Hey-Hey, glad you're back for another night! Things will be totally f***ing not interesting tonight. Hey guys, this is my first legitimate story, so it might be a little bit crappy... -_- Sorry about that, but please read if you like, and THIS WILL BE STRICTLY NOT A SHIPPING STORY... Well I can make it one if you guys like. So without further ado (OMG I sound like a freaking British tonight show host).
"So, this is your final evaluation, Schmidt" the interviewer lady smirked. She said "Schmidt" with a long tongue so it sounded like "S***mat"
"Yes?" Mike whispered in a nervous tone. He had tried extremely hard to earn this interview, and nothing could assuage his beating heart.
Mike did have an aptitude for gaming, and being part of Pre-Machinima Project was like being associated with the Mafia.
"Oh, yes right: I don't think you're allegeable to our community, you're just so…"
"Handsome? Gnarbuckle?" Mike interrupted.
"Hopeless would be the right word. Your videos have no taste, you're like…you're like…"
"A Wheelchair Guy (sorry about that Happy Wheels reference) without a wheelchair?" Miku interrupted.
"Yes, that's a professional way of putting it. I'm sorry, but you'll have to try next time…" the interviewer said.
"Oh, okay…" Mike sulked. He had worked his life up to this, and now it was over in minutes. But then again: He didn't want to work with this loser lady anyway. He would get butt cancer or something working with people like this.
"Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A magical place for kids and grownups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life" Mike read monotonously. It sounded a bit gay, but that pay though. $120.00 per week. That's the equivalent of like- 7 large cheese pizzas! And when you're a 19 year old man child living in a s*** apartment, cheese pizzas are like the gifts of Jesus, holy blessings disguised in cheese.
"You should totally try that place. Good wage, sexy chicken-"Fritz Smith called over the phone.
"Are you sure that's a chicken, looks more like a duck…" Mike asked.
"Whatever, anyway, this is the place for being in a high economical position, and it also has free beer in the office!" Fritz said it with an excited tone; like that Budweiser was the answer to everything.
"Okay, I'm in, this sounds fairly authentic." Mike observed. This Freddy place seemed to be legitimate, not some hippie co-op, so that should cover him up for the month.
He was sick of stereotypical austere jobs, and working at a restaurant meant free food…maybe. Mike did abhor manual working though.
"I'm going to go scan the place, okay?" Mike prioritized after some deliberation. Fritz had already hung up, so Mike might as well go over…NOW.
MIKE POV
The moment I stepped foot inside, I knew this was the homie clan. Energetic kids, aloof adolescents, and girls!? Okay, best place ever. Mike had seen the Godfather, and this is exactly what it felt like, except the clan members were all kids.
Mike swerved his neck to the side of the aggrandized room. An amphitheater kind of setting was housed by some animatronic characters. Behind them, an array of toy clouds, and a checkerboard line streaked across the room for décor. The chicken, apparently dubbed "sexy" by my friend, disembarked the stage. She walked over to some mean-looking teenagers hanging in a corner, and handed each of them a cupcake, like Santa was now giving out presents to Satan.
To the left were three rows of two tables, all of them occupied. Party hats were rolling around, and trash was everywhere. The manager did one helluva bad job cleaning up, did he? It seemed like a total anti-environment and anti-Earth campaign hosted by twelve year olds.
I sauntered toward an ajar door next to the party. This had to be the management room, where staff employees try not to be run over by the customers. Suddenly, like a Tom Cruise meets Michael Bay movie, slow motion triggered. And before I knew it…
I KNOCKED ON THE DOOR
SO~~~~~~~~~ HOW WAS DAT? I KNOW IT WAS SHORT, SORRY, AND I MIGHT NOT UPDATE MY STORY EVERYDAY, BUT PLEASE REVIEW AND CRITICIZE THE HELL OUT OF ME!~~~ :D 3