making googly eyes at each other in front of 
my kids.” 


“...Seriously?” 
“Yes seriously!” 


“Well Ma’am, it’s not like they were having sex on stage. They make 
jokes and innuendos, most of which go over the kids' heads. At most 
there’s a peck on the cheek or a pat on the butt.” 


“The dark haired one pulled a kitten from under the other one’s skirt 
and they both went on about how much they love pussy!” 


“Which is funny! Ma’am, listen. It’s...” 


“OH GOD, IT’S NOT A DRILL! | REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL! 
EVERYBODY PANIC!” 


An uproar of panicked screams, animal calls and the buzzing of a 
rusty chainsaw briefly overwhelmed the call. 


“What the hell is going on there?” the woman asked. 


“Just another fun-filled day here at Herman Fuller’s Circus of the 
Disquieting,” he replied. It was the standard response to such 
questions. “Ma’am, it’s the twenty-first century...wait, is it the twenty- 


first century?” 
“What?” 


“It’s just that time moves differently in different universes and it can 
be hard to keep track of. Regardless of the exact the year, you can’t 
expect people not to be themselves just because you find it 
offensive.” 


“lam a paying customer! When | take my kids to see a Circus act | 
have a right for their impressionable minds not to be bombarded 
with homosexual propaganda!” 


“Ma’am, believe me when | say that | am truly sorry that in a show 
featuring a man being blown up, an alcoholic elephant, and a Clown 
with literally explosive diarrhea, the part you found offensive was the 
consenting, loving relationship between two adults. Have a 
disquieting day.” 


He hung up before she could respond, and switched back over to 
the Customer Service Line. 


“Hey balloon guy, how are you doing?” 


“I’ve chewed through a couple of strings, and | think I'll be buoyant 
after one or two more, but | have another problem. I’m getting close 
to what | thought was a cloud, but now | can see it’s actually made 
of cobwebs. What the hell is that?” 


“Hard to say. Few men venture to such lofty heights. Who knows 
what strange creatures dwell so far up in the stratosphere.” 


“You're not helping!” 


“My apologies. Just do your best to steer clear of it,” he suggested. 
The bell on his head rung again, and he saw he had a call coming in 
over the Clown Transportation Services Line. “I’m sorry, but I’m 
going to have to put you on hold again. 


“Herman Fuller's Clown Transportation Services, how may | ...” 


“GARY? GARY IS THAT YOU?” demanded an outraged and fast- 


shaken for days. 
Subject Comments: No official statement was given. Subject 
D-258's last words were, "My soul is on this machine!" 


Note: Active testing ceased on SCP-624. For freelance testing by 
personnel, see Test Log 624-2. Dr. Z 


« SCP-623 | SCP-624 | SCP-625 » 


paced voice. Though it had been years since he heard it, Gary 
recognized it immediately. “GARY, YOU LET ME THROUGH THE 
KALEIDOSCOPE THIS SECOND OR | SWEAR TO THE BROKEN 
GOD | WILL SKIN YOU LIKE A LOVESICK FUN-LOVER, 
EVISCERATE YOU AND STUFF YOU FULL OF CURDLED 
CLOWN’S MILK AND THEN HANG YOU UP WITH YOUR OWN 
ENTRAILS LIKE A MARIONETTE!” 


“Who is this?” Gary asked with a coy smile. 


“GODDAMMIT GARY YOU KNOW WHO THIS IS! | PROMISE 
YOU, WHEN | GET BACK TO MY CIRCUS YOU ARE DEAD, DO 
YOU HEAR ME? YOU'RE DEAD, MANNY’S DEAD, ICKY’S DEAD, 
THE ZOMBIE GUY WHOSE WHOLE SHTICK IS BEING DEAD IS 
DEAD! ALL OF YOU ARE DEAD! YOU WILL RUE THE DAY YOU 
DOUBLE CROSSED...” 


“I’m sorry sir, but we appear to be having some kind of connection 
problem. For some reason you're coming through as a pathetic, 
delusional deposed despot calling from a dilapidated phone booth 
that you're probably using as both a shelter and lavatory. 

“You want to threaten me, come here and do it to my face you 
bastard. Have a disquieting day.” 


“GARY?! GARY DON’T YOU DARE HANG...” 


“And blocked,” Gary said as he permanently severed the connection 
to that particular dimensional backwater. He took a deep breath to 
readjust himself for the next call. “Thank you for calling Herman 
Fuller’s Business line. How may | help you today?” 


“Hello Mr. Gorham, this is Victor Chan from Marshall, Carter, and 
Dark.” 


“Ah yes, lovely to hear from you again. What can | do for you?” 


“I’m calling because | have a crucial update from our SCP operative 
regarding...” 


“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD QUINCY SLOW DOWN!” someone 
screamed outside. 


“1 TOLD YOU! CAN’T DRIVE STICK!” Quincy shouted back. There 
was the sound of a car crashing, an engine exploding, and some 
fireworks shooting off through the air and blowing up. 


“MY GOD THERE’S BLOOD EVERYWHERE! Mostly inside us, 
but still: THE HORROR!” 


“...is everything okay over there?” 
“Just another fun-filled, ah...yeah, I’m sure everything’s fine.” 


“Gary, you got a sec,” Icky asked as she stepped into his display 
case. 


“Sorry Victor, I’m going to have to put you on hold for a moment,” 
Gary said. He turned around to see Icky, with her hair frazzled and 
her face and clothes covered in gun powder residue. “You okay 
boss?” 


“It’s a little crazier than usual out there but nothing | can’t handle,” 
she replied. “So Manny still hasn’t found anyone to replace 
Saccharina so I’m going to need you to order some candy from 
Wondertainment. I’ve got a list right here. Make sure you tell them to 
mark the Tattletale Truffles as private. Last time we gave those out it 
ruined a lot of relationships and I’m pretty sure one poor bastard got 
sent to Gitmo. Also, see if we can make an appointment to design 
some custom magic tokens for the midway. Bailey told me that 
Canada has glow-in-the-dark toonies and I'll be damned if a semi- 
real country has more whimsical currency than we do.” 


“Sure thing. Hey, I’ve got Victor on the line and | think he’s calling 
about the Essie caper. Do you want to speak with him?” 


“Yeah, put him on the speaker.” 


“Hey Victor, I’m back. I’ve got Icky here with me and I’ve put you on 
speaker phone.” 


“That’s perfect. Icky, our SCP operative has confirmed a date and 
time for your operation,” Victor told her. “This Saturday night at 

10 pm, our operative and another guard will be the only Foundation 
personnel in the facility. He's confident he can slip a tranquillizer in 


his partner's coffee, and once he's out our operative will shut down 
all the cameras, locks, and other security features in the wing 
holding your Virtuoso. He'll then drug his own coffee and drink it to 
provide a suitable alibi for himself. He assures us that everything will 
be good to go by 11 PM and that he and his partner won't wake up 
until after midnight. That’s your window of opportunity, twenty-three 
hundred to zero hundred hours this Saturday. Is that clear?”