Candy Oranges
rating: 0+x

Item #: SCP-whatever-the-fuck

Object Class: Who cares

Special Containment Procedures: :p

Description: Bleh. My fucking inability to do anything worthwhile.

Researcher Whyte closed the file and powered down the desktop, ignoring the program’s inquiry to if he’d like to save the file.

Researcher Whyte stood up with a sigh, pushing himself and the chair away from the desk as he did so. He walked over to the door and placed his hand on the knob. As he twisted it, he quickly hoped it was the beer to his brain that made it seem that the knob was twisting on the other side as well.

The door opened, and Whyte stumbled backwards as Dr. Waters, his boss, walked into the room.

Dr. Waters raised an eyebrow, walking over to his desk. He sat down, and sat a stack of files down on the desk.

“Quinn, your break isn’t for another thirty minutes.” Waters reminded.

Whyte shrugs. “I was getting tired.” He replied drowsily.

Waters sighs, and rubbed his temple with his thumb and index finger.

“Quinn, you can’t keep doing this. What’s going on?” He asked sympathetically.

“I fucking hate this job. All I do is follow your orders.” Whyte replied. He walked over to his desk chair, and plopped down in it.

Waters rolled his eyes, and let out a deep sigh.

“Tell me you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

Waters pushed his palms against his desk and stood up; his desktop monitor wobbled from impact. He walked over to the garbage can. He picked it up, and dumped it on the floor, staring at Whyte. Waters kicked an empty beer can with his foot, which knocked against Whyte’s desk.

“That’s what.” Waters answers sourly, crossing his arms.

Whyte raised both his arms.

“Alright alright, you caught me. I just didn’t wanna deal with this.”

Waters wrinkles his nose.



Whyte stands up, and quickly exits the room.

Waters sighs, slapping his palm against his forehead.

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