The Kitchen Nightmare
rating: +14+x

Addendum: In July of 2018, an abandoned house within Sloth's Pit, Wisconsin suddenly manifested properties similar to those encountered in SCP-2856. At the time, Foundation Researcher Katherine Sinclair was investigating the area alone due to signs of a thaumic disturbance. Dr. Sinclair reappeared approximately two weeks later within Sloth's Pit's Nexus Zone, collapsed on the roadside.

The following is the first part of an account of the events as told by Dr. Sinclair.

Okay, you know me? That is, me, the toaster that forces you to say that I am it in the first person? We had reports that a phenomenon similar to the one affecting myself was occurring at 44 Elm Street. People went in and found something that forced them to refer to it in the first person, but only if they saw it. They also found graffiti that had resemblance to thaumic glyphs used in Germany.

I went in alone— Reynolds, my partner, decided to stay outside while configuring some equipment. I wanted a look at the glyphs for myself and… this is going to sound bizarre, but I ended up getting lost.

44 Elm is, by all accounts, a three-story house that's maybe got 1000 square feet in total area. But when I went upstairs to do some searching, I ended up getting turned around. Looked out a window and found myself seeing inconsistent geography. Soon, I turned around enough, and found myself in a farmhouse.

My phone didn't get reception— not even a GPS signal. Still, it was well-lit enough that I didn't have trouble seeing. But when I looked outside, the sun seemed… wrong. After a few hours, I realized it wasn't moving— kind of sticking in the sky at a late-afternoon position.

And that's when I found the first… entity. I dropped my phone on the way down the stairs, and found two at the bottom. I grabbed the wrong one, and that's when I realized it had a face scratched into the screen. The face moved, and I got stabbed in the hand by a Swiss Army Knife. I dropped it, and picked up my actual phone. Used the blood to power a small spell so that the cut would close.

It's at this point that I heard skittering throughout the house— like metal insects. Gave me flashbacks of the whole incident with the nanites back in 2013, eugh. Saw all sorts of being standing in the halls of the house— some of them had computer screens for faces, or a microwave for a body. A lot of them had mannequinn parts.

Then Toasterhead—

What, I'm not allowed to call him that? I'm laid up in a hospital bed with a good part of my skin burnt, waiting for my meds to kick in. Give me a break, Stuart.

Sorry. I know you're just trying to follow protocol. but I'm still calling him Toasterhead.

Anyway. Toasterhead just kind of… looked at me. I think he was afraid to come near me, which is kind of fair. He'd probably seen me do magic, and I can probably make every phone in this building go on the fritz with a wave of my hand.

So, naturally, a giant spider made from a water heater sneaked up from behind and made a web of insulation. Not sticky, but fiberglass certainly makes it uncomfortable to move. That's where all of the chafing on my arms came from. Well, most of it.

The spider put me on its back, and carried me towards the kitchen. There was viscera everywhere, and it smelled… imagine a meat freezer whose cooling system has broken down, in the middle of summer, next to the county fair's horse stables. Kind of like that. Good thing I skipped breakfast.

I'd read about this thing in passing— knew it altered people to become… appliance-like. I could smell freon in the air, and saw what looked like an air conditioner dials on the counter. Toasterhead started.. pouring freon into a glass, trying to get me to drink it.

I… god, I can't even describe it. My throat burned, my body ached. I couldn't speak, so that seriously gimped my thaumic abilities. I could maybe will myself to use a blood spell, god knows the fiberglass was making me spill enough from my struggling. Hold on, hand me that bowl?

Thanks. Sorry, memory of it makes me want to vomit. Anyway, it's around that point that I noticed a cat in the room— several of them. One on top of the fridge which I realized later had several people's rib cages used as the structure.

Now, putting this out there right now: I'm not good with magic related to animals. Yes, I know, ironic, given my hobbies. Don't give me that smirk, Stu. But I… figured I had to try. Read something about projecting an aspect of Bastet into a cat in order to give them an order. I figured, what was the harm.

When they went for the dials, I used some of the blood that had dripped onto my palm from the fiberglass cutting into me to draw an Ankh in my palm. It's still burned in there a little, don't know if you can see it. The cat kind of looked at me, standing at attention, and I kind of… I don't know, mentally begged them to do something.

It hopped off the fridge, and bumped up against Toasterhead's legs. It put the dials down, picked it up, and began petting it. Then, it jumped out of his hands and onto the spider-thing, startling it enough that it let go of the fiberglass webbing.

I ran for it. The cat ran after me, to the front door. On the way out, I smeared blood on every electrical thing I could find— bulbs, switches, sockets. Then, when I hit the door, I managed to activate a hex wave that fried the electronics of everything inside— at least for the time being.

Then, I ended up in the middle of a field. I kept running, and then I started falling.

"What happened after that?" Agent Stuart Jones took his hands off of the keyboard. The transcription software on his computer was broken, so he had to manage with hand-typed notes.

There was a short cough from behind him. He looked up to see Nurse Mei Liao looking at him, holding a new saline drip. "Mr. Jones, Dr. Sinclair needs her rest. She's lucky she's alive."

Sinclair sighed. "Yeah, it's getting late. Come back tomorrow, and I'll tell you a little more?"

"Might be best for you to gather your thoughts. Maybe this thing will start to make sense." Stuart closed his laptop and stood, making his way out of the infirmary. He didn't even notice the portly man sitting outside, face lined with worry.

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