The SCP Experience - Puns Are No Laughing Matter | SCP-7211

Episode Date: January 16, 2026

Listen ad-free + bonus stories with a 7-day FREE TRIAL of ⁠SCP Premium⁠. Cancel anytime. No commitment. Go to patreon.com/TheSCPExperience to sign up. This story is derived from ⁠The SCP Foundation Database⁠ and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0.⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/⁠⁠⁠ Author: Jake Bible Check out Jake's latest collection of stories, They All Bleed: Ten NoSleep Stories, Volume Two: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G96H432Y * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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agent of voyage, the conditions can't The observation room's two-way mirrored window is streaked with blood and bits of flesh. The gore slowly drips down the glass, leaving snail trails of red and brown behind. Dr. Hopinski stands on the non-gore side of the window and stares at the carnage as dozens of foundation employees hustle around him.

Medics rush into the observation room, trying to tend to the wounded, while security personnel attempt to stop them in hopes of keeping the mayhem can It is pure bedlam. Through it all, Dr. Hopinski can just make out the small voice coming from the porcelain doll standing on the pedestal in the center of the observation room. Luckily, the doctor is more than two meters away from the doll, dampening the effects of the anomaly's nasty properties. Doctor? A woman hurries up to Hepinski. We have to get them all out of there.

The more who went, the worse it gets. Hapinski ignores the woman. the woman. She's one of his research assistants, but he can't remember her name. They come and go so quickly in Site 228. The present emergency and similar occurrences are perfect examples of why there is constant turnover. Despite decent benefits, a rather healthy PTO policy and nice snacks in the break room, Site 228 is simply not a safe place to work. Dr. Hopinski sighs at the thought of the weakness of others. He'll have to speak to HR about hiring more psychologically sturdy employees, or, at the very least, when it comes to the D-class workers, pick from better prisons and

mental health facilities, only places with four-star ratings are above. Dr. Hupinski, sir, should I call for a level six purge? Hapinski continues to ignore the woman. His focus is on what the porcelain doll is saying. He's trying to make out the words without letting them influence him. More than two meters away or not, Hupinski does not fool himself that he is safe. Not at all. Where do fruits go on vacation?

Only screams come from those inside the observation room. Screams as they rip at their own flesh, gnaw on stubs where there used to be fingers, gouge out eyes, their own and others, and different, considerably more heinous and anomalous acts. A man screams as his body turns to jelly, and he collapses into a puddle of what looks like grape goo. Somebody else slips in the goo

and does a comical fall that has another person laughing their ass off as they tear out and eat their own hair. Have you ever wondered what could happen if this anomaly's properties could be weaponized? The assistant researcher stares at him for a moment, then shakes her head and walks away, staying clear of the doorway to the observation room. Miss, the woman pauses and turns around.

Yes, doctor. Doctor? What is your name? Emily, sir. Emily Rotterdam. Dr. Hapinski nods. Well, Emily Rotterdam, to answer your question, yes, I believe we should call in a level six purge. But let's try to remove as many viable personnel as we can first, shall we? Emily's eyes flit to the observation room's doorway. You want to go in there? No, I do not want to go in there. That would be suicide most likely. We have to figure out a different way to breach the anomaly circle of influence without wanting to tear our eyes out. A flash comes from the room, and a man runs screaming out of the doorway.

His entire body alight with electric fire. Emily jumps aside, just barely getting out of the way. The curly brown hair on her head becomes straight and stands out at all angles, only settling a little once the sparky man is several meters down the corridor. As soon as the man turns the corner, a gunshot rings out, and his head explodes, which does nothing to stop the electrical fire still raging across his collapsed body.

Emily puts a hand to her mouth and turns away. A team of security personnel races around the corner, headed straight for the bloody observation room. Dr. Hapinski steps in front of them, his hands up. Let's not add fuel to the fire. The doctor searches the uniforms of the team until he finds the person in charge. Lieutenant, have your men stay back at least this far

until we can get everything under control. From inside the room, a voice filled with rage and pain screamed so loud that everyone can hear the person's vocal cords actually rip apart. Then a severed leg is chucked out of the observation room, followed by the shout, Fire in the hole! I'd get down.

Dr. Hopimski grabs Emily's elbow, yanking her to the floor as she drops down to a knee, turning his back on the severed leg. What the? The rest of the lieutenant's words are drowned out by the explosion. Except that, while incredibly loud, no flame or fire accompanies the blast. Only custard.

Lots and lots of vanilla custard. Dr. Hopinski stands up, rushing custard off his shoulders and arms, and turns to face the observation room. We'll need a containment team immediately. He frowns at the stunned and custard-covered lieutenant. And before you say it, Yes, I am aware that all containment teams are currently out on assignment.

So which one is closest that we can bring back to the site? The lieutenant licks his lips, smiles, then frowns and spits several times. There are four close enough to help, and I have already called them in, doctor. The man holds out his sticky hand. Lieutenant Corey, sir, I just transferred over from Site 661. The doctor's eyes widen, then narrow. Site 661, eh? So you are not unfamiliar with containment breaches, are you, Lieutenant?

Unfortunately, I have seen my fair share, doctor. Which doesn't exactly endear you to me? A failure record like that site makes all personnel serving their suspect in my book. The lieutenant doesn't respond, and only stares at the doctor. Over the screams and cries, a small, muted voice says, What did baby corn say to Mama Corn? Someone rages for the doll to shut up. Where's popcorn?

Gunfire erupts in the observation room, and the lieutenant and security team shove past Hapinski and Emily. I wouldn't go in there. Epinski turns to Emily and shakes his head. They never listen. Gunfire is a Pavlovian trigger for men like them. How do you get a squirrel to like you? Act like a nut.

There's a massive womb. And it's as if the air has been sucked out of the building, then jammed back in a millisecond later. Hupinski claps his hands to his ears, trying to ease the building pressure, but it's too late. Emily falls to a knee, her head cocked at an awkward angle as blood drips down the left side of her neck, having leaked out of her ear. A horrible ringing flows through Hapinski's head, moving back and forth from one ear to the other. He feels the world swirl and swim around him, and he barely gets a handout against the wall

before his knees buckle. Emily grabs him by the shoulder and gives him a shake, her mouth moving, her words unheard. Hupinski lets her help him to his feet. The two look toward the room and the pure chaos that continues unabated. Hapinski walks toward the observation room. Emily tugs at his arm, trying to keep him back. The doctor brushes her off, his purpose resolute. Blood and awful coat the floor.

And Hupinski has to be careful not to slip in the gore. He can feel Emily close by behind him. but if she is saying anything, he can't hear it. The ringing is so intense that he doubts he'll hear anything else ever again. Although, he's fairly certain there's an anomaly in the South Wing that can repair the damage. All he has to do is feed at the perfect chocolate chip cookie, which is not as easy as it sounds. A man lies on the floor and looks up at Hupinski as the doctor enters the observation room.

There is something wrong with how the man looks, and it takes Hapinski a moment to realize what it is. The man's arms have been switched. Where the right one should be is the left. Where the left should be is the right. Don't worry! We'll get you all fixed up! He steps past the man who is trying to push himself off the ground,

but can only manage to rock himself from side to side due to his inability to figure out how to properly use his new limb configuration. Opinski heads straight for the doll on the pedestal, ready to clamp the cover back on and stop this insanity. But navigating the room, proves more difficult than the doctor anticipated. Nearly slipping on a severed leg, Opensky staggers to the right and trips on a woman

who has somehow managed to entwine all of her limbs around her torso, making her look like a human pretzel. The doctor puts his hands out toward the wall to stop his fall, but his palms slip on the thick coat of slick blood and guts that cover the surface. He falls to his knees, banging his chin on the wall, very quietly, like someone's shouting from miles away. Hupinski hears a voice. I made a pencil with two erasers.

It was pointless. Epinski starts to panic. He thought his sudden hearing impairment would be a shield against the anomaly. But it seems the porcelain doll's abilities can pierce even physical damage. Hapinski scrambles to get back to his feet so he can flee the observation room

before something horrible happens to him. What did the fish say when he hit the wall? Damn. A scream bubbles up out of Hapinski's throat, and he jams a fist. in his mouth to keep it at bay. He tries with all of his strength and coordination to get back to his feet. But his loafers only slip and slide in the inches of blood and bodily fluids that cover the floor.

I don't trust stairs. They're always up to something. Epinski screams and screams and then screams some more when he realizes he can't hear himself at all. Yet he can hear the doll. And the thing's voice is getting louder and clearer. Hands grab him, and Emily's face appears before him. He can't fathom how she is staying with him. how she is staying upright in this mess. But then he sees that she is stepping on the fallen bodies to avoid the slippery gore.

The researcher in him can't help but make a mental note to check her file later. She appears to be quite resourceful as well as resilient. Emily drags the doctor back out into the hall, shoves aside some stray body parts, and manages to get the observation room's door closed. Epinski sighs with relief as the doll's voice fades into the background. It's influence dissipating once they are considerably. more than two meters away. Thank you.

What? Thank you! They both shrug and shake their heads. Neither able to hear the other. Lasagne sur-gely, puissance-molyne for 15 minutes. We're like the dojo.

Prere to play the pleasure with the Ojo. The casino in-line that proposes the most recent machine-ass-a-sou and the games of casino in direct. Profite of 50 tours on Big Bas Bonanza, without exigance of misgents

and with the payments instantane. Hey! I've got gained! Woohoo! Sonture the pleasure! Play, Ojo! 18 years, 1st, Ontario. 50 tours gratis on the machine

a soup at soubeck bas, Bonanza. Depo minimum of 10 dollars. Veil to be responsible. The conditions apply. Making the perfect chocolate chip cookie takes four days, six hours and 32 minutes. During that time,

Epinski studies the logs of SCP-7211, trying to find out how the containment was breached and why it was so difficult to get the anomaly back under control. After four days, six hours and 32 minutes, minutes, and after his hearing is restored, Hippinsky gathers his staff in conference room B. Most of them have bandages of some sort, while a few are still regrowing limbs. One poor woman has her head turned completely backwards on her head, which, to everyone's surprise, is not as fatal as one would think. In fact, for those who didn't bleed out or suffer

a mortal injury immediately during the onslaught of deadly puns, recovery has been rather fast. From what I can tell, 70 to 11 has gotten exponentially stronger over the past three months. Now, as we all know, some anomalies can grow in strength over time. It simply depends on the anomaly and its circumstances. However, with 7211, there has been absolutely zero significant change in all the years it has been contained at Site 228. Its power and circle of influence have remained within a tight 2 meter circle for as long as it has been here. What changed? Epinski laughs.

We did. The researchers and assistant researchers gathered around the table all frown. Epinski laughs again. To be more precise, we changed the personnel roster. After the incident with that other anomaly that shall not be named, the staff all shudder at the thought of that incident. It was determined that certain members of D-Class were not performing their duties up to the stringent standards needed here at Site 228.

So changes were made. D-class staff were shuffled amongst the sites, and things settled down. Epinski sighs and picks up a remote. He clicks a button, and a man's face appears on a large monitor. The staff cringes at the site. He is not a pretty man. This is D-4269, a man of middling intelligence, middling physical ability, and middling psychological stability.

He's average and always except for one. Opinski clicks the remote again, and the thumbnail of a joke book. Obviously, a screenshot from an Amazon page fills the monitor. D-4269 loves horrible humor. His fellow D-Class members had said so repeatedly. When the man and the anomaly were finally introduced to each other, it was a perfect match. The anomaly only communicates in what are termed dad jokes. And D-4269 sense of humor never matured-matured past four.

4th grade. Epinski shows an image of SCP-7211. It is a porcelain doll dressed in a red jester outfit standing on a pedestal inside a containment unit made from high-impact glass. The look on the doll's face can only be described as dower. This was before SCP 7211 met D-42.69. He clicks again, and the image is now of the same jester doll, but is smiling. And this was after they met. A selfie of D-4269 standing in front of the doll's pedestal appears. Click. D-4269 is sitting in front of the pedestal. A mess of fast food wrappers in his lap, while he laughs and slaps a knee. Click. Another selfie of D-4269, but this time he's dressed up in a adjuster's outfit, almost identical to SCP-7211s. The two are smiling directly at the camera.

As you all have read in the file, SCP-7-211 started ignoring other D-Class personnel, and even researchers, and only became responsive if D-4269 was present. The two of them would spend hours together while the anomaly told joke after joke after joke. Great. A man waves his hands about, dismissively.

The two brod out. So what happened? They have some sort of fight or something? Bob, right? Yes, sir. Bob, did you hear the first part of what I said? Which part, sir? The part about shuffling personnel around.

I did, sir, yes. Silence fills the room as Hapinski stares at the researcher. Then Bob smacks his forehead. He got moved to a different sight. I'm glad you were able to catch up, Bob. Hapinski clicks the remote again. The image is now only of SEP 7211, and the jester looks pissed, like, Really pissed.

This is after D-4269 was transferred to a different site. Click. A different image of a scowling SCP-7211. Again, this is the anomaly before meeting D-42-69. Click. And here he is after D-42-69 has been moved. Click. Before?

Click. After. Click. Before? Click. After. Epinski. change the image. He simply stands there and waits, and waits, and waits. Losing D-4269 has

upset the anomaly. A lot. It looks ten times as unpleasant as before. Exactly, Emily. Very good. Epinski switches off the monitor. My hypothesis is that SCP-7211 developed an attachment to D-4269, and when that attachment was severed, the anomaly's normal, unpleasured unpleasant personage became exponentially worse. That's why its abilities were so powerful and hard to contain. It missed its friend and was lashing out. That is the theory, yes. But there is only one way to find out.

And that is to have D-4269 return to Site 228, so the two can be reunited. Great. When will he be here? Epinski rubs his forehead and looks up at the ceiling. Yes, well, that is proven more difficult. than expected. Opensky sits down at his desk, stares at his telephone, grumbles something under his breath, then picks up the handset and dials.

After a few rings, the call is answered. Dr. Thuleus, how may I help you? Dr. Thuleus? It's Dr. Hopinski at Site 228. How are you this afternoon? Dr. Hopinski! Well, sir. Quite well.

Thank you for asking. And yourself? Have you gotten your problem with SCP-7211 sorted out? Not yet, no, I'm afraid. Contained for now, but far from sorted. Oh, dear. That must be quite bothersome. It is, it is, which is why I am calling. Have you had time to review my request and pass it on to D-4269?

I have, I have, yes. Wonderful. And when can we expect the transfer to occur? I'm sorry? Epinski frowns and closes his eyes, Dealing with Dr. Thuleus of Site 227 is an effort in patience on most days. Today, Epinski's patience is at an all-time low,

and he has to swallow the anger he feels at hearing the man's clueless, chipper voice. The transfer, Dr. Thuleus, when we last spoke, I had requested that D-4269 be transferred back here to Site 228. Oh, yes, I know, I know. Thuleus chuckles. Isn't it funny that you are at Site 228? and I am at Site 227, yet we aren't anywhere even close to each other, geographically speaking. Oh, the quirks of the foundation. They sure do keep us on our toes, don't they?

Dr. Thuleus, I don't mean to rush you, but I have a very busy day ahead. I am sure you do. As do I, Dr. Hupinski. Of course, so I won't keep you. When can we expect D-4269 to be transferred to us? Oh, I'm afraid that would be never. Excuse me? You hate this outdated technology sometimes. What I said was, never. D-4269 will not be transferred back to Site 228.

Epinski closes his eyes and counts to five before asking. And why not? No, because he doesn't want to. Another five count. He doesn't want to? I fail to see how that is relevant. Because here at Site 227, I prefer the most. Montessori management principles.

One, two, three, four, five. My apologies, Dr. Thuleus, but Montessori is a kindergarten school, yes? Oh, heaven's no, doctor. Montessori goes all the way up through high school. Well, yes, you are correct that most Montessori schools in the United States start at preschool and stop at kindergarten. There are many campuses across the world that are highly successful in teaching the rest of the grades. That's great, but I do not see the connection, Doctor.

Here at Site 227, we empower our staff to make their own informed choices. I asked D-4269 if he would like to return to Site 228, and he said no. He said no? That's all he said, was no? Well, I am summarizing. Oh? What exactly did he say then? I'd rather not be specific. Just know that he has his reasons. I'm afraid I have to insist on knowing what those reasons are. Fulis sighs over the phone, and Hupinski wants to reach through the line and strangle the man.

If you must know, it is because of you, Dr. Hupinski. Me? Yes, you. Instituted some policies that D-4269 didn't like, and he has also rather heard about being transferred. Can you blame him? Epinski knows he shouldn't ask, but he does anyway. What policies? Mostly breakroom snack policies, and the constant changing of toilet paper brands.

Hupinski has to count to ten. Dr. Hupinski? Are you still there? I'm here, yes. The doctor opens a drawer in his desk and fishes out a bottle of ibuprofen. He pops four and chews them quickly before swallowing. You have explained to him that site directors do not choose the supplies, yes? that we are beholden to the foundation's quartermaster? Feel a need to go into that sort of administrative detail.

There was no need. D-4269 is quite adamant that he doesn't want to return. I'm afraid I will need to insist that he does return, Dr. Thuleus. A D-class staff member should never be given a choice in the matter. And you, doctor, should know better than to even entertain such a notion. Well, Dr. Epinski agreed to disagree. Epinski skips the five count. the ten count and the much-needed twenty count, and lets his anger take over as he goes in for the

kill. Do you remember Tahoe, Dr. Thuleus? The silence on the other end of the line crackles with shame and disgust. Before the words have finished echoing over the line, Dr. Thuleus has hung up. Dr. Hopinski smiles as he sets the telephone handset down. It was a dirty play, but that whole Montessori management crap really irked the doctor. But it ended up getting him what he wanted and what the site needed. The helicopter lands easily, and Dr. Hapinski braces himself for the coming interaction.

While he hadn't had much, if any, interaction with D-4269, he has been briefed by staff who had interacted or worked with the man before his transfer. The briefs were not promising. A man of average height and build steps off the helicopter after making sure to give the pilot a hearty thomelyt He turns to face, Dr. Hoppinski and Emily, gives them both a thumbs up, then casually strolls away from the helicopter as it lifts off and banks to the east, headed back to Site 227. Uh-oh, it's the Nerd Patrol.

Dr. Habinski wences, and Emily groans. Ah, chill out, you two. I'm just messing with ya. D-4269 offers his hand when he gets close. Dr. Hopinski forces a smile and goes to shake the man's hand. But it is suddenly withdrawn as D-4269 jerks his hand back and runs it through his tangled mess of hair. Sike! The man guffaws and literally slaps a knee.

That one never gets old! I beg to differ, D-4269. Ah, don't be so sour, man. You got to have fun in life, right? D-42-69 offers his hand again. Let's start over. I wouldn't. Dr. Hapinski tries to shake.

D-4269's hand once more, and once more the hand is jerked back, sent to fight the mass of knots and curls on top of the man's head. Double-sike! Yes, double-psych. Dr. Hapinski glowers at the man, then shakes his head and forces a smile. We are pleased that you changed your mind, D-4269. I didn't, but it was explained to me using a lot of fancy words that there are far worse places to be assigned. than good old Site 228. So I decided to stop fighting the system.

If you get what I'm saying... I don't. But that is irrelevant. What matters is that you are here now. So we should get straight to... Hold on there, Doc. D-4269 crosses his arms over his chest. We got a few things to work out before we get straight to anything.

Things to work out? Epinski looks back at Emily, who only shrugs. What sort of things? First off, y'all better have Flaming Hot Cheetos back in the break room. Those, and what do you call them, ding-dongs or King Dons or whatever? Never can get that name straight. The break room offers all sorts of snacks and beverages for the staff. However, it is not up to each site as to what is provided.

The foundation prefers to maintain control of that. Well, the foundation can maintain control of my taint for all I care. There better be Flaming Hot Cheetos and Dingy Don. in the break room when I step in there." Emily clears her throat. We received Dr. Thuleas' email regarding your requests, and have made special purchases to accommodate you. Well, now we're talking.

D-4269 gives Dr. Hopinski and Emily enthusiastic finger guns. That wasn't so hard, was it? Y'all could have avoided a lot of problems if you'd listen to me before I was transferred. It's not like I didn't warn you. Warnos? Warnas? Hapinski turns and frowns at Emily. What is he talking about? Emily sighs and pulls up a video on her tablet.

She presses play and shows Dr. Hapinski. This is from his exit interview. I had to bribe H.R. to hand it over. Bribe? With what? You don't want to know. On the screen is a close-up of D-4269 where he is saying, Y'all better get your dad and joke game on after I leave, Or I swear, D-Man is going to get mighty pissed off.

Hapensky's brow wrinkled so much that he is almost blind. D-Man? What is a D-Man? S-CP 70 to 11, man. Pay attention and keep up. It's short for doll, man, obbs. D-4269 leans in and beckons for Dr. Hapinski to do the same. Dr. Hapinski does not do the same. So D-4269 shrugs and straightens. back up. I was going to tell you a secret, but I'll just say it out loud for all to hear.

D-4269 winked said Emily. You should know that D-Man calls me D-Man too. It's our little inside joke, the two D-men against the world. He converses with you? Dr. Hapinski looks surprised and a little pleased. More so than the jokes and puns? The jokes and puns are the conversation, man. Everything we need to say, we say with humor. It's all about the subtext. Dr. Hapinski looks at Emily once again. I have no idea what this moron is talking about. Hey, not cool, Doc.

D-4269. If I am understanding you, you and SEP 7211 are able to converse with each other utilizing puns and dad jokes. Is that what you are saying? Like you two have actual conversations, but they are hidden in the puns and dad jokes? I wouldn't say hidden. Didn't know. It ain't like we have a code. It's just that we get each other. You know what I mean? Elaborate. As D-4269 opens his mouth, Hapinski holds up a hand.

And be brief, D-4269. We have a schedule to keep. You can't rush perfection, Doc. D-4269 laughs and smacks the doctor on the shoulder. I'm just messing with you. I'll be quick about it. He shifts his stance and places a finger to his chin as if, If he is in deep thought, he hums and haws, and nods his head thoughtfully. After a minute, he winks at the doctor and Emily. Gotta psych myself up while I'm around you eggheads.

When I'm hanging with D-Man, we don't say anything specific. But I get the guy and can easily catch his meaning. Like, if he is having a down day, he might make a joke like, why couldn't the bicycle stand up by itself? It was too tired, or that sort of thing. A down day? What is a down day? A down day, Doc.

It's in the name. Duh. So, SCP 70 to 11 changes the subjects of the jokes to fit his mood? Bingo! Was his name, oh, pretty lady? Don't call me that. Ouch, touchy. But the anomaly doesn't say anything specific.

This is simply your interpretation of his meaning. Oh, he can get pretty darn specific. But the best way to teach you is to show you, Doc. That's why I'm here, right? To get in that containment room and get D-Man all chipper again. D-4269 looks around the hell of bad. If that's what I'm here for, then why are we standing on the damn roof? He claps his hands together, making Hapinski and Emily both jump.

Time to get some D-Man time. Definitely don't say that again. Girl, you need to unclench your bunghole and get loose. Life's way more fun that way. D-4269 pushes past the two and heads toward the roof access door. Epinski and Emily share a look. Both sigh, then follow. Upon entering the main site corridor, D-42-69 immediately announces to all,

I'm back, biches, y'all miss me? Several staff members instantly walk back the way they came. Some just look the other way and power walk past the man. Many simply stand and glare. D-4269 doesn't seem to notice and makes a point of holding out his hand, intent on getting a fist bump from everyone he walks past. Dude, Tom, don't leave me hanging.

Ah, okay, I'll get you next time. Nina, girl, looking fine in that lab coat. I gotta know who your tailor is. Bobby Mac! My name is Richard. Diddy Mac, even better. Dapper brother, will you? No.

Get you next time, bro. You know I will. D-4269 sighs and nods. Man, it's good to see that everyone missed me as much as I missed them. Yes, it is good that you see that. Now, D-4269, we need to get you to... Man, call me... No, I will not.

D-42-69 will suffice. Come on, say it. Call me D-Man. Absolutely not. D-42-69 shrugs and rolls his eyes. Whatever. Take me to my bro so I can check. his mood. I hope he's not pissy. A pissy D man is not pleasant to be around. Yes, we aren't quite

aware. Epinski hurries toward a corridor off to the left. Keep up, D4269. It is a busy day. Emily reluctantly grips D4269 by the elbow and escorts him after Dr. Hopinski. Buy a guy dinner first, babe, or I can buy you dinner later. I bet you love a good street dog, Am I right? All slathered and mustard and onions and jalapinos. You're a spicy girl, right? Yeah, you're a spicy, spicy, spicy girl. I have the keys to several anomalies that will eat you whole, D4269. So, please stop. Just stop. So, not a spicy girl, I take it. Hmm. What's your feeling on gas station sushi? Emily grumbles, and grips D42's arm even harder. Ooh, girl likes it rough. Nice.

The walk to SCP 7211's containment room is excruciating for everyone involved, except for D-4269. He has a wonderful time shouting out names to passers-byes, while also regaling Emily and Hempinski with jokes that should be banned from any and all human languages, and possibly from several extraterrestrial languages as well. Then they reach the containment room, and D-4269's entire demeanor changes. He extracts himself from Emily's grip and approaches the observation window. Jesus, what'd you all do to him? It is not what we did to it, but what it did to us.

Sixteen staff members are on extended medical leave, three perished outright, and over a dozen are saying foundation therapists for PTSD due to persistent nightmares. Damn, you guys really pissed him off, didn't you? D-4269 stands there, one hand against the glass, and stares at the encased doll for several seconds. Then he shakes his head and turns and nods to Hapinski and Emily. All right, you got me here. Time to use me up and spit me out. That is not our intention.

But if that happens, we thank you for your service to the foundation. The doctor ignores Emily's harsh glare. Got it. I'm just a cog in the machine. No problemo. D-4269 approaches the door, and Hupinski looks up at a camera set in the corner. He nods, and the door to the containment room clicks unlocked. D-42-69 does a little shuffle step and shimmy, then opens the door and walks inside. Look who it is, D-man! You miss me, bro? Hey, quick question, D-man.

What do vegans get in an argument? Is it still called a beef? The man laughs heartily and lets the door close behind. behind him. Epinski and Emily watch from the observation window. After several minutes of back-and-forth puns, SCP-7211's features begin to change. Slowly, gradually, the evil scowl becomes a sincere smile. Would you look at that? It actually was worth all the trouble to have him transferred back. Yes, it appears so. Emily turns and studies the doctor. What? What's wrong? Nothing.

It's just that any hopes of weaponizing SCP-7-211 have just gone out the window. He points at the two jokesters in the containment room. Can you imagine unleashing both of them on the world at the same time? It would be cataclysmic. I'd rather die in a nuclear blast, to be honest. Emily nods. Hard to disagree with that assessment. And maybe it's for the best anyway.

Oh, why's that? Emily opens her mouth, closes it, opens it, closes it. Never mind. I was going to make a joke, but I'm not very punny. Dr. Hapinski studies Emily carefully. He'll have to keep an eye on her. If D-4269 becomes an issue, perhaps there is a backup already on site. Not you too, Emily. Sorry, sir. It rubs off on you. Hapinski nods, returning his attention to the two D-men. Then he shudders at the fact that he just thought of the word D-men.

Dear God, does it rub off on you? He thinks and shudders again. SCP-7211 is a 40-centimeter-tall porcelain doll, resembling a human male dressed in a red jester uniform. It is noted to have a distressed expression on its face. SCP-7211's anomalous properties will be triggered if there is at least one human being in SCP-7211's close proximity,

two meters or closer. Once its anomalous properties are triggered, SCP 7211 will become animate and start to speak. Usually, there is no conversation between SCP-7211 and the subjects. It usually stands up in front of the subjects and starts to tell various jokes and puns. If the subjects don't find SCP-7211's performance funny, they will start to cause self-harm and showcase temporary anomalous properties. See Experiment Log.

If the subject leaves SCP-7211's vicinity, regardless of willingly or not, SCP-7211 will return to its dormant state. Interviewed subjects describe the experience as second-hand embarrassment cranked up to 11 in unison.