Link to article: timeline.rtf.
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+++ __Addendum 2 - Timeline of SCP-8802 Initial Manifestation__ [[div style="border:solid 5px #ff0066; background:#FFFFFF; padding:15px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 10px;"]] [[=]] //(**Note:** This data was primarily taken from// Sesame Street //cast and crew through questioning.)// [[/=]] **May 12th, 1967:** The first mention of SCP-8802-A appears in the //Sesame Street// show bible. Jim Henson denies having conceived such a character. **June 1st, 1967:** The first draft of the song "I Love Trash" is written, appearing for the first time in Henson's bathroom. No one on the creative team claims ownership. Only the chorus and first three verses have remained from the original version, which was a 57-minute "Oratorio of Fetid VUUOU's Adulation" for two full orchestras. **October 29th, 1968:** Henson sends the following memorandum to the rest of the creative team: > It's been about a year and a half, I've laid down as many moratoriums as I could -- and we're still getting new input about this Oscar character. > > To be completely transparent, I'm no longer convinced that this is an office prank. Even if it were, it stopped being funny well before some someone broke into my flat just to plant the Carmina Burana's idiot cousin in my medicine cabinet. > > Which means that the Oscar Fiasco is being caused by someone with the resources to work around our security __and__ enough psychological issues to keep trying. Other than that, we have no leads! How can someone hate Sesame Street this much BEFORE it even airs?! > > I am genuinely losing sleep over this. On a related note, it's worth another mention whoever's doing this __broke into my flat__. > > We need to redouble our efforts into finding out who's harassing us about Oscar the Cranky Bastard or whatever. Because if we don't, there's a very real chance that I'll have to put him in the show. **November 8th, 1968:** Frank Oz reports that his car has been filled with Italian sonnets on onionskin paper, each one about a different type of trash. The engine is rendered inoperable from a fire caused by sonnets jammed into the fuel lines. **November 9th, 1968:** Henson creates the first concept art of Oscar the Grouch. **November 14th, 1968:** CalArts graduate Michael Popovic is interviewed to work on //Sesame Street//. During the interview, he expresses prior knowledge of Oscar the Grouch -- about whom no information had been published. When questioned, Popovic says that Oscar the Grouch "sounds like the kind of name you'd give a character." **November 20th, 1968:** Henson hires Popovic, citing a need to "keep an eye on him." **January 3rd, 1969:** Popovic finishes construction on SCP-8802-A. **November 10th, 1969:** The first episode of //Sesame Street// is broadcast on NET, a precursor to PBS. **March 11th, 1970:** Henson opens the tank of his toilet, finding a note written in assorted bodily fluids. The handwriting was determined to be Popovic's. [[collapsible show="+ Note transcription" hide="-opening note_1.rtf..."]] > //I'VE A CLOCK THAT WON'T WORK, AND AN OLD TELEPHONE// > //A BROKEN UMBRELLA, AND GOD'S COLLARBONE// > //AND FUNGUS AND MOLD, FROM MY MIND THEY HAVE GROWN// > //I LOVE THEM BECAUSE THEY'RE TRASH// > > //OH, I LOVE TRASH// > //ANYTHING LEAVING ME BROKEN AND BUSTED// > //ANYTHING TURNING THE FAITHLESS DISGUSTED// > //YES, I LOVE TRASH// > > //I FEEL ITS PRESENCE WHENEVER I BLINK// > //WHENEVER I BREATHE AND WHENEVER I THINK// > //IT'S THE LIGHT OF PRINCE VUUOU, AND BOY, DOES IT STINK// > //I LOVE IT BECAUSE IT'S TRASH// > > //OH, I LOVE TRASH// > //ANYTHING TOXIC AND SLOWLY DESTRUCTIVE// > //ANYTHING SECRETLY SWEET AND SEDUCTIVE// > //YES, I LOVE TRASH// > > //THERE'S A PLACE IN MY DREAMS, IT'S CALLED KEGELAPAN// > //WHERE SAT THE DAMP EMPEROR, DAWN AFTER DAWN// > //A TRILLION DISEASES WERE BORN FROM HIS YAWN// > //I LOVE HIM BECAUSE HE'S TRASH// > > //OH, I LOVE TRASH// > //ANYTHING BREACHING MY MORTAL DEFENSES// > //ANYTHING STRANGLING MY UNGUARDED SENSES// > //YES, I LOVE TRASH// > > //THE PEDDLERS OF FIRE, ERASURE, AND DEATH// > //DESTROYED MY LORD'S KINGDOM, NOW NOTHING IS LEFT// > //I WALLOW IN SORROW FROM HOW I'M BEREFT// > //BUT LOVE IT BECAUSE IT'S TRASH// > > //OH, I LOVE TRASH// > //LET IT DEFILE ME AND PAIN ME AND PRICKLE// > //LET IT ALL SOAK IN MY SOUL 'TIL I'M PICKLED// > //YES, I LOVE TRASH// > > //THE THRONE IS NOW VACANT, IT STANDS AS THE GOAL// > //FOR THOUSANDS OF MINDS WITH A SINGULAR SOUL// > //THE MANTLE OF VUUOU, FOR ONE, WILL BE WHOLE// > //FOR AEONS OF ENDLESS TRASH// > > //OH, I LOVE TRASH// > //I AM ITS CONCUBINE AND I OBEY IT// > //HERE IS MY SKIN, TRASH, SO GO ON AND FLAY IT// > //YES, I LOVE TRASH// [[/collapsible]] **March 12th, 1970:** Henson confronts Popovic in his office regarding his strange behavior and unauthorized skits. After 27 minutes alone with Popovic, Henson leaves his office, and the following exchange occurs... > **Frank Oz:** Well? > > //[Henson says nothing. All the color has drained from his face.]// > > ...Jim, what's wrong? > > **Henson:** He stays on. > > **Oz:** What? > > **Henson:** Mike stays on. The Grouch stays. > > **Oz:** //[Sigh]// Look, buddy. Your compassion is really something else. It's one of the reasons I admire you so much. > > But... let's be honest: Mikey here's taking our passion project and using it as his goddamn litter box. I genuinely don't think any good's gonna come from letting this wacko take Sesame Street down with him. > > //[Henson nods slowly.]// > > So, why do you keep letting him have the benefit of the -- > > //[Henson holds up the back of his right arm, revealing several colonies of parasitic mushrooms that had grown on his skin from scratch marks.]// > > **Henson:** He fucking //stays//, Frank. **March 13th, 1970:** Henson is hospitalized for his injuries. The Foundation is made aware of the anomalous nature of his condition through planted staff at the hospital. **March 15th, 1970:** Henson is briefly remanded into the Foundation's care, where he makes a full recovery through the use of SCP-█████. Other Jim Henson Company personnel are brought in for questioning. **March 16th, 1970:** Oz formally terminates Popovic's employment, replacing him with Caroll Spinney. A second, non-anomalous orange version of SCP-8802 is constructed for filming the remainder of the first season of //Sesame Street//. Subsequent versions use a green puppet to maintain distance from the older, more ideologically hazardous incarnation. **March 17th, 1970:** Foundation personnel attempt to apprehend SCP-8802-A and Popovic... [[div style="border:solid 0px #FFFFFF; background:#000000; padding:15px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 10px;"]] +++ ##ffffff|**Incident-8802-Pale**## +++ ##ffffff|**Date:** 3/17/1970## +++ ##ffffff|**Time:** 9:40 PM EST## +++ ##ffffff|**Personnel:** Local Task Force Odal-48 "Fuggoddenaboutit"[[footnote]](Defunct following this mission)[[/footnote]]## +++ ##ffffff|**Squad Leader:** Cpt. Mara Hutch## [[=]] ##ffffff|<Begin Log>## [[/=]] ##ffffff|//[Hutch's voice recorder switches on.][[footnote]](This took place before bodycams became standard-issue for Foundation task forces.)[[/footnote]]//## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** Checking equipment.## ##ffffff|**Alpha:** Good to go.## ##ffffff|**Bravo:** Good to go.## ##ffffff|**Charlie:** Good to go.## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** That's everyone. ...wouldn't have killed the Foundation to give us Odal-14 and Odal-32.## ##ffffff|**Bravo:** Preachin' to the choir.## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** Ready?## ##ffffff|**Charlie:** Question!## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** Make it quick.## ##ffffff|**Charlie:** Did we get the right location?## ##ffffff|**Alpha:** Yeah, this ain't no apartment with a "Unit 214". Maybe Popovic had a phony address.## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** ...it's the address Command gave. If we scare the wrong people, it's Command's problem.## ##ffffff|**Charlie:** Fair enough.## ##ffffff|**Bravo:** We doin' this or not?## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** Alpha, kick the door down.## ##ffffff|**Alpha:** One, two--## ##ffffff|//[The door opens. An older female voice calls out.]//## ##ffffff|**Receptionist:** //Hey! No loiterin'!//## ##ffffff|//[Alpha stumbles, almost kicking the receptionist.]//## ##ffffff|**Alpha:** //Jesus!//## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** Sorry about that, ma'am.## ##ffffff|**Receptionist:** Whatever. Look, I'm gettin' a delivery van at a quarter to ten, I can't have youse kids playin' karate in my, uh... hang on, youse the FBI or somethin'?## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** Kind of. We're looking for one Michael Popovic. Does he work with you?## ##ffffff|**Receptionist:** My ass he does!## ##ffffff|**Charlie:** Called it, wrong address.## ##ffffff|**Receptionist:** Crazy piece a' shit moved himself into Storage Unit 214. Dude's a packrat. Whole second floor's quarantined just from the smell of it. Scarin' away customers left and right, but none of us have called the cops because we're pretty sure he's a wizard or somethin'. Youse gettin' ridda him?## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** Correct.## ##ffffff|**Receptionist:** Best news I heard all week! Stairs are that way.## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** Thanks, ma'am. Weapons hot!## ##ffffff|//[27 seconds of Hutch leading the squad to and up a stairwell.]//## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** Second floor. Alpha, once more with feeling.## ##ffffff|//[Alpha kicks the door down.]//## ##ffffff|//[They speak in whispers.]//## ##ffffff|**Charlie:** Eugh, fucking hell. Granny wasn't kidding.## ##ffffff|**Bravo:** It's like it's stinkin' //through// the mask.## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** Focus!## ##ffffff|//[They slowly progress down a hallway.]//## ##ffffff|**Alpha:** At least they left the lights on.## ##ffffff|**Charlie:** Can you see Unit 214?## ##ffffff|**Bravo:** I mean, there's a rectangular opening spilling over with lichen and damp rags between 212 and 216. But I still can't see 214. Maybe let's check the other hallway.## ##ffffff|**Popovic:** My inward path is disturbed. The noises approach. Softly. Softly. Garish. Startling in their quietude.## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** Don't rush in. We don't know what we're dealing with, or what he's capable of. Do //not// fire unless I say otherwise.## ##ffffff|**Alpha:** Mr. Popovic?## ##ffffff|**Popovic:** "Popovic" is a word lost to the bile of all-voids unspoken. My name was buried under 6.39 millimeters of assorted biofilm. You daren't approach. Failing his higher calling, the bodhisattva shan't ever breach his unruptured pus-hovel. Gaze eternally nailed downward, inward, backward. The prize beckons through a tunnel of fetid briars. The outstretched palm. The wine-dark hospitality. //Hmmmng nyaaamm hoommn karaah karaahlaah. Fiakh duhazh esto, esto duhazh fiakh, wa-oooooooh.// Anything dirty or dingy or dusty.## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** //[Sotto voice, into recorder]// Report on targets. The puppet is being held up by Popovic's right hand. Popovic is currently half-submerged in a garbage can full of dark green liquid, which appears to be slowly transforming his--## ##ffffff|**SCP-8802-A:** It's called //Murk//, Einstein.## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** //[Into recorder]// Puppet's hands are moving without assistance from Popovic. If anything is being controlled manually, it's the mouth.## ##ffffff|**Alpha:** What the hell is Murk?## ##ffffff|**SCP-8802-A:** //So// glad you asked. It does this.## ##ffffff|//[Wet, sucking noises. Popovic chokes.]//## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** //[Into recorder]// ...puppet is forcibly regurgitating the liquid into Popovic's mouth.## ##ffffff|**Popovic:** THE GIFT. RECEIVE MY GRATITUDE. THE GIFT. RECEIVE MY GRATITUDE. THE GIFT. RECEIVE MY GRATITUDE. THE--## ##ffffff|//[His voice is muffled.]//## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** //[Into recorder]// There is a two-meter-long mushroom rapidly sprouting from his mouth. ...three meters. ...four meters. An aperture is opening on the cap of the--## ##ffffff|**Mushroom:** {{PUTRIDUM VINCIT OMNIA.}}## ##ffffff|//[Sound of high-pressure liquid bursting open from a tense membrane. Splashing. The entire team screams. Alpha and Bravo's cries grow deeper and more distorted. Rapid footsteps fade with Charlie's voice -- he retreats.]//## ##ffffff|**SCP-8802-A:** Oh, bitch, bitch, //bitch// -- IT'S A //BLESSING//, YA SISSIES! Show some gratitude and you'll get used to it quicker.## ##ffffff|**Popovic:** My throat-spawn has exploded and its sacrifice is welcomed and I am whole and empty and whole again and nothing is beautiful and everything is beautiful my grand flaccid trumpet singeth the vespers.## ##ffffff|//[Hutch fires her weapon twice.]//## ##ffffff|**Popovic:** I'll have you know, this damage is counterintuitive to my spiritual development.## ##ffffff|//[She fires ten times.]//## ##ffffff|**SCP-8802-A:** //Mikey!// ... aaaand, he's dead. //Great.// What the hell is wrong with you?! Didn't our episode about gun safety teach you anything? //Now// who's gonna take me out for a pint of untreated blackwater on Saturdays?## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** //[Into recorder]// ...d-deploying incendiaries.## ##ffffff|**SCP-8802-A:** The candied-what-now?## ##ffffff|//[Click of a grenade pin.]//## ##ffffff|Oh, //HELL// NO.## ##ffffff|//[Explosion. Crackling flames. Fire alarm.]//## ##ffffff|//NO! BAD human! BAD! Get that cleansing-flames-of-MUZD bullshit outta my--//## ##ffffff|//[The automatic sprinklers activate.]//## ##ffffff|//[The flame sounds end.]//## ##ffffff|//[After 20 seconds, the fire alarm ends.]//## ##ffffff|//[Hutch slowly regains her strength. She begins to stagger away.]//## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** //[Into her comm unit]// This is Hutch, Odal-48 -- emergency -- send backup immediately...## ##ffffff|**SCP-8802-A:** ...water. ...from the //ceiling.//## ##ffffff|...## ##ffffff|Hey, human. Quick question.## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** //What.//## ##ffffff|**SCP-8802-A:** Did //you...//## ##ffffff|Just give //me...//## [[size 110%]]##a6ff4d|A MOTHERFUCKING //**SHOWER?!**//##[[/size]] ##ffffff|//[Her pace quickens.]//## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** //[Into her comm unit]// Repeat! Requesting backup! Hostile reality bender! My squad is down! //Please come in!//## ##ffffff|//[Sounds of electricity arcing behind her. The ground shakes.]//## ##ffffff|**SCP-8802-A:**## ##a6ff4d|**PRINCE OF PRINCES, UNDULATE THY ANCIENT HUSK UNTO ME. EMBERS OF THE ORIGIN-FLAME COALESCE. I GIVE MYSELF UNTO THE ANCHORITE'S VOW. COAGULATE INWARD. A ENDLESS STAIN UPON THE SOIL THAT WRONGED ME. COAGULATE INWARD AND**## ##ffffff|//[Incomprehensible.]//## ##ffffff|**Hutch:** //[Into her comm unit] I'm leaving my recorder on the sidewalk on the east side of the building! This whole area needs to be quarantined immediately!//## ##ffffff|//[Gunshot. A window shatters.]//## ##ffffff|**SCP-8802-A:**## ##a6ff4d|**HAVE A ROTTEN EVENING!**## ##ffffff|//[She throws the recorder.]//## ##ffffff|//**[SCP-8802 begins.]**//## ##ffffff|//[Rushing wind.]//## ##ffffff|//[Crack.]//## [[=]] ##ffffff|<End Log>## [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[=]] ++ [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8802/offset/3 sanitas.rtf] [[/=]]