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- “Man,” Springtrap said. “It’s too early for this shit,” he said as he eyed the absinthe. A burnt Balloon Boy, floating in the corner of his eye, nodded in agreement. Whenever he turned his head, Balloon Boy would move further to the corner of his eye. It was weird, but Springtrap had gotten used to it.
- But then he remembered that he had spent thirty years locked up in a room with no human contact. He also remembered that he had forgotten his own name. David. Or was it Ed? Frank? Jonathan?
- It didn’t matter. Springtrap remembered watching Debbie Does Dallas, back before he died. He could remember Debbie’s name, for sure. The thought of the movie would have stirred something in his loins, but then he remembered something.
- His penis was carried off by the Rat Legions in the first year.
- Hm.
- Maybe it isn’t too early.
- Springtrap just kept drinking. It was pretty nice, actually. Losing one’s self in the inevitable brain-haze that occurs. It was nice. Springtrap liked it. It let him forget that he didn’t have a dick. It let him forget all those wasted years.
- Anyways, after a few minutes of chugging, and periodic sighs. Springtrap felt nice. His liver was already fucked to begin with so he didn’t mind whatever was happening to his body. Green pustules of absinthe formed in his stomach.
- Springtrap stumbled a little. He fell, and lit his back hard on the tile flooring. It was okay though, he was already dead.
- Like a turtle, Springtap rocked a little. He hit his head a little, so he’d be disoriented. Maybe it was how some metal poked into what was left of his brains. He shook back and forth, trying to do something. The guard wasn’t really sure what.
- Springtrap eventually pulled himself up, using the radiator for support. “Emily, d-d you hear that?” he yelled down the hallway.
- “What?”, she called.
- “Did you hear a loud noise?
- “What?”, she asked again.
- “Did you hear something falling?”
- “Yeah, I guess. Why?”
- Springtrap hesitated. “I don’t know. Just asking.”
- Springtrap moved around the pizzeria for the rest of the night. Thinking. He remembered killing someone in the kitchen. But there was no kitchen. He couldn’t find any kitchen anywhere. Was it real? Not just a dream? Springtrap couldn’t remember.
- In the morning, he sat outside the building and yelled “boo” at passing pedestrians. It worked for business, but he had a real headache. It was so bad that it felt like his head would explode.
- When his head burst into insects, Springtrap knew he regretted the absinthe.
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