[It's Tiny Rick! Your favorite guy. That lovable teenage fucko. He's standing up on one of the beds and holding out his phone like he wants to take a selfie as he broadcasts, mostly so he can gesture at the camera with his free hand.]Alright, li-listen up, preschoolers. I know ev-everyone wants to have fun in the Silent Hill lab with the pudding monsters, being children and what the fuck ever, b-but this is
not all f-fun and games and endless disappointments from Konami. Dr. A and Frisk h-have explained this whole, the whole creepy lab and creepy pudding things, but
I'm here to tell you about this
kid bullshit. That's right, fuckos, we-we've got, got two goddamn simultaneous fucking events on our hands, and it's, it's complete fucking, it's bullshit. Tiny Rick was a fan-favorite, and we, we already fucking tempted fate enough with rehashing the whole stolen cable plot, but fuck it, I-I guess this is just how the network's gonna run things now. Grind it into the dirt t-till no one cares anymore, right? Fuck you. D-Do you have any idea how much Werner Herzog fucking costs?
[He's getting off track, so he pauses and clears his throat.]I-If you've been turned into a kid, y-you are not in your right body. This is not the r-real me and it's not the real you either, but you're, you're gonna try damn fucking hard to convince yourself it is, because it's real fucking tempting to, to get your youth back and relive the glory days, lemme fucking, fucking
tell you. But these are just c...cl...?
[He pauses, frowning, because what the fuck is the word for it?]...Like, copies, genetic copies, or I dunno, magic--magic bullshit constructs, who the fuck knows with Wonderland. Point is, your
real body is slowly dying in a vat somewhere in this lab. You gotta find your vat and transfer your consciousness b-back into your correct body, or--fuck, Wonderland might kill us or m-make us all go through puberty again. No one wants that. No one in the entire goddamn world wants that. Trust me, it's not worth it.
[As Rick's talking, something takes shape behind him. It looks kind of like a tall, white spoon. It doesn't really do anything, just sort of hovers translucently on the opposite side of the bed from him. When he pauses and glances back over his shoulder, the thing vanishes.]Uh...so yeah. Avoid pudding monsters, f-find your vat, get back into your real body. And if you need help remembering that you're not supposed to be a kid, listening to Elliott Smith seems to work. I-I've got his entire discography on my phone.
[He pulls said phone away and plays himself off with a sad song.]