I Believe In Miracles

"...check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power. Alright, good night."

The dissipation of the kindly Southern man's voice left the room feeling much emptier.

Like my soul, Mike Schmidt noted to himself.

Finding Michonne cheating on him with the tennis tutor was bad enough. Finding out that she had contracted crabs at an undisclosed point in time was horrible. The divorce was a fine break from it- hell, he didn't have to pay alimony.

But then he got testicular cancer.

Mike Schmidt was in a bad spot. Which is why he slid a glock out of his pants pocket and pointed it to his head, before pulling the trigger.


Like thunder, it echoed throughout the pizzeria, as his brains flung at the wall like eggs over easy.

Mike fell out of his chair, blood and bone cascading down his cheeks like party streamers. His last thoughts were, "Finally, it's over".

Freddy was the first to enter the room a minute later.


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"Gee, boss, dis gay sure looks bad. I ain't thinkin' he'll work with a suit, ya know?"

Freddy prodded the corpse with his cumbersome, over-sized leg. The blood, in the fluorescent lighting of the office, looked like-

"Strawberry ice cream!", shrieked Bonnie, lumbering down the hallway. She missed the door by six inches, banging into the wall with a hearty echo

An uncomfortable silence pervaded the room, as everybody but Bonnie tried to figure out a way to exclude the rabbit from the group dialogue. Bonnie just wasn't the same since the botched face transplant, unfortunately.

"We'll have to try it anyways, Chica.  Good thinking, though."

Freddy took a pause, and glanced down at the corpse.

"Foxy, you and... her, will help us start with the head."

The two lifted up Mike's neck, as they got to work.

"Chica, you grab the right leg, I've got the left". The foul fowl followed his order
"1."
The legs were being lifted to the air, actually assisting Foxy and Bonnie in their operations somewhat."

"2."

Now, they were being spread apart like a crab.

"3."

The two robots in unison said "Wishbone.", and tugged in opposite directions.


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It didn't take too much effort to remove the head from the body. Foxy's hook was an excellent cutting tool after all these years, and while Bonnie lacked in brains- she made up for in strength, having the most unadulterated manpower of the animatronics. With a few cuts to the neck, Mike's head (or 3/4 of it, anyways) slid  off like a little Lego person's. Bonnie's mind briefly questioned what exactly a Lego  person was, until she decided to "Leggo" of the question in favor of more important things. Such as "Why does Foxy's hook have strawberry ice cream on it" and "Why does strawberry ice cream taste like pizza sauce" and "Why does Foxy yell at me when I try to taste his strawberry ice cream"? Foxy seized Mike's head, keeping it tucked like a football before Bonnie could do anything disastrous. The duo was anything but dynamic, and Foxy bolted for the maintenance room as soon as he left the doorway.

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Freddy and Chica left the torso and arms  on the floor. The last bot to say it was dismembered and sent to the back shelves- nothing personal, just following the rules, but Freddy found the phrase "This is fucking hilarious" perfectly applicable to the tableau that awaits the clean up crew, although he would never admit such a horrible thing.

Freddy and Chica watched Foxy leave the room, and followed suit, each holding a leg.

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Ah, yes. This was more like it, Freddy thought. The operating room. The table was his stage, and the parts his props. He would create a masterpiece with this guard, surely.

"Ay, Frederick, who are we using tonight?"

"Please withdraw the Fredbear costume. Tonight is a special occasion."

"Are you sure, matey? That suit is h-"

"Don't question my orders," Freddy said, in a firm voice.

The costume was to be zipped up around Mike after the experiments.  Freddy and Chica had the necessary wires hooked up, running inside the bowl-like cavity that was opened by the gunshot. For the first time in thirty years, Fredbear would be revived. Tonight was a special occasion.

Mike's legs and head were attached to what remained of the Balloon Boy's endoskeleton. He was short in "life", and as a result this gave off the appearance of a cyborg dwarf. Freddy would not admit it to the others, but he worried that the restaurant could not sustain another civil rights lawsuit on behalf of a dwarf. Bonnie's facial recognition software was particularly shoddy after the Bite of 87 forced the group into the spotlight again. She could tell a six-foot tall adult from a four-foot tall child. That was the extent of her capabilities.

Freddy hit the breaker to redirect the flow of power to the electric cables. Tonight was to be a miraclous night. He envisioned himself as a Victor Frankenstein- bringing life to the dead; and wondered briefly how he was familiar with something that, like most horror properties, was banned from the pizzeria due to to moral watchdog groups. But more pressing matters came into focus.

The Manimatronic  shook, and jolted to life. Blood cascaded down the endoskeleton, as Mike's lips began to quiver.

Freddy took a hesitant step.

The figure pointed at Freddy.

"NUNGH", it said.