The SCP Experience - You Never Want to Meet the Trashman | SCP-2328

Episode Date: April 12, 2024

Want to listen ad-free? Try it FREE for 7 days here: patreon.com/TheSCPExperience SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-2328: You Never Want to Meet the Trashman This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2328 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Matt D. * * * 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 #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome to board of Viarai. Embarked and profited. Embarked and relax. Cirotay. Bookiné. Oh, that also. And profite. Via Rae.

The voice that we love. There's something else here now. Something new. From, exclusively on Paramount Plus, it's the series Stephen King calls scary as hell. Everything here is impossible, but it's also real.

Sci-fi vision calls it the best show. streaming right now. We're running out of time and we still don't know the rules. Don't miss what the movie blog calls something you need to watch. Saving those children is how we all go home. From Binge All episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. Ah, you gotta be kidding me. I said as I stepped out of the transport vehicle,

laying eyes on the house for the first time. What's wrong, Ritter? Lehman said with a laugh as he passed, slapping me on the back. Too dirty for you? Too dirty was an understatement. The home, a two-story farmhouse-style structure in rural New Jersey, was surrounded by garbage. I'm talking a sea of trash that made it look like the house was floating in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Much of it looked to be contained in black trash bags, but many of those bags had deteriorated over months or years in the elements, spilling their contents.

Then there were random piles of loose trash around. Better, let's move! Lieutenant Alonzo shouted. I could already feel my skin crawling, despite having coveralls and a KN95 mask on. We'd been told during our briefing that we might have to deal with some garbage. But this was a hell of a lot more than some.

And everybody knew I was a germaphobe. I felt my throat closing up, and my feet seemed to seal themselves to the ground while the rest of my team spread out to create a perimeter around the house. "'ridor, God damn it!' Alonzo shouted. "'I will write you up for insubordination if you don't move your ass,' Lehman hustled back over to me. I could tell he was no longer smiling under his mask. "'Come on, man,' he whispered.

I went reluctantly and with the strange feeling that I was outside of my body. But not in a good way. This was how I felt before a panic attack. Lehman pulled me toward the irregular wall of trash that encompassed the structure. There was a single walkway through to the front door, but a couple of other team members had already taken that route and were waiting by the door for me and Lehman to get into position. We moved around to the side so we could cover the east windows, just in case the subject bolted. Thankfully, we stopped a few feet away from the wall of trash on the east side of the house. Still, it was too close for me.

I could smell the garbage through my mask, and the gag muscles at the back of my throat spread. Spasmed, gently. Not yet making me vomit. I still felt like I was teetering on the edge of a panic attack. After a few long moments, muted male voices floated over the trash-strewn landscape. They were calm at first, but then they rose in volume and urgency. Give me a sit-rep. Alonzo said. Do you need backup? One voice was still crying out, but the other two had stopped. No, sir. We have the subject attained. We're bringing him out now. Those words, I knew if I had to move into that house, I would lose it, and I would probably be fired or transferred to a desk job.

Until now, I had managed to keep the severity of my phobia under wraps. Sure, everyone knew I was a clean freak, but it was more of an eccentricity than a problem. Because we'd never been on a mission like this where I had to deal with so much filth. Lehman started toward the front of the house to go in that way. Then he stopped and looked back at me. Come on, man. I just stared at him, unable to move again. Ritter!

Alonzo said over the radio. You stay out here and watch the perimeter. I let out of breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Yes, sir, I said. Lehman nodded and hustled to go start the search of the house. I backed away from the wall of garbage and then started walking the perimeter, silently thanking Alonzo for having mercy on me. But I knew I wouldn't hear the end of this.

I might still be fired or transferred, and I probably deserved to be. If something had gone down in the house, I wouldn't have been capable of doing my job, and it could have cost lives. As I walked around toward the front of the house, I saw a crushed milk carton appear out of nowhere on the ground nearby. What the hell? I looked up, thinking it had fallen from a tree or something, but that didn't seem right. It didn't move like it would have if it had fallen out of a tree. It just appeared perfectly still.

Weird. I looked over at where Team One had the subject near our transport vehicle. Our intel said that it was a man. The guy sat on the ground with his hands cuffed behind him with his back to the side of the vehicle. Both members of Team One, Pate and Hollis, stood flanking him. He wore a green hazmat suit that covered his whole body. It was one of those single-piece suits with gloves and boots attached. His head was hidden by the green hood, and the gas mask he wore obscured most of his face.

I could just barely see the white skin around his eyes through the goggles attached to the mask. I kept moving, thinking about the strange milk carton. Although I didn't see any more trash appear out of nowhere, I could have sworn I saw pieces of trash that hadn't been there before as I made my rounds. But there was so much garbage that I couldn't be sure. An hour later, when the house had been cleared of any other subjects, We all piled into the transport vehicle, blocking the subject in a cage at the front of the cargo area. Going by what little I could see of the subject, he looked young, maybe late teens or early 20s.

Pate and Hollis had tried to remove the mask, but they said it was stuck on or something. Alonzo told them to let the scientists back at base worry about it. The guy stared at his feet as we all got situated on the two bench seats. I don't want to leave, he said suddenly. still looking at his feet. Everyone ignored him. The vehicle lurched and made a U-turn in front of the house. I don't want to leave!

The guy yelled, stomping his right foot. You better calm the fuck down before I've knocked you out. A guy named Kang, said. We swayed and bumped as the vehicle turned and then started picking up speed on the country road. Jesus! Someone yelled. I glanced toward the source of the exclamation

and saw a small pile of dented paint cans on the floor. near the rear doors. I don't want to leave! The vehicle swerved to the left. I felt gravity change as the wheels left the ground. A moment later, I was slammed back as the wall behind me became the floor. All the task force troops from the other side came flying toward us. Pain flared as Kang smashed into me.

The vehicle slid off the road and flipped onto its roof in the ditch before stopping. Groaning and cursing, we all clambered out of the overturned truck. While others took a moment to regain their composure, Lehman and I moved up to the front to check on the driver and Alonzo. When we got to the cab, I looked inside and saw that it was filled with garbage. The driver, Goldberg, was struggling to find the door handle amid all the junk. There were empty beer cans, plastic water bottles, dirty diapers, food wrappers, and even what looked like coffee grounds.

Lehman helped both men out of the cab while I stood helplessly by, Skin crawling and shame spiraling because I couldn't bring myself to help. But they got out, and they both seemed okay, even though they were covered in garbage stains and awful smells. That shit just appeared in there, Goldberg said, brushing coffee grounds and bits of old spaghetti from his pants. I couldn't see anything, and something was stuck under the brake pedal. I guess there's no doubt at this point, Alonzo said, bent over and spitting to get something out of his mouth. We're definitely dealing with an anomaly. You wanted to see me, sir?

I said, standing in Captain Soriano's office. Soriano, a dead ringer for Patrick Stewart if you added a good 30 pounds and turned his hair black instead of white, studied me from his seat. He played with the pen in one hand and tapped his chin with a finger on his other hand. I hear you froze out there yesterday. Is that right? My face went hot.

Yes, sir. did. Soriano studied me for several more long moments before he spoke again. I'm not so sure you're cut out for the task force life, he said. I'm thinking maybe we can find something better for you. I felt like I'd just been punched in the gut. This was exactly what I feared. Respectfully, sir, I think I can still be... You can't be in the field if you're going to freeze up every time you come across a mess. I'm honestly. surprised you even passed the psychological exam to get here in the first place. So here's what I'm going to.

Soriano's words were lost to me. His items rained down on me from nowhere. Closing my eyes on reflex, I felt sharp pinpricks all over my head, the back of my neck, my shoulders and my arms. When the momentary downpour stopped, I opened my eyes and looked at Soriano. He stared at me, his mouth agape and eyes wider than I'd ever seen them. Then I lifted my arms and looked down at them, seeing dirty syringes sticking out of my skin. The floor was littered with them.

Some of them had their bright orange protective caps still on, but most of them didn't. I stared at the needle sticking out of my skin, feeling more of them all over as I shifted. My throat closed up as panic engulfed me like a whirlpool sucking me into the crushing depths of a black sea. The disgust and sheer terror I felt played through my mind like lightning. making me want to scream one moment, pass out the next, and puke the next. But the only thing I did was stand there and shake. Some part of me much too aware of Soriano sitting a few feet away, watching, his last words playing on repeat in my head.

If I panicked, I knew I would be done for good, no longer able to work on a mobile task force, or as a security officer ever again. So I stood, syringous swaying as I trembled. Croaking. I managed to say, A little help, please. Soriano snapped out of it and jumped up to get some help.

But I still had to stay where I was for nearly five minutes, unable to bring myself to pull any of the syringes out, unable to do anything but fight off panic and shake. It was the longest five minutes of my life, but during that time, I learned a lot about myself. A whole lot. I came into work the next day wondering if I had done enough to keep my job, By some miracle, I hadn't caught any viruses or diseases from the syringes, so I was cleared to return to work.

But as soon as I stepped off the elevator, I knew it was going to be a tough day. There was garbage all over the hallway floor, crumpled up newspapers, fish bones, fast food wrappers, styrofoam cups, plastic utensils, feminine hygiene products, anything you could think of. I was surprised to find that my revulsion wasn't as powerful as it had been yesterday. day. It was still there, and still strong enough to make me want to press the door-close button on the elevator and get the hell out of there, but I was slightly less weirded out. The syringe incident had done something to me. It had told me I could handle being unclean, even if it was the most horrific experience in my life. So after sticking my hand out to keep

the elevator door from shutting only twice, I stepped out into the hall. A couple of D-class were grumbling as they worked from one end of the hall, shoving trash into bags. I rushed down to the observation room outside of the anomaly cell. The scientists had labeled him SCP 2328. Last I heard, they thought they could stop, or at least, slow down the trash generation thing. But that didn't seem to be going so well. As I stepped into the observation room, I found Lieutenant Alonzo, Lehman, and Kang chatting with the scientist. They were all ankle-deep in trash.

They seemed oblivious to it. They all looked my way as the door opened. Gulping loudly, I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. I had to breathe through my mouth so the garbage smell wasn't so bad. Still, mouth breathing wasn't much better. I could taste the trash. You're still here? Alonzo asked.

I thought the captain was demoting you. I shook my head. I haven't heard anything official yet. A cruel glint came into Alonzo's eyes, and he said, Good. That means you can help us subdue 2328 then. He gestured toward the containment cell window. 2328 stood waist deep in trash, frantically loading garbage into a black trash bag as he muttered under his breath. I said nothing, suddenly regretting my decision to step off the elevator after all.

Ritter! Lanzo said. You can help us, can't you? or should I send you to the captain's office to make your transfer official? With Herculian effort, I looked at Alonzo and said, If I help you, will you ask Captain Soriano not to demote me? You want to be rewarded for doing your job? He asked. Not rewarded.

I just want to be able to keep doing it. Alonzo was silent for a moment. Everyone else looked between me and him. Yeah, all right, he finally said. Great, so let's do it. What's the plan? Kang and Lehman are going in with a sedative to try and subdue the guy, Alonza said. You and me will provide backup if things get out of hand.

Wait, so you haven't sedated him the whole time he's been here? I asked, the scientist. We've been concentrating on learning how he transports or generates the trash, the scientist said. And we were working on the assumption that he needs to be awake for that. But now that it's gotten out of hand, they want to knock him out so they can finally do an example. exam, something they should have done right after we brought him in.

I don't tell you how to do your job, Lieutenant, the scientists said. Don't tell me how to do mine. Uh, actually yeah, you're doing that right now. Enough! Just do what you're told, or I'll file a complaint. I never said we weren't going to do it, Alonza said. Then he turned to us and said, let's move. A minute later, we were standing outside the containment cell door. Lehman and King were ahead. head, while Alonzo and I stood a few feet behind them. Kang held the syringe in one hand. Okay, scientist.

Alonzo said with a smirk. Open the door. The door slid open, letting a wave of garbage out, coming up to Kang and Lehman's thighs as they rushed into the room. The subject looked at them with wide eyes, dropping his garbage bag and screaming about going home. Let's go! Alonzo said, starting forward.

I stared at the trash. My feet seemingly glued to the floor again. Come on, come on, told myself, you can do this. Remember the syringes. This is nothing. I thought back to Captain Soriano's office, standing there with dirty needles sticking out of me. I hadn't died.

I was fine. I was still alive and still kicking. I rushed forward just in time to see Kang spin around toward the door with a look of sheer terror on his face. Behind him, Lehman had the subject by one arm, trying to hold him steady as the guy thrashed around. Kang, come on!

Lehman shouted. Give him the drugs! But Kang wasn't in any condition to listen. Something was seriously wrong with him. His throat bulged unnaturally out, like he had something massive stuck in it. He dropped the syringe, which was immediately lost in the sea of garbage, and then brought both hands to his mouth. He opened his jaw wide and reached in with one hand, yanking a K-cup out of his throat, and tossing it away, only to reach back in and pull it. back in and pulled out a balled-up plastic bag. His face was going blue as he asphyxiated.

Help him, Alonzo said, rushing over to help Lehman with 2328. I went over to Kang and reached toward his mouth, trying to help him get the trash out. But before I could help him, his throat exploded. The skin splitting in several places at once, blood sprang into my face. Before he fell back and was swallowed by the waste-deep garbage in the room, I saw what had appeared in his throat, and what had caused his death. It was a plastic mayonnaise jar, its blue lid sticking out from a gash in the side of Kang's throat. Then he was gone,

dead because of the asshole in the green hazmat suit and the gas mask. Shouting in anger, I lunged toward the man. But that's what he was. Lehman had one arm and Alonzo had the other, so he had no defense as I punched him in the face, snapping his head back and cracking a goggle lens. I punched him again and again, knowing that he would probably make something appear inside me at any moment,

killing me in the worst way I could imagine, with trash inside my body. But I kept punching until I broke both lenses and the blood from my hand coated what little of the guy's face we could see under the gas mask. I tried to rip the mask off his head, but it wouldn't come off. Not without ripping his head off, too. And if I'd had the strength to do that, I probably would have. Pretty soon, the guy was clearly unconscious or dead. Lehman and Alonzo had to pull me off of him and get me calmed down. All three of us dragged the guy out of the containment cell

and laid him down where he wouldn't be swallowed by trash. What do we do with him? Alonzo asked, panting. The scientist came over and crouched next to 2328. He reached up to the collar of the hazmat suit and worked to undo the fasteners there. After a minute, he managed to open the front of the suit to reveal what was underneath.

As the scientist opened the suit, trash bulged out. The scientist reached in with one gloved hand and started pulling garbage out. He pulled enough to create a deep hole where a rib cage should have been, but there was no skeleton underneath, no meat or bones, just trash. And as we watched, the cavity the scientist had created, suddenly filled back up, garbage appearing out of nowhere to make the guy hole again. We all looked at his face. But it was clear he was still unconscious.

I think maybe it would be better to let him go home and build a containment site around his house, the scientist said. We all stared down at the trash man. The only noise was the tick, tick, tick of blood dripping from my hand onto the garbage below. SCP 2328 is a construct resembling a Caucasian male human, approximately 18 to 21 years of age.

It is dressed in a green plastic containment suit, and a black gas mask, with no exposed skin save for the portions of its face visible through its mask's eye holes. However, radiography reveals that SCP 2328's containment suit, gas mask, and facial skin are a single-fused, non-removable piece, and that the interior of SCP 2328's containment suit is filled exclusively with household refuse, such as newspapers, components of traditional kitchen and bathroom appliances, and decaying free. It contains no detectable human components, save for its visible facial skin.

Household refuse constantly manifests in random locations in the area surrounding SCP 2328. When SCP 2328 is outdoors, or in a similarly unenclosed environment, all refuse it generates will manifest within 300 feet of it. When it is inside a man-made structure, such as a house or a shipping container, all refuse it generates can appear anywhere within that structure, regardless of distance. SCP 2328 habitually contains the refuse in bags, which it produces continuously from the green filter on the left-hand side of its gas mask. However, SCP 2328 will become sullen, withdrawn, and generally highly uncooperative at the prospect of the refuse it generates being disposed of or destroyed. Lazzangue sur-gillet, Puisance-Moyerned 15 minutes.

Oh, we're saying that's the hour dojo. Prere to play a joy. Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo. The casino in-line that proposes the most recent machine-assu-sou and the game of casino in direct. Profite of 50 tours

on Big Bas-Bonanza. Without exigance of mize and with the payments instantane. Hey, I've gained. Woohoo! Sonture the pleasure. Play-Ojo

10-8 and plus, 1,1, first depots only depots only depots only depots 20-tour-gues $10 dollars. Beye to pay some responsible. The conditions

so we can't.