The SCP Experience - The Can-Do Helper | SCP-2795

Episode Date: October 14, 2024

Want to listen ad-free? Try it FREE for 7 days here: patreon.com/TheSCPExperience SCP Foundation SAFE class object, SCP-2795 This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2795 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Cyrus S. * * * DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Depos minimum of $10 $10. Veil to pay If Christmas was an Olympic sport, Leslie was convinced she would never make tryouts. Something seemed to go wrong every year. Whether the toy her nephew really wanted was out of stock, or whether it snowed 18 inches, and she had to spend the whole weekend hold up. No matter what, there was always something. And in this case, it was the fact that her nephew really, really hated the toy that she had found. It wasn't even close to what he wanted.

So she discovered. What he wanted was a model of Optimus Prime that was as tall as he was and made 60 different sounds from a set of four buttons. He shook the package when it was placed in his lap and started crying before he even opened it. He kept screaming. It isn't prime!

Leslie wasn't sure how he knew. Kids were just telepathic, maybe. His parents made him rip off the paper, and then they made him look up and say, Thank you. Her nephew had the most deadpan expression she had ever seen on a child with such big blue eyes. He scowled at her like she had personally taken a shit

on his breakfast casserole. He then let the packaged toy slide off his lap and fall into the heap of Christmas paper at his feet. At any rate, his parents got him the Optimus Prime, so it was a happy ending. Leslie picked up the failed present and took it with her when she left. she was too embarrassed to leave it.

She would exchange it and get him a gift card or something. She ended up throwing the toy into her backseat and didn't look at it for two weeks. When she cleaned out her car after New Year's, she pulled the toy out and set it on her kitchen table. From there, it eventually wound up in her hallway closet. By that point, the return window had passed, and she didn't know any other children who could use a toy that nobody wanted.

Leslie didn't even think about the toy until the following spring, when she heard an electronic whirring coming from the hallway closet. The winter's last temperamental blizzard was still being scraped off the roads, and her driveway was completely blocked by mounds of ice. She was stuck in the house and had been for the past three days. She was running low on groceries, with only a few items in her fridge and pantry that required creativity to be palatable. She was living off hot teas and staying buried under her heated blankets.

All the while, there were too many chores that were simply not getting accomplished. She kept thinking about how desperately she needed to do the laundry, but every time she dwelt on it, she took another nap. It was the worrying that woke her up. It was so loud that she thought someone was using a drill outside her window. It pulled her out of bed, and she went over to the window to check and see what was going on. But there was nothing, not even footprints in the thinning sludge across her front yard. Leslie stepped away and went to crawl back onto her couch.

But then the whirring came again. She left her heated blanket running while trying to follow the noise. When she stepped into the hallway, the sound became louder, and she followed it all the way to the closet door. The whirring had paired itself with a hard plastic clicking sound, which was accompanied by a soft, rustling like something was trying to claw its way out from inside a cardboard box. Maybe it's a mouse, she thought.

She touched the doorknob, but she could not shake the heavey-jeebies that overtook her as soon as she pictured a little brown mouse darting out from the closet and running across her foot. Leslie paused long enough to turn around and grab a broom from her laundry room. It was the kind with stiff straw bristles that would make any rodent think twice before doing a number. across her linoleum. She went back to the closet door and grasped the knob, holding her breath, and internally counting to three before yanking the door open and holding her broom up,

bristles ready. Nothing came running out. Leslie slammed her broom into the fallen towels and half-folded blankets that covered the floor. Still nothing. Only half convinced of the possibility that it might not be a mouse, she turned her broom around and used the handle to lift her. the handle to lift up one of the blankets to peer underneath.

That catastrophic Christmas present failure was sitting at the bottom of the closet. It was still in its original box, although the plastic in the front was pushed in, no doubt due to everything that had been resting on top of it. The box itself was bright blue and hard to miss. Leslie was so distracted by her discovery that she completely missed the fact that the whirring had stopped. Leslie crouched down and reached into the closet,

pushing aside the piles of fabric until she was able to grip the box and pull it free. On the front, in red, it had Quicky Quasar, the Can Do Helper, written in obnoxious bubble lettering. Underneath that, in a slightly easier to read font, it said, The easy-to-use pal who will keep chores out of your mind and give fun times that are out of this world. There were rockets and little green alien heads all over the box.

She had to smile to herself, remembering how much she thought her nephew would like it at the time. He was so into aliens and robots that this seemed right up his alley. Well, apparently not. The little guy in the box even looked a little bit like her nephew. He had plastic blonde hair adhered to his strangely triangular skull and a big Colgate white smile that stretched across his face and pushed the bottoms of his baby blue eyes up to form half-moon circles. On the side of the box was written,

I am yours to command, and, Watch your chores disappear. Leslie smiled a little wider. It was gimmicky and silly, but it was charming in a lot of ways. She flipped over the box and looked at the back. The cardboard was crumpled up at the top corners and ripped apart, in other places, like something with little claws and teeth had been chewing on it. Leslie made a mental note to pick up some rat poison and stood up bringing the toy with her.

She went back to the living room and sat down on her heated blanket. Leslie tore the box open, since it was already ruined, and untethered the figurine from inside. She looked it over to see if there was a spot for batteries or anything, but she didn't see the usual battery cover or any little holes that housed screwing. crews. She shrugged to herself and set the figurine down on her coffee table, posing its stiff arms and balancing it until she felt like it wasn't in danger of tipping over. She grabbed her now cold tea and leaned back against her sofa to watch the toy. Nothing happened. Disappointing, but not surprising. Considering how long it had been at the bottom of her closet, she felt like

it was a miracle that the whole thing had not disintegrated. Leslie sipped her tea again and made a face. She considered putting it in the microwave. Before she could make a move to get up, the toy let out a plastic-covered mechanical whir and raised its head. It startled Leslie so badly that she almost threw her teacup. The toy moved its arms up and down and rocked back on its feet. She thought it was going to fall over, but it managed to stay upright.

The toy had a tone like a cartoon sidekick. You can heat this up for me, Leslie said, holding out her teacup as if the toy was going to take it from her. She laughed at her own joke. I have been in this house for way too long, she thought. Her teacup rattled. The toy had inched close enough to slam its arms down against the side of the cup, while its blue eyes looked like they were staring straight at her. Its plastic arms smacked against the teacup again like it was stuck.

It's only a toy. That silent reassurance was not enough to keep her from breaking eye contact. She looked down at the box again, where she had ripped her way right through the... Try these commands! section. Okay, she thought. Let's give this a shot. She shook the teacup just a little, as if she needed to get the toy's attention. Quasar?

She said aloud. Go put this in the microwave. The toy shivered for a second where it stood, but it didn't move. For a full, harrowing minute they stared each other down, and then the toy jerked back. It pulled her teacup right out of her hand and jumped to the floor. Her heart skipped a beat, but the toy landed solidly on the plastic blocks

that made up its shiny black boots. It started walking towards the kitchen, each step clattering with all the hollowness of a Lego. Absolutely fascinated, Leslie stood up to follow it. The toy did not see that. stop until it was standing in front of the oven, which was right next to the counter where the microwave was. It turned its head all the way around its shoulders and plastic squealed. The toy shouted. There was a loud, obnoxious beeping sound and Leslie covered her ears. The toy jumped up

onto the counter as if its feet were made of springs, and then it slammed its boot into the microwave's main button. The door sprang open, and the toy dropped the teacup into the microwave. That was where everything fell apart. At least, the teacup did. It shattered as soon as it hit the glass plate, and tea went running everywhere. Leslie cursed her own stupidity and ran to grab some paper towels. What a mess! Quasar, he did an awful job!

A sharp pain jabbed her in the center of her foot and Leslie yelped. She sat down on the floor, pulling up her foot to inspect it. There was a piece of white ceramic stuck deep in her soul. Leslie sucked in her breath through her teeth and set her nails against the edge to pull it out. Even touching it sent another arrow of pain up her leg. The toy announced, spinning its plastic head again. She hissed again as she touched the piece of teacup that was buried in her flesh. All right, Quasar, go get some paper towels.

The toy hopped right to it, clearing the little bit of space between one counter and the other where the paper towels were sitting. It jumped up high and extended its plastic arm, catching the paper towel somehow and dragging them down. The whole roll started unraveling. It all spiraled to the ground in big, billowy white sheets. It seemed to hit every part of the linoleum that wasn't the tea puddle. No, no, Leslie groaned.

That's too much. Stop! Quasar, cut it out! The toy stopped, but the roll was already empty. The only thing that was still attached, was the edge of the last sheet, still adhered to the cardboard roll. The toy looked entirely too pleased with itself. It stood on the edge of the counter, shiny and colorfully triumphant.

Leslie wanted to scream. She grabbed some of the fallen towels and pulled them closer to her. The edges soaked up some of the spilled tea, and then it spread across the whole sheet. Her injured foot oozed blood and dropped dark spots onto the sodden paper towels. All right, Quasar, Leslie said. She touched the ceramic shard again and hissed. She needed to grit her teeth and pull it out. But for some reason, she couldn't.

I think that's enough helping for now. No, Quasar! We're all done! Leslie shouted. She gritted her teeth until they ached as she pulled the piece of shattered teacup out of her foot. God damn it! She shouted. The toy exclaimed. Leslie had to laugh at that one.

Oh, no, she said. Good night, Quasar. Quasar, turn off. The toy went quiet. Leslie grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter and used it to pull herself to her feet. She hobbled a bit as she skirted the mess and then limped towards her bedroom. First, she would find her first aid kit, and then she would go back to the kitchen and clean up everything. By the time Leslie made it to her bathroom,

she was hopping on one foot to avoid putting any press. pressure on the injured one. She opened up her bathroom cabinet and pulled out the scuffed white box that had first aid stickered on the front. She sat down on her toilet and started looking for the bandages. From the kitchen came mechanical whirring. Leslie's head jerked up so quickly that she slammed it against the shelf above the toilet. She ground and put her head down so that she could almost press it against her knee.

Everything was spinning inside of her skull. The worrying only got louder and that obnoxious voice from the kitchen. Fucking toy! Leslie grumbled under her breath. She touched the tender spot on the back of her head and sucked in another breath as the pain made her vision's body. That hollow Lego sound was back, pattering against the kitchen linoleum.

No, Quasar! Leslie called out. Quasar! Turn off! Go to sleep! Quasar! Turn off! The toy's voice became to the kitchen.

distorted, like it was running on a dying battery. It crossed through her bedroom, heading for the attached bathroom where she was sitting. It slammed her bedroom door shut, and she heard the wood split like a tree was struck by lightning. Oh my God, she dropped her voice. She leaned across the bathroom, reaching for her doorknob while the hollow plastic feet clapped closer and closer. Leslie caught a glimpse of yellow and blue plastic, and then she managed to slam the door shut. Leslie fell to her knees and scrambled to the door, locking it and holding the knob tight with both hands so it could not be turned from the outside. She held her breath, waiting to see what would happen. She had to be imagining things. She kept telling herself that, even if it

meant that her heart was racing so fast that she felt like she was going to vomit. A few quiet seconds passed, and her breathing started to even out. The bathroom door should be able to. The bathroom door shook, and the pounding was so loud and sudden that she screamed. Leslie squeezed the door handle until her finger started to go numb, and the nerves and her elbows twinged. The door shook again, violently, as if invisible hands were holding it and trying to rip it out of the frame. My God, okay, okay! Leslie screamed. Tears ran down her face, and she braced herself against the pounding door. All of a sudden, there was no more shaking and no more thundering.

Leslie's breath came in short, staggering gasps. On the other side of the door, that happy toy voice asked. Leslie racked her brain for something, for anything, that would send that thing out of the house. She didn't feel like it would be as simple as telling Quicky Quasar to walk into traffic. Quasar, she said, afraid to let the silence linger for too long. You're going to have to give me a minute. I have to think about it. Well, not anything, she said dryly. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but realistically, you're plastic.

There was a long silence. Far longer than any silence there had been yet. There was a thump, and the door shivered like something had sat down in front of it. The voice on the other side of the wood was back to being distorted and wrong. SCP 2795 is a 1.3 meter tall humanoid toy made from plastic and diecast Zamek, possessing rudimentary intelligence and the ability to be able to be able to be. to understand basic English, though it can only communicate through pantomime.

It follows commands to the best of its ability, but often misinterprets even simple instructions. Despite its small size, SEP 2795 can exert up to 200 newtons of force. When not carrying out a command, it remains inactive. Labelled as Quicy Quasar the Can Do helper by Wondertainment, It was designed to assist with chores and provide fun. The toy was recovered from an abandoned factory in China,

believed to be a prototype that never saw mass production.