The statue appeared alongside Tad at his cubicle. He was going to 
enjoy the next few minutes, than probably regret getting involved in 
the first place. At least his desk looked organized for once. 


As Tad passed through an open door, the bucket teetering there fell 
forward, onto his head. Have you even had your entire head 
covered, not just in horse shit, but horse shit filled with horrible 
ideas? It's not a pleasant feeling. Luckily, Tad passed out before 


something horrible crawled out of SCP-100-J. 


Father Jakal looked up from his prayers, at the monkey statue which 
had appeared on his podium. A slight smile graced his lips. "Fuck, i 
didn't think that'd really work!" 


Dr Pullo Vorenus, Level 2 Researcher and Safe item specialist, 
paused as he walked past Site-19's nondenominational 
multipurpose chapel-crematorium-ossuary. As far as he could tell, 
priests didn't usually swear like that in church. At least, the priests 
back home hadn't. Except for Father Kowalski. When he was drunk. 
He poked his head in, and saw Father Jakal stroking a small statue. 
Then he ran to his small, shared office. 


After an hour or so of research, Doctor Vorenus was ready. He 
stopped by the Safe item storage lockers, and checked out a certain 
item, under the guise of "additional research on the effects of the 
object when combined with religious exultation and tagiatelle". A 
quick trip to the Site cafeteria, and the acquisition of some high- 
powered arc lights, and he was done. After telling the priest that his 
presence had been requested in the depths of the accounting 
department, he was ready to prepare. 


Father Jakal returned, still clutching the statue with a death grip. He 
seemed determined that nobody separate him from 050 from even a 
moment. As he entered the multipurpose nondenominational chapel- 
crematorium-ossuary, the door slammed shut and a heavenly light 
shone down on him from On High. He fell to his knees as a voice 
from Above called out into his mind, "Father Jakal, thou hast been 
chosen." As he knelt gasping, trying to for a coherent sentence, the 
Voice continued, "Thou shalt be My prophet on this earth. | shall 
show thee My true form, that thou may tell of Me to all thy fellows." 
The lights brightened, and Father Jakal shaded his eyes, cowering 
even further before the Lord his God. All the lights in the chapel shut 
off suddenly, and a form appeared above him in the rafters, lit from 
within. As he looked up, in full religious exultation, something fell 
onto his shoulder and slid to the floor with a plop. "Thou hast been 
touched by My Noodly Appendage. Rejoice. And eat thy grains." 


Doctor Vorenus smiled, as he heard Father Jackal stomp out and 


call for a janitor. After putting the megaphone back in its locker, he 
returned to his shared office, and found his half meticulously 
cleaned. The precise line between the dirty and clean carpet might 
be hard to explain to his office-mate, but he was sure he could figure 
it out. After all, he was Doctor Pullo Vorenus, Level 2 Researcher, 
Safe Item Specialist, current owner of a small statue, and devout 
Pastafarian. 


It was an interesting day for Mess Hall 2. In the chaos of Prank Day, 
it had somehow transformed itself into both an eatery, sanctuary, 
and now makeshift medical treatment centre as a very injured Junior 
Researcher Byantara was wheeled in, dripping from Soviet bullets 
and blood. This did not do much justice to Doctor Vorenus's 
appetite, as he dropped his forkful of meatballs and linguini to gaze 
at what was - snigger - aman more holey than even himself. 
Strelnikov had not been kind on the trigger, and had been much less 
kinder to that "mother-fuck Chechen collaborator" Byantara. Poor 
guy looked as if he were covered in the bolognaise sauce that 
drenched Vorenus's plate. Eugh. 


Elsewhere in Block 2A, forty-eight sex toys relentlessly continued to 
buzz, rattling the beams and shaking paint off the ceilings. A jostle, a 
twitch, and one clear plastic vibrator popped loose of its 
bolts, rattled across the floor and came to rest in a corner with a 
sharp click. There was a hissing noise as the micronised nuclear 
reactor powered up, resonating the device at a shrill hypersonic 
whine. Indeed, Byantara had prepared for the worst by including an 
ace up his blood-stained, bullet-hole-ridden sleeve. 


It was when Vorenus had nearly finished his pasta that the ceiling of 
Mess Hall began to shake, dropping white frosty flakes into his plate. 
Nearby, Byantara was halfway through having bullets extracted from 
his groin by a doctor. Despite the pain, he managed to glance a look 
at Doctor Vorenus, current holder of SCP-050, as weighty chunks of 
ceiling plaster buried the pastor of pasta. 


Byantara winced as the statue appeared on his bandaged chest, 
seemingly mocking his agony. Meanwhile, "Steely Dan" dropped 
from the gaping hole in Mess Hall 2's ceiling, its switch conveniently 
flicking to "Off" upon the impact against Vorenus's buried, gasping 


form. 


Agent Wolf was having a rotten day. 
Every year the prank war started and every year he had to clean up 
the mess that resulted from it. 


He had to track down the SCPs used. 
He had to find the vengeful personnel. 


He had to find out how Clef had filled a room full of shaving cream 
without anyone noticing. 


It was a dismal day for the agent, until he had happened into the 
mess hall just in time to see a little statue appear on the chest of one 
Junior Researcher Byantara. 

Wolf couldn't help but stare, stricken with an idea. 


He could actually play a prank to get 050, and he knew just what to 
do. 
The agent couldn't help but smile as the plan formed in his head. 


Little more than an hour passed after this thought, and now 
Byantara was walking rather quickly towards the safety of his office. 


"Okay, showtime." 


Byantara didn't hear the whisper, but he did become aware that 
something was now blocking his way. Something so horrific he 
couldn't even scream. 

682 just stood there, blocking escape from the deserted hallway. 
The silence between researcher and monster stretched forever, until 
Byantara made a move to leave. As soon as he did, he was quickly 
swallowed whole. The eaten man tumbled down the nightmare's 
stomach, splashing into a disgusting ooze. 


"Aw man, did you really have to eat him? | thought we were just 
gonna scare him." 


Byantara found himself dumbfounded, he could hear Wolf's voice 
from the disgusting bowels. 


"Hey Byantara, | see ya found my new partner, sorry about the 
whole gonna-die-soon thing." 


"Come on, tell him to spit me out! Please!" 


"Well," a few seconds' pause, "I guess | could... But ya really should 


use ‘them"™. 


And on cue 682 split into a large number of butterflies, which 
revealed the researcher to be sitting in a pool of some store-bought 
slime. "Thanks pally!" Wolf smiled, showing an image on his laptop 
to the newly slimy man. 

An image of a small monkey statue sitting next to the nameplate of 
Agent Wolf. 


With no security clearence, being a guard for the Foundation could 
be a very boring job. Typically, Fortis was stuck manning the 
security feeds. The most monotonous of assignments. On Senior 
Staff Shenanigans day, however, it had certain advantages. He had 
everything on hand, just needed the right mark in the right place. 
When he saw Agent Wolf, J.R. Byantara, and SCP-408 in Corridor 
2-B he knew he had just enough time to pull it off. He took a second 
to locate the office SCP-050 had appeared in before springing to 
action.. 


Fortis quickly changed into the red military uniform he had nearby, 
slathered his face with stage makeup, and donned the appropriate 
gloves and hat. He grabbed the can of paint stashed behind the 
door and headed out of the room. Finally, he made his way down 
the hall to pick up a container of Play-Doh, and rushed to SCP-786. 


Ten minutes later, Fortis entered the agent's office. 
“Agent Wolf, am | right?” 
“Y@S....... who are you? And why are you red?” 


Without warning, the junior guard emptied a full can of blue paint on 
the agent. 


“| found him boys! Get him!” 


Agent Wolf had a second to register surprise as a squad of solid red 
army personell filled the room and riddled his torso with clay bullets. 


Fortis couldn't help but smile to himself as he reentered Site 19's 
Surviellance Room. He changed back into his uniform and stached 
the red one. He had already washed off the paint, all that was left 
was to make sure no one else entered the area. He idly examined 
the monkey statue that was waiting for him on the console, slightly 
bemused at the thought of a junior guard entering the ranks of 
Senior Staff. 


Linguistics/Supernatural Researcher Veldi had seemingly not 
participated in the contest, although he had been seen carting 
tomatoes all over the facility and setting them down at random. After 
emptying the cart, he retrieved SCP-005 from storage, and 
accessed an area from which he could work his magic. 


With an enormous grin plastered on his face, Veldi spoke into the 
intercom. 


“What happens when 682 gets heartburn? ..... Absolutely nothing, 
the Lizard doesn’t get heartburn!” 


In that moment, dozens and dozens of SCP-504 splattered into 
speakers, personnel and everything in general. 


“| freaking love these tomatoes.” Veldi checked the video feed to his 
office. Yup, there was the monkey, on his desk. Of course, there 
was the issue that he now had a PC instead of a MacBook... 


As soon as the prank wars started, SCP-738 was Junior Researcher 
Gille's first destination. It followed contracts steadily, nevermind the 
side consequences. Nothing he was going to do would harm him 
THAT much. 


The contract? Get the monkey of the last person to have it, and 
transport it to the middle of the Senior Break room. 


Second destination: The Senior Break room. From there, it would be 


rigged with 20 paintball guns, all set to fire when the sensor picks up 
movement in a circle around the Monkey. Then, when someone 
inevitably gets pelted, he walks in and grabs the Monkey. 


Third destination: His secret hiding spot, outfitted with a view of all 
the places he will need to be at. 


Fourth destination: SCP-682's storage area. Considering it's been 
let free, but it's still the safest place on the site, that should be a 
logical place to store it. Hidden in the third drawer of his desk, 
however, are 3 pistols, fully loaded no less, with 5 clips, and rations 
to last 2 days. It pays to be prepared for this day. 


Before leaving, Gille remembered to put a bucket of spiders on the 
door too his office. Someone will inevitably think to check there once 
he gets the monkey, so this should discourage them. 


"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice." 


"Not at all. Between you and me, dealing with amateurs day in and 
day out is so tedious." 


"I'm sure. Now you know that one of our little annual celebrations is 
coming up soon, and it occured to me that one or more of my 
colleagues may come to you for help. | would appreciate it if you 
might extend me certain professional courtesies around that." 


"Sir, are you Suggesting that | breach confidentiality? | do have 
some scruples." 


"Of course not! Wouldn't think of it. But perhaps you could take, let's 
say, the broadest possible interpretation of the agreed-upon terms." 


"You want the monkey for yourself?" 


"Since you bring it up, what compensation would you want, in 
exchange for my permanent posession of said monkey?" 


The humanoid figure behind the desk beckons and the smaller man 
before the desk leans forward. He whispers something in his ear. 


"Interesting. Not at all what I'd expected. And | must say that, while 
I'm flattered that you offer, I'm very happy to work for the 
Foundation, and don't contemplate a change anytime soon. Let me 
make a proposal of my own. In exchange for the aforesaid 
professional courtesies leading to temporary possession..." 


lt takes some time, but eventually the human and the entity wearing 
the face of a legendary law professor reach an agreement. A 
secretary is summoned from the accounting department, sworn to 
secrecy, duly threatened with death, and made to witness an 
agreement that bursts into flames the moment the formalities are 
complete. 


Sheldon Katz and the entity shake hands. 


Across the site, in a specially rigged broom closet, Junior 
Researcher Gille watches the Senior Break room on screen, then 
682's pen, then his office, then back to the break room. Nothing. 
Wait. Something. 


Something rushes into the room, something about knee-high and 
very fast, something with a single bright blue eye in the middle of its 
bulbous yellow body. It's dribbling a smaller object in front of it like a 
soccer ball. As it pauses on the periphery of the circle of paintball 
guns, the "ball" comes to rest. It's a statuette of a monkey. 


Researcher Veldi runs into the room, panting and red-faced. The 
Eye-Pod skitters away from him. Veldi lunges, and a chase ensues 
around the edges of the room, with the Eye-Pod and the monkey 
always staying just out of Veldi's reach. 


After four circuits of the room, the Eye-Pod makes a sudden break 
to the right. Veldi leaps, trying to tackle it, and trips over his own 
feet. On the floor, he hears a series of clicks followed immediately 
by splatting sounds, and wonders for a moment if he somehow 
missed some tomatoes. He picks himself up, and observes that the 
walls of the break room have a new paint job in the style of Jackson 
Pollock. 


The Eye-Pod scurries out of the break room and heads down a 
corridor, rolling the monkey down the hall still. Gille jumps up from 


SUBJECT: D-512, 23-year-old female. 

GRAFT: Digestive system taken from SCP-936-2. 
RESULT: Graft implanted successfully. D-512, instead of 
via regular digestion, appears to absorb products of 
bacterial decay - intestinal microflora changed 
substantially. D-512 appears emaciated. D-512's urine 
abnormal - further testing shows intestinal flora removes 
cca. % of urea from her bloodstream and reprocesses it. 
| suspect the new intestinal tract isn't long enough for this 
mode of digestion. - Dr 


SUBJECT: D-721, 25-year-old female. 

GRAFT: [REDACTED] 

RESULT: Graft implanted successfully. D-721 appears 
to produce a steady supply of seeds. 


SUBJECT: D-723, 31-year-old female. 

GRAFT: Subject impregnated with sperm harvested from 
SCP-936-1. 

RESULT: Pregnancy initially appears to progress 
normally. However, after weeks, ultrasound reading 
[DATA EXPUNGED)01. Foetus artificially aborted. 

Note: This might explain why [DATA EXPUNGEDJgmen - 
Researcher Eisenberg 


Addendum 936-2: 


Incident 936-1: 

On / /19 , one of the D-class personnel tasked with 
SCP-936-1 harvest, later shown suffering from a 
rhinovirus infection, transmitted the virus onto at least 
one SCP-936-1. The infection spread through as of yet 
unknown means, causing a crop failure SCP-936, 
heavily delaying research progress. Removal of infected/ 
dead SCP-936-1 successful in halting infection progress. 


Footnotes 

1. Notably, circulatory system appears fully functional, and fMRI 
shows cerebral activity resembling that of an individual submerged 
in a sensory deprivation tank. 


his seat and sprints down the hall. He figures if he goes down 
corridor 37, then makes a sharp right just before the firehose he can 
head them off—yes! Here they are, and he's just a pace behind 
Veldi. He drops his head and starts running as fast as he can. 


"You think that's funny? | hate running," says Veldi between gasps.