Halloween Entry (like this won't get deleted)

It was a relatively fine Wednesday night in October, and Site-51-A was experiencing its annual mutant jack-o'-lantern containment breach. Pumpkin seeds, pumpkin mush, and various other pumpkin related products littered the hallways, and Site-51-A's local cleanup team, Cyrus and Arel, were on the case.

Cyrus rolled his eyes as he plopped a mop into a bucket of water that had gained a pumpkin orange hue over the course of the night, "You know what really confuses me?" he said, turning to Arel.

"What?"

"Why the science nerds here always decide to put out regular, non-anomalous pumpkins, on a day when they know in advance that these anomalous ones are going to start trashing the place."

"Huh," Arel thought for a moment, "That is kinda stupid."

"I mean, I can't tell which of these pumpkins is real, and which is-" as if trying to prove Cyrus' point, the stray pumpkin he had begun to reach out for suddenly jumped up, bit him sharply on the arm, then fled with a dainty hopping motion down the corridor.

"God damn it," he exclaimed, "I hate Ha-"

Arel struck Cyrus firmly in the jaw.

"Aw, jeez Arel, what the hell was that for?"

Arel paused for a moment and looked at her bloodied knuckles, "I don't know. I just… suddenly felt I needed to do that."

Cyrus massaged his bruised jaw, "Jesus, I mean I hate this time of year, but this is already becoming my worst Ha-"

Arel struck Cyrus again, knocking him to the floor.

"Sorry!" she cried in response, then crouching down beside Cyrus and helping him to his feet.

Cyrus shook his head, "Awh no, not this. Not this bastard."

"What?"

"These damn pumpkins must have caused another breach, they've set that damn thing loose that makes it so it's impossible to acknowledge Ha-"

Cyrus cut his sentence short as he saw Arel involuntarily raise her fist again.

"Oh. You mean SCP-█████." she said, "Well, shit."

"God damn it, who the hell is running this place? 'Oh hey, I have an idea, let's put some jack-o'-lanterns on the same site as an object that literally punches you for talking about the thing they're associated with! What could possibly go wrong?'"

"Maybe we should tell some of the higher-ups."

Cyrus ran a hand through his hair and let out a reluctant sigh, "Fine. I guess it's up to us to save the day from this verbal abuse menace," he looked up and down the empty corridor, "Where is everyone anyway?"

"I think most of them will be at the party for… Oh my God." Arel's eyes grew wider.

"The party? You mean the… oh shit."


Blood caked the pumpkin mush that caked the walls. Roughly 50 bodies were scattered across the floor, entangled in the extended blood and pumpkin mulch (Cyrus would later decide to name this mixture "Pumplood", after considering the implications of the alternative). Furniture had been torn apart and tables had been upturned, leaving the poorly carved pumpkins that once sat on them, strewn across the ground in various states of degradation. Overhead hung a flimsy, torn banner, that now simply read "HAPPY HALL".

Amongst the aftermath of a brutal, verbally induced brawl, bounced a single, sentient pumpkin, hopping between its non-sentient friends, relieved that it had finally found some of its own kin again. They didn't bounce as he did, and they didn't seem to enjoy gnawing on the bodies of dead humans as much as he did, but they looked like him and always seemed to be smiling at him, so he felt content regardless. Until Cyrus' foot plowed into his pumpkin cranium and splattered him from existence.

"That's for biting me, you little asshole!" he cried triumphantly.

"Christ, look at this place," Arel carefully stepped between the bodies, "I guess the poor bastards didn't figure it out in time."

Cyrus wasn't paying attention, instead, he was attempting to wipe the remains of a now non-sentient pumpkin off his shoe, "Even in death you mock me, you stupid piece of-"

"They must've been wishing that word to each other until it became a full-on brawl. So who do we turn to now?"

Cyrus was now scraping his shoe against the edge of an overturned table, "Eurgh, this stuff is disgusting, it won't come-"

"Cyrus!" Arel turned to face Cyrus and crossed her arms.

"What? What?"

"What are we meant to do now?"

"Oh, I dunno," he had given up removing the last of the pumpkin mulch and was now removing the shoes of a deceased scientist, "Maybe we should go to communications. Send out a distress call or something."

Arel leaned back against the pumplood covered wall and thought for a moment, "No," she concluded, "we don't have the clearance to access that area. What about the guys from the Metaphysics department? They never attend parties, they're probably fine."

Cyrus finished fitting his new pair of shoes, then turned to Arel, "Those guys don't attend parties because they don't believe parties exist. They also don't believe anyone with an IQ below 150 exists. We're practically invisible to them."

"True…" Arel closed her eyes and returned to thinking up an alternative.

At that very moment, the fabric of space in front of the two began to warp. A dazzling array of colours issued forth, illuminating the room in a spectacular rainbow effect, and at the center of it all, a simple brown door with a golden doorknob manifested, vertex by vertex, edge by edge, face by face. After the magnificent display was over, a sign flipped into existence above the stray door, that simply read "Department of Pataphysics".

"Oh hell no!" Cyrus held his arms above his head and turned away from the door, "No-no-no! I am NOT getting involved with the Pataphysics Department!"

"Yeah, he's right, I think we've had enough of you guys for one year."

The door began to pataphorically weep.

"No!" Cyrus exclaimed again, "What does that even mean? I don't even understand what is going on when you guys are around! Just go away!"

With Cyrus' last word, the door disappeared in a much less spectacular puff of smoke.

Suit yourself, I said.

Cyrus put both hands against the pumplood wall and stared at his feet, "God damn it, we're going to have to do it by ourselves, aren't we?"

"Seems like it."

"Fine. Fine. Let's go to SCP-█████'s chamber and get this over with."

"Happy Hall, Cyrus."

"Happy Hall, Arel."


Arel blushed slightly beneath the bedsheets.

"So, why do I have to cover myself in bedsheets?"

"Because SCP-█████ is all about this holiday. The bastard won't let anything come close unless they look like some supernatural force."

Arel looked at the nearby mirror and saw a bedsheet ghost with two holes for eyes, "I don't think this is what real ghosts look like, Cyrus."

"I'm pretty sure it is."

"But-"

"Trust me, okay, I know ghosts. I once saw a documentary on ghosts and this was exactly what they looked like… or wait… that might have been an episode of Mona the Vampire… I can't remember."

"Cyrus…"

"It's fine! It'll be fine! Just go!"

Arel sighed and began her walk of shame towards the open door of SCP-█████'s containment chamber.

"Wait!" Cyrus held up his hands. Arel stopped and turned back towards him, hoping to God that Cyrus had decided this was a stupid idea and wanted to abandon it.

Instead, he handed her a sledgehammer, "Can't forget this li'l guy! Eternal ally of the supernatural hunter and such."

Arel reluctantly took the hammer from Cyrus, who then gleefully ushered her towards the containment chamber.

She felt a jolt through her body as she passed the invisible threshold and SCP-█████ recognised her incredibly accurate ghost costume. An overwhelming sense of horror based festivity entered her soul, a sense so intense that she almost cringed at the shapeless obsession with the whole theme. Either that or the bedsheets covering her were not freshly cleaned and did, in fact, smell 2 months old, despite Cyrus' claim he washed them daily.

In the middle of the chamber was the source of the disturbance and the cause of all of Site-51-A's troubles. The great terror that had caused so much of a calamity that very day. The evil which had lead to the death of over 50 personnel, and scratched the chrome shine of Cyrus and Arel's otherwise unscratched day.

"It's a pumpkin," Arel said.

Cyrus' voice crackled to life over the intercom, "Okay, yeah, so, this site has a lot of pumpkins, it's a bit weird. You know I actually once put in a suggestion to rename this place to "Pumpkin Site-51-A" but they said they couldn't see the connection I was making, for some reason. You know, now I think about it, it might have been caused by that other pumpkin shaped object here that makes people unable to see pumpkin related connections betwee-"

"Okay, okay, cool story, just tell me what I have to do!"

"Oh, uh…" the sound of shifting papers echoed across the intercom as Cyrus read through SCP-█████'s Special Containment Procedures. He thought hard and thus made the appropriate thinking sound.

"What? What's with the thinking sound? What are your thinkings? What do I have to do?"

"Apparently… you have to smash the pumpkin."

Arel was silent for a moment.

"Arel?"

"Are you serious?"

"Totally."

Arel was silent again. She felt she was falling into one of Cyrus' pun traps again. Probably something to do with her smashing the pumpkin. Probably something to do with The Smashing Pumpkins.

"Arel?"

"Fine! Fine. Here we go."

She hefted the sledgehammer over her head, then braced herself. Not for the upcoming impact of the sledgehammer against the pumpkin, but for the inevitable pun Cyrus was on the brink of breaking out.

The hammer came down and obliterated the pumpkin. Seeds and mulch flew across the chamber, and a significant amount of it splattered across Arel's bedsheets.

She waited.

Cyrus said nothing.

She had been spared the pun.

"Hey," Cyrus' voice came from behind and she turned to face him, "since I'm allowed in here, I can only assume it worked."

"Yeah, I guess we can-" she stopped short as Cyrus dipped a finger into part of the pumpkin mulch on her bedsheets, then put it in his mouth.

"Mmm," he nodded, "A Ghost's Pumpkin Soup"

Arel and Cyrus stared at each other in silence for a moment, until the bedsheet ghost decided to speak out, "You motherfucker."

Cyrus broke into a fit of laughter.

"You asshole, Cyrus, why would you do that?!" her body tensed up as she began pulling the bedsheets off.

"Hey, you know me!" he replied, "THE FIGHTIN' FREAK KNUCKLES!" Cyrus bent over and fell to his knees as his laughter became uncontrollable.

Arel threw the bedsheets down at him, "No one's even going to get that joke! You just look like an idiot!"

Cyrus stopped laughing, then looked up into Arel's angry glare. She was right, after all. The two locked into a moment of tension as Cyrus tried to form a response, then he calmly replied, "Arel… I ain't gonna let it get to me… I'm just gonna creep!"

"Fuck you, Cyrus!"

Cyrus reeled over as he burst out laughing again.

Arel clenched her fists and her mouth tightened to a point, "You fucking… was that even in the Special Containment Procedures? We didn't even contain it, we just- holy shit, did you have me destroy an SCP for the sake of a joke?"

Cyrus stood up, his face bright red as he attempted to control his laughter. He wiped away a tear, "No- it- ha, no, it said nothing about smashing it. I bet you thought I was going for a Smashing Pumpkins joke, didn't you?"

"Bloody hell Cyrus, our jobs are on the line here, what happens when they find out what we've done?"

"When who finds out what we've done? Everyone's dead, we'll just blame it on them."

Arel threw her hands in the air, "Metaphysics aren't dead! Pataphysics clearly aren't dead!"

Cyrus wiped another tear from his eye, "Don't worry about it, Arel. What are they going to do? Pataphysics can't wipe us unless we break a narrative rule. We're clean."

Arel crossed her arms and let out a sharp breath of air, "I guess so."

"Arel, just chill," Cyrus put a hand on Arel's shoulder and looked into her eyes, "it's time to relax. Let's go celebrate Hal

PATAPHYSICS DEPARTMENT ANNOUNCEMENT:
THIS NARRATIVE HAS BEEN ERASED. SEE ATTACHED MESSAGE FOR REASON.

Message from CyrusFiredawnCyrusFiredawn, 2018-10-30:

Dear reader,

I have chosen to erase this narrative after finding it in breach of the following rules:
1. Attempt to acknowledge the annual event, "Halloween".
2. Obscure video game jokes.
3. Too many "lolFoundation" tropes.
4. Not letting me get involved in the story, why does everyone hate the Pataphysics Department, what did we do wrong?!

Due to these infractions, the narrative has been erased and an indefinite hold has been placed on any narratives written by CyrusFiredawnCyrusFiredawn. I apologise for any inconvenience this may cause you.

Sincerely,
CyrusFiredawnCyrusFiredawn

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