Sometimes it sometimes pizza times pizza

For an animatronic pizzeria, Freddy Fazbear's was woefully second-rate in the former and dreadfully unsatisfactory regarding the latter. The three animatronic performers were in a downright miserable state - their costumes terrified children, their movements were painfully robotic, and their talent in music and jokes was anything but. Here some individuals who cared to remember would smugly interject that, no, there are actually four animatronics, and the fourth is in an even sorrier state than the others.

Regardless, while the animatronics could at least be argued to be to certain childless patrons' tastes, the pizzas were absolutely unpalatable. Cheaply made and expensive to order, they were the dimly polished brass crown atop the pile of unattractive garbage that made up the reasons to visit the restaurant. There were only a handful of toppings to choose from, none of which were popular. Not a pepperoni nor a mushroom were to be found in Freddy Fazbear's hallowed halls. You'd be lucky to even find any ham.

It was in this restaurant, down a dreary and dark hallway, that a second-rate animatronic was carrying an unsatisfactory pizza. Chica marched with a purpose, making a beeline from the kitchen to the security office. Her cupcake was tucked into her armpit while she carried a still-hot extra cheese pizza for the guard. Steam rose from it, the vapor twisting and curling invitingly. Chica firmly kept her eyes straight ahead to keep from getting tempted.

The door was already slammed shut when she got there. She glanced through the grimy window to see the guard, back hunched and shoulders slumped, staring moodily at her.

"Well," he said. "What do you want?"

Chica bounced on her toes, careful not to let the pizza slip out of her hands. "I gotcha a pizza, Mike." She waggled her eyebrows. "Extra cheese, just how you like it."

Mike sighed and ran a hand through his hair, accidentally knocking his security hat off in the process. "Hate to break it to you, Chica, but I'm going to have to refuse."

Chica stepped back, mind sent reeling. "What!" she squawked. "Why not?"

"Well, the first reason is that my doctor told me to start watching my diet. Too much cholesterol is bad for the heart, you know. Gunks up the arteries."

Chica huffed. "Then take a cheat day. Open up and eat this damn thing, I spent a long time makin' it."

Mike grunted, grabbed his hat, and placed it back on his head. "And thus we get to the second reason. My doctor told me to avoid stress. Bad for-"

"Yes, yes. 'Bad for the heart, you know.'"

Mike cleared his throat. "Yes, and, well... I don't particularly have the desire to get messily stuffed into a suit, so if you could please step away."

Chica turned her beak up at that. "It's policy, Mike."

"Yeah," Mike agreed. "It's also against the rules to scream or poop on the floor, and I assure you I'd be doing a bit of both if you came in here."

Chica drew her eyebrows together and narrowed her eyes. "Gross, Mike." However, she obliged him and walked down the hall. Then she walked back up to the office, smushed a few slices under the door - "For if you get hungry later!" - and meandered into the dining hall.

Freddy was sitting at a table across from Foxy, three top hats lined up between them. As Chica watched, Freddy dexterously spun them around, mixing them up with blinding speed. He leaned back when he was down, and Foxy flipped up his eyepatch to squint suspiciously at them. The fox picked one when Chica drew close, and Freddy lifted both the selected hat and an eyebrow.

Nothing.

Foxy scowled and Freddy picked up the hat to his left, revealing Foxy's hook. The fox snatched it from the table and reattached it to his wrist. "I'll get ye next time, Fazbear," he muttered, and swept away to his Cove.

Chica sat down in his seat and placed the pizza on the table. Freddy greeted her with a smile as he put his top hat back on his head and moved the others to the side. "Howdy, Chica," he said with a faint drawl.

Chica sighed. "Hey, boss man. How ya doin'?"

"I'm just fine, Chica. Just practicing my sleight of hand for the kids. I'm thinking about adding a magic show to our act."

Chica perked up at that. "Ooh, that sounds like fun! Will ya be sawin' anybody in half?"

Freddy chuckled. "Not quite." The bear leaned his head on a paw. "So what's got you so down?"

"Mike didn't want any pizza. Said it was bad for him."

Freddy tsked. "Bless him. Boy's heart is in the right place, but he could really stand to open it up a bit more and not worry so much."

"He could also stand to open up his doors a bit more, right?"

Freddy released a couple of booming chuckles. "That he could."

Chica was just about to stand up to leave when an idea struck her. "Say, boss man. You want any pizza?" She tapped a large yellow finger on it for emphasis. "Still fresh."

Freddy stared down at the proffered pizza and tugged at his bow tie nervously. "Oh, sorry Chica, but I can't."

"And why's that?"

"Mechanic's orders. He told me to start watching my diet. All the pizza's bad for the endo, you know. Gunks up the joints."

Chica refused to look Freddy in the eyes after that. Without uttering a single word, she got up, grabbed her pizza, and started walking. Where she didn't know. A quick glance at Pirate's Cove showed her Foxy moving around stolen drink cups and lifting them up to reveal doubloons. Immediately declaring it a lost cause, she instead headed towards the one place she could always count on Bonnie being, the supply closet.

The rabbit wasn't there, so she headed to the next best place: backstage. Chica found Bonnie lounging in the back with a guitar, playing a small tune while an endoskeleton performed maintenance on the rabbit's knee. While the endoskeleton fiddled away with a screwdriver, Bonnie greeted Chica with a tired nod.

"Hey Bon. Nate doin' some work on you?"

Bonnie nodded. "Yeah. I've been here for a while," the rabbit said with a what-can-you-do shrug. Nate ignored her in favor of grabbing an oily rag. Before Chica could say another word, Bonnie spotted the pizza. "You gonna offer me some of that pizza?"

Chica brightened up. "Yep!"

Bonnie frowned. "Nope."

"Nope?"

"Yep," Bonnie said.

Chica puffed her chest out and set her feet and squeezed her cupcake and overall worked herself up into a proper umbrage. Then she deflated. "Why won't anyone eat my pizza? Am I that bad at cooking?"

"I've just gotta watch my figure, Chica. Sorry."

Chica waved Bonnie off. "It's fine, it's fine. I'm used to it by now.

"Done," exclaimed Nate. The endoskeleton popped up and wiped his hands on his thigh struts. He looked up and started, apparently only just now noticing Chica. "Oops! Didn't notice you there, Chica. You need some work done?"

Chica sighed. "No, Nate, but thanks for askin'."

Bonnie stood up and tested the fixed leg. Finding it capable of supporting as much weight as it used to, the rabbit offered Nate a small smile. "Thanks, Nate. I don't know what we'd do without you. You're the only mechanic we've got, after all."

Nate waved the animatronic's compliments off. "Bah! You'd do better with a real mechanic." He then turned back to face Chica. "Is that pizza? That stuff's bad for you, you know."

Chica sighed again and walked out. When she emerged into the dining hall it was completely empty. Freddy was nowhere to be found, but from the sound of his music box he had apparently moseyed on over to the office to give Mike a scare. Chica, feeling a bit vindictive, hoped it gave Mike so much stress that his doctor would get mad at him.

She reluctantly abandoned that thought after letting it stew in her mind. In its place was determination. Chica walked as quickly as her endoskeleton would let her - slower than the others, unfortunately - and made haste for the kitchen. When she got there she swept the filth-covered pans off the counter and onto the floor. She tossed her pizza into the trash, and put her cupcake squarely down in front of her. Then she bent over and looked it in the eye.

"Alright, Charlie. We need ta make somethin' healthy. Somethin' that'll blow everybody's socks off."

The cupcake was silent.

Chica hummed. "Nah, I don't think that'd work. 'Sides, we're missing half the ingredients for it."

The cupcake was still silent.

"Maybe, maybe. Let's return to that if we can't come up with anythin' else."

The cupcake, against all expectations, remained silent.

Chica swept it up in her arms. "Charlie, you're a genius! A veggie pizza is perfect!" Chica placed her cupcake down and eyed the kitchen. "Now, where do those minimum wage jabronis keep the vegetables..."

Chica prowled around the kitchen, looking under pots and ovens and peeking into cabinets. She finally found them on top of the refrigerator. They were in a pre-packaged salad with "Keep refrigerated" plastered across the front.

Dough was rolled out, sauce was poured, and cheese was sprinkled. Chica popped the top off of the vegetable container and dumped it all out onto the pizza. Twenty minutes later and it was done. Not satisfied with the multicolored mess on the table in front of her, Chica grabbed some artificial flavoring and put it on the pizza. Only the healthy-tasting ones, though, like grape and almond and red food coloring for that savory insectoid goodness.

As mentioned earlier, Freddy Fazbear's was known for their frankly terrible pizzas, and this one in particular looked to have gone above and beyond. In nature, a rainbow of colors was usually a sign of danger, warning away all potential predators. To Chica's eyes, though, it was beautiful.

The chicken hurried out of the kitchen, eager to have someone give it a taste test before it cooled down. Mike, she decided, was a good place to start. After all, he was the first to turn down her cooking earlier.

The slices Chica had attempted to force under the door were still on the floor. They looked to be recently trampled, and Chica vowed to give Freddy some cold words alongside some hot food. She forced her gaze away from the misshapen yellow lump of cheese and grease and instead walked over to the window.

"I'm baaaack, Mike~" she sang.

For his part, Mike looked exhausted. He had bags under his eyes that hadn't been there an hour before, and he kept glancing down at the cameras.

"Can you make this quick? Freddy did some vanishing act earlier and now I can't find him on the cameras."

Chica ignored his snappishness. Lack of pizza would do that to you, a lack which she was prepared to fix. "I brought something for you that you'll like."

Mike stared at her, disbelief evident on his face.

Chica giggled at him. Her eyes started going unfocused before snapping back to his face. "Alright, mistah. What I've got here is a real culinary treat." The chicken turned his beak up and adopted as snooty a tone as she could muster, although it ended up just sounding nasally. "Aged organic milk tossed over a seasoned tomato purée, mixed on top of baked whole wheat and served with seasonal vegetables." Having said her piece, the animatronic proudly presented her creation.

A beat of silence. "That's a pizza," Mike deadpanned.

"A veggie pizza," Chica emphasized.

Mike set his mouth into a line and exhaled loudly through his nose. "Alright, sure. It's probably the healthiest thing I could eat in this place. Will you leave me alone if I take it?"

Chica nodded so fast that she felt something rattle around inside of her costume head.

Agreement in place, Chica placed the pizza on the floor and darted back. Mike opened the door and cautiously peeked his head out. Chica waved at him when he looked down the hall. The guard weakly waved back, picked up the pizza, and closed the door again. Chica  strolled away, satisfied to have served another happy customer.



Mike settled into his chair and placed the plate of pizza on his lap. He savored the warmth of the plate against his thighs and drank in the smells. Although it looked like a clown had vomited onto it, a slice still came away from the pizza with a satisfying gooeyness. Mike took a bite and winced. It burned the roof of his mouth like molten magma. Regardless, he chewed his way through the rather bland cheese, crunched through a worryingly large amount of lettuce, and sunk his teeth into the cardboard-like bread.

Mike swallowed his bite and quickly scarfed down the rest of the slice. It had been a long time since he'd had something this unhealthy; it was at least three days. Mike savored the surprisingly nutty aftertaste before going for another slice.

It didn't take long at all for the pizza to disappear into Mike's stomach. The security guard leaned back in his ratty old chair, which creaked dangerously in response, and loosened his belt. That, he decided, was the most satisfying pizza he'd had in recent memory.

Not because of the taste, no, but because of the sin.

The next few hours passed by in a blur. As the end of Mike's shift approached, he found himself getting steadily more nauseous. His stomach gurgled warningly. A pale white hand came up to a green-tinged face. After a while the sweating began. Then Mike felt an ungodly thirst. He reached for his lukewarm thermos and drained it of coffee, then winced when that only made the dehydration worse.

Freddy appeared in a puff of smoke and glitter inside the office. "Ta-da!" he exclaimed, twirling his top hat. He looked down, bemused at the lack of terror in Mike's response. He found the guard sprawled in his chair, pale and foaming at the mouth.

When the cleanup crew came in the morning, they found a corpse. This was all well and good, nothing out of the ordinary. What was out of the ordinary, however, was that it wasn't stuffed into a suit. They scratched their heads and waffled around for an hour talking to each other about protocol. When the day shift manager arrived, he took one look at the body, called the police, and wiped his hands clean of the entire affair.

When news came that it was arsenic poisoning, nobody could muster up that much shock. Most people who spent any amount of time at Freddy Fazbear's thought about it at least once, after all. It was marked down as suicide, and the day-to-day affairs at the restaurant continued unchanged, with the exception of a new addition to the menu.