 Item Number- SCP-4513 Object Class-Safe Special Containment Procedures- SCP-4513 is contained in a standard object storage locker in Site-19. Description- SCP-4513 is a brushmaster brand large drum woodchipper. 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. Several tests were performed using SCP-4513-B, a filled IRSW2 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 scrolls on parchment listing nills and tips and debts and payments, all resting on the broad white shoulders of the one Captain 2 form. Even as this cool pharaoh 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're done good! Landing a 100th and 80th lay aboard the good ship of 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 grass the moment we make landfall. However, I have a weapon most sinister that can age 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. The scene is a conversation between W-2 form and Thompson. Afternoon. Do say, what is thy name, boy? They call me Jim Edward Thompson, my lord. Pray tell, what is thy current level of income? In the year of our lord, 2018, I am asked a collective of 73,000 American dollars in change, my lord. Thou is in a tax bracket high enough to pierce the heavens. Rejoice! To wit! Thou art most hasty dependent, and yes, you can indeed claim thy offerings to yonder good will as charitable donations. Thou art a kind charitable servant of the great uncle Samuel. Thou art most kind, however, prithee, speak honestly. Dost thou have a 401k? I believe not, my 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 Chasebank, and inquire within for the answers thou seeks. Good speed! SCP-4513-B Source Helicopter Man Pounds Dinosaur Billionaire Ass by Chuck Tingle Jim Thompson fingered the wedding ring on his finger. The bandit cost him a pretty penny, but it was far more beautiful than the marriage it had been for. Susan, his wife, was cold and distant. She just didn't satisfy him anymore. Nothing did. Jim? HR Officer Form's musky voice snapped him out of his reverie. Jim stammered out a response, caught off guard. 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 mus- How are the wife and kids, Jim? You got married last year, right? He remembered. W-We're good. We're making it through a rough spot, but we'll make it. Ah, sorry to hear that. This new 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. 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 is 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. Thirty-seven pages of additional documentation removed.