rating: +224+x
2/4513 LEVEL 2/4513
Item #: SCP-4513


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-4513 is contained in a standard object storage locker in Site-19.

Description: SCP-4513 is a Brush Master brand large drum wood-chipper.

SCP-4513's anomalous quality occurs when any form of printed literary media is placed into its intake hopper.

After SCP-4513 consumes such a form of media, rather than the expected output of shredded paper, it will produce a watery substance superficially resembling milk. This substance (SCP-4513-B) changes the narrative structure of any literary media it is exposed to. These alterations result in a text that more closely resembles the media SCP-4513-B was formed from (in style and prose).

Addendum 4513.1


Several tests were performed using SCP-4513-B. A filled IRS W-2 tax form, provided by Researcher Andrew Thompson, was used as a control for the different varieties of SCP-4513-B to be applied to.

SCP-4513-B Source: Moby Dick; or, the Whale by Herman Melville

The mahogany slab separating the captain from his sailor was littered with papers — ink scrawls on parchment listing nills and tips and debts and payments, all resting on the broad white shoulders of one Captain Two-Form. Even as this cruel Pharoah of the Oppression scanned the page with his all seeing eyes, his flock trembled in awful fear at the utter power resting before him; the power to end a man's livelihood with a single stroke of a quill — a weapon most desired, but entrusted to a small few under the watchful gaze of the Internal Revenue Service.

Jim Thompson's observation on the nature of his captor was cut short by the wax-sealed envelope thrust in his face by the thin, papery hands of Two-Form.

"Eyes up, lad! You 'dun good, landing a one-hundredth-and-eightieth lay aboard the good ship the Foundation in only a single year of service! Not a feat many a man could accomplish. Though — this has the unfortunate consequence of heightening the amount of coin good Father Samuel will tear from your grasp the moment we make landfall. However: I have a weapon most sinister that can aid you against him."

Two-Form grinned, displaying a mouth filled with shockingly white teeth, like a quarry of enamel buried under a disgusting facade.

"Tell me, boy — do you know what a deductible is?"

SCP-4513-B Source: Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare

ENTER: A twenty-seven year old male.

Afternoon. Do say, what is thy name, boy? :W-2 FORM

THOMPSON: They call me Jim Edward Thompson, m'lord.

Praytell, what is thy current level of income? :W-2 FORM

THOMPSON: In the year of our lord two-thousand-and-eighteen, I amassed a collective of seventy-three-thousand American dollars and change, m'lord.

Thou art in a tax bracket high enough to pierce the heavens! :W-2 FORM

THOMPSON gasps in horror.

Rejoice! To wit: Thou hast a dependent, and yes: You can, indeed, claim thy offerings to yonder Good-Will as charitable donations. :W-2 FORM

THOMPSON: Thou art a kind and charitable servant of the great Uncle Samuel!

Thou art most kind. However: prithee, speak honestly, dost thou have a four-oh-one-kay? :W-2 FORM

THOMPSON: I believe not, m'lord.

Then I am sorry to be the pallbearer of bad news — thou must journey far to the east and seek out the great kingdom of CHASE BANK and inquire within for the answers thou seeks. Godspeed. :W-2 FORM

SCP-4513-B Source: Helicopter Man Pounds Dinosaur Billionaire Ass by Chuck Tingle

Jim Thompson fingered the wedding ring on his finger. The band had cost him a pretty penny, but it was far more beautiful than the marriage it had been for. Susan — his wife — was cold & distant. She just didn't satisfy him anymore. Nothing did.


HR Officer Form's musky voice snapped him out of his reverie. Jim stammered out a response, caught off-guard. "Y-yes, Officer?"

"Call me Form. I'd like to ask you a few questions - make sure you're suited to the position, you know."

"I'm suited for any position, sir!"

The words had barely left Jim's mouth before he realized what he said. His face turned to crimson. Thankfully, either Form didn't notice, or he didn't mention it.

Stay focused, you idiot. Don't get distracted by his face, or his glasses, or his musc-

"How're the wife and kids, Jim? You got married last year, right?"

He remembered.

"W-we're good. We're going through a rough spot, but we'll make it."

"Ah, sorry to hear that. This news should be a nice blow, though."

Form's face was the one turning red this time. They both let out polite chuckles, eager to change the topic at hand.

"Haha, we're both just tripping over ourselves today, aren't we?"

The air in the room was thick, stifling. Jim could feel the energy, the chemistry between them.

"Well, sir, I know I am."

Again, they both tittered and giggled for a moment, before both looking up at the same instant. Their eyes met, and something passed between them. Jim held the connection a moment longer, but Form broke it off. But Form wasn't fooling anyone, least of all himself. Both of them knew what had changed in that instant.

Form fumbled, sweat dripping from his brow, as he handed Jim a sealed envelope.

"I-I'm sorry, Thompson. We can't fully deduct that unfortunate hospital bill from January."

Now was the moment. Jim had to make a choice. Do or die. Make what might be the biggest mistake of his life, or go through the rest of his existence wondering what could have been.

He looked up, Form's eyes, and purred out a single sentence.

"My copay isn't the only thing that's rising."


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License