"Dudebro Guard" Request

“Hello? Hell-”


“Pftt, fuck off with that pussy shit” said Chad Dynamique as he smashed the answering machine with but a single fist.
Chad was 20-years-old. He had never seen a single animatronic in his life. He didn’t know why. He didn’t care. When Bonnie stared down his doorway, his only reaction was to punch the button to slam the door.  Chad gave zero shits. What a fucking badass, right?

I mean, imagine it. Men and women have soiled themselves staring down these things. I want you to understand it. Imagine if an eight foot tall black man was standing in your doorway at 2 am. Literally black. He’s not just Afro-American, he’s pure charcoal black with narrowed, white eyes. You’d be terrified, right? Don’t lie. Sometimes you get a little spooked. Maybe you see a weird shadow in your doorway. Or you hear sounds that are certainly in your head. Point is, you don’t like things intruding on your peace. Disrupting the routine. That scares you. And hey, I know the feeling. A big loud pop happened in my room last month. No, really. I swear it happened, it  hurt my my ears. I jumped. I was on the toilet, and I still shat myself. It was like hearing bombs. For a brief second there, I wasn’t absolutely sure what was going on. When you lose control- when you lose familiarity of your surroundings- that’s when you’re scared. Hence why horror movies are better viewed in theaters. No escape.

Chad, though? Chad had no fears. It’s crazy, I know. But after 21 years of lifting, and what with being the Kwisatz Haderach (Hebrew for “perfect superbeing), you’d be prepared for anything. Chad was experienced. In fact, Chad had ordered everyone pizzas one night before he went on his night shift. Everyone.   He was that kinda guy. Prepared to unite humanity for a holy jihad across the universe.

In that sense, Chad was one who could be in many places at once. The result of centuries of eugenic experiments. I love this guy. I mean, what man (or woman, I guess) could smash Foxy up when he jumped out at him?

No, really. Get a load of this-Foxy jumped out, and Chad’s response was to grab his hook, and even while his hand was sliding down the hook like a fish on a fishing rod, Chad punched Foxy with his other hand. He grabbed the fox’s jaw, and tore it off with brute force. Who does that? Who CAN do that? Aside from J’s Mike. Maybe Gud Freddy?

I mean, look. Time out for a sec. Do you remember Mike?  My Mike? How the animatronics decapitated him, and removed his eyes? Or Stephen, who was anally raped to death? That guy’s canon, too. Chad? Chad was anything but raped. He’s no Art. He’s no Stephen. He’s Chad. This guy, man.

After taking off Foxy’s jaw, Chad reached deep inside. He pulled something squishy out. Foxy gagged, and protested. But his cranium cravings would have to wait, and his hook was already out of commission. So he just lunged forward. Chad wasn’t having that. So he squashed the squishy thing. Shazam. Dead kid, dead robot. Chad had stumbled onto this solution through pure dumb luck.  Fortunately, Bonnie was close by to test it out and get further information. Chad leaped forward, out into the hallway in incoherent rage. He was screaming a garbled noise. Legend has it, if you translate it back into English, you get an SSTV image of  Satan himself. It looks like a big, squashed face with bulging eyes. He grins a toothless smile, and he sees into your soul. He sees you, and he judges you for the pitiful insect you are.

But Chad’s no insect. Chad’s an invertebrate. Which is why he tore Bonnie’s ears off, and why Freddy’s robotic foot couldn’t break his back when it descended upon the spinal cord’s center. What a joke, right? Chad didn’t find it so funny, though. Which is why Chad plunged his hands into Freddy’s chest, and retrieved his bloody, flesh and  blood heart. He crushed the heart in his hands, and Freddy fell over onto the ground. Befitting his future fate, Freddy had failed to affect Mr. Dynamique in any way whatsoever.

It was 2 am and Chad Van Dynamique flipped back between Pirate’s Cove and the Stage. Chica had yet to move between cameras. She was paralyzed. Though not for long.

For Chad had advanced. He moved from room to room. Walking to the Party Room, and waiting. For the sounds from the kitchen. He didn’t need to know that Chica liked the kitchen to expect her arrival. She was a fat chicken, and he was in the mood to cook a goose.

So he did just that. He tore off both legs with his hand, and pushed her into the oven. What a mess. The screaming stopped after two minutes, but Chad had long left the pizzeria by then.  He was fine. Content.
Happy.