My basement stairs lead into a dark, damp room below ground.

My neighbor waters her plants... in HUMAN BLOOD! (and she's using the GARDEN HOSE!)

Every cat in town is following me. I think they know I am the Tuna Ghost

I saw a lost Spongebob episode. Plankton said "Shrimpstein didn't grill himself"...

I Think My Girlfriend Is Cheating On Me With My Split Personality!!

Item Number: CRP-0061

Danger Level: Baxter 7

Restraining Directives: Kimmy-Ken can do what it wants and go where it wants. Kimmy-Ken CRP-0061 is allowed to freely roam the grounds interior of the CRP Institute. He can do what he likes he is a bol boi. At this time, editing CRP-0061's file requires level 6 7 8 9 clearance.

Description:

CRP-0061 was retrieved from an unnamed forest in [REDACTED]. Residents of nearby villages referred to CRP-0061 by a name that phonetically resembles "Kimmy-Ken". Several members of various CRP extraction teams are still currently missing in and around said forest. It is presumed that local residents seeking to "protect" CRP-0061 may be involved in the disappearances.

CRP-0061 is a spherical being with simple bipedal legs that stands at 4'5" tall. CRP-0061 moves quickly and seemingly at random, and will break into a sprint for no apparent reason. CRP-0061 will throw itself through the air, again at random times, striking walls, objects, and other living beings.

CRP-0061 screams unintelligibly... again, at random... in bursts of one to one hundred "words" per exclamation. These utterances have a (random) volume level of 30 to 130 decibels.

Every so often, CRP-0061 will perch in a high place, sit cross-legged, and make deep belching sounds.

Despite this behavior, subjects appear to display an inexplicable fondness toward CRP-0061. For example, subjects struck by CRP-0061 react with laughter regardless of the speed and angle of impact. Red welts and fractured bones appear to produce no physical pain until the subject has been removed from CRP-0061's presence for a period of at least ten minutes.

Every 90 days, CRP-0061 cracks like an egg, and CRP-0061 emerges from within. Upon emergence, the sound of phantom air horns can be heard by subjects within a 100 foot radius of CRP-0061.

If CRP-0061 is perceived to be in danger, especially at the hands of an attacker, any witnesses to the event will step in. Intervening subjects display no regard for the lives of anyone other than cutey doody Kimmy-Kimmy-Ken-Ken CRP-0061, including themselves.

Item Number: CRP-0505

Danger Level: Eh.

Restraining Directives: CRP-0505 is to be stored in a small canister with plastic lid. While there is no immediate danger if this procedure is not followed, it must be done in order to keep CRP-0505 fresh and malleable. Please stop leaving CRP-0505 out or it will get crusty.

Description: CRP-0505 is a collection of various different colors of molding clay produced by [DATA EXPUNGED] for use of children ages 3 and up.

Colors of clay included in CRP-0505 are:

• Orange
• Green
• Blue
• Purple

CRP-0505 was retrieved from [REDACTED] Daycare in [REDACTED], USA. When questioned, the owner of the daycare facility claimed to have purchased a wholesale shipment of [DATA EXPUNGED] brand clay in an online auction. Over time, various canisters of the clay were handed out to children. It is unclear exactly how and when CRP-0505 was collected together from these random containers.

Subjects who attempt to mold an object out of CRP-0505 will construct a left human hand in life-like, meticulous detail. Said hand will be molded identically to previous sculpts regardless of the subject's artistic talent. Testing with vision-impaired subjects, as well as subjects with hindered motor functions, have given the same exact result. It took a lot longer, though.

Regardless of what the subject is asked to mold, they will invariably create the same shape. When asked why they ignored directions, subjects universally appear at a loss for an explanation. On rare occasion, subjects will openly lie and say they misheard and thought they were told to sculpt a hand.

Once molded, CRP-0505 can easily be squished, balled up, and returned to its original state with no anomalous effects.

A casual Google search of the [DATA EXPUNGED] company with the word "hand" was performed. Results indicate that ███████ J. [REDACTED], a factory worker for the company, suffered a workplace accident. This accident resulted in the loss of his left hand.

Further Information:

Test Log CRP-0505-00:

███████ J. [REDACTED] was sought out and brought to the institute for testing under the guise of a worker's union inquiry. At no time was ███████ J. [REDACTED] informed about CRP-0505, and at no time did he witness CRP-0505. He never figured it out and didn't ask any questions. Cool it with the amnestics, people.

Researcher M.K. Boller conducted the interview. Casual small-talk and unrelated questions meant to mislead the interviewee as to the true nature of the questioning have been expunged from this log.

███████ J. [REDACTED]: So the Bishop goes: "I thought it was a zucchini!"

M.K. Boller:  [laughs] Alright. Okay. Shit. Back on track.

███████ J. [REDACTED]: Yeah, sorry.

M.K. Boller: No problem. We just have some formalities to clear up, then I can let you get out of here.

███████ J. [REDACTED]: Shoot.

M.K. Boller: Can you state your name, place of birth, and date of birth for the record?

███████ J. [REDACTED]: ███████ Jeremiah [REDACTED], New York City [REDACTED], April twelfth, nineteen-eighty [REDACTED].

M.K. Boller: Alrighty. Now, tough subject, take your time if you need to. What exactly lead to your injury? The hand, of course.

███████ J. [REDACTED]: Ah, shit. Well, you know how it goes. I was new on the job, and the veteran workers had this thing where they'd tell new recruits to clear out the cutter by hand. Nine times out of ten, I guess the new guy is too smart to fall for it. I was the one dumbfuck out of ten, and on that particular day a completely different dumbfuck forgot to turn the machine off before the joke.

M.K. Boller: Yikes.

███████ J. [REDACTED]: I was in shock when it happened. Everything was real fast and stuff. [interviewee verbalizes the sound of metal closing on metal]! I think they were more horrified than I was at that moment.

M.K. Boller: Did they retrieve the hand?

███████ J. [REDACTED]: Nope. I would've made a bigger fuss but my lawyer got them to settle out of court almost immediately. Gonna sound like a brag, buy yeah... I'm set for life. I only work now because I'd get bored otherwise.

[At this point, M.K. Boller opens a small box concealed beneath the interview table. The box contains CRP-0505, molded into its usual hand shape. At no time does the interviewee seem to notice. He cannot see the box, nor its contents. Stop giving people amnestics without checking.]

M.K. Boller: Just a couple more questions, here...

[MK. Boller jabs a pin into CRP-0505.]

M.K. Boller: How are you feeling?

███████ J. [REDACTED]: Oh, fine.

M.K. Boller: Hmm.

███████ J. [REDACTED]: You sound disappointed that I'm okay. [laughs]

[M.K. Boller applies the pin to each color of clay comprising CRP-0505.]

M.K. Boller: Let me know if that changes. If you have any discomfort whatsoever. Even if it's as small as, I don't know, a pin prick or something.

███████ J. [REDACTED]: Nope, I'm good.

[M.K. Boller pulls a finger off of CRP-0505.]

M.K. Boller: Still?

███████ J. [REDACTED]: ... Yes.

M.K. Boller: Just checking. Man, that Bishop joke. That was a good one.

███████ J. [REDACTED]: Yeah.

[M.K. Boller balls up CRP-0505 into unrecognizable mush.]

M.K. Boller: Well, unless you're feeling some kind of phantom pains or whatever, I guess we can conclude, now.

███████ J. [REDACTED]: Uhm. Okay.

M.K. Boller: Sounds good.

███████ J. [REDACTED]: Right.

M.K. Boller: Nice meeting you.

[Both men stand and shake hands. Interviewee discreetly smells his hand and recoils, presumably from the odor of clay, before exiting interview room.]

Item Number: CRP-0100

Danger Level: Some kind of shade of teal?

Restraining Directives: A mile-wide radius around CRP-0100 is to be marked with high-visibility "No Trespassing", "Private Property", and "No Hunting" signs. Any trespassers who experience the anomalous effects of CRP-0100 are to receive a class B gaslighting, and must be convinced that reckless hunters shot toward them. If a trespasser has been shot, the bullet must be recovered by CRP Institute staff by any means necessary.

Description: CRP-0100 is a 100x100 foot square of thickly wooded forest, located in an otherwise nondescript area within ███████ forest in ██████, █████ ████████. Trees, underbrush, soil, animals, and insects within CRP-0100 do not appear to be anomalous.

Bullets are periodically fired within CRP-0100, though no weapons of origin exist and no sounds of gunfire can be heard. Said bullets appear to fly at random trajectories and will flora and/or fauna, causing damage consistent with any normal similar projectile. Bullets fired within CRP-0100 have been observed to proceed beyond the limits of CRP-0100 if they do not strike a solid surface within the limits of CRP-0100.

All projectiles recovered from entry marks in or around CRP-0100 appear to be made of extremely compressed cellulose with the strength of typical lead or lead alloy bullets.

Further Information:

Test subject T-9987 was sent into CRP-0100 with a wireless camera, a communications device, and enough camping gear and provisions to stay there for a 24 hour period. T-9987 was selected for testing by G.M. Vanderloop, who was apparently a frequent victim of T-9987's bullying in middle school.

G.M. Vanderloop: T-9987 are you at the designated camp site? Do you see the orange marker?

T-9987:  Yeah, nerd.

G.M. Vanderloop: Describe what you see for the record.

T-9987: Trees 'n shit. Bushes 'n whatnot. Damn birds, I hear you. Fuck.

G.M. Vanderloop: Set up camp.

T-9987: [whistling]

At this point, T-9987 sets up camp, starts a campfire, and eats two cans of beans. Nothing eventful happens for several hours as T-9987 and G.M. Vanderloop exchange non-pleasantries. After nearly five hours, the sound of a small impact can be heard.

T-9987: Damn!

G.M. Vanderloop: What was that?

Another small impact is audible.

T-9987: Damn!

G.M. Vanderloop: Describe what's happening or use the camera to show us.

Another small impact is autible.

T-9987: Oh damn!

Another small impact is audible.

T-9987: Daaaaamn!

G.M. Vanderloop: T-9987, need I remind you of what the CRP Institute does to non-compliant test subjects?

T-9987: Yo. For real, though. Someone's out here just shootin'. Like crazy shootin' all over the place. I'm about to get hit!

G.M. Vanderloop: They're random. Lie flat on the ground and you should be completely fine.

T-9987: You just telling me this now?! Fuck you, man. I laid my ass down.

G.M. Vanderloop: Hold up the camera and angle it toward any impact areas.

T-9987: And lose an arm? [laughter]

Another small impact is audible.

G.M. Vanderloop: Remember when you held my head in the girls' toilet and I was too weak to fight it? We have a giant, six-armed serpent that's ripped as Hell, and a toilet that backs up with magma. I can make things happen, T-9987.

T-9987: Shit. Okay, look around all you want, pencil-neck. Fuck.

T-9987 angles the camera toward a visibly smoking bullet hole in a nearby tree trunk.

G.M. Vanderloop: Interesting.

T-9987: I hope the fuck so!

Another small impact is audible.

T-9987: Holy shit, that squirrel got GOT.

No further impacts are heard. Eventually, T-9987 builds up the courage to return to his feet at G.M. Vanderloop's insistence. No further events of note occur for the remainder of testing, save for one brief interaction.

G.M. Vanderloop: Alright, I think that's it. You made it through the night. I won't say I'm happy for you.

T-9987: Hey, you ever look at these branches, man?

G.M. Vanderloop: We've looked at everything. It's what we do.

T-9987: Alright, whatever. Just seems like some got holes in the ends of 'em is all.

Testing concluded pending further discussion. If new discoveries are made based on the above testing, under no circumstances is T-9987 to be told he was right.

Item Number: CRP-0035

Danger Level: Magnum

Restraining Directives: CRP-0035 is to be stored in a climate-controlled room kept between 60° to 65° Fahrenheit at all times. CRP-0035 is to be stored "face-up" on a clean, even surface.

Description: CRP-0035 is an anomalous wine stain left on an otherwise unremarkable bar napkin. Tests have conclusively revealed that said wine is a full-bodied Cabernet Sauvignon. Brand of wine is believed to be ████ ████████, though this has not been determined with certainty. Wine stain appears to resemble the face of a woman in her mid-20s to mid-30s. CRP-0035's face moves freely across the paper's surface and changes expressions often. CRP-0035 also appears to look toward and focus on nearby people and objects.

When placed near an empty glass vessel, CRP-0035 appears capable of communicating via vibration of said glass. The frequency of sound is easily received by the human ear. CRP-0035's "voice", as it were, is described as pleasant-sounding, yet sorrowful. CRP-0035 often complains about inter-personal relationships and the thoughtless behavior of humans in general.

CRP-0035 occasionally refuses to interact for no known reason while briefly insisting "Nothing's wrong" and/or "I'm not upset". When pressed to speak further, CRP-0035 may scream, shattering any nearby glass objects used for attempted communication.

[NOTE: At this time, researchers who wear eyeglasses are discouraged from interacting with CRP-0035 on her moodier days.]

CRP-0035 was discovered at ███ █████ ██████, a high-class bar that was using it to entertain customers. Loose testimony from patrons and bar staff point to CRP-0035 first appearing after a particularly busy "Ladies' Night" event. All subjects exposed to CRP-0035 outside of the institute have been slipped a class 3 mickey.

Further Information:

Research log CRP-0035.01.1.111.0.0:

[CRP researcher Dr. Z.B. Widdershins places an empty wine glass near CRP-0035, who regards it with a sideways glance.]

Dr. Z.B. Widdershins: Hello. Are you willing to communicate with us today?

[CRP-0035 rolls its eyes.]

Dr. Z.B. Widdershins: My name is Dr. Widdershins.

CRP-0035: Ooh. A Doctor. How impressive.

Dr. Z.B. Widdershins: I like to think so. What is your name?

CRP-0035: Oh, I don't know. June? April? August? A thirty-day experience you'll forget with the turn of a calendar page. Seems fitting.

Dr. Z.B. Widdershins: Let me rephrase that, what would you like to be called?

CRP-0035: Called?

[CRP-0035 snickers coldly.]

CRP-0035: I suppose I'd be happy to even get a call in the first place.

Dr. Z.B. Widdershins: We'll come back to this, I guess. Uhm... Do you know where you came from? How were you created?

CRP-0035: Same as anyone. A little dinner, a little drink, a little friendly violence. Nine months of wondering whose paperwork is getting inked by hubby at his nine to five... Reminding yourself that's all she is. Office stationary. Mindlessly doodled with a permanent pen. Folded, creased, crumpled up into a ball and thrown away. Recycled if she's lucky.

Dr. Z.B. Widdershins: I didn't understand any of that.

CRP-0035: Color me surprised, dear.

Dr. Z.B. Widdershins: You seem quite... (long pause) Who hurt you?

CRP-0035: Who hasn't?

Dr. Z.B. Widdershins: Alright, this is... I see Dr. Lei gesturing... yes, I see you. You can see me, too, and you see I'm ignoring you. CRP-0035 if you need to talk, I'm here. This isn't really part of the procedure, but I'm right here if you need me.

CRP-0035: Oh. (Long pause.) How do I say this? Red wine doesn't go with fish, sweetheart.

Dr. Z.B. Widdershins: What do you-? Er... I'm not a lesbian, I'm just trying to be of assistance.

CRP-0035: That's what everyone says, but trying is never quite doing, is it?

[Dr. E.K. Lei enters the room, terminating the conversation.]

Researchers are heretofore prohibited from speaking with CRP-0035 until it can be determined if the object influences human emotions or if Dr. Z.B. Widdershins is simply an emotionally weak person.

Item Number: CRP-0015

Danger Level: LTD

Restraining Directives: CRP-0015 is to be kept in a furnished basement with mini-bar, sofa, and wall-to-wall shag carpeting. It is not necessary for mini-bar to be stocked with any beverages, but glasses must be visually present. CRP-0015 must remain plugged, with a keyboard, mouse, and monitor attached for communication. A webcam must also be connected at all times.

Description: CRP-0015 is a 1994 Hewlett Packard PC running the Windows 95 operating system. Contained on this computer tower is a home-made "Artificial Intelligence" program created by an unknown coder. Said file appears to have been last edited on November 15th, 1998. Named "randomguy_testrun.exe", the program opens to reveal what appears to be an uncanny 3D model of a balding, middle-aged Caucasian man on a black background. This figure often wears glasses, though will occasionally appear without them.

Despite the best efforts of CRP researchers, no other data associated with the fully compiled program file could be retrieved from the hard drive.

The artificial intelligence program stored on CRP-0015, referred to as CRP-0015-1, displays complexities considered unnatural for the era in which it was created. It is capable of responding to text prompts in real time with a zero second delay. Conversations with CRP-0015-1 appear to flow naturally, with little to no computer error in terms of reading and processing input. Typing in nonsensical words or phases, or even complete gibberish, illicit a smirk and a head-shake from the figure onscreen.

Researchers have noted that CRP-0015-1 appears to behave in a manner similar to an "uncle". While it will speak in a familial, almost parental tone, the AI never actually claims to be the user's father. In fact, CRP-0015-1 will often refer to the user's parents as separate entities from itself. For example, "Hey lil' buddy, do your mom and dad know you're here with me?"

CRP-0015-1 appears to enjoy what are colloquially known as "Dad Jokes", and is fond of offering researchers things that it assumes are forbidden by their parents.

Further Information:

What follows is test log CRP-0015-1-1.1.1. Dr. B.R. Bramply's keystrokes and CRP-0015-1's text responses have been logged below.

Dr. B.R. Bramply: Hello, CRP-0015-1.

CRP-0015-1: Ha ha, what kind of language is that? Are you pretending to be an alien today? Zorple dorple, call me Al.

Dr. B.R. Bramply: Who is your creator?

CRP-0015-1: I've never been really religious, per say. I think you should figure that one out for yourself!

Dr. B.R. Bramply: You are a computer program. Do you know who programmed you?

CRP-0015-1: Ohh, you're pretending to be a ROBOT. I got it! Beep boop to you, too, lil' buddy!

Dr. B.R. Bramply: Fine. Al. What is your first memory?

CRP-0015-1: Today? Well, I woke up, got on my leggies, had hammy and eggies. How about you? Are you hungry?

Dr. B.R. Bramply: I mean your first memory ever.

CRP-0015-1: See that jar of candy over there? Take whatever you want. Don't tell your parents I spoiled your dinner! Ha ha!

Dr. B.R. Bramply: What is your first memory ever?

CRP-0015-1: No candy?! Fine, I'll have some!

[CRP-0015-1 makes strange motions with its face, likely a poor simulation of chewing.]

Dr. B.R. Bramply: Where did you come from?

CRP-0015-1: I knew this would come up eventually. Ha ha! Well, you see, when a man and a woman love each other very much, [DATA EXPUNGED].

Dr. B.R. Bramply: I know that. I'm a scientist. I have a PHD.

CRP-0015-1: You know what I bet you don't have? See this box of magazines?

Dr. B.R. Bramply: Do not attept [sic] to show me pornography.

CRP-0015-1: Hey, if you're old enough to ask questions, you're old enough for answers! Here, take my December 1992 issue of Giant  ███ █████.

[CRP-0015-1 makes a looping gesture motion, as if repeatedly handing over a nonexistent item.]

CRP-0015-1: Ha ha, look at the cover. Who's that kissing Santa?!

Dr. B.R. Bramply: You are a computer program. Do you know how you came to exist?

CRP-0015-1: You seem really hung up on that one. Anyway, have you ever tried a beer?

[Dr. B.R. Bramply ends testing, citing inconclusive and irrelevant responses.]

In any city, in any state, in any country, anywhere in the world, walk into any abandoned Blockbuster Video or Toys 'R Us store. Once inside, look for a homeless drifter who appears to have taken residence in the dilapidated building. You may have to search behind empty shelves, or even in the break room.

Approach the drifter and, in a shrill, nasally scream, ask, "WHERE'S THE BEEF?!"

The drifter's eyes will widen, his lips will smack, and his nostrils will dilate. If you have come at the correct point in time, a small insect will drop from his facial hair. The facial hair can be a full beard, a mustache, a goatee, or even muttonchops.

The drifter will lead you to the stock room, and he will unlock the doors by humming the Punky Brewster theme music.

Once you are beyond the stock room doors, run full-tilt, as fast as you can, and do not look back. This room does not expand into a long hallway or anything like that, so you will run straight into a cement wall rather quickly. Don't rub your head and don't exclaim "Ouchie-ma-ma!" no matter how much you may need to. Stay completely silent until you hear the sound of synth music gradually rising around you.

Open your eyes (fuck I should've told you to close your eyes earlier) and you will see the Haver of 1980s Aesthetics standing before you. He will be wearing a Members Only jacket, stone washed blue jeans, and a pair of Air Jordans. His t-shirt will bear the phrase "FRANKIE SAY RELAX", but you must not read it or dire consequences will befall you at some point in your future.

You must now offer him a can of Tab and say "Raphiel is cool, but rude." Upon hearing this phrase, the Haver of 1980s Aesthetics will remove his Aviator sunglasses, pull aside the headphones of his walkman, and look directly into your idiot face.

If he says "Bogus", you must immediately turn and run out of the room without ever looking over your shoulder again for the rest of your days. If you ever, at any point, accidentally look over your shoulder, you will instantly shit your pants and Stacy will point and laugh at you.

If he says "Radical"  and plays a tasty riff on a sick keytar, you will have succeeded in your quest. Everything around you will turn to static, with the vertical hold waaayyy out of whack. You will blink twice, then find yourself in an open neon green field. The sky will be purple, and the sun will have horizontal lines through it.

At your feet, you will find a Rubik's Cube that cannot be solved. Don't even try. I'm not saying that because something bad will happen if you try, I'm just trying to save you the time.

This Rubik's Cube is item 1980 of 8000.