AUTHOR'S NOTE: OTP nose bleed; this is the only canon pairing go inhale a walrus

Written by Admin Soul and Admin LP

It was Mike's seventh night of employment. Sweat was dripping heavily from his forehead, his cap already drenched from the excessive amount of salty fluids. Despite this, however, he was not hot in the slightest; no, he was cold. And anxious. His hands were trembling as he subconsciously went from checking Pirate's Cove, to checking the halls, and to closing the right door.

The animatronics were utterly deranged. He had seen them quirky before, but nothing compared to this. It was a vicious cycle of Freddy's laughter and Bonnie's smirking face in the door. If he slipped up, even once, he knew he was doomed. At three dollars and forty-three cents an hour, he sure hoped this overtime was worth it.

With that said, Mike felt his heart stop as the lights flickered out. His eyes grew wide with angst and anticipation. It was 5 AM and the power had gone out. He had no idea if he was going to make it; it was all up to Freddy's judgement now. For once in his life, he looked up to the ceiling and sent a silent prayer to Allah.

Freddy's eyes illuminated the doorway as he began to sing the Toreador March.

Mike clenched his eyes closed, biting his lip as he tried his best to play dead.

Freddy's song abruptly ended, making Mike take staggered breaths and attempt to steady himself in his ergonomic chair. The emergency power ran out, and Freddy's eyes went out as well. He laughed, and his feet echoed through the room as he grew closer to Mike.

The pre-recorded cheers of children resonated within the building, and the clock tolled loudly that it was 6 AM.

Mike screeched an almighty battle cry, nearly pissing himself as the power returned to the building, lighting the Office back up to reveal a dumbstruck Freddy looming inches from where Mike had once been sitting. The security guard howled triumphantly, grabbing his flat soda and smashing the container on Freddy's head as he emerged from the Office like a man unbirthed by his mother unleashing himself from the uterus.

Mike erupted into the Dining Area, screaming at Bonnie and Chica as they both returned dismally to the Show Stage. Finding the Pirate Fox not moving at a pace he found suitable, Mike smacked Foxy on the ass and continued to vaingloriously announce his odd-defying win.

The front doors of the pizzeria opened to reveal the manager, Scott Cawthon, strutting in jovial as usual with a mob of frenzied crack-baby children herding in behind him to go get front-row seats to the Furry Fiesta. Eager to claim his well deserved check, Mike approached his boss, a hand on his hip and the other extended to recieve his earnings. Scott blinked at this, confusion filling his gaze before he gave a laugh of acknowledgement. He reached into his pocket and handed Mike a small slip of paper.

"Thanks for your work this week!" Scott lauded, patting Mike on the back. "Due to budget cuts, though, we're going to have to let you go. Sorry, pal."

Mike stared at the pink slip, his smile ever present on his face. He looked up to stare at Scott.

"I worked five days and got paid under minimum wage for you; I worked two days overtime for you and got fifty cents in return. I fought for my life against those furry sweatsuits- And you're firing me?" Mike asked, his voice an odd calm.

Scott laughed.

"No hard feelings, Schmidt; I'm just relieving you of your duties. Don't take it too hard," Scott replied. "Don't think of it as getting fired- Think of it more as being... An open door to better opportunities!"

Mike laughed, shaking his head.

"Better opportunities," he sighed, wiping a tear from his eye. "I'll show you an open door to better opportunities!"

With that said, Mike jammed his thumb through the pink slip. He stripped his belt from his pants and dropped the garments (as well as his boxers) to the floor. Mike aggressively slammed his schlong into the pink slip, rubbing it all over as he screeched like a raptor clean-killed by a wolf in Tokyo Jungle.

The animatronics systematically played their programmed music, watching helplessly from the Show Stage at the unfolding scene. The children burst into fits of screaming, crying, and laughing. Scott looked pale.

"Better put a condom on, because I'm about to fuck your feelings!" Mike shouted at Scott. He dry fucked the pink slip, grazing it over his dong like one would butter to toast, only the toast wasn't really warm anymore so the butter began to tear the toast a bit, sending shrapnel of bread around. The pink slip was beginning to tinge red as it tore into Mike's ding-a-ling, making him squawk abruptly in rage and ecstasy.

"Mike! Stop this at once! I'll call the police- There are children here!" Scott shouted, finally able to break from his stunned silence. He tried to usher Mike away from the Dining Area, however was only met with Mike viciously reaching into the man's pockets and extracting more pink slips (blank ones), leaving the wealthy manager fuming and bustling to the Office to use the phone.

Mike flailed onto one of the tables, sending party hats cascading out into the distance as he shoved the handful of pink slips directly into his ass. He groaned as though he were a tree being hammered down by a Canadian lumberjack. The shrieks of the children and the mentally challenged lyrics of the pizza oriented songs made him hot-

"Oh yes; Pink slips," Mike groaned in a voice so husky it could pull sleds. His Jimmy Johnson expanded and unleashed a shower of seed and blood out onto the pink slip, fermenting it like a fine wine. Stunned a moment by the sheer euphoria that came from raping a piece of paper, Mike removed the shreds of pink from his dingus, gazing at it with a vengeful lust.

His reason for release was for tampering with the animatronics it seemed.

"My only reason for release was you," whispered Mike before inhaling the pieces into his mouth and morphing out of the building, leaving behind dozens of traumatized children, both dead and alive.