"| got the hit on the radio — '42-7, 459 at 38657 Green Street’. Only 
a couple blocks away. | hit the siren, pulled a U-turn and went 
straight there. Got there before any backup did. Couldn't wait, bust 
down the door. Whole place was silent. Had my pistol out. Moved 
door to door on the first floor, kicking them down. Some were open 
already. Got to the kids' bedroom — shoulda guessed, the sicko — 
and bust it down. Didn't have time to take in the scene, only noticed 
the ‘sitter sprawled out on the floor afterwards." 


Chapter 5 - Be Strange or Be Forgotten 
[17 Dec 2017 16:39] [+21] [Comments: 7] [Last Comment: 22 Feb 
2018 18:22] 


"| was nervous. Shaken and nervous, terribly so. The past few 
nights | had awoken to the sounds of helicopters, and | thought | 
imagined there to be voices reverberating through the space. The 
great dark woods outside of my window suddenly felt less like a wall 
between me and the rest of the world and more like a great 
suppressor of my senses. | stared between their bars of bark and 
their perfect ever blossoming greenery and felt uneasy. | couldn't fall 
asleep like this. | rose, closed the curtains, and then crawled back 
into bed. The mobile that hung over my crib tinkled softly, and the 


glow in the dark stars around the room twinkled and sparkled at me. 
| had closed the curtains, why couldn't | fall asleep?" 


Chapter i - Life's a Show 
[17 Dec 2017 16:39] [+17] [Comments: 4] [Last Comment: 19 Dec 
2017 19:40] 


" How does she know that you love her? How does she know that she's yours? How does 
she know that you love her? How does she know that you love her? How does she 
know that you really, really, truly, love her? How does she know that you 
love her? How do you show that you love her? How does she know that you 


really, really, truly, love her? 


Whoops, sorry! I'm loud..." 


Chapter 2i - ...And I'm the Star! 
[05 Jan 2018 02:29] [+26] [Comments: 3] [Last Comment: 08 Jan 
2018 06:22] 


"The odd, tiger-colored, water-act-ruining spectacle was helped 
down into a seat at one end of a table in the Ringmaster's Tent. He 
twitched a couple of times, trying to find a position that didn't make it 
painful to sit. He settled on tilting himself to lean heavily on his left 
elbow. He was wincing and covered in bandages (in many multiple 
colors). A muscular man entered and sat down opposite him, looking 
pensively at the sore, sorry sight trying its best to look presentable in 
tattered attire. Eventually, the helpers had backed off from the 
altogether unsightly figure and competed over who had picked the 
most piranha teeth out of the guy." 


Chapter 0 - Sometimes the Best Intentions are in 
Need of Redemption 


[25 Jan 2018 06:13] [+18] [Comments: 4] [Last Comment: 25 Jan 
2018 23:18] 


SCP-750: A Different Outlook on Life 


Item #: SCP-750 
Object Class: Safe 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-750 presents no threat 
unless applied directly to a human eye, and so shall be kept in Dr. 
Langley's office until all relevant tests and studies are completed. All 
instances of SCP-750 are to be removed from the previous user 
after testing has been completed, whereafter they are to be cleaned 
and returned to their included case. 


Description: SCP-750 is a group of twenty-four (24) contact lenses, 
designed presumably to correct myopic or hypermetropic vision. 
When a pair of SCP-750 is applied, they attach to the cornea and 
become unable to be removed physically by the wearer, though 
others can still remove them. Users of SCP-750 report an immediate 
blurring of their vision after application, followed by a period of 
extreme dizziness. When the user recovers from this daze, they 
describe a change in perception; this change seems to worsen with 
time, and prolonged exposure to the object will cause a wearer to 
permanently suffer the noted effects of SCP-750 even when the item 
has been removed from the cornea, in addition to affecting the 
wearer's sense of touch, smell, hearing, and taste. The only method 
of treatment at this point is to sever the optical nerve of the affected 


eye(s). 


Personnel exposed to SCP-750 have reported the following 
alterations to their vision: 


¢ Man-made walls, ceilings, and floors being covered in a 
substance described similarly to biofilm 

¢ The sky being a dark red color, with clouds always appearing 
to be black 

¢ Food items instead resembling a collection of dismembered 
human limbs, organs, and viscera 


"| leaned up against my work bench, still pinching my nose with my 
left hand, and smiled at Thomas Timothy Thompson. The happy 
bumbling droning of all the others working on projects in the Toy 
Creation Department, along with the loud whir of their instruments 
and tools, assaulted the ears of all in the great metal hall (if they 
didn't feel like using company provided Too-Much-Stuff Sound 
Pounder Earmmuffs™), and made it hard to hear one another." 


We Just Make Toys 


The colorful crowd beamed up at me, smiling their toothy golden 
grins. It felt great, because it went very well. Like it always does. | 
eyed my pals coming down from the stand, gathering my laptop and 
unplugging it from the projector. They gave me those knowing looks 
they always give me, the wordless good-jobs and well-dones. Felt 
good, felt really really good. These are the types of moments | live 
for. They conveniently happen once a month. | descended the spiral 
staircase, bounced over on the springy pads on the carpet, and took 
my seat next to the 13 meter tall window that looked out on the taffy 
colored cityscape of Wonder World!™. | sat next to my friends and 
acquaintances, gave a smug smile to at least half of them, and felt 
my seat shake a little as the Wonder Tower Frite Lite Roller Coaster 
passed by. Opening my arm rest, | popped out a strawberry cherry 
flavored lollipop. To be honest, | preferred kiwi watermelon; but at 
that moment | couldn't care less. | could already feel that Jelly 
Whale Emperor was going to be a huge success. 


Thomas Timothy Thompson — also known as 3T — looked a bit 
nervous. He was eyeing me. He sat with his permanent frown; the 
bells on his shoulders jingling too much as he bounced his leg in 
anxious waiting. He wasn't always so uneasy. It brought me a little 
down. As the next presenter began to ascend the stage | sidled my 
way over to him, careful not to block people's view with my velvety 
stovepipe hat. | took a seat next to him and began to inquire. 


"Pal, what's got you down?" 


"Nothing, Brainy." But it was clearly something. | gave him the look, 
communicating that thought. He only pouted stronger. "You'll see in 


a second, Brainy. It's bad, oh it's bad, it might be the baddest bad 
thing that's happened in either of our careers. It's bad, Brainy. It's 
bad." 


Now 3T had gotten me worried as well. Baddest of bad things to 
happen? Badder than when we had a marshmallow flood and had to 
shut down work for three days? Badder than when we had an entire 
shipment of Batty Badgers sabotaged? Badder than when we had to 
remake Wonder World!™ because the old property had been 
overrun with trick-or-treaters? Wait, badder than when | got locked in 
the bathroom overnight? | had come to my conclusion. It must be 
bad. Very bad, in fact. 3T had passed his anxiousness off onto me, 
and we hate anxiousness here. I'd have to talk to him about it later. 


We sat, anxiously, through three more presentations (Gummy Bear 
Action Figures, Turbo Tracks, and Dog Caller Collar) before | heard 
a squeak from 3T. | turned to look, and he was wincing. He turned to 
catch my eye, and | caught his intention. Worry, unfiltered worry. It 
got me to worrying, too. What could he be so worried about? He 
motioned towards the stage, and | saw Polly Gary Ashley ascend 
the steps, carrying their wool covered tablet and plugging it into the 
system. They looked nervous. No one here ever looks nervous. 
What could possibly have been going on? Polly's screen popped up, 
and it showed a big, toy piano. That's odd, | had an idea for a toy 
piano that looked just like that. The title of the slideshow read 
"Polly's Piano Plant!", and she started describing how it would slowly 
grow to incorporate more and more keys and introduce children to 
more and more concepts of music via a talking flower at the top. 
Now, that's very odd, because, see, | had the same idea. The same 
exact idea, actually, but | shelved it for the clearly superior idea of 
Jelly Whale Emperor. 


Because Jelly Whale Emperor. What child could resist the jiggly 
allure of Jelly Whale Emperor? It had over one hundred features. 
The most important, of course, being that it was entirely edible, but 
its ability to rule a sovereign nation of sugary treats was a close 
second. It was even able to maintain complex political relations with 
other Jelly Whale Emperor governments, such as declaring war, 
creating currency exchange rates, or setting up trade routes through 
your kitchen. It even came in four distinct flavors — Cucumber 


Communist, Cocoa Capitalist, Apple Autocracy, and Fruity Fascist 
— for dynamic foreign policy fun! 


But it did upset me a bit. Seeing an idea | made up on screen. My 
idea exactly, actually. | could pick out some phrases in there that / 
had written down at some point. Polly had never had an idea this 
good; she was always a sort of newbie. Wait, had / drawn that? | 
remembered distinctly having drawn that very same thing — | 
remembered distinctly having made that blueprint. Oh no, it was 
happening. | was starting to feel angry — you're not supposed to 
feel angry. We were a clean company, we all loved each other 
equally, and my feelings towards Polly were indecent. Polly Gary 
Ashley and her stolen idea. Polly Gary Ashley and her my idea. Oh 
no, it was bubbling out wasn't it? It was, it was it was, | couldn't stop 
it. | made eye-contact with 3T, and he gave me the same worried 
look. We exchanged knowing glances, and | was glad | had a tiger 
paint on, or else it might show just how red my face must have been. 
And that would be incredibly indecent. Increasingly indecent. 


Polly finished up, curtsied, and flung her pigtails every which way. 
The audience started clapping, as usual. And the audience started 
cheering, aS sometimes happens. Oh, and the audience rose in 
standing ovation, which never happens. Standing? Ovation?! Oh no, 
oh no oh no, | was going to make a very bad decision. | couldn't, | 
can't even, it just had to happen. | rose, furrowed my brow, and 
pointed at her, yelling over the crowd. 


"You stole it!" 


First, it was the few people closest to me. Then it was the people 
closest to them, and then the people closest to them, and then it 
was Polly Gary Ashley, and then it was the entire audience who was 
looking straight at me, finger raised still accusingly at Polly's big, red 
nose. | flushed a bit, but nobody noticed. | looked around, | 
wondered whether it was worth it, | saw my arm still extended... and 
| stood my ground. 


"You stole the Grow-N-Know Piano Plant!" 


The entire room turned from me to look at Polly, wearing concerned 
expressions that | hadn't seen cross the face of anyone in this room 


ever before. | was glad to get the attention off of me, and onto the 
culprit. Onto Polly. Onto her stupid pig tails and her big dumb 
forehead and her unnecessarily large fluffy shoes. Off of me and 
onto her guilty face. She looked at the audience, then at me, then at 
the audience, then at me. 


"I... [did not!" 


"You did, Polly!" | looked at the audience, "She did! The Grow-N- 
Know Piano Plant was my second choice for my toy design this 
month, but | went with Jelly Whale Emperor!" 


The crowd broke into murmurs for a split second, and they 
reverberated around the stadium like some twisted nervous 
orchestra. Polly and | held eye contact, her mouth half agape, the 
sweat slowly smearing my face paint. After a couple of seconds, a 
big round man with a green and purple pinstripe suit came onto the 
stage and swiped the microphone from Polly's hands. 


"Gosh | am so sorry that the presentations started going like this, | 
am so so sorry that you all had to be here for this, but I-I-I'm going to 
take Polly and Brainy aside and have a short discussion and you 
guys can continue your presentations okay? P-P-Please? Forget 
this ever happened, oh golly, just forget this ever happened. Brainy, 
get up here, you're coming with me." He almost set down the 
microphone, but - "Oh I'm so sorry, also, uh, Thomas Timothy 
Thompson is next, please welcome T-T-Thompson|" 


The crowd remained silent for another couple seconds, before 
someone broke it with the clapping that should have been there. A 
couple people followed suit, and then another couple, and then 
another couple, and then the whole crowd was clapping like they 
normally would be while 3T picked up his phone and took it with him 
onstage. | took off my hat and cat ears so as to not block people's 
views and followed close behind to meet Mr. Ribbit and Polly by the 
east exit. | walked around the stage and left 3T going up the steps, 
his head hung low and his eyes glancing at me. | tried to assure him 
that everything would be okay by giving him a weak smile. | think it 
was too weak, because he just frowned harder at me. 


Mr. Ribbit was wringing his hands whenever he wasn't wiping the 


sweat off of his forehead with his handkerchief, and Polly just held 
her eyes wide open and was standing straight as a nail. | thought to 
myself that if | had a big hammer | could pound her into the ground 
with how stiff she must be. | tried to keep calm, and be the one 
normal, happy calm funny person of the group, but | caught myself 
growling once or twice, and my hands played with invisible stress 
balls. | knew eyes were on us, but | didn't want to turn around. | 
must look like a disaster. Mr. Ribbit finally had the courage to look 
into my eyes, and then into Polly's, and motioned us to follow him. | 
made sure to glare at Polly as little as possible. | didn't want to glare, 
| don't know how | look when | glare because I've never glared 
before. It might make my face paint look hideous, and image is 
everything. 


| sat opposite of Polly Gary Ashley, which only put us about a meter 
apart. | wished | was farther, so | didn't have the urge to kick her. On 
the other hand, | wished | was closer, so | could kick her. Either 
would have been good. As it was | was in this awkward want-to-kick- 
but-can-not-kick zone. Sitting to my left and to her right were all the 
managers: Mr. Ribbit, Golly Molly, Mrs. Ribbit, Dr. Quack, Judy the 
Tongue, and some other people that | didn't know. They must have 
worked with some other part of Wonder Tower, but | wasn't sure 
why they would be there. | must have made such a scene to attract 
people | didn't even know. Everyone sat for a second in 
uncomfortable silence as some tall, spindly woman explained the 
situation to Tongue in a whisper. | stopped the small, baby-faced 
assistant in their tracks and asked them for a stress ball. They 
nodded, and dashed off, waddling with their bow legged gait. 


"What you're thaying, Brainy Brian, ith that Polly Gary Ashley thtole 
your idea for the Grow-N-Know Piano Plant?" Tongue asked, her 
eyebrows lowered in a calm confusion. 


"Yes," 


"And you, Polly Gary Ashley, did you thteal Brainy's idea?" 


Polly blinked many times, and twitched her nose. She glanced 
between Tongue and |. Her cheeks were bright red. 


She looked like she could do with a good push off a roof. 
"...L did not." 
"She's lying!" 


"Pleathe calm down, Brainy, we're trying to work thith out 
diplomatically."