Morning Monkeyshines

[Alternative link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1evcXHQHv1uiv3zHroBsZi99a1FV2InwTWMDHutUNfJk/edit?usp=sharing]

Mike yawned, and rubbed his eyes as he flicked through the cameras. He checked his watch, and according to the mouse’s arms it was 2:45 am. Almost three hours had passed, and yet there hadn’t been much activity.
Maybe it’s a break day, he thought. Maybe they’re relaxing.

Still, he didn’t want to let his guard down. Freddy and his pals had proven themselves to be wily sons of bitches in the last couple weeks, and Mike didn’t want to make the mistake of underestimating them. He thought about his predecessor as he leaned back and sipped his coffee. He sounded like a nice guy, but he had also gotten way too comfortable, and Mike wasn’t prepared to join him, wherever he was.

Even as Mike was reclining, he was still listening for any telltale signs of those furry freaks. Foxy liked to run, and the yellow one--Mike couldn’t quite remember her name-- liked to hang out in the kitchen. Though he had gotten used to the job, he wouldn’t say he was quite cozy with it.

As a result, when Mike heard loud, violent slamming at the other end of the restaurant, he lurched forward and raced through the cameras. Freddy and Bonnie were on their stage again, but the curtains were being drawn to conceal them. In Pirate’s Cove, Mike caught a glimpse of Foxy’s backside, as he scrambled for his quarters. Near the bathrooms, he watched as the duck hurried to her kitchen.

After he turned the monitors off, Mike stared at the black CRT and pondered the question of why they were so riled up. His contemplation was loudly interrupted by the sound of glass breaking and excited hooting. Flipping the cameras back on, he saw a wild herd of chimpanzees, racing down the hallway leading to the kitchen and bathrooms. Though the feed was riddled with static and grain, these irate primates were unmistakably real, and ready for action.

The hollars echoed down the corridor as the monkeys scurried into the Party Room with their arms raised high, sauntering boldly forth like deranged crusaders, hellbent on their mission and fighting for a cause only they knew of. Mike prepared himself to bolt for either of the doors if the situation demanded it, but was more focused on deducing what these creatures had planned, if anything.

Currently, they were focused on destroying the Party Room. Tables were flipped over and cone hats were scattered carelessly, as if a whirlwind of mother nature was on the rampage. The curtains which hid the animatronics was yet to disturbed. Pirate Cove, however, was a different story.

Three of the apes had stormed Foxy’s cove, rampaging his area with unrestrained energy. Foxy attempted to fight them off, swinging his hook wildly like a captain drunk on grog, but his valor was met with failure as the monkeys ducked and weaved his strikes. The pirate’s aggression only angered the monkeys, and endeavored them to leap upon him with infuriated screeches.

Sweat streamed down Mike’s face as the simians swarmed Foxy, and tore into his insides with frightening ease. Four robots were enough of a problem, already--throwing several animals into the mix got his adrenaline pumping. When he noticed an orangutan in the window on his left, his heart skipped a beat.

Mike hurried to the east door and shut it, as his orange-haired visitor peered through the glass. . Mike’s fear turned to confusion when he made eye contact with the ape, who seemed to stare at him not with malice, but something else. Behind that creature’s eyes lied a strange intelligence, and an even stranger emotion. Was it benevolence? Curiosity? Mike wasn’t sure, but he felt as if he knew the ape from somewhere.

Whatever the ape’s feelings were, it knocked on the glass with a massive fist. Mike jolted from the sounds of its impact, and backed away. Then the orangutan threw a chair through the window, and crawled through as Mike stood, paralyzed in shock. Seeing the orange-colored fellow jogged Mike’s muscles, and spurred him to turn around and run for the other door.

He managed to get past his chair before he saw that a silverback gorilla was blocking the exit. In one powerful, hairless hand, it held a small pizza, which was folded like a taco and had been chewed into as such. In the other, it gripped the severed arm of Chica, whose hand was still clutching a bloodstained pizza cutter. The cutter would explain the crimson cut marks on the ape’s stomach.

Mike stared at the gorilla in simultaneous fear and respect, until the orangutan behind him hooted, calling his attention. It was pointing at Mike’s camera monitor. The two of them watched as a couple of chimps jump onto Freddy’s back and ripped out his hat while a third tore at his legs. The orangutan clapped, while the gorilla, who had entered the office, chuckled. Mike laughed nervously as the orangutan stretched its arms out, and put a hand on his shoulder.

With its other hand, it pointed at the doorway. Mike, with little faith in his ability to fight off these creatures, obliged its command and walked forward. As he neared the Party Room, the clamor of battle grew louder and more frantic, culminating in the moment a baboon leaped onto Bonnie and tore out her eyes, before it hopped off gracefully.

 The rabbit shrieked and swung her guitar in blind fury, smashing the instrument on the baboon’s head and knocking it unconscious. Another ape leaped onto her, and began digging at her face as a dog digs for bones. Bonnie fell to the ground, screaming in rage as she was besieged by baboons.

The howling faded as Mike’s escorts brought him to the bathroom corridor, and approached the kitchen. As he had never seen the kitchen before, Mike immediately started to dread what could be inside, and his mind raced through a multitude of terrible fates.
To his surprise, the room was a bonafide zoo, filled with dozens of monkeys all engaged in different activities. Some were eating pizza. Others were smoking cigars. Some of them were eating pizza and smoking cigars. Parts of Chica were scattered around the room; her lower beak was being used as an ice cream scooper by a particularly resourceful ape, while another picked for nits using her hand, which had been chewed off to the point of exposing its endoskeleton.

Mike looked back at the orangutan, who pointed at a table in the center of the room. Seated around it were some chimps, who were playing cards. One of them pointed at Mike and hooted, which drew the others’ attention. They waved at him and motioned for him to come over, as another ape pulled up a chair.

Almost accustomed to the night’s events, Mike sat down and played Uno as he waited out the apeocalypse. He became more and more comfortable with the other players as the game progressed, and shook hands with everyone once the game was over. Part of that may have been the liquor being passed around, but the group was very friendly.

At around 3:30 am, the orangutan returned. The heads of Foxy and Freddy hung from one hand, while Bonnie’s empty sockets stared at Mike from the other. This sight drew whoops and applause from the room. Mike joined the cheering as well, more than pleased to see the source of his nightmares vanquished once and for all.

Then the gorilla entered, carrying a canister of gasoline, and everybody went quiet. After a moment of silence, the orangutan dropped the helmets, and hobbled forward, before placing a hand on Mike’s shoulder. It uttered a deep, low noise that sounded very similar to the words “Go home”.

Mike swallowed, and asked “What do you mean?”.
The orangutan unpinned Mike’s badge from his uniform, and placed a thick stack of dollar bills in it. “Closing time. You go,” he said, as he gestured toward the canister. “We work.”
“They’ll think it was me,” Mike said.
“Smoke break outside. Bird start fire.”
At this moment, all the pieces fell into place. Most of them, at least.

The apes’ plan had a certain appeal to Mike. He wasn’t going to fight them off anyway, and after he thought about all the people who worked here before him, and all those lives lost to this restaurant, he couldn’t find much reason to let this charade go on any longer. He waved goodbye to his fellow players, and left the room. He didn’t quite understand what forces were at work here, but he knew enough.

Before he opened the emergency exit, he realized he had one last question for the orange monkey. Mike backtracked, and returned to the kitchen while they poured the gasoline.
“What’s your name?”
“Guy”, the orangutan replied. “Guy Calle”.

When Mike arrived at his apartment, he wrote the name down on a piece of paper before he went to bed. He turned the TV on and drifted off to sleep as the morning news talked about an “inexplicable mass abduction of over thirty primates” from the local zoo, the culprit of which was unaccounted for.

In Mike Schmidt’s dreams, he was swinging through tall, green trees.