The Fun Guy (11/14/16)

In the prior established universe, as seen in October 2016’s "The Itch", Springtrap managed to placate the irritated uprising of Little Willy, through vigorous and swift application of Baby Powder. Steven and Juan went home with their lives and their bodies intact.

In the vein of To Kill a Mockingbird’s lesser known sequel Go Set a Watchman, The Fun Guy returns to the themes and characters established in its predecessor to tell a different story that should be disregarded when discussing the initial installment.


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Springtrap ripped off the codpiece, and exposed his old self to fresh air for the first time in months.  His other hand clenched the canister of talcum powder with strength, and swung it down to  face his springsuit endoskeleton, and the tattered remains of human flesh. Steven couldn’t see it clearly from this angle, but he saw something flutter in the breeze created by the ventilation system. It was thin, purple ,and possibly prehensile.

Nothing. Nothing came out of the can. Springtrap shook again, to no avail. The can crumpled under his grip, and made a clatter as it hit the ground. Juan and Steven backed away again, their options seemingly exhausted.

Springtrap barrelled into the closet, and seized the hose. He pointed it into his pelvic area,  and clenched the trigger grip. Water began pooling at his feet. Springtrap dropped the hose and sighed, as he checked himself once more.

“I can’t see anything from this angle,” he said as he turned around, pointing down at the VIP. “Give it to me straight, guys. What’s there?”

The increased moisture, and humid climate perpetuated by the lack of air conditioning, combined with Springtrap’s bizarre anatomy, had resulted in rapid mold growth. Springtrap’s groin glowed green, giving a godly glimmer of grassy gore. The algae was spreading at an alarming rate.

“No podemos ver nada de esta distancia,” said Juan.

“You’re right,” said Steven. He turned to Springtrap and said “We’re not sure if there’s anything we can do. It’s all green.”

“Do you have anything that could help?”

Steven started to say “I th-”, but stopped himself. “Guys, be quiet.”

Steven walked closer to Springtrap, and stopped.  He turned his head towards the pitch black that Ballora’s Gallery was immersed in, and pointed his left ear towards Springtrap.

letusgoletusgoletusgoletusgoletusgoletusgo


Steven took another few steps, staying in the same position.

“What are you do-”


“Shh. I’m finding a solution.”

doitwhydidhedoitwhydidhedoitwhydidhe



Steven stepped closer and closer to Springtrap, until he was in front of him.

killhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhim

Steven squatted and tried to avoid making eye contact with Springtrap’s penis. He listened intently. Nothing. Except some faint mechanical grinding. He carefully maneuvered his head closer, taking care to avoid being stroked by the thing. It went back and forth like a pendulum. As it came around, Steven heard voices again.

outoutoutoutoutoutoutout

LETUSOUTLETUSOUTLETUSOUTLETUSOUT



Seven inches of metal penetrated Steven’s left hemisphere and exited out the right hemisphere. The last thing Steven’s eyes saw were tiny little arms attached to heads a piece of flesh that had whipped around and embedded itself into Steven’s skull. Like a fractal image, more tiny heads formed  on tiny heads.Through the metal, a warm, sticky liquid was pumped and deposited into Steven’s brain. The metal pipe narrowed to a slit fast enough to cause sparks, which reacted with the gasoline to light Steven’s brain on fire.

“Oh sh-” Springtrap said as he felt himself compelled to remove his sword from it’s scabbard. The appendage, still dripping in blood and gasoline, darted around like a one-eyed snake as Juan froze in fear. It rattled like a desert cobra briefly, before it straightened and disengaged with the rest of Springtrap’s body, penetrating Juan in the heart like a purple javelin.


Springtrap didn’t have any time to react to this before more tentacles popped out of his body and a clown mask emerged from his chest. His last words were never completely recorded or deciphered, as they were drowned out by the screaming.