The switchblade’s knife glints in the dark, and
the bully holding it runs through the arcade, glinting in terror. The Kid watches, shocked
by the insanity unfolding, as twenty tiny, vicious gorillas chase the knife-wielding bully
as tears streak his face. This situation defies all explanation, unless you know about
SCP-3092. Let’s go back to the beginning. The Kid almost trips over his laces as his Chucks
hammer against the sidewalk. The headphones for his Walkman bounce against his neck as the wind
rushes past. Heaving in as much air as he can, the Kid runs through town looking desperately this way
and that for any grown-ups he recognizes. No one. Just strangers with thick mustaches and perms,
chatting outside Blockbuster and Waldenbooks, totally oblivious to the fact that he’s
running for his life. The Kid cocks an ear, and sure enough, he hears that all-too-familiar
rolling clattering sound coming after him. The skateboards are catching up. A few insults
catch on the wind and float across to him. Four eyes. Earthworm. And a good few names
that he doesn’t want to repeat. Apparently, their town used to have a good Native
American community, that’s why his parents had moved here. But nowadays, it seems
to just be white faces all around him. From what the bullies are shouting as they
chase him - and the total apathy of the grown-ups on the sidewalks at the words -
it’s no wonder everyone else moved away. A rock hits the back of his head, almost knocking
his glasses off. The sound of the tiny wheels roars louder and louder with every block. He needs
to find an escape. And fast. Home’s way too far away. His parents aren’t expecting him home until
nightfall, he needs a spot to lay low. The arcade? It’s closed today, but the owner told him where
the spare key is. He could go there, but he needs to lose them first. His lungs are burning,
and his legs are starting to give up on him. Ice! The Kid sees it too late and steps straight
onto a patch of it. His Converse slides out from under him and flings his limbs
this way and that trying desperately to stay on his feet as he skids across
the ice. His momentum throws him forward, and he sticks out another foot, catching
himself back on the sidewalk. Perfect. He turns just in time to see the four
bullies on their skateboards hitting the patch and going flying.
They land in a heap together, groaning and scuffling, trying
to get back up. Now’s his chance. The Kid shoots off down an alleyway, loops
back around the block, turns up a side street, and arrives at the arcade without having
looked back once. He snatches the key from under the gutter and looks around the
quiet street. Nobody there, thank goodness. He darts through the door and locks it behind
him with trembling fingers. Tears flood his eyes as he lets his forehead rest against the door.
Every day. Every damn day it’s more of the same. Why can’t he just have some peace?
Why can’t he just be normal? The Kid stands there crying for a long time.
He can’t tell his parents what’s going on, they’ve got enough of their own problems.
He tried to tell his teachers, but at lunch, he overheard them laughing and joking
about it all between themselves. It just sometimes feels like no one’s on his side. The Kid takes a deep breath and rubs the
moisture out of his eyes. That’s enough. If he keeps thinking about it all day, it’s only
gonna feel worse. He’s on his own now, he’s safe. What he needs to do is just enjoy the little bit
of peace he has now, before it all starts again. And what better place to be laying low
than the arcade? He hits the lights. Pinball, claw machines, and arcade cabinets all
light up and start playing over one another. Air hockey, basketball hoops, and Fussball all beep
at him invitingly. He can’t help but let a smile spread across his face. He walks across the
carpet looking this way and that at Frogger, Pac-Man, Galaga, Donkey Kong. So
many choices… so many choices… He hops on the counter and hits the
side of the cash register. It pops open, revealing trays stacked full of quarters.
Mr. Burns, the guy who owns the place, told him he’s allowed to let himself
in and use the money in the register to play whenever he wants. On the house. As
the Kid scoops a handful out of the drawer, he realizes he might not be totally
on his own in this town after all. Pac-Man beeps into life as soon as the
quarters fall into the slot. He grabs the joystick and stares intently at the screen,
darting this way and that through the maze, munching, munching, munching. Try as they
might, the four ghosts just can’t catch him. The Kid grins. All that time running from
four bullies wasn’t quite for nothing, was it? But after a couple of levels he
gets bored. He always plays Pac-Man, so much so that he’s memorized his route through
the first few levels. Kinda takes the fun out of things a bit. He lets the ghosts surround him
and watches Pac-Man swirl away into nothing. Frogger isn’t much better. He never really
clicked with this one for some reason, just felt too stop-start. He lets the
frog get run over and stands back, letting out a sigh. Is there anything
in here he hasn’t touched yet? Wait, what’s that? In the corner
of the room, there’s a new machine, still half covered in a sheet. It
hasn’t even been plugged into the wall yet. The Kid skips over to it
and bends down to hook it up. There. He stands back, takes hold of the
sheet, and pulls as dramatically as he can. It billows and unfurls
to reveal… a claw machine. Oh. It’s just another claw machine. Black-Tie Toys
is written on the side in classic 80s lettering, just under 2 meters tall or so. Nothing to
make it stand out from the other cabinets in here. But not only does it look boring,
it doesn’t have anything he wants inside. Just a bunch of plushee gorillas. Not exactly
a brand-new cabinet, but worth a shot anyway. The Kid slots a coin in and cracks
his knuckles. Here goes nothing. The claw swings into life at the slightest touch
of the joystick. These things are normally rigged, so he’s not exactly expecting much from
it. May as well just drop the claw here, all the toys in this one
are the same anyway. No way! It’s caught onto one of the gorilla’s feet,
lifting the toy up as it dangles upside down. It swings precariously this way and
that as the claw guides it over to the hole. It’s a defective toy with a bit of
stitching loose on its shoulder, but he couldn’t care less. The thrill
of getting one first time, it’s… The toy drops into the chute
and thumps to the bottom, just behind the little door. The Kid punches the
air and yells in triumph. He did it, first try! He bends down and reaches out to the little
flap, just as the flap opens by itself. He freezes as the little toy gorilla opens the
door for himself and hops out onto the carpet. The Kid yelps and jumps backwards, tripping
over his feet. Somewhere in that chute, between falling in and popping out, this
little toy had… well, it had come alive! The little gorilla does the same as the Kid,
leaping backwards defensively. It raises two soft fists with surprisingly dexterous
fingers and looks the Kid up and down warily. It orders the Kid, in a stern,
militaristic voice, to identify himself. The Kid’s jaw drops open. It can speak? The
little plushee gorilla’s voice is gruff but high-pitched enough to match his size.
He barely comes up to the Kid’s knee. The Gorilla asks him if he’s friendly. The Kid nods quickly. The gorilla’s eye narrow. ‘What’s your favorite fruit?’ the Gorilla asks. ‘Bananas.’ ‘Phew,’ the gorilla says, dropping his
fists. ‘You never can be too careful.’ The Kid dusts himself off and climbs to his feet.
The gorilla deftly scales the side of the claw machine and hangs off it, surveying the arcade.
The Kid asks his name, which seems to stump the little toy. It picks at the loose stitching on his
shoulder. The Kid suggests calling him Stitches. The gorilla salutes at the sound of his new name. ‘Alright, kid, what’s the
operation? Give me the sitrep.’ Operation? Sit rep? The Kid stands
there nonplussed for a moment. Well, they’re in an arcade. Stitches
nods sagely, taking the intel on board. And they have to stay here until
nightfall. The little gorilla has already swung himself up on top of the machine to
get a better view of strategic locations. ‘And where are the hostiles?’ The Kid hesitates. Stitches looks down at
him knowingly. An unspoken understanding passes between them, they could be attacked
at any moment. The pair of them take a walk around the room, the Kid explaining the
situation. Four bullies. Three entrances; front door, alley door, and a window. No
back rooms or hallways, those are all locked. The gorilla takes a candy cane from behind
the counter and sticks it in the side of his mouth like a cigar. He doesn’t seem to
be able to chew it or even suck on it, he is just a toy, after all, but the
Kid feels like he can’t really point that out. He has no idea how
fragile his comrade’s ego is. ‘Look. I can’t actually taste it okay? I can only
see, hear and touch. I’m insecure about it, leave me alone. We haven’t got much time anyway,’ the
gorilla says. ‘We’ve got to prepare our defenses.’ The two of them go to work, Stitches barking orders at the Kid as they
ready themselves for the bullies’ arrival. The Kid asks Stitches what exactly their aim is. The plushee looks at the Kid
like it’s a trick question. ‘Total domination. Absolute victory.
Annihilation. A butchering.’ The Kid straightens, suddenly feeling
very unsure about all of this. He tells Stitches that he doesn’t want to
kill anyone, or anything like that. ‘Kill?!’ The little gorilla falls backwards
off the coin machine in surprise. ‘Kill? No, no, no, no! What’s wrong with
you? Of course not! We’re going to tickle, bamboozle, inconvenience, and bonk. Where those things fit within the confines of
the Geneva Convention, of course.’ BANG BANG BANG! The hammering fists on the door are
so loud that it shakes on its hinges. They’ve barely had 10 minutes
to get ready, that’s not far. The Kid can see the shadows of feet blocking the
street light. His knees go weak almost straight away at the sound of their catcalling
through the cracks. They’ve found him. He could make a break for the alley
door? If he’s quiet enough, he could… But it’s too late. As he looks at the fire
escape, he can see another pair of legs blocking his exit. No point jumping out of the
window, they’d see him straight away and have him blocked off from both sides. He looks down at
his squishy little companion. They have no choice. It’s time for gorilla warfare. The front door crashes open, splinters of wood
flying everywhere, and three of the bullies storm in. Front and center is their Ringleader, dressed
in all-black skater clothes with a constant sneer on his face he must easily be a good foot taller
than the kid. But even he looks small standing in between the Twins. Hulking egg-shaped boys with
no hair on their heads or glints in their eyes. The banging noise behind the Kid tells him that
the fourth bully is trying to kick his way through the alley door. But they don’t have time to
deal with that now, the Twins are storming over to him like a pair of freight trains. His legs
are really shaking now, he needs to move but… Stitches is gone! That loyal gorilla that
had been at his side just a moment ago. But as soon as trouble arrived, he’d
disappeared. Just like they always do. The Twins are nearly upon him now.
The Kid doesn’t have a choice, he takes a deep breath and closes
his eyes, ready for a beating. ‘HHHHYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAA!’ The primal scream fills the arcade. Out of the
rafters, a tiny toy gorilla swings down on a loose cable, heading straight for the Twins’ faces.
Their round faces barely have time to go from ‘angry’ to ‘confused’ before the cuddly toy is on
top of them, pummeling them with its soft fists. Turns out those fists aren’t worth much
in a fight. Twin 1 pulls the ape off his face and holds it arm's length.
The two of them stare at Stitches, who’s swinging his fists wildly through
thin air. Apparently lacking the brain power to be stunned that an inanimate
cuddly toy has gained sentience, Twin 1 tosses Stitches over the arcade cabinets,
and the pair of them continue their advance. Except the distraction worked just long
enough. The Kid grins and runs around the cotton candy machine, which
by now is rumbling and banging, letting out a thin plume of smoke. His smile
falters as they close in on him. Any second now… But the Twins are closing in on him,
thick arms outstretched to grab him when… BANG! The cotton candy machine explodes. Hot
sugary webbing bursts out in all directions, wrapping around the bullies and missing the top
of the Kid’s ducking head by less than an inch. He can’t believe that actually worked.
Taking a step back to survey the damage, he looks down at the enormous Twins, bound up
in cotton candy, and arguing with each other. The alley door crashes open, and the fourth
bully rushes in. He’s skinny with tattoos all down both his arms. Looking at him now up close,
the Kid reckons he must be a good ten years older than the other bullies. Why he’s still hanging
out with high school kids is anyone’s guess. The Kid gulps. He’s only got
one more trick up his sleeve, but two bullies left to go. The
Ringleader’s disappeared somewhere. He can’t worry about that now though,
he just has to focus on the Old One. The man is leering at him from the back
of the arcade. He reaches round to his back pocket and pulls out something small
and shiny. Flicking open the knife blade, he spins the blade around between
his fingers and winks at the Kid. He feels all the blood leave his face. This isn’t
a game anymore. He needs to get out of here. The Kid makes a break for it, running
towards the open front doors but in a flash, the Old Bully is in front of him, playing with
the knife and smiling that same sinister smile. He tries to run back the other way,
to the alley door but the Bully is blocking him again before he can even
take a few steps. How is he that fast? Be calm, be calm. Think. The Kid reaches
into his pocket. Here goes nothing. He turns to run back to the front doors but,
this time, throws the pinballs all across the carpet. For a second, it looks like it hasn’t
worked, the Old Bully steps in the gaps between the pinballs. He looks down to see them all there
scattered around in front of him, but too late. His foot is already landing on about five
metal balls that all shoot out from under him. He goes flying, crashing right into a Galaga
machine head first. His leg twitches a couple times then he goes still. The knife flies
out of his hand, arcing through the air, spinning round and round and round before
landing with a gentle thud on the soft carpet. A sneaker treads onto the handle. A sneaker
attached to a hairy leg sticking out of a pair of cord pants. The Ringleader bends
over to pick up the blade, flicks it open, and holds it against the neck of the little
gorilla clutched in his arms. It would almost look funny, the bully threatening a cuddly
toy, if the toy wasn’t writhing around in fear. The Kid cries out in panic for the
knife-wielding bully to put his plush gorilla friend down. He’s got nothing left.
No more tricks up his sleeve. It’s over. The Bully just grins maniacally
at him and pushes the knife harder against the squishy neck. He’s got
Stitches by the shoulder of his arm, just above where the stitching is coming
loose. The Bully’s back is to the cash register. On the wall behind him, dozens
of giant cuddly prizes hang lifeless. The Bully hisses that the kid is gonna
pay for making them run all over town. The Kid nods his head. He will, he
promises. They can beat him up or whatever they like. Just don’t hurt Stitches.
The Bully laughs at the gorilla’s name. ‘You gave him a name! You’re such
a loser. Couldn’t come up with anything better than Stitches?
What does that name even mean?’ ‘Let me show you!’ the gorilla
yells. Twisting away from the blade he reaches into the gap in
his shoulder, crying out in pain, and pulls out handfuls of stuffing, throwing them
up into the Bully’s face. It doesn’t do much, but it’s enough to distract him. The
Kid seizes his chance, dashing forward and shoving the Bully square in the chest,
knocking him backwards and freeing Stitches. The little gorilla runs off
to safety straight away. The Kid can hardly believe what he’s seeing. The Bully is getting to his feet now, knife
still in hand, snarling. But almost immediately, his snarling is drowned out by the sound
of a shrieking primate, then another one. Both Kid and Bully wheel round to see
Stitches swinging across the wall of stuffed toys giving them high fives. As soon
as he touches each of them, they transform, falling and turning, into crazed gorillas.
All of them rushing straight at the Bully. His eyes widen in terror, he turns on his
heel and runs out through the open doors, pursued by a small army. He lashes out wildly
as he goes, striking one of the gorilla’s down. Stitches and the Kid chase him to the
doorway and watch as the little toy gorillas chase the bully off into the night,
swinging on lamp posts and leaping over cars. ‘Good thing he ran,’ Stitches
climbs up onto the Kid’s shoulder, popping his candy cane cigar back into
his mouth. ‘Our fists are about as hard as Hello Kitty’s. Let’s see how long
it takes him to figure that one out.’ A whimper behind them sobers the moment.
Turning around, they see the body of the gorilla toy that the bully punched as he
left. It lies slumped on a pinball machine, stuffing bursting from its chest.
Plumes of cotton cover the glass. Stitches buries his head in the Kid’s neck,
sickened and devastated by the casualty. The dying gorilla looks at him with beady little eyes. It raises a dramatic hand
towards him, breathing in shaky gasps. ‘Mr Stitches… I don’t peel so good…’ Like a community theater actor doing Shakespeare,
the little toy dies a dramatic death. Throwing his head back he takes one
desperate gasping breath and falls still. The Kid stands there in shock. Except, the little
gorilla does seem to be breathing. Very lightly, as if pretending he’s dead. The Kid
sidles up to the cabinet and pokes him. ‘Hello?’ He pokes the gorilla again. It opens
one eye and looks at him annoyed. ‘I’m out of the game, leave me alone.’ Stitches hits the Kid on the side of the head. ‘Let him be out of the game
in peace. Show some respect.’ ‘Sorry.’ The Kid clasps his hands together in
humility and stands by the pretend-dying gorilla. Stitches salutes. Until they get
bored and go off to play a game of Galaga. Check out the Dr. Bob Patreon and become
a junior researcher today! Now go and watch another entry from the files of Dr.
Bob, like SCP-705 - Militaristic Play-Doh.
