Breakroom Banter

That was a helluva tale, but I got a real horror story for ya. None of that 'and the hook was still on the door handle' crap.

So, this one coworker, Randall? Nice guy, at least 6'5", short black hair, full beard and moustache, loves to chat about politics though not in the way you're probably thinking, he prefers the objective take on it as well as historical, not pushing anything on anyone. Loves games too, if there was an Asteroids or Centipede cabinet, he'd be all over it or put his quarter on the screen to make sure he got next. I'm sure you've seen him before, right? He also loved pranks and scaring people.

A while ago, he took up with his buddy who makes the animatronic things go, convinced that guy it'd be funny to make the bots do sudden spooky things like turn towards people, go wide-eyed and scream, or do silly thing like make em bend over and playing one of those dumb fart sound effect toys over the mic. Randall also likes to research, however. You know those old maintenance logs? Well, he got his hands on some of em, including the ones management haven't had a chance to proofread yet.

Being a good friend who grew up with him, I told him not to mess around with that stuff unless he wants to lose his job. He shrugged that off and went through em anyway. He comes in a few days later, going on about how the old character suits could be used as costumes, something about vintage stuff being able to be put on the robots or people. Few days later, bastard sneaks up on me while I'm giving the cook the tickets for a table and grabs my arm with some costume piece that looked like one of the creepy animal robots have, guessing it was Chica? After work I clocked him before going over to Cindy's place with him for a big movie night, new VHS rentals and stuff, pizza, soda, you name it.

Anyway, so the next day, he came in with one of those journals that wasn't edited, going on and on about people going missing, talks of dead bodies being covered up and the like. Thought he was full of it, but showed off the exact passages and everything, and we were gonna call the cops but supposedly they were in on it? Randall thought he'd take it up to the manager and a lawyer, I told him it'd take more evidence. I guess he was snooping about after, 'cause we didn't hear from him for days. He wasn't answering his phone either.

So the chefs are all tied up on one of my shifts later in the week, not enough were there, but we had more servers than necessary, so I drew the short straw and went to do legwork for the kitchen. They sent me to toss some rancid pepperoni in the dumpster when I noticed something wet had been dragged through the back alley. Looked for where it went, saw it went up the service ladder which was down, and not in any hurry to head back into the kitchen, I went to have a look-see.

Up top was a cardboard box, wet, was the source of the trail. Each rung of the ladder smelled as bad as whatever was inside, and peeking inside, there was just an arm. Thought it was a costume piece at first. It was holding what looked like a skinned cat, but moving the box a little I saw some exposed skin and bone sticking out of the costume arm, was the same one Randall pranked me with not long ago. I thought it was gonna be another prank at first, some movie prop, but looking closer, it was freshly severed and that was actual bone splintered about. Skin tone not far off from Randall's.

No shit, I was scared, and I went running to the manager, she said she'd call the cops and that I had the day off. I went over to Randall's to see if he was alright, wasn't sure if it was him. Turns out he was out with pink eye, and hadn't had a chance to investigate since he couldn't see well, also had no idea what I was talking about and didn't seem to realize the costume piece he'd been messing with was missing. Why wasn't he answering phone calls? Bastard left it off the hook!

I don't know whose arm that was, or why it was up there in a box, but I don't think the cops did anything. We didn't close, I just got sent home and boss was riding my ass all week, making me deal with the difficult guests. Given up mentioning it to boss, and Randall would just use it as an excuse to prank me harder. Why bother telling you folks? Well, you ever hear about what happened in Queens, March 27, 1964? Thirty-eight witnesses in Kew Gardens?