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Note: The following audio transcripts were recovered from an audio listening device found installed inside the home telephone of Arthur Windsworth during the recovery operation of SCP-1507. The origin of the listening device is currently unknown; investigation is ongoing.

"Hello? Are you there?"

"Hello, this is 911. What is the nature of your emergency?"

"Someone's gone and put flamingos all over my lawn! I don't know how they got there, but they're there and I want them gone."

"May I have your name and address please?"

"Arthur. Arthur Windsworth. I live at…. uhh…. well it's on 9th street. In Shady Oaks. I'm sure I can give the police officers directions if you would just patch me through. These birds need to be gotten rid of I tell you!"

"Are you able to tell me the condition of the birds? Do they appear to be injured?"

"Injured? What? No, no. You don't understand. They're not real birds."

"Not real?"

"Fake! Plastic birds, big great pink plastic flamingos cluttering up my lawn. Someone's put them there and I want them gone."

"Sir, that's not exactly considered an emergency. The 911 hotline is reserved for use in emergencies."

"Well I am ever so sorry, but could you at least send someone down? I'm too old to be messing about in the yard trying to get at a bunch of birds that some hoodlums put in my yard."

"Well Mr. Windsworth, I'll see what I can do. In the future, if you have any more problems with 'hoodlums' please contact the police department directly to file a report."

"Well…. I…. alright."

"Goodbye, Mr. Windsworth."

"What? Oh. Yes. Goodbye."


"Hello, this is 911. What is the nature of your emergency?"

"Oh. Yes. Well you see, I called earlier about some flamingos. I just wanted to let you all know that you don't need to send anyone down. As it turns out, they're actually quite friendly. I've named one of them Dave. He's really very nice."

"Are you referring to the plastic flamingos that were in your yard Mr. Windsworth?"

"Oh. Right. Well I suppose they weren't quite as plastic as I had thought. Maybe they're only partly plastic."

"Well Mr. Windsworth, I've already filed the report, but I'll let them know. Good day Mr. Windsworth."

"Oh thank you. Oh, and umm…. Good day to you as well. I suppose. Yes. A good day indeed."

"911. What's your 'mergency?"

"The birds! The birds are attacking me!"

"What birds?"

"The birds in my yard!"

"Mr. Windsworth, flamingos don't attack people."

"But they did! Someone put them there, don't you see? First they were plastic, now they're attacking me!"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you Mr. Windsworth, flamingos don't attack people. Especially not plastic flamingos."

"But… but I saw them. They really did! One of them nearly pecked my poor eye out… All I did was try to give them some nice shrimp. I didn't mean to knock the poor thing over. I'm telling the truth you know. You have to believe me. I really am!"

"I'm sorry Mr. Windsworth, there's nothing I can do."

"This is preposterous! I am an American citizen. I shall not accept this kind of treatment… I'd like to speak to your Manager!"

"I'll put you through to my boss, Mr. Windsworth, but he'll just tell you the same thing."


"Who is this? Are you the manager?"

"Yes Mr. Windsworth. I'm told you've been having some trouble with your lawn ornaments."

"Trouble! You don't know trouble. And they're certainly not mine. I don't know who put them there. Whoever did it, they're a terrorist. Those little monsters have been assaulting me. They're a public nuisance, I tell you!"

"Mr. Windsworth, you have to understand. No one is coming. No one will ever come. Give up."

"Hello? Are you still there? Hello? …Hello?"

"Is this Captain Jefferies?"

"Yeah Emerson, what's the problem? I've been trying to get a hold of you all day."

"Sorry, Cap, the damn thing died again. You should see this place though, fuckin' preposterous. There's these weird-ass flamingos all over the place. Whole house is filled with 'em. Old man must've been collecting the damn things."

"Have you questioned him yet? The dispatcher told me he sounded a bit out of it."

"That's the thing captain. The old man, Windsor or somethin', he's dead. Gaines found him out front, covered in these weird scratches. Must've been some crazy-ass gardening accident or something. I dunno. Anyway, the guy's dead. Looks like he bled out. I think the crows already got to him, the eyes and tongue are gone."

"No signs of forced entry at the house?"

"No. There's a broken window upstairs, but nothing bigger than, like, a bird or something could get in through there."

"Alright, Emerson, call the morgue and get back to work."

"Hey Cap, one more thing. The phone line's down here. Looks like something snapped it. Not sure what could have done it, though, no trees nearby. Maybe somethin' landed on it or something. Whatever, I'm out of here. These birds are starting to get pretty fuckin' creepy."

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