"Wait!" the thing cried. 
John watched in stunned silence. 
"I'm here about your father!" 


John slammed the door even harder. 


John stared at the Shiba Inu wagging its tail in front of him. It was 
panting happily and drooling on his carpet. 


The dog had been chatting through John's silence, oblivious to the 
quiet numbness that was creeping gently down John's spine, 
pooling lazily in his stomach. The fatal numbness that comes with 
betting everything on the three legged racehorse named Lucky. 
"And so I was worried that you were gone and I had to search 
everything and then you weren't there and what could I do I and 
then I thought I heard panicking and then there you were!" 


"...What happened to my father?" 


"Candy division wasn't going so well maybe someone was fudging 
the numbers so he went down for a personal inspection and then he 
slipped and they called it an industrial fudge accident and whoa it 
was messy!" 


The Shiba Inu panted proudly, waiting for John to laugh. 
"So, he's dead." John's hand began to shake weakly. 
"At least he died before the skeleton got him!" 


"Don't-" 


"Yup! They're plotting to rule the world! They hide inside of people, 
and they're skulking in wait for the perfect time to burst out and 
order spare ribs from restaurants! If they had the stomach for it.9." 


The dog waited again, his muzzle open and lips pulled back into a 
huge grin. When John didn't laugh, he kept going. 


"Nobody is safe! Not even you! There's a skeleton inside of you!" 


John chuckled in spite of himself, before his utter failure to hold his 
stomach contents interrupted an equally bad pun. It was so 
unbelievable. The dog. His father. Himself. It had been too long 
since the real, moving racecar beds, discoball treetoppers, and 
rocking horse rockets. 


He didn't know how long he sat there in his broken home. Perhaps 
he would have stayed there forever, if not for feeling the dog rest its 
head upon his leg, meeting his gaze with sad puppy eyes. He idly 
scratched it behind the ears. 


"He asked for you to see it, one last time." 


John shook his head at the dog. "No." He was not in the mood to 
argue. 


The Shiba didn't care. 


It was now launching a coordinated assault on John's fingers, 
attempting to flood them out with its tongue. John shook it off, 
standing unsteadily to look around his house. He had cleaning to do, 
regardless of the dog, regardless of Wondertainment. Quietly and 
automatically, he began to clean, ignoring the whines of the Shiba 
Inu behind him. 


His concentration broke at the "schlorp" behind him, which 
experienced housewives would tell you is the sound of a clogged 
drain. A Wondertainment would tell you it's the sound of a 
determined Shiba Inu casually violating spacetime. John turned 
slowly. 


He was greeted with the sight of an impossibly large, gaping maw 
enclosing around him. In reality, it was more of an improbably bored 


yawn, but it would be highly unlikely for John himself to know that. 
Before he could cry out, the jaws slammed shut around him. 


The Shiba Inu wagged its tail happily, precious cargo now secured. 
It was time for John to visit the family namesake. It looked back 
once at the ruined house before stepping out into something that 
was definitely not Earth. There was business apaw. 


« Part 2: Being John Wondertainment (Coming Soon!) » 


Footnotes 

1. Wondertainment genealogy is complicated enough to turn a 
simple family tree into an exercise in 4 dimensional topology. Which 
they then marketed as Wondertainments Tipsy Turvy Topology 
Tables!™. It sold surprisingly well in the 8-12 and midlife crisis 
demographic. 

2. Which is an objectively horrid name. Where's the wonder 
inUnterhaltung? 

3. Who am | kidding, it was grey. 

4. Wondertainment Tequilanados™ coming soon! 

5. Humerus, isn't it? 


SCP-844: Crybaby 


Item #: SCP-844 
Object Class: Safe 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-844 is currently contained 
at Site .SCP-844 is to be contained in a well-lit chamber 
measuring 6m x 6m and provided with one (1) bovine each month in 
accordance with Nutrition Chart 844-1. Each month, SCP-844 is to 
be reduced in size by two (2) D-class personnel using shears. 


Any personnel entering SCP-844's containment chamber must wear 
a protective suit in order to prevent injury or death. 


Description: SCP-844 is an amorphic mass composed primarily of 
human bones, large amounts of dust and a form of luminescent 
fungus which is red in color. SCP-844 appears to prefer to dwell in 
dark, warm areas with minimal human presence when it is not 
hunting or feeding. 


SCP-844 is predatory and highly mobile, having demonstrated the 
ability to hide from assailants by moving across walls and ceilings. It 
has a particular method of hunting involving lure tactics, which it has 
abstained from using since arriving in Foundation custody, although 
on arrival it did attempt to use provided bovine to lure researchers 
nearby. 


When hunting, SCP-844 will firstly attempt to lure a human target, 
usually between the ages of six to twelve, into a fairly secluded area. 
SCP-844 accomplishes this by leaving a trail of red, viscous liquid 
when hunting, which quickly coagulates into a semi-solid edible 
mass. The area the victim is lured to is usually an easily accessible 
location that experiences minimal traffic. 


Once there, SCP-844 will settle itself into a poorly-lit area and using 
a number of hooked barbs stored within its main mass, secure the 


Family Planning 


To marry, to rear his daughters, these things were on the surface 
good. But to have had the long years in his power, to have 
controlled their lives, to have warped their natures even, these might 
be evil things. Perhaps, beguiled by custom and order, one's sense 
of evil went numb. 

-Kawabata Yasunari. 


Great King Yama, | apologize for eluding your guardians for so long. 
Even as a powerless shade | could not leave the world of the living 
until | was certain that my children would be safe. | will not plead for 
my soul but | respectfully present my statement for your court of 
justice. 


| was born in the savage Eastern Isles, one of the ten demon 
daughters of the ogress Kishimojin. In my early days, | was known 
as Muensoku, the Insatiable. Mother relied on my sisters and me to 
capture young children to feed her countless sons. It was a simple 
and pleasant life until Mother went crazy with religion. A holy man 
decided to teach her empathy by hiding her smallest child until she 
went half mad searching for him. Her anguish turned to remorse 
when she finally understood the pain she had caused to other 
parents. 


Unlike my sisters, | was not impressed with her new choice of life 
style. There would have been no problem to start with if my empty- 
headed mother had not made so many children. | obeyed her 
command not to feed on little mortals, but that was as much as | 
could take. | broke ties with my family and survived on my own. | 
kept my heritage secret from people until the name Muensoku was 
all but forgotten, except in legends and nightmares. 


| adapted to the civilization of mortals and gradually tamed myself. 
For many generations | lived under various identities. | outlived a 
considerable number of dedicated and generous lovers, amassing 
wealth, knowledge and titles. People loved me and people despised 


me: | was no longer an outcast. Yet | still felt alone and | came to 
desire a family of my own. Like many women, | swore that | would 
do better than my own mother. 


| wanted ALL the best for my future children. | traveled to the 
mainland where | finally became Emperor Weng’s concubine; one 
talented and ruthless enough to achieve rapidly the rank of Guifei. 
There are those who accused me of bewitching the Emperor. It is 
amusing that mortals only suspected my dark powers based on my 
perfectly natural talents. In the words of the Empress, | was nothing 
more than a foreign mule. But | had powers that this desiccated 
scarecrow did not possess: true love to enslave the Emperor’s soul 
and a womb where his efforts would not be wasted. The Emperor 
promised secretly that he would feed me the heart of the Empress 
and make me his first wife after | gave him an heir. 


| bore two sons; two babies of exceptional vitality, each in their own 
way. Ku was a toddler of terrible temper. Glaring in silence at all his 
surrounding or bawling at the slightest provocation. His cries were 
never mistaken for sadness or pain. Rage was the only emotion he 
knew. Sweet milk couldn’t satisfy his hunger and, after teething, he 
would often bite me hard enough to draw blood. A boy after my own 
heart... Du was calm, gentle and he had a larger repertoire. His 
cries, coos and mewils could at turn instill joy and sorrow in a wide 
array of nuances. Servants and warriors alike would gather and 
fawn over him, commenting and debating the meaning of every little 
gurgle. Even before he could talk, his voice had the power to warp 
people's heart. 


| thought | had a secure grasp on the Emperor’s heart, but it was 
more fragile than | expected. It crumbled between my fingers like 
sandy clay. The Imperial Council resented the power | had over the 
Emperor and they poured poisoned words into his ear. Mistrust 
tarnished our love. | had fulfilled my part of our bargain, yet his 
Highness could not muster the courage to fulfill his own promise. 
Meanwhile, the Empress was plotting to have my babies 
assassinated. She was crafty and shrewd. Faced with a normal 
concubine, she could have easily removed the two heirs without 
anyone suspecting anything. | am not so easily defeated, but | would 
not have been able to protect my children until they could survive on 


their own. Without the Emperor's support, doing anything against 
her would have severe repercussions. 


Helpless and desperate mothers pray to Kishimojin, my 
compassionate Mother. They make offerings for fertility, safe 
delivery and beg her to safeguard their children. Despicable, 
cowardly women, unwilling to take responsibility for the well-being of 
their own progeny. My children were born of my own blood and pain 
and it was my own blood and pain that would keep them safe. 


For a moment, | envisioned seizing control for myself by open 
warfare. After years in the Imperial court, | realized the Empire was 
a rotten fruit that would readily crack and split. | had enough 
influence and power to lead a successful rebellion... and my 
children would waste their lives rebuilding a broken empire. | had 
been so focused on my recent path that | had lost track of my goal. 
Better leave the rotting fruit intact; a safe and nutritious shelter 
where my progeny could thrive in secret. 


One night, when the palace was sleeping, | ordered my ladies-in- 
waiting to hang themselves from the rafters of my apartment. | had 
chosen my two most loyal retainers, honorable and wise warriors 
from my homeland. They disposed quietly of the other guards and 
servants in my pavilion. One flayed me alive with his sword, while 
the other played tunes from my childhood on a flute, to cover my 
muffled screams and to soothe my departing spirit. Sealed with my 
dying curse, my love and torment was bound to that sword and to 
my flayed skin. | had instructed each of my retainers to smuggle one 
of my children out of the Forbidden City and to take them to opposite 
sides of the Empire. As much as it pained me, my boys had to 
remain ignorant of their origin and of each other’s existence. My 
servants nurtured their potential until such day as they could make 
their own destiny. 


Ku received the simple blade that killed me and his anger found a 
purpose. He traveled the Empire, walking in darkness: an assassin 
and a mercenary. His sword sustained dozens of rebellions of 
dissident warlords. Nobles or villains it mattered not; it always ended 
in disaster for all. His blade turned a blood-red so deep it appears 
completely black, except when the sun shines on it in just the right 
way. But it hasn't seen sunlight in a long time. Ku has transcended 


his humanity. He doesn’t need mundane reasons anymore to 
destroy small lives. Children frighten each other with his shadow. 
"Tonight, He will come for you in the dark and skin you alive". In 
their minds, his blade shines like an invisible sunray, burning black 
in the night. 


Du received a prayer mat woven from strips of my tanned hide, and 
his wisdom found a purpose. He traveled the Empire, walking in 
sunshine. He patronized numerous temples and colleges, both as a 
student and a teacher. He can appreciate the beauty in everything 
he sees and he leaves his ugly mark on anything he touches. His 
voice is a powerful current that erode reality into fantastic shapes, 
like the scholar stones you see in gardens. Du has transcended his 
humanity. His wisdom doesn’t need sanity anymore. Students who 
follow him create elegant artifacts of diseased magic. Pregnant 
women who listen to his words bear monstrosities. 


| had imagined that my sons would rule in harmony under my loving 
care. And so they do. Which one is the mightiest, the sword or the 
word? When the sword gives strength to the word and when the 
word gives purpose to the sword, each is invincible. The 
enchantment | weaved into my son’s heirlooms makes it so. Every 
torment inflicted by Ku's blade bolsters the power of Du's words. 
Every tear of joy or sorrow drawn by Du's miracles sharpens the 
edge of Ku's blade. So long as they follow their heart, they keep 
each other safe. 


My death remained a mystery. Like the dreaded Muensoku of so 
long ago, the alluring Guifei is all but forgotten. There remains only 
the ancient statue in the Imperial Garden, a fossil of my legendary 
beauty. Of the two imperial heirs, nothing is remembered. To let 
them live according to their nature was my final gift to my sons. 


You can punish me as you see fit. My boys are safe and my 
mother's heart is at peace. 


Farming And Coffee And The End Of The World 


Once, there was a rundown diner where two elderly men were 
sitting, waiting for a third to show. 


It was dark out and the only light that could be seen outside was that 
single, dimly-flickering lamp post that illumined the parking lot. Every 
few minutes it would stop producing light, only to feebly wink on 
again and continue its dying existence. Under its watchful glow of 
gold sat two trucks, both of days long before nukes had burned 
away half of Canada; battered and broken were they, running on 
scraps of materials that long should have rusted away. Vehicles 
made these days belonged to the military, destined to be broken or 
smashed or incinerated or have its existence negated or some 
horrible event. 


“I'm sorry to hear about Miranda, Hank. She'll be missed.” The older 
man at the table, Peter, spoke with a forced warmth in his voice 
which came from seeing scores of people broken or smashed or 
incinerated or have their existence negated. He'd been in the wrong 
place at the wrong time too many times. 


The slightly younger of the two, Hank, shook his head slowly, 
looking up from his cup of cooling coffee. “It was just before her 
time- you know? She didn't deserve this. Especially not the way that 
it happened, you know?” 


Peter nodded reluctantly and sipped from his own mug. 


“| should have told her to get rid of that peacock.” Hank mumbled 
into his cup and he rubbed his eyes with leathery palms as tears 
sprang anew from already depleted reservoirs. “I should have told 
her to get rid of that fuckin’ bird.” 


“What did you do- you know- when you lost Elaine?” Whimpered the 
other man and Peter thought back on his wife.