Chapter 1: What is the main topic discussed in this episode?
Want to hear brand new horror stories brought to life, live? Join me every Sunday at 7 p.m. Eastern Time on the Dr. No Sleep Podcast YouTube channel, where I narrate fresh, never-before-heard stories in real time. Just search Dr. No Sleep Podcast on YouTube and make sure you're subscribed with notifications on so you don't miss it. Miranda stares at the empty glass tank. No, she mumbles.
Oh, no, no, no. Without thinking, she pulls on a pair of thick neoprene gloves. Bobby, she calls out, crouching down and looking under the table the tank sits on. Where are you, little buddy? Miranda has no idea how the toy rubber duck got its name. As far as she knows, it doesn't communicate with the staff.
But someone at some point put an index card up on the tank that says, Hi, I'm Bubbly Bobby. Touch me without gloves and you die. It's been Miranda's general policy since joining the foundation as a research assistant, not to touch anything without a pair of thick gloves on, even the items deemed safe for skin contact.
She gets looks and is made fun of by some of the other research assistants, but they probably haven't seen what Miranda has seen. In the two short years she's been with the Foundation, she has witnessed in no particular order a man get turned inside out in less than four seconds. It took him a lot longer than four seconds to die, and she won't be forgetting that anytime soon.
Two cats morph into eggplants. She has no idea what happened to the eggplants. A chocolate fountain sprout legs and run away screaming, No double dipping! Six foundation agents revert to infancy, literally in size and personality, and require round-the-clock feedings and diaper changes for eight days straight. She's fairly certain they were adopted by nice families after that, though.
And a 10-foot-tall gingerbread man drink himself to death with whole milk. It's been an eventful two years, but it beats working fast food like she did in college. Regardless, Miranda is not in the mood for an anomaly to go missing all of a sudden. Bobby, she calls, still searching the room for the missing purple rubber ducky.
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Chapter 2: What happens when SCP-6868 escapes containment?
The space is filled with similar glass tanks, making it look like the back room of a mom-and-pop pet store. Many of the tank's inhabitants watch Miranda closely despite not having eyes. She tries to avoid their stares. Someone hisses at her. Miranda straightens up and looks back at the room's door, which is still shut tight, the red light indicating the door is securely locked.
She frowns and returns to her search. Bobby, where are you, buddy? She calls, getting on her hands and knees and peering under a set of shelves. Come on, Bobby, show yourself.
Psst, lady, over here.
The voice hisses again.
What? Who's there?
Miranda asks, standing up and placing her hands to the small of her back, stretching her spine and muscles.
I said over here, you deaf and blind?
Realizing it's an anomaly talking to her, Miranda searches the tanks for the source of the voice. Where? Miranda turns to the shelves she thinks the voice is coming from. In the various tanks, there's a ball of yellow and green yarn, two thimbles sitting in a teacup, a large, size 13 men's work boot without shoelaces, and in the top tank, an empty turtle shell.
Cocking her head, Miranda moves in closer to the tank with the empty turtle shell. Bingo, sweet cheeks! You found me! Startled, Miranda draws back, her hand to her mouth. Wait, you're nonverbal, she says, checking the info plate under the tank. Yeah, it says right there, nonverbal. Nonverbal? What am I, some idiot autistic kid? Please. Whoa, that's not a very nice thing to say, Miranda replies.
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Chapter 3: What unusual experiences has Miranda had at the Foundation?
No. Why would you think that would be okay? Wishful thinking. I'm an optimist. Wish for something else. Muffin? Cookie? Pudding? Those are all food names. No. Just no. Toots it is, then. No way. Tough shit. The name has been chosen. My name is Miranda. Nah, doesn't have the same ring. I'm going with toots. Miranda starts to rub her face, then realizes she still has gloves on.
She glances over at Bobby's empty tank. Uh, empty turtle shell guy, did you see where Bobby went? Empty turtle shell guy. I just spent all kinds of effort figuring out what your name is, Toots, and... It's Miranda. And you don't even bother to ask me mine. Instead, you call me empty turtle shell guy. You might as well be a two-year-old and call me Turtley. Miranda sighs. My apologies.
Is that your name? Turtley? What? No, I wouldn't let a two-year-old name me. All right, what's your name? Wouldn't you like to know? Not really, I need to find Bobby. Miranda starts to turn back to Bobby's empty tank. Scooter. Miranda pauses. What? Scooter, my name is Scooter. Technically, it's Scooter the Haunted Turtle Shell.
I probably had a full name, a normal name when I was alive, but I ain't alive, so all I can remember is Scooter. Miranda really, really wants to rub her face. She wants to pull on her cheeks and let out a long, frustrated groan. But even if she took the gloves off, she knows the room is monitored, and showing frustration will just land her in a meeting with HR.
And no one wants to deal with Foundation HR. You're a ghost? She asks the empty turtle shell. That, I am. Pretty sure I was gunned down by Dickie Threefingers in Philly, but that's about all I remember. You're a gangster? You know many people who were gunned down by someone named Dickie Threefingers, who's an accountant? Yeah, I was a goddamn gangster. A good one, too.
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Chapter 4: Who is Miranda and what is her role in the SCP Foundation?
I was an earner. Until Dickie Threefingers killed you. You got that right, toots. Miranda sighs again. Okay, you're a haunted turtle shell. I could ask you how you became a haunted turtle shell, but I really need to find Bobby first. If someone touches him without gloves, it's gonna be bad. Oh, you don't have to tell me, Toots. I seen it go down before.
Been here in the tank since they brought Bobby in. That boy sure likes to escape. He does? You've seen him escape before? Sure thing, toots. Please stop calling me that. Ah, don't be so sensitive. A pretty piece of ass like you should be thankful you're getting some quality male attention. Jesus Christ, what year were you killed? 1976.
And let me tell you, Toots, I ain't still pissed I missed the bicentennial celebrations. Just two weeks away from going to Asbury Park to watch the fireworks on the boardwalk. Then that damn Dicky Threefingers caught up with me. Yeah, that's sad. I feel for you. Can we get back to Bobby, please? Where does he usually go when he escapes? I tell you what, Toots.
You get me out of this tank and take me with you, and I'll lead you right to him. Deal? No, there's no deal. Just tell me. Ah, come on, why not? Um, because it specifically says on your info plate, do not make deals with Turtle Shell, which makes sense if you're supposed to be nonverbal. Bureaucracy, am I right? That's why I lived free as an entrepreneur. Gangster. Whatever.
You say tomato sauce, I say tomato gravy. I'm not making a deal with you. Fine, fine. No deal then. Exactly. Miranda kneels down and restarts her search. You ain't gonna find him down there, toots, Scooter says in a know-it-all sing-song voice. Ignoring the turtle shell, Miranda continues her search. But it only takes her about five minutes to fully realize that Bobby is nowhere in the room.
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Chapter 5: How does Miranda find the haunted turtle shell?
She stands up, her gloved hands on her hips. Okay, little buddy, where can you have gotten off to? She wonders out loud. If only someone with years of experience could help you, Scooter says, sarcasm thick in his ethereal voice. Before Miranda can respond, a warning klaxon blares. I wonder what that could be, Scooter says, shouting over the klaxon. Lurching for the door, Miranda pauses.
Then she looks back at Scooter. She shouts, I swear on my mother's grave, my nonna's grave too. Hell, toots, I swear on my own grave. I mean, if I'm lying, then I'll certainly go to hell. He chuckles, like I'm not already there, am I right? Miranda growls low in her throat, torn by what to do. Okay, you can come with, but no shenanigans. Shenanigans?
What do I look like, some Irish mook from Boston? Please, don't insult me, toots. Shaking her head, Miranda opens the tank and lifts the turtle shell out.
She turns it this way, she turns it that way, but it looks like a normal, empty turtle shell, just like one you'd find for sale on a broken card table at some flea market, right next to a display of throwing stars and Dukes of Hazzard Uncle Jesse for President bumper stickers. Yeah, that feels nice, toots. Keep fondling me all you want. Jesus, gross, Miranda says, glad she has gloves on.
Okay, where to? Like I'm just gonna tell ya? Get to steppin', toots. I'll give instructions on the go. Letting out a frustrated breath, Miranda shrugs and walks to the door, keying in her code. The light turns green and she yanks open the door, stepping out into a hallway filled with chaos. Everywhere she looks, Foundation personnel are down.
Bodies litter the hallway, none of them showing signs of life. What they do show are pink soap bubbles oozing out of their orifices, with some even oozing out of the pores, making their skin look like it's grown pink boils. Yep, Bobby's been this way, Scooter says. Ain't no denying that. They touched him, Miranda gasps. Why would they touch him?
Because he's a cute little sparkly purple rubber ducky, that's why. Who ain't gonna pick up a rubber ducky? A goddamn monster, that's who. Making her way slowly and carefully down the hallway, Miranda kneels next to each body. She wants to check their pulse, but doesn't dare take the neoprene gloves off. But it's not hard to see that each person is very much dead.
The scent of children's strawberry shampoo is strong, almost overpowering. So much for no tears action, am I right, toots? Scooter laughs. Security descent! A voice booms over the site's PA system. Come on, we have to go, Miranda says, standing and hurrying toward the hallway junction that leads to Sector 9. Hold your horses, Toots. That ain't for us, Scooter says. Bobby ain't in Sector 9.
How do you know? You brought me with because of my expertise, right? You gonna trust me or what? Yes, but you gotta trust me, Toots. Scooter sighs, and Miranda is surprised she can hear it over the still blaring klaxon. Listen, Bobby may have gone that way, but he ain't there now. They'd have contained him if he was. But I know his spots. I know his favorite places. How? We talk, toots.
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Chapter 6: What information does Scooter provide about Bobby the rubber duck?
Um, I am, Miranda says, raising her gloved hands in the air. Don't you dare drop me, toots, Scooter warns. I ain't as durable as I look. You're an empty turtle shell, Scooter. You don't look durable at all. Ouch. Cutting right to the heart with that one, toots. Right to the heart. A helmeted face appears from the steam, eyes glaring at Miranda as she stays on her knees, hands up. Where is it?
Where is SCP-6868? The security officer bellows, his rifle aimed right at Miranda's head. Down here, Bobby says. Hello. The security officer switches his aim. We got it, right here. He takes a step forward, then glances at Miranda. You, move. Get clear. We've been given the order to put this one down with extreme prejudice. Extreme prejudice? Scooter says. He's a rubber ducky, for Christ's sake.
Regular prejudice should do the trick. I prefer no prejudice, please, Bobby says. Miranda makes the stupid decision to shuffle on her knees, slip sliding between the rifle barrel and Bobby. Hey, now, he didn't mean to hurt anyone, she says to the security officer. It's not his fault that people didn't know the handling protocol for this anomaly. Ma'am, get out of the way right now.
I won't ask you again, the security officer barks. More shadows solidify, and the other security officers press through the steam, backing up their point man. Half the rifles are aimed at Miranda, half are aimed at Bobby. I'm not getting out of the way. This anomaly, SCP-6868, is not malicious. All he wanted to do was take a shower and splash around in the water a bit.
SCP-6868 has escaped containment too many times, ma'am. The officer steps forward and places the barrel of the rifle to Miranda's head. Him or you, ma'am. Your choice. Yeah? You think those are the only two choices, you buffed-up rent-a-cop? Scooter shouts. Not even close, pal. You got your crew with you, making you all tough? Well, guess what? I got my own crew, dipshit.
And we're about to mess you up. What are you talking about, Scooter? Miranda whispers out of the side of her mouth. You's about to find out, toots, Scooter replies. Oh, dear, Bobby says and hops back into the corner. This might get messy. Messy, Miranda exclaims. No, whatever you guys are thinking of doing, don't. Too late, toots, Scooter says. For them, at least.
Sounds like you made your choice, the security officer says, and his finger tightens on the rifle's trigger. Then there's a yelp from the officers behind him. What the Another cries. Wait, those ain't bubble sculptures! A third shouts. Holy shit! A fourth yells just as everything goes to hell.
Green and yellow yarn shoots through the steam and wraps about one of the officer's throats, yanking him back and out of sight. Another officer screams and lurches forward. The man is clawing at his helmet's faceplate while inside. Two thimbles burrow into his eyes. A teacup is busy bashing the top of the man's helmet while screaming. How many lumps you want, asshole? Huh? How many lumps?
An officer flies forward, slamming hard into the shower wall. He goes completely limp and slides down into the sudsy water. A size 13 men's work boot clomps out of the steam, heading straight for the man. You ever had a boot up your ass? The work boot yells. Miranda turns her head so she can't see the results of that threat. Turtle power, activate! Scooter yells. Miranda eyes the shell and waits.
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