I've worked at a bowling alley for about five months now and the people who play professional bowling fucking suck
Area Bowling
Item #: SCP-8782
Object Class: Thaumiel
Special Containment Procedures: Area Bowling has been purchased by the Foundation and closed off to the public. Following Incident 8782.10, all testing will only be conducted using personnel who have scored a perfect 300 in professional bowling.
Description: SCP-8782 is lane 17 at Area Bowling, located within Warren Road, Scunthorpe.
If a human subject rolls a ball down SCP-8782 while thinking of a deceased person, the TV screen located above the pit will temporarily turn on. The screen depicts a foggy, abstract collection of shapes, believed to be a direct view into the afterlife. Once the screen is turned on, the person who threw the ball is able to directly speak to the deceased.
The number of pins knocked down with each throw is directly connected to the duration of communication. The times are:
Strike
One minute.
Nine
Fifty seconds.
Eight
Forty-five seconds.
Seven
Thirty-five seconds.
Six
Thirty seconds.
Five
Twenty-five seconds.
Four
Twenty seconds.
Three
Fifteen seconds.
Two
Ten seconds.
One
Five seconds.
Zero/Gutter
Zero seconds.
Close
On May 5th, 2026, an incident occurred during an attempt at interviewing deceased businessman Timothy Dexter. The Foundation, experiencing a funding crisis, believed that he could assist in making money.
Interview Log
Interviewers: Researcher Tiana Roseanne, Researcher Eric Hansen
Interviewee: Timothy Dexter
[BEGIN LOG]
The feed starts with fifteen seconds of distorted audio.
Roseanne: …like that. Okay, uh, I think it's on. Testing testing, one two three. Cool, cool. Interview log number six. I'm here with Eric Hansen. Eric, say hi.
Hansen: Hi!
Roseanne: Alright, uh, we're here at Area Bowling, with 8782. We're interviewing former businessman Timothy Dexter, cause our department is down in the red.
Hansen: Not just our department.
Roseanne: Yeah, whole organization is currently havin' a bad time. So, uh, just give me a second to get us started…
Recovered Footage
Roseanne takes a deep breath. She grabs a ball and rolls it down the lane. It knocks over four pins. The screen flickers to life, showing a cloud of mist in a black void. A figure, identified as Timothy Dexter, appears.
Dexter: What the- What sorcery is this?
Hansen: Twenty seconds.
Roseanne: Okay, uh, Timothy, Lord Timothy, this is God. We need to access your skills in order to better the current world! We require your help!
Dexter: Father, I'm cold! I know not where I am, but it scarcely resembles the Heaven that was taught to me as a boy!
Roseanne: Listen, boy! If you assist thou, you will be granted the, the ways to Heaven! Now, we need you to-
The screen cuts off.
Hansen: God? You are God?! This was your plan?!
Roseanne: I didn't write this, okay? That was my superior. Look, Timothy is like… He was a nutcase, alright? He called himself "Lord," he wrote arguably the worst book ever, he died, like, two hundred years ago. What else do you say to someone who's seen nothing but darkness and garbled nonsense for two hundred years?
Hansen: I guess. I just don't think scaring the guy is gonna get us anywhere.
Roseanne: Okay, well, just… Just trust him. Hand me the ball.
Hansen: Alright. Six pins, all clustered together. Should be simple enough.
Roseanne: Yeah, I know how bowling works.
She rolls the ball down the alley. It gets caught in the gutter. The frame ends, and the pins are reset.
Hansen: Least you can try for a full minute now. …I guess.
Roseanne: Okay, yeah, yeah, a full minute.
She grabs the ball and throws it. This time, it knocks over two pins. Dexter returns to the screen.
Dexter: -I kept the faith, I tried to be a decent man! Why have you forsaken me?!
Roseanne: Listen, Timothy, we get it, just, okay- if you help us, we can get you to Heaven! Just give us some advice on-
The screen turns off.
Hansen: Going to be a long day.
Roseanne: Listen, it's just been a hot minute since I played. I don't need your comments; just keep watching and make sure things go smoothly.
Hansen: Alright, sure. Carry on.
She grabs another ball and rolls it down the lane. It once again lands in the gutter. The pins are reset.
Roseanne: Fuck! Jesus, stupid… Can't they let me use the bumpers or something?
Hansen: Huh. Don't know why I didn't think of that.
Eric reaches to the controls by the lane and presses a button. The bumpers on the current lane rise up.
Roseanne: Okay, there. Didn't start with that, but fine. Whatever, I'll just…
She rolls the ball down the lane, knocking over five pins.
Roseanne: There we go, finally, some progress!
The screen displays nothing.
Roseanne: Hey, did you do something? I.. hey, Timothy! Timothy, I'm talking to you! God is trying to talk to you!
No response.
Hansen: I don't think it worked.
Roseanne: Yeah, I can tell it didn't work. Or else I'd be speaking with that lunatic.
Hansen: It has to be the bumpers. Nothing else changed.
Roseanne: Okay, well, put them back down.
Eric returns to the panel and lowers the bumpers.
Hansen: Do you want me to try? I can show you how to curve it.
Roseanne: Sure, yeah, go ahead. Just… Ask him about how to make money or some shit. Stroke his ego.
Hansen: Yeah, alright.
Eric picks up a ball. He takes several seconds lining himself up, checking his footing, adjusting his grip. He throws the ball, which loudly slams against the wood and slowly rolls, knocking over one pin. The pins reset, and the screen shows Dexter again.
Hansen: Timothy! Hey, we need help with money!
Dexter: Who in the world are-
The screen goes to black.
Roseanne: For the love of-
Hansen: It should have worked, I did everything right! Maybe I'm just rusty.
Roseanne: Yeah, rusty, sure. Give me the damn ball.
Hansen: No! Give me two tries, at least.
Roseanne: Hey, I'm the one who actually knows about this guy!
Hansen: Just give me one more throw, alright? Then it's all yours.
Roseanne: Fine, fine. Go ahead.
Eric lines himself up again, taking even longer to prepare for the throw. As he steps forward, he slips and falls on his back. The ball slips out of his hand and into the gutter of an adjacent lane.
Hansen: Ow, fuck!
Roseanne: How the Hell did you do that? I- here, give me your hand.
Roseanne helps Hansen to his feet.
Roseanne: Butterfingers…
Hansen: Fucking Hell, man. My finger…
Hansen applies pressure to his middle finger with his other hand.
Roseanne: Yeah, I see it. It's fine, right? I'm just gonna throw the next ball, you go ahead and sit down.
Hansen: Yeah, fine.
Hansen returns to his seat, grumbling. Roseanne grabs the returned ball and walks back to the lane. She rolls it, knocking over two pins. The screen displays Dexter once more.
Hansen: Ten seconds.
Roseanne: Timothy, hey, shut- just shut the fuck up. Tell us how to make money or you're going to Hell.
Dexter: Such language! A harlot like you can't be-
The screen goes dark.
Roseanne: Okay, well, damn it.
Hansen: The old "swearing God" routine. Just how I remember it.
Roseanne: I panicked!
Hansen: Yeah, I saw! I was there!
Roseanne: Listen, you don't have any room to talk on this, I just saw you eat shit.
Hansen: Yeah, laugh it up. What's your plan now? Are you gonna do any sort of planning before you throw that ball? Or just wherever the spirit moves you?
Roseanne: I am planning! I'm just, like, I plan to knock over more, so I gotta ham it up, get in their head. It's not my fault that every other businessman has given us nothing useful.
Hansen: Well, maybe plan to knock over less.
Roseanne: I'll plan whatever I damn well please!
Recovered Footage
Roseanne stomps over to the ball, picks it up, and throws it down the alley. It knocks over six pins. The pins reset, and the screen displays Dexter once again.
Roseanne: Yeah! Like that!
Hansen: Thirty seconds.
Dexter: Who are you, interloper?
Roseanne: Listen, I'm not technically God but I was sent by God, and what we need is your help, tell us how you acquired your vast fortunes, and we will get you out. We'll, uh, make you a Lord up here, too!
Dexter: Why do you require my aid? To what end?
Roseanne: Because we're trying to-
Dexter: Why should I help you, who have seen fit to deceive me?
Roseanne: Because if you don't, then we'll send you to the fiery pits of Hell, don't you understand?
Dexter: I don't believe-
The screen cuts to black.
Hansen: Well, some leverage that was. Now what?
Roseanne: I'm thinking, okay? Give me a second, normally when I'm interviewing someone, I'm actually able to get used to the guy.
Hansen: Fair enough. Seems like he didn't take kindly to being lied to. Maybe we just… tell him the truth? Or, some version of it, anyway?
Roseanne: You think he can fathom the idea of the Foundation? He died in, like, the 1820s.
Hansen: We don't need to be that specific. Just… say we're trying to safeguard humanity's future, or something vague like that.
Roseanne: That would've been helpful before the entire God thing. Just… Give me a second to like, make a fake voice.
Roseanne cleans her throat, and throws another ball. It lands in the gutter.
Hansen: Hey, more time to think. That's something, at least.
Roseanne: Oh my God, okay, yeah, I get it, more time, just… Be quiet for a second, let me focus.
Hansen: Just- It looks like you're trying to throw it right down the center. Try to aim between the 1 and 3 pins. And try to get a curve on it. Don't worry so much about hurling it. Let it spin.
Roseanne: Uh-huh, yeah, yeah, sure.
Roseanne grabs another ball and rolls it with a curve. It strikes six pins. The pins are reset, and the screen displays Dexter.
Hansen: Thirty seconds. Make 'em count.
Roseanne: Timothy, listen, okay, I just got word from the big man upstairs to tell you the whole truth. I'm working for this… this group, and we're in charge of keeping the world safe.
Dexter: Safe? From what? Turks?
Roseanne: No, like, uh… the British. Safe from the British. And we are running low on funding, so we need your advice on how we can get that fixed.
Dexter: Are they planning another war? So soon?
Roseanne: Yes! Yes, another war, a horrible, horrible war, more awful than the last!
Dexter: Why should I put any stock in your words?
Roseanne: It's because we-
The screen turns off.
Hansen: Yeah, can't say I exactly blame him.
Roseanne: Shit, okay, uh, how the Hell do we like… prove that we're the Foundation, and that it does all that stuff?
Hansen: What about the robot Washington?
Roseanne: Robot Wash- what the Hell are you talking about?
Hansen: SCP-27- something. I read a document about it a while ago. President Washington was an automaton.
Roseanne: It- seriously?
Hansen: They modeled him after the general, who died back during the war.
Roseanne: Okay, well, not sure if I believe you, but. Fine, fine. Next ball.
Hansen: We're just going right in?
Roseanne: Yeah, yeah, I have a plan.
Hansen: Okay.
Roseanne rolls another ball. It knocks over two pins. Right as the screen turns on, Roseanne yells:
Roseanne: George Washington was a robot! He died in the Civil War, we have documents to prove that!
Hansen: No! The War for Independence!
Dexter: Civil War? Whatever are you talking about? And what's a robot?
Roseanne: The War for Independence! That- sorry, misspoke. He died in the war, and- some sort of, uh, some sort of…
The screen turns off.
Hansen: Well, we've confused him now, but we might be getting somewhere.
Roseanne puts her face into her hands and loudly groans.
Roseanne: Fuck! Independence, why is that name so much longer? We got the Civil War, World War, Iraq War, then-
Hansen: How about instead of the word "robot", uh… I don't know, maybe you could liken it to a golem.
Roseanne: Hansen. Hansen. Do you really think it's a good idea to talk about golems, the Jewish myth, to a guy that old?
Hansen: Yeah, okay, fair.
Roseanne grumbles.
Hansen: I don't know… a moving statue? When was the whole "Turk" thing? That fake chess playing guy?
Roseanne: The what?
Hansen: This whole hoax about a mechanical Turk who was beating people at chess. They took him on tour, or something. Turns out someone was just sitting underneath the thing and using magnets, or something. But if he's heard of that, we can sell this as "like that, but real."
Roseanne: Huh. Okay, fine, sure, this guy will know about the Turk. Sure.
Roseanne grabs a ball and rolls it. It knocks over four pins. The pins are reset, and the screen turns on.
Hansen: Twenty.
Roseanne: Okay, okay, so, uh, when I said robot, what I REALLY meant to say was automaton! Some crazy machine, and, uh…
Dexter: Washington was an automaton? What hogwash!
Roseanne: I'm serious, I swear. Listen, you just… Dexter, Dexter. How do we make money?
Dexter: What does money have to do with General Washington?
Roseanne: It's irrelevant, just… We're poor, you're smart, we're going to save the world, and, and…
The screen flickers to black.
Roseanne: Fuck!
Hansen: What? He's actually talking now!
Roseanne: Okay, Tiana, focus, get your shit together, this is something to work with…
Hansen: Uh… maybe say that the only reason no one knows Washington was an automaton is because of us. Cause we hid it so well, to prevent… panic, or something.
Roseanne: Yeah, that's what we do. We do that so much, we currently have like, fifteen bucks left.
Hansen: But if we can convince him that that was good, we can convince him that we can do further good with his help.
Roseanne: Fine.
Roseanne grabs a ball and rolls it. It knocks over two pins. The screen turns on.
Hansen: Ten seconds.
Roseanne: Okay, listen, so we hid that information because it would cause panic, and the real general, uh, Washington died in the war.
Dexter scoffs.
Dexter: Simply preposterous! How did-
The screen shuts off. Hansen goes to speak, but is cut off by Roseanne grabbing and rolling another ball, which knocks over three pins. The pins are reset, and the screen turns on.
Roseanne: We have been in control for, like, three hundred years, you just gotta listen to me.
Dexter: Three hundred- what year is it for you?
Roseanne: 2026. A lot has happened, but that's irrelev-
Dexter: It's been two hundred years?!
Roseanne: Yes, yes it's been two hundred years, okay, now just shut up, for the love of God. How do we get money?
Dexter: If it's been two hundred years, then how come-
The screen shuts off.
Roseanne: Okay, I'm going to say it. This place pisses me off.
Hansen: Why are you trying to rush a guy who's been dead for two hundred years? Of course he's going to be a bit confused. We're in no hurry! What, is there some other pressing matter the Foundation needs us for?
Roseanne: Hansen. I've been eating nothing but slop for a week, I am making minimum wage to talk to Timothy Dexter. I'm in a hurry to get him to tell us how he made money so he can shut up.
Hansen stands.
Hansen: I'm going again.
He picks up a bowling ball.
Roseanne: Fine, be my guest.
Hansen stands, lowering the ball nearly to the ground. He throws the ball in a manner resembling a basketball "granny shot", knocking over three pins.
Hansen: Alright, Lord Dexter, look. We've been trying to protect people for a long time, but we're short on funds recently. We've heard you might have advice on how to fix that. Do you?
Dexter: …Alright. Protecting our young nation is certainly a noble task, so I will entertain you! I initially made my funds by marrying a rich widow, I assume you can try that?
Hansen: Uh…
The screen turns off.
Hansen: I'm starting to think this advice might not be the most pertinent.
Roseanne: Okay, well, lets look at our options. Every billionaire on earth is either owned by the GOC or is already supporting us, I doubt Mansa Musa is willing to help. Zhao Xu, Rockefeller, Akbar the first, and Caesar were a bunch of flops…
Hansen: Okay, then I've only got one real idea.
Hansen grabs a bowling ball and approaches the pit.
Roseanne: Yeah? Spit it out, I'm hungry.
Hansen: I wanna see if there was some kind of actual logic determining his investments, but I'm not holding my breath.
Roseanne: Be my guest.
Hansen bends down again, but before he can throw, the ball slips out of his grip and falls on his right foot. He starts hopping on his left foot, clutching his injured right as the ball rolls slowly down the lane.
Hansen: Fucking shit!
The ball knocks over two pins. The pins are reset.
Roseanne: Jesus Christ, dude! You're supposed to-
The screen flickers to life again.
Dexter: …and I assume you are familiar with whale bones, right?
Hansen: Whale- like the actual bones of a- fuck- from an actual whale?
Dexter: Of course! They make for wonderful corsets. The rich will be on your doorstep asking for more!
Hansen: But is there anything you-
The screen goes dark.
Roseanne: Dude. You suck at bowling.
Hansen: Shut the fuck up, okay?
Hansen returns to his seat, massaging his injured toes.
Hansen: I don't do this for a living.
Roseanne: Neither do I, but you're the one who was talking about it so much back at -19, so forgive me for assuming you knew a damn thing!
Hansen: I study games. I don't play games. Bill fucking Belichick is a genius, but not because he's good at playing football.
Roseanne’s hand obscures the camera view, presses one of the buttons, then moves back. The video is momentarily overexposed, before returning to normal.
Roseanne: Bowling isn't even that athletic! You roll a ball down a lane! At least with football, you're running around and tackling people. But here you are, flipping around and eating shit trying to throw a ball.
Hansen: I. Wasn't. Hired. For. Athletic ability. Or balance. Or dexterity. I was hired 'cause I do good research.
Roseanne: If it was good research, then I wouldn't be the only one here who knows anything about obscure rich people! If you were good at research, you probably would have been spending more time learning about Dexter instead of… whatever you were doing!
Hansen: I didn't even know what this was until I got here, today. All I knew was that we needed to bowl good. Okay?
Roseanne: And you aren't even doing that! I've bowled, like, three games in all my life and I'm performing so much better than you. Hell, I don't even like sports!
Hansen: Yeah, well, who the fuck else are they gonna send along? Do you know someone? Do you have a recommendation? I don't think a lot of pro athletes are clamoring for desk work — least of all, at the fucking Foundation of all places. So unless you have Pete Weber on speed dial, I don't wanna hear it.
Roseanne: There's more than two people working at the Foundation! Surely there's someone at that site who can actually play a sport. You know what, get that statue along. Maybe when I blink, he'll have bowled a strike.
Hansen: Okay, fine. You know what? Fuck it. You're not going to hear another word out of me.
Hansen limps over to a further lane and sits.
Roseanne: I don't even try to act like I know how to bowl, but at least… fucking…
Roseanne snatches up the ball and throws it down the lane. It knocks over seven pins. The screen illuminates. Hansen holds up his hands, signalling a "three" and a "five" with his fingers.
Roseanne: Okay, listen here, jackass. We have gone through all of history, desperately trying to figure out someone who knows anything about how to make money. Just, as quick as possible, give us an answer. Please.
Dexter: Jackass? How crude. Well, surely you've read my book. There's not much else to tell, I'm afraid. You must simply follow your instincts.
Roseanne: I've read your book! I saw the punctuation at the end of it, I saw the… the…
Roseanne catches her breath.
Roseanne: Come on, just throw me a bone, man!
Dexter: Well… Fine something no one else is doing. Untapped potential. A market to corner. Then corner it. Simple as that.
Roseanne: This is the market! We own the market, damn it! We've been leeching off of taxes for years now, but we're still down in the gutter.
Dexter: Then I'm not certain there's anything to be done. You'll just have-
The screen blinks out.
Roseanne: Fuck this guy, seriously. All he's saying is the corner the market, blah blah blah, find an economic, a stupid…
Hansen looks at Roseanne and shrugs.
Roseanne: Don't just shrug at me! There has to be some other famous rich guy! You're smart, give me something, someone. Napoleon? Roosevelt? Fucking, I don't know, Genghis Khan?
Hansen clears his throat and begins picking at his fingernails.
Roseanne: Speak to me, dickhead!
Hansen: Oh, you want my input now? Interesting.
Roseanne: I'm out of options. I'm out of options, alright?
Hansen: Okay, here's my input: this is a fucking waste of time. We've gotten everything we possibly can out of this asshole. There's not some secret passphrase we can give him to suddenly fix the Foundation's finances.
Roseanne: I know it's a waste of time, but what other options do we have? We've done just about everything in our power to milk people dry, and-
Hansen: Wait. Maybe there are untapped markets.
Roseanne: I wasn't exaggerating when I said we control the market.
Hansen: No, I understand. That's not what I'm saying.
Roseanne: Turn this into a loony tourist attraction?
Hansen: Maybe not… this, necessarily, but… I mean, if MC&D can turn a profit year in and year out, why can't the Foundation? We've got a whole stockpile of harmless knick-knacks, why not try to make a buck off a few of 'em? I mean, if it's a choice between that and complete bankruptcy.
Roseanne: Yeah, 'cause MC&D are famously ethical and definitely aren't just, like, sixteen guys hoarding all the money.
Hansen: Tiana, we're intimidating a dead guy for financial advice! I think we're well past ethical concerns.
Roseanne: He, like, beat his wife. That's justified enough.
Hansen: I just fail to see how trying to sell a few harmless anomalies is any worse than what we're doing right now. It's not like anyone else at the Foundation has any bright ideas.
Roseanne: If you suggest that to the O5 Council, they are going to draw and quarter you.
Hansen: They have to see the writing on the wall. When the whole Foundation goes under in a few years, what's gonna happen to all these anomalies anyway?
Roseanne: Not my fucking problem.
Hansen: My point is, if these things are gonna end up in someone else's hands anyway, why not be the ones in charge of where everything goes, and make a little money on top of it? Do you understand what I'm saying? I'm not suggesting we auction off The Old Man, but like… the pen that makes you draw? Who the fuck's gonna weaponize that?
Roseanne: Okay, we've sold every single anomaly in our care. Now we just have, like, four evil monsters that want to kill us.
Hansen: I didn't say we sell everything. Just the shit that doesn't really matter, so that we can afford to keep the lights on. It's either that or the Foundation goes under, and everything gets looted anyway. So what difference does it make?
Roseanne: Sure, sure. Fine, just go and sell all that.
Hansen: I mean, it's something, right? It's not nothing.
Roseanne looks up and groans. She turns over to Hansen, before turning back to SCP-8782.
Roseanne: Sure, fine. I've just spent way too much time here, I need a break.
Hansen: Yeah, I can't exactly say this has been one of the highlights of my week.
Roseanne: Fuck it. You wanna go get ribs?
Hansen: Can we hit CVS for some ibuprofen first?
Roseanne: Alright.
Roseanne and Hansen begin to gather their belongings. Roseanne glances down at the camera.
Roseanne: Is this thing still recording? I swear I turned it off five min-
[END LOG]
Recovered Document