rating: +400+x

Item #: SCP-173-J

Object Class: Euclid12

Special Containment Procedures: Item SCP-173-J is to be given a container to act as a central living area. As SCP-173-J is basically harmless, is to be permitted to move freely about Facility-17. The Site Director foresees no adverse consequences from this policy.

UPDATE: Following disastrous unforeseen consequences, new containment procedures are in development. See Incident Log 8/17/92.

Description: Contained in Facility-17, as of 19923. Origin is as of yet unknown. It is constructed from concrete and rebar with traces of Krylon brand spray paint, as well as what appears to be state-fair-grade water-based face paint in a "cat face" pattern. SCP-173-J is animate and extremely playful. The object cannot move while within a direct line of sight. Object is reported to initiate interaction by standing uncomfortably close to subjects. Some personnel have reported low, asthmatic-sounding sniffling noises; these are presumed to be imaginary, or memetic, or something. SCP-173-J's primary motive seems to be seeking attention; for example, if SCP-173-J encounters a researcher working on a computer or reading a document, and the researcher blinks, the sculpture will stand on the object in an attempt to gain the researcher's focus. If SCP-173-J is in a room possessing a window, it will sometimes take hold of a researcher's head and move it to face the window. This has been construed as SCP-173-J earnestly requesting to play outside. The established procedure for handling these situations is to pat SCP-173-J in a friendly manner and say "Run along now, you little scamp."

Note that SCP-173-J’s action occurs too quickly for subjects to respond; when at full speed, the object is capable of completing three (3) shenanigans per second.

On 7/20/92, SCP-173-J appeared wearing a sombrero. The object entered a "fiesta state" in which, according to audio analysis, it produced and rapidly shook a pair of castanets while running in unoccupied rooms or hallways. The origin of this hat-based secondary phenomenon is unknown, but the Site Director determined that confiscating it or investigating the event in any other way would be, to quote the official directive, "interfering with forces beyond our comprehension". Facility-17 staff have reported in official transcripts that this phenomenon was "loads of fun" and "like Christmas, Cinco de Mayo, and Free Pretzel Day at the cafeteria put together". Any staff who attempt to induce a "fiesta state" in SCP-173-J will be assigned to toilet owl duty.

Personnel report the sound of scraping stone originating from within the container when no one else is present inside and the object is not under video surveillance. Freelance stone-scraping analysts have determined that SCP-173-J is practicing the dance of its people. This is considered normal, and any change in this behavior should be reported to the acting HMCL supervisor on duty.

The thick, brown substance on the floor of SCP-173-J's dwelling is [DATA EXPUNGED]-O brand chocolate pudding. Origin of this material is unknown. The substance poses no apparent danger, and is allowed to accumulate freely. UPDATE: SEE INCIDENT LOG 8/14/92.

Incident Log 8/14/92:

Assistant Researcher Bramwell was assigned to inspect SCP-173-J for physical changes. Researchers Murphy and Nichols spoke to him using a two-way handheld communicator. The following is a transcript of the communication transmitted during the inspection.

Bramwell: Guys? This floor is really… really slippery.

Murphy: Man, I bet.

Nichols: No surprise there, it’s all puddingy.

Bramwell: No, I mean I don’t think I can even get over to the sculpture. This stuff is a few inches deep.

Nichols: You mean “a few centimeters deep”.

Murphy: This is probably going on the record. At least try to be professional.

Bramwell: [EXPLETIVE]! [A collision is heard.] It’s in my eyes—Oh, [EXPLETIVE]!

Murphy: Didn’t you hear what he just said? Watch your language, Doctor.

Bramwell: It's standing over me, just… just waiting, I think.

Nichols: It sounds like he's up for a pudding wrassle [sic]. It's okay, I'm pretty sure you can take him.

Bramwell: Oh, god, I just blinked and he's leaning toward me— [A muffled scream can be heard.]

Nichols: Don't worry about language. It’ll probably just be taken out in the transcript.

Bramwell: It’s on top of me! I can’t see, and it’s crushing my [unintelligible]

Murphy: It's just a pin, man, you can reverse it! Wait, they can do that?

Nichols: Sure. It’s called redaction.

Bramwell: I can't! He must weigh [gurgling cough] four hundred (400) pounds!

Nichols: Nice clinical tone! You got this!

Murphy: Redaction, huh? [EXPLETIVE], that’s fantastic. [chuckles] I said [EXPLETIVE]. Seriously, how have I not heard about this?

Nichols: They only just started doing it. It’s actually encouraged, since it apparently makes the documentation more interesting and suspenseful if you leave out the scary or salacious bits.

Bramwell: I'm losing consciousness!

Murphy: Nichols, that’s really nice of them. There might be children reading this.

Nichols: Sweep the leg!

Incident Log 8/17/92:

Following the recovery of Assistant Researcher Bramwell’s body, it was determined that the storage container required a thorough cleaning to facilitate access to its resident. SCP-173-J was monitored carefully while high-pressure showers and a large drain grate were installed in the chamber. On 8/17, the following incident occurred.

02:00:40: The showers in SCP-173-J’s chamber are activated. The pudding is scoured from the floor.

02:01:34: Researcher Murphy notes that the water-based face paint on SCP-173-J is also being washed away by the sprinklers.

02:05:18: The showers are turned off.

02:20:04: The video feed monitoring SCP-173-J deactivates and becomes unresponsive. The interior of the chamber is silent.

02:28:11: The HMCL supervisor is called.

02:31:46: The HMCL supervisor arrives, takes inventory of the situation, and shrugs.

02:31:52: The HMCL supervisor is fired.

02:33:07: Researchers Murphy and Nichols are assigned to investigate.

02:33:51: The two doctors enter the chamber. Researcher Nichols notes via two-way communicator that the floor near SCP-173-J appears to be tinged dark red. Dr. Nichols takes a sample of the coating and remarks with extreme surprise that it does not taste like pudding at all.

02:34:01: A song is heard faintly in the background.4 Researcher Murphy remarks: “I think I have a text message.”

02:34:12: Dr. Nichols groans audibly. Dr. Murphy is heard remarking that the sender is most likely Kelly, who was previously speculating about breaking up with her boyfriend Mark. Dr. Murphy indicates an imperative need to discover whether such a procedure has been enacted, and if so, whether he can hit that on the rebound.

02:34:19: Dr. Nichols announces that he will maintain line of sight on SCP-173-J by closing one eye at a time. [This never works.]

02:34:26: A snapping sound is heard in the audio feed.

02:34:28: A second snapping sound is heard in the audio feed.


Following this event, SCP-173-J’s containment procedures are scheduled to be completely revised. The new procedures will stipulate that SCP-173-J be kept locked in his containment area, which will be cleaned by hand. Any implication that SCP-173-J's containment documents should be revised will be denied, as SCP-173-J represents the classic roots of the Foundation which persist no matter which direction the organization has taken in the meantime.

Before this revision was ordered, the Site Director requested that Foundation Senior Staff decommission SCP-173-J due to its new properties, as the staffers are, to quote the Director’s requisition letter, “awesome and dreamy and wacky”. However, the request was denied; all Senior Staff were too busy chatting with, seducing, wielding, playing practical jokes with, or riding to victory various SCP objects. The Site Director identified this setback as “disastrous to the safety and integrity of the Foundation, but exactly as hilarious as they think it is”.

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