It was 5:30 am, and Mike Schmidt's temple was throbbing. While he did have a head-ache, this was not brought about by some annoyingly large and consistent sound and or visual. Nope; this head-ache was brought about by sheer boredom: the exact opposite of constant stimuli. Frankly, there was just nothing to do. Mike had pulled all-nighters before with nothing to do. Hell, he was a college student; and as everyone knows, college students will find ANY reason not to go to sleep, just so they can sleep in longer. But the issue with working at Freddy Fazebear's was that, unlike college, there were no parties to go to, and there certainly were not any finals for him to study since he was in the midst of his summer break.
No, all he had was an Ipad connected to all the cameras in the pizzeria, limited power, and A LOT of time to kill. By his estimation, since Freddy's was only making the minimum amount of income (barely), no one was going to rob the place anytime soon. And he had lots of power, so if something were to go bump in the night, the doors could be closed and Mike would be safe for the rest of his shift. It was moment like these that he'd wish for an attack.
And as if some perverse god heard Schmidt's silent request, Mike went to check Pirate Cove and found it strikingly vacant. Panicking, he went to the other camera's, and was greeted with the image of Foxy hauling ass down the corridors; rushing towards Mike's inevitable doom.
Shit, Mike thought out of fear. He immediately began to reach for the door button, only to be greeted with the sound of impending metal footfalls. Mike didn't even had time to scream. Foxy did all the screaming for him. The animatronic burst through the doorway and let out an un-godly screech that sent Mike falling off his chair and onto the floor.
Mike's heart stopped as everything went silent. He was seeing his entire life flash before his eyes. He held his hands above his face and waited for his demise.
However, Mike was greeted with an obnoxious laughter. The sound of Foxy's voice box echoed throughout the room and adjacent hallways, as the Pirate let forth an egregious gut-laugh.
"Har, har, har-h-h-h-h-h-h-har har har." The pirate glitched out. "That'd be never-ever-ever-that'd be-b-b-b-be never getting old."
"Yeah, ha ha, very funny," Mike replied in a groan as he emerged from the fetal position on the floor.
In some respects, Mike felt bad for Foxy. His evident lack of upkeep was evident by his malfunctioning voice box, which repeated words or phrases sporadically. 6 months ago, when Mike feared the animatronics, this feature made Foxy's already frightening visage even more terrifying.
But after 2 weeks into his work, Mike discovered that the animatronics had been pulling a ruse the entire time. There was no "animatronic-out-of-costume" regulation, there wasn't even a haunting theory that Mike had went on for quite sometime.
Child murders? Unfortunately, yes. Sometimes, bad things (or in the case of Freddy Fazebear's; bad employees) happen, but it certainly was not at fault of the animatronics. And there were no lost souls of the children either.
Bite of '87? Yep, that was a thing. Some man had entered the establishment with his child, got obnoxiously intoxicated from a flask he brought into the establishment, and began to mess around with the animatronics. Of course Foxy snapped as the man began violently shaking the robot back and forth. But there certainly wasn't any evil motives behind it, or a glitch in the A.I. Foxy was simply defending himself.
Nope, what Mike had dreaded those two weeks were simply HIGHLY intelligent forms of A.I. pulling his leg.
It all came crashing down, when after a very stressful night, Mike had finally done the taboo, and ran out of power. As the lights faded, the awful Toreador Song began to play. In all previous imagined versions of this scenario, Mike thought that he would just accept his fate. Either he would roll on the ground, screaming and crying "Not like this!" Or, he would just simply fall limp, like a frightened goat; and just have the animatronics do their thing.
But when the actual event occurred, something completely different took place. Mike had prepared, and after getting his license renewed (since he was from out of state) Mike was able to purchase a small, hand-held firearm with a conceal permit: meaning he could take the weapon into the establishment.
That is exactly what Mike did. As soon as that power went out, Mike faced his fears and began to fight his demons with a small caliber pistol. The lights on Freddy's face flickered on, the music began to play, and Mike let out three bullets.
All of the them missed widely. It had been 12 years since Mike (now age 22) held a hand gun in his hands (back home in Missouri, hunting was part of a young man's call to adult hood, and so his father and him would often go hunting and or trap shooting during the winter season of Mike's 10th year. The boy immediately lost the taste for it after that season). Naturally, he was going to miss.
But the threat of attack caused the veil to be lifted up. For, as soon as the three bullets screeched past Freddy's head, the bear held up his hands (the universal symbol of 'HOLY SHIT, STOP!') and began to scream.
"WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA," Freddy repeated with fear obvious in his voice.
Mike slowly lowered the gun as he heard this. The animatronic was…..frightened?
Suddenly, Mike heard Chica running in. But rather than shoot her, Mike simply aimed his gun; wondering what the result would be.
Chica did indeed run into the room. But rather than showing the intent of killer instincts or harmful motives, she came into the room panicked. It was as if she was worried about something.
She came in through the doorway, saw Mike's gun, and immediately held her wings up like one would do their hands.
"WHOA WHOA!" Chica screamed as well as she stared down the barrel. Then she looked towards Freddy. With vagueness tossed into the wind, Chica shouted at Freddy, "He has a fucking gun?!"
"Yep!" Freddy screamed in fear. "He has a gun!"
Then, from behind Freddy, Mike heard more metallic footfalls. Then, a feminine voice emerged from the figure walking down the dark corridor. It was none other than Bonnie.
"I told you guys not to pressure him too much," Bonnie announced as the shadowy veil of the night was lifted from her face. "We did this before with the other guards and I told you then, that one day you'll piss off the wrong guy."
Then she looked at Mike, and the…emotion that was present on her face caused Mike to lower his weapon. For one thing, the thing actually showed EMOTION. But what's more, was that this emotion was not aggressive. It was in fact the opposite. Bonnie expressed empathy for the poor lad, and showed genuine concern for the guard.
"You ok mister?" Bonnie asked. "I would say I hope that we didn't frighten ya too much. But the answer is sort of evident with that hand cannon."
Then, from behind Bonnie, another figure emerged from the blackness.
"Arrg, that'd be no hand can-can-can-cannon," Foxy faulty speaker spewed out. "That'd be a tw-tw-tw-tw- twenty two caliber pistol. A might fine weapon for close quarter comb-b-b-b-bat."
Freddy, still covering his Top-Hat with his two hands upon his head, took some time out from shaking in fear, and inquisitively looked at the Fox with a quirked brow. "What makes you the expert on close quarter combat?"
"Yarg," Foxy replied in an almost indignant manner. "You have to know these things as a pirate."
Thirty seconds of absolute silence passed. Thirty seconds of complete suspense. While Mike didn't aim his weapon, he certainly didn't put it at bay. Bonnie, still awaiting for a response from Mike, didn't dare try to speed the process along by adding more dialogue to the conversation. Bonnie, like a mother, was very intuitive upon reading mannerisms. In the same way a wife can tell that her husband is "not fine," even though he repeats constantly that he is, Bonnie knew that Mike was still uneasy even after witnessing the visage get torn-apart. He had a glazed look over his eye. He eyeballed each of the characters individually. Bonnie, Chica, Freddy, and Foxy feared somewhat for their safety, as his occasional glances had the aura of examination about it; as if Mike was thinking "who should I shoot first? "
In reality, Mike's brain was actually melting into swiss cheese. First he learned that the animatronics didn't seem to pose a threat, now he was discovering that not only were they sentient, but they also seemed to have personalities all of their own. In response to this mass influx of information, Mike simply had to process it silently for 30 seconds.
He checked to see if he was still alive. Heart-rate and breathing were in check, so he was alive. Then he checked to see if his reality had been altered in some way. He hand't been drinking, smoking pot, and he sure as hell wasn't on any hallucinogens (Mike knew all these feelings…cause…college), so he was still in reality.
Then, after 30 seconds of silence, Mike asked the very reasonable question:
"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!"
Sitting at a table in Fazebear's Pizzeria, the animatronics revealed to him everything. For the past 10 years, as they had been re-opened and business went in spikes and declines, the robots realized that the one time they got to free roam since re-opening (nighttime) left them with absolutely nothing to do. There were no kids or employees to interact with. The kitchen had been cleaned so Chica couldn't go and make pizza like she use to without causing a massive mess. And above all, since there was limited power, the gang couldn't play any of the arcade games or even there own instruments, as they automatically were powered down when the clock struck mid-night.
So they came up with the one logical and fun thing to do at night; fuck with the security guard.
They started off small. Bonnie & Chica would occasionally pop up at the window. Foxy ran down the halls from time to time and Freddy would chime in with his deep and chilling chuckle. Since these acts were small, the security guard at the time did not quit, but was genuinely frightened.
He quit his job after 6 months, when Freddy elaborately drew a crude cartoon with crayons on paper, as if some demented child were the artist, and wrote the words "You're gonna die tonight," in blood red.
The guard immediately got the hell out of dodge after that.
Until Mike came along, guards just came and went. While starting off seldom; the hiring, quitting, and re-hiring of guards became more frequent as the years waned on. Somehow the rumor of the animatronics wanting to stuff the guards in suits came about (probably as a result of the horrible incidents which lead to their initial closing back in the 80's) and the gang simply played along with the gag. They even made a fake voicemail (which they demonstrated to Mike with their voice boxes) of a "previous guard" being "attacked" by them, and somehow (through a stroke of luck) got the tapes into the guard's office so they could play the first week every guard took the job.
Not one guard had dared brought a weapon in; as the gang thought no one would be stupid enough to risk their job by bringing a firearm and setting it off in the establishment. Even with a permit, if bullets damaged the establishment in anyway, Adriana, the manager at the time, would raise hell.
Mike simply was that stupid individual who did the impossible. Maybe all those college parties were starting to get the better of him.
The gang and him struck up an immediate friendship after that, mainly due to the fact that both of their asses were on the line if the manager discovered the bullet holes left in the ceiling tiles and on the wall behind Freddy. If Adriana saw the holes, she would watch the tapes, and not only fire Mike, but would also possibly destroy the free-roaming mode. Sentient Robots roaming your place of business at night doesn't sound very calming.
Using the ingenious idea…..of replacing ceiling tiles with the spare ones in the store room and covering the holes in the wall with child-customer drawn photos, the gang got away scot-free. Thus beginning their long lasting friendship.
Mike continued working at the Pizzeria, since all of his classes began in the early afternoon and ended somewhere around 8:00pm. Mike would simply sleep through the day, take his classes in the afternoon, work at night, and repeat the process until the weekends (when he had a full day to sleep) or on holiday (the only times when he would get a full amount of sleep).
5 months and a week later - after all had been revealed - Mike found himself with Foxy in his room.
"So what do ya want man?" Mike asked as he dusted himself up off the floor. "You came out of Pirates Cove for the one and only time tonight just to fuck with me?"
"That" Foxy replied, " and I'd be also wondering how ye summer break be treating ye?"
Mike smiled fondly. "It was a much needed break," Mike announced. The job wasn't necessarily made for the typical college student, especially a college student in a moderately successful band playing in the Twin cities era. "I mean, there would be some nights where I wouldn't get a lick of sleep. And let me tell ya, professors - even very permissive college professors - tend to look down on students hallucinating in class from sleep deprivation."
Foxy nodded his head in understanding. Although he didn't have the metabolic processes or physical capabilities of possessing this "sleep," he did understood the need for it.
"But now," Mike continued. "Thanks to our summer break, there's no ear training classes, no music theory finals, no business research papers or recording sessions that need to be booked. I just have to go to band rehearsals Sunday and Wednesday afternoons, and play the occasional gig Sunday, Friday, or Saturday."
To an outsider, all of these words Mike was uttering would leave the listener utterly confused. What kind of campus has ear training classes and music theory classes as part of the major curriculum? And why would summer break have to do with booking a recording studio?
It's quite simple really. Mike was currently attending a music college.
The college - McNally Smith College of Music - is located in , MN. Being one of the third largest music colleges in the country (behind Berkley in Boston and Belmont in Nashville) McNally offers classes to those with the sole purpose off dedicating their lives in the career of contemporary music. That's what McNally Smith had above Berkley and Belmont. In the two other colleges, classical music was a required course. Three semesters of required Bach and Mozart, then the students could learn Billy Joel and Prince. In McNally, classical music is certainly a path one could take, but not a required one. The college is basically an oasis for students to study their art and work on how to present it to an audience contemporary culture. It provides not only greatly-established professors and classes, but also a resource of multiple musicians who also were becoming well established in their own right. One of Mike's best friends in the College happened to be sitting in as a drummer for popular Pop/Rock, Pop-Punk group Rise Above.
Mike absolutely loved the college. Music was a major part of his life.
He came from Missouri already playing in small time bands, earning gig money on the side as an extra bonus in high-school; and he went to to pursue his goal to the highest degree. As a drummer himself, Mike was sought out and played in three different bands his first semester in McNally. He made quite a lot of money; but the stress of playing in three different bands (all playing in different types of venues, sometimes in succession with each other) became rather too difficult to bare, and Mike reduced himself to one group.
Mike still plays in the group, gets occasional gigs and makes most of his money back to pay off student loans thanks to the band's gigging, royalties obtained through the band's publishing company (which Mike established, Marionette music), and of course; his job at Freddy's.
But what Mike really wanted to do, what he really loved doing, was producing.
He absolutely loved making beats on his tablet through Garageband. He was even more enchanted by working in a live studio as a producer or technician. While he did love writing music, nothing enamored him more or captured his attention quite like watching another band play. To behind the glass both, watching the levels and giving the opportunity to make something out of something else through mixing, re-mixing, and mastering…it sent chills up Mike's spine just thinking about it.
And that is why Mike went to McNally.
While Mike was living modestly through the band, production company, and the very low-fi/independent studio he had set up in his dorms, the student loan debt that Mike found himself in would last for at least 10 years of Mike's life. Being a trouble maker in high-school, Mike had no grants nor scholarships: he narrowly passed high-school to begin with. He wasn't a bad kid, just happened to hang out with the wrong crowd. He loved to party and mingle more than study. He could get cracking when mid-terms and finals were due, and he always passed, but homework was the last thing on his mind. Student loans were his only option if he really wanted to make it to McNally.
With that in mind, when he first got to college, Mike realized that he had to make a living in some shape or form as a student to pay off his loans, and so he found the Pizzeria 12 miles away from his dorms. The pay did help the loans, but along with his gigging money and some money he acquired through producing for students at the school on the side, Mike got some pocket change as well. He would use this to either buy weed from his friends down the hall or get liquor from the store across the street for College parties. Maybe not what his parents thought he should be spending his money one, but what they didn't know, didn't hurt them.
Mike's dream was to one day open and work his own recording studio. He even hoped to own his own label and produce for bands off it. Hell, he already had a publishing company. He could see it now: "Sunrise Skater Kids Studio." He could imagine the smell of the customized console board that fitted in his dream studio.
He was lifted from his daydream by Foxy waving his hook in front of his face.
"uhh matey? You all right?" Foxy asked.
Mike snapped himself back into reality. "Yeah. Sorry - was daydreaming."
The two then proceeded to talk for the next 25 minutes about random things. It was mostly how things were going for the both of them. Foxy was rather excited for he heard through the grape vine that there was a possibility of him getting his own show back. Mike was eager to try and talk to the manager about booking a show for his band and a few bands of his other friends at Freddy Fazebears. If he could convince Adriana to let him rent the room, he could charge money at the door to pay off the rental fee, and the bands could use a tip jar method or sell merch to make their profit.
25 minutes later, Mike noticed the clock and said, "Oh shoot. It's getting late buddy. You better get back to the cove before you lock up."
Foxy jokingly saluted Mike. "yarg m-m-m-m-me-m-m-me-m-me matey. You best be getting ready to go home yeself. S-s-s-s-s-s-sleep does wonders for a rock star like ye."
Mike chuckled as he went back to work, preparing to shut down his station. As Foxy walked down the hall, Mike's ears perked up as he heard a melodic humming. At first he thought Foxy was either whistling, singing, or humming his old pirate shanteys. But as Mike tuned his ears in more, he heard the lyrics.
"I-i-i-I-I-i-I w-was making J-j-j-Japanese and-and-and she's w-w-watching D-d-d-DV-v-v-VD's in Oakland…in Oakland."
Mike smiled as he recognized the lyrics to Childish Gambino's "Telegraph Ave. AKA Oakland by Lloyd." Of all the things that Mike would've thought Foxy would be into musically, he NEVER expected the Pirate to latch on to alternative hip-hop/r&b. That said, after getting to know Foxy more, he realized why the music fit so well with Foxy's personality.
That was the major reason why these animatronics became so close to Mike. They all had radically different personalities. And Mike, being obsessed with music, was determined to find them their new favorite music. The process of trail and error to find them the music for them was so strange that they could be stories in it of themselves. But when Mike did find the right match, there was a story behind that as well. Each one of them had a radically different artist they liked, and all these artists couldn't have fitted with the animatronics' personalities any better. Mike could remember it all like was yesterday.
But in fact, it began 3 months ago. And it all started with Bonnie.
It was the 3rd month in Mike's 6 months of service to the pizzeria. Mid-terms were coming up, and while wasn't completely worried, he did have some major concerns involving his music business class. So, after jotting down some notes, Mike started recording a voice memo on his phone. He'd figured if he'd listen to himself reading allowed the information, he could learn it through osmosis.
But of course, solo-audio of just his voice would be rather boring. So in the background, he had music playing at the lowest volume possible. He decided to use Sonic Youth's Day Dream Nation, as the soundtrack to his notes. The low end, part new-wave, part crazy, experimental noise rock, seemed perfect for background noise. His iPhone was playing "Hey Joni," when the event occurred.
"If Music supervisors wants to use your song in a film, they must acquire a synch license and a master use license," Mike read aloud; oblivious to the metallic footsteps outside his door. "One license gains the customer access to use your composition, while the other-"
"What's THAT?" Bonnie asked, interrupting Mike.
The Guard, startled for a moment, turned his head to look over at Bonnie. She pointed towards Mike's portable-pocket stereo that sat on a table and chair behind his control center. She had a very inquisitive look about her, but she also seemed very bewildered. It was like a more toned down version of terror; as if she was witnessing something dramatic and simply locked up.
Then she looked at Mike, and notice the stack of papers sitting on his desk. She knew immediately that he had been working.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Bonnie apologized immediately.
Mike sighed, paused his voice recorder app on his phone, and got up from his chair.
"It's alright," he proclaimed. "I actually needed a break from studying. The test isn't even three days away." Then Mike got beside Bonnie. "So what's up?"
"Well, I was just walking down here to see if you were alright," Bonnie replied. "Usually you would come out of your office to see what we were doing, or play cards, or help Freddy out. But tonight, I can see you're wrapped up in your papers…..anyways, I was walking down here and I just heard this….noise. It….sounded like music but….it was like nothing I have heard before." She then pointed towards Mike's pocket-stereo again, and Mike's eyes followed the finger. "That," Bonnie exclaimed. "What is that?!"
Mike seemed puzzled. "You haven't heard of Sonic Youth before?" he asked politely.
"Sonic who?" Bonnie asked.
That was all the information Mike needed. Mike had such a deep seated passion for music, that at the drop of a hat, he could go off into 10 minute long to hour long rants/lectures about music. All he needed were the right words and BOOOM - he was off! He really couldn't help himself. The students at McNally were all equally into music as he was, so they didn't mind his tirades (in fact, some just like him would seek him out and at lunch they would just converse about genres for hours). But Mike had to remember that not all people were into music like him.
Unfortunately, he always started off without his wits.
"OHHH MAN!" Mike exclaimed, giddier than a fat kid in a candy store. "Dude, Sonic Youth. Ok, so back in the 80's, alternative was taking off just as New-Wave was at the height of it's popularity, and before these alternative bands were starting to become mainstream, all these music critics had….like….many different ideas on what to call this new music coming from all these kids inspired by not just New Wave bands like The Talking Heads, Depeche Mode, and Elvis Costello, but also the hardcore punk scene like Dead Kennedys, Black Flag, The Germs. Some bands like Joy Division and Fugazi got nicknamed Post-Punk, because they were taking Punk rock ideas and sounds and going past them but…."
It was then that Mike noticed the major look of confusion on Bonnie's face. He stopped himself.
"I'm sorry," Mike apologized. "I get carried away."
"It's fine," Bonnie stated. "I was actually interested."
Mike's smiled couldn't have grown wider had chopsticks been forcefully placed on his cheeks to spread his face apart.
"So this music," Bonnie began. "This is Post-Punk."
"Well…..yes and no," he replied. "It certainly got categorized at first as Post-Punk. I mean, Sonic Youth was an underground band that played very heavy music, but yet their music went against all the norms that heavy music had at the time. They were very original, very unique, and very experimental with their sound, production, and songwriting. Songwriting is the major factor to note - because while Punk and Hardcore punk which influenced Post-Punk attacked the body through abrasive and powerful music, New Wave attacked in the same way, but through it's lyrics. Pretty soon though, a bunch of bands from the east coast started copying what Sonic Youth did. Sonic Youth became the poster child of this new movement called No Wave. They got that genre title because it was a New-Wave sound and style that went against the norms of what New-Wave was at the time. But then, more bands started picking this up, made the music heavy, more accessible, and nowadays, many people consider Sonic Youth as the pioneers of Alternative Rock."
Mike looked back at Bonnie. She had a very inquisitive look on her face. He couldn't believe it, she was soaking all this information in. She actually was interested. But she did have a bit of a glazed over look. Somethings Mike was saying needed clarification.
"It's easy not to know who Sonic Youth is," Mike admitted. "They were a very underground band; and not a lot of people get turned off by their non-accessible sound. I can see why this is your first exposure to them."
"Well, it's not just that Mike," Bonnie stated. "You have to understand that the last time we had our song list updated was 4 days before the Bite of '87." She laughed. "We're outdated. We are still playing Micheal Jackson parody songs. I didn't even know who Nirvana was until I started seeing all these older kids coming in wearing that strange smiley face symbol."
Mike's jaw hit the floor. "You're kidding."
Bonnie shook her head. "Nope. The last song I remember playing on stage today was a parody of the song 'Walk Like An Egyptian.' Except we call it, 'walk like a pirate,' on account that it was the last song we played before Foxy's act."
"…Jesus," Mike said stunned. He was flabbergasted. His friends were so far behind on music. There was so much to discover. There was a world out there filled with incredible, game-changing artist that would be amazing to sink one's teeth into. Hell, half of the bands Mike was thinking off broke up either too soon, or were currently in active in their career. There were catalogues of albums that could be devoured in one sitting.
Mike looked over on his laptop, and smiled. He turned back to Bonnie with the same grin.
"You like what you're hearing?" Mike stated.
Bonnie stared at Mike. "Yeah."
"Alright," Mike said as he sat down at his desk once more. "You can have it."
Bonnie was spellbound. "Say what?"
Mike reached into his backpack were he kept a few blank CD's (being a production student and all) and within minutes, Mike had given Bonnie 4 of Mike's favorite alternative rock albums.
It was on that day, Mike discovered something awesome about the Animatronics: how they learned to play their songs. In their voice boxes, was a small port where a CD could be slid into a slot. Once inside them, they would download the data off the CD. This data would then be added into their programming data, and PRESTO - they now knew how to play new songs.
Bonnie placed a CD into her system, and within 30 seconds, she popped it back out and handed it to Mike. She was riveted.
"My lands," She exclaimed. "That was the most interesting thing I've ever heard in my life."
Mike smiled smugly. "R.E.M's 'Murmur.' You dig?"
Bonnie shot him a very pleasing look. "Give me more."
Mike was satisfied, his work was done.
And thus began Mike's new relationship to the Animatronics; the music supplier. When Bonnie was at the height of her Alternative Rock fanaticism, the other animatronics came around to Mike, and tried seeing if they could do the same for them. They all knew that on some basic level of their programming, they could demonstrate and posses the same amount of passion that Bonnie had for music. They just had to find that one song.
Mike was very happy with his new, unknown position as the music provider for the animatronics. He loved turning people onto great music. He always thought that someone's taste in music could say a lot about the personality of the listener. It it wasn't as simple as aggressive people listen to punk, or rural people listen to country. Mike new that personality traits run deep and are expressed in a much more meaningful and significant way than just "teenagers listen to moody music," or "them kids these days with their electronic music," bull crap.
He was surprised that more people weren't trying to find music for their close friends based off the type of personality they had. He had been doing this ever since he was 12.
As he started giving music to the robots to listen to, he wasn't surprised that he began to understand and know his friend's a whole lot better. Looking back, he was surprised by the discoveries he made. But he also looked back with a knowing smile. It was no wonder why Bonnie was attracted to Alternative music.
Bonnie was - without a doubt - considered the mother of the group. When it came to emotional things to talk about, she was always considered a great listener; just notches above Freddy. Everyone wanted their picture taking with either Foxy or Freddy, but the one animatronic that kids felt the most comfortable confiding in was Bonnie.
But to have this enormous understanding of emotions and feeling meant that the listener had to contain some wildly powerful and thought provoking emotions herself.
While not necessarily an introvert, she certainly wasn't an extrovert. She was the silent outsider looking in. She had her emotions and demons, and therefore, she knew how to relate with people and their emotional struggles.
Alternative rock was perfect for her. Artist's in this genre created some of the most thought provoking and interesting music out there. They also could go really hard in their music, to the point where the aggressive nature of their music sounded like an exorcism.
But the kicker was, it never went so hard to be considered too heavy. There were forms of alternative metal, but Bonnie never really got into those groups. They were just too strong for her. She liked the aggressive sounds and tones of guitars, but sometimes the speed, intensity in the lyrics, or just overall dark nature of the tunes could turn her off.
Mike remembered the first time he played for her deathcore (Suicide Silence, The Acacia Strain). She practically ran out of his office.
But Fugazi? She would rock out to that music until the speakers started dying.
The first three CD's Mike gave her were "Murmur," by R.E.M; "Red Medicine," by Fugazi; "Daydream nation" by Sonic Youth; and finally, "Farm," by Dinosaur Jr.
Bonnie really liked "Murmur." It was very soft yet very introspective. She really dug the lyrics. Often times, when Mike arrived early for his shift, and the pizzeria was just starting to close up and the animatronics were out and about, Mike could hear here mumbling the words to "Moral Kiosk."
He remembered one incident where she was walking back to her spot on stage, whispering the words in an almost incantation.
"Scratch the scandals in the twilight," she sang slowly and quitely. "Trying to shock but instead, Idle hands all orient to her, Pass a magic pillow under head, It's so much more attractive inside the moral kiosk: Inside, cold, dark, fire, twilight: Inside, cold, dark, fire, twilight."
With Fugazi's, "Red Medicine," Bonnie found perfect hard "rock out" music. This was the soundtrack of her early morning; trying to access all her data files as the systems were booting up for the day's work.
Of course, with Sonic Youth, she found something she could listen to as background noise. This was the melodic groan that rumbled through her A.I. as she talked to people, or spoke to Mike. Honestly, it was a bit distracting at times. Ironically, the music she listened to because she was a good listener caused her to become distracted while talking to someone else.
But out of all the artist and albums, "Farm,"by Dinosaur Jr. was her favorite.
The first time she popped the CD out of her voice box, he jaw almost hit the floor. She was awestruck by the musicianship she had witnessed. That guitar….that guitar tone…what heavenly bodied creatures made this music?
She immediately started playing the riffs on her guitar. That abrasive distortion became her inspiration. Not only that, but the way the singer crooned every lyrics…..you could tell that (leader of Dinosaur Jr) was a very sad man. He had a lot of emotion on his shoulders, in there was a sense of shyness in his music. It was like he was trying to get everything out, but just couldn't. Where words stopped working, his guitar filled in. The solo's, the riffs, everything just spoke volumes about his talent and about his feelings.
Every time the pizzeria would do routine sound check, Bonnie always played "Ocean in the Way," from that album. Mike considered this a fond memory. In fact, with every animatronic, Mike had a fond memory of when he found the right artist for each member.
Mike's fond memory for Bonnie was when she finally got down the solo to "Ocean in the Way," and played it at sound check. The manager decided to run the sound booth since the sound guy was out sick. She stopped Bonnie mid-way through the solo, and Mike (who had stuck around since it was a weekend) noticed a sense of sadness overcoming the poor bunny.
"Let her play the whole thing," Mike asked the manager. "I was rather enjoying it."
Confused, but not in the mood to ask questions, the manager complied and let Bonnie play-out the rest of the solo. Nothing could hide her excitement when she was done. The grin she presented spoke volumes.
Freddy's taste of music, was of course, rather different. But it was Mike's experience in finding Freddy's artist that proved to be the most surprising. Not only was the Freddy's taste odd for the bear (according to Mike's perception of Freddy), but Mike was able to find Freddy's favorite artist almost instantly. In fact, it happened in the time span of one night!
Mike was helping Freddy arrange tables, chairs, and set up decorations for the winter season at Freddy's. This was 2 months after Mike had given Bonnie her CD's.
"Bonnie really liked that music you gave her," Freddy commented as both him and Mike worked.
"Mm-hmm," Mike hummed in satisfaction. Everyone who worked in Freddy's would have to have been oblivious not to notice Bonnie's growing happiness.
"…..do you think you could do something like that for me?" Freddy asked after placing a heavy box of decorations on a table.
Mike smiled smugly. "That's just what I like to hear!" He exclaimed. As he reached into the box to hand decorations to Freddy (who was pulling up a ladder and climbing it), Mike asked, "So what do you like?"
"I'm sorry?" Freddy responded confused.
"What do you look for in music?" Mike continued. "What is it about the music you play that you like the most? Is it the melody, the lyrics, the sound, the beat?"
"Honestly Mike," Freddy replied as he hung up the decorations that Mike handed him, "I just sing the tunes. I don't analyze them that much." There was a brief pause and then Freddy stated, "I tell you what though, whatever that thing Bonnie was trying to play at sound check, it fascinated me."
"Ahh," Mike answered knowingly. "Dinosaur Jr's, Ocean in the Way. You must like that Alternative Rock stuff too."
"Well….more or less," Freddy stated. "I mean, don't get me wrong; the music isn't bad, it's just….aside from that song and whatever she listens to in the morning….the rest of it just seems kind of weak to me."
Mike shot Freddy an inquisitive look. "Weak?" Mike replied.
"Yeah, like, " Freddy tried to explain. "The thing I like about the music Bonnie plays in the morning is how loud it is. It gets me pumped. Anytime we were given the opportunity to play one of our rock-heavy parody songs, I always liked them the best."
'Heavy….' Mike thought with giddy anticipation. After helping Freddy out with the decorations, he immediately went back to his work station, whipped out his laptop, and pulled out five CD's. He knew what he had to do.
He had to give Freddy Mike's Metal Starter Guide.
CD#1 - TOOL's Aenima.
CD#2 - Black Sabbath's Black Sabbath
CD#3 - Def Leppard's Hysteria.
CD#4 - Meshugga's ObZen
CD#5 - Metallica's Kill Them All.
Mike brought the CD's, and one by one, they went through them all. With the Tool Album, Freddy appreciated the musicianship, but didn't care much for the weirdness of the music (which Mike interpreted as the experimentation). With Black Sabbath, Freddy liked it more than the last album because of it's classic sound and it's meaty hooks. He felt the album was a little bit of a drag to listen to though: depressing as it were. With Def Leppard, Freddy liked how it was a change of pace and more upbeat, but he said it bordered on being weak again. Meshugga was too much for Freddy. Certainly the right path as he was looking for heavy/loud music, but he didn't care for the screaming.
Then they put in the Metallica album.
Mike saw Freddy's eyes lit up once the CD ejected from the slot. Giving the CD back to Mike, the bear had only one simple request.
"THAT!" he shouted. "Get me more of that."
So Mike, in the continuing weeks, gave Freddy CD's mostly pertaining to the Big 4 (The Thrash metal Gods: Anthrax, Megadeth, Slayer, and Metallica). He also gave Freddy albums and bands that both inspired the Thrash Metal genre, and also sprang up because of Thrash.
Freddy genuinely enjoyed them all. But out of all of them, nothing topped Metallica. Freddy even liked the stuff that most critics and audiences of the band panned. The points where Metallica got commercial, Freddy reveled in - as well as the holier-than-thou classic albums like Master of Puppets, and Ride the Lightening.
Through analyzing Freddy's behavior with the music and without the music, Mike finally saw why Freddy loved Metallica the most.
For one thing, Freddy liked catchy things. There was no bias to his music preference. As long as it was catchy and accessible, Freddy could dig deep into it. Which is why "The Black Album," became a staple for Freddy to listen to. Metallica, out of all the metal bands Mike knew, was easily one of the most accessible to an outsider.
But Metallica also provided intensity with everything they did. Even the accessible stuff got really heavy at points. Mike would often find Freddy head-banging to the tune of "Damage INC." once and a while.
But the major reason why Freddy loved Metallica, was because the loud and fast paced music offered release.
It came as no surprise that Freddy had his demons. He was the face of the pizzeria. All the other animatronics looked to him as the boss. He was always the one that the staff would go to back in the day (when everyone was well aware of their sentience; before they had to cover it up) whenever they needed someone to talk to or cover for their shift for just a few minutes. Freddy also felt that, as the leader and face of the establishment, that everything fell on him. Everything was his responsibility. That's why he helped out Mike with the decorations. As terrible as it sound, if Mike screwed up and got fired, it would be Freddy's fault for not doing it right.
Freddy would often leave work with a newfound emotion: stress. And he had been looking for a way to release that pent up energy.
Metallica was that release. It was music that he could just move to for hours. It was music that made him want to punch-dance out all his frustrations. It was music that understood him. And on top of that, Metallica made music that Freddy could listen to at any given moment. When he was sad, Freddy would revel in the sadness while releasing the stress to "Nothing else matters." Whenever Freddy felt happy, he'd listen to "I Disappear," "Fuel," or "It Ain't my bitch."
But Freddy's favorite song was "Judas Kiss," from the bands latest release, Death Magnetica.
Mike knows this, because one night watching the monitors, he caught Freddy mime-singing the words to the song. He could tell that Freddy was experiencing his favorite part of the song, because Freddy was getting real active with the punch-dancing. And Mike could hear the words, even though the audio he heard was coming from the small speaker that came from the portable Cd player/sound system. Mike was also a big Metallica fan, and knew the song fairly well.
If there was any part of the song more fitting to be Freddy's favorite part, Mike thought it ironic that the lyrics for that part were as follows.
"Followed you from dawn of time / Whispered thoughts into your mind / Watched your towers hit the ground / Lured the children never found / Helped your kings abuse their crown / In the heart of evil man / Plant the seeds of my own plan / The strong and powerful will fall / Find a piece of me in all! / Besides you want to bow down / Sell your soul to me / I will set you free / Pacify your demons / Bow down / Surrender unto me / Submit infectiously / Sanctify your demons / Into abyss / You don't exist / Cannot resist / The Judas Kiss!"
"BOP-DE-BOP-LA-OOL-YA-KOOP-BOPBIDITY-DO!"
The incoherent words blasted from Chica's side of the hallway; blasting Mike back into reality from his day dream. Flipping the camera's, Mike could see Chica doing her very steady and active work in the kitchen. He checked the time. 5:58! He couldn't believe that he had been day dreaming for only 3 minutes. It felt like hours.
But on top of that, Mike couldn't believe that out of all the time Chica wanted to do some impromptu kitchen work, it had to be 2 minutes before she locked up.
Mike reached forward and pressed the big red button that laid on his desk. It activated the intercom (a new feature that Adriana added last month so that under lock down, Mike could issue threats to the robbers; a great addition in Mike's opinion) and he leaned his lips towards the microphone.
"Chica," Mike announced. "You literally have 2 minutes before you lock up. So no early morning breakfast."
Chica swiviled her head towards the camera that jutted out of the right corner wall of the kitchen. Although she couldn't necessarily see the lenses, Mike had a sneaky suspicion that she could actually see him. She eyed him through his IPad monitor, and made a face that stated 'you gotta be kidding me.'
She then walked over to the kitchen stereo, and ejected her CD.
The CD belonging to one of her favorite artist - Dizzy Gillespie. But her favorite was Snarky Puppy.
The day that Mike found Chica's music was a little after Freddy just got introduced to metal. It was 3:00am on a Friday, and Mike had just came back from a really menacing gig. Every joint in his body was miserable, and no amount of rolling joints would do anything to fix it. Aside from that, Mike was very happy. Adriana let him off the hook because she knew the band in question that he was opening for. They were a local metal band that got on the Riot Tour circuit a few years back. Getting to open for a metal band was a brand new experience, and Mike always loved to try new things.
But he was not in the mood to try anything at the moment. He was plum tired. He just wanted to rest.
So when he walked into the establishment, to find Freddy head-banging/punch-dancing out to one of the CD's Mike given out after his 5 metal starters (the CD in question being Megadeth's Countdown to Exctinction) the night guard simply hanged his head low. Annoyed was an appropriate term to describe Mike's condition; but he was almost too tired to be annoyed. He was more or less…exasperated? Yeah, that was the word. He was annoyed, but tired to do anything about it.
Freddy noticed Mike standing idly in the doorway, and flashed a big grin. "C'mon Mike," the Bear taunted in a loving manner. "Live a little. Nothing like punch dancing out your frustrations."
Mike partially agreed, and so, dropping his inhibitions at the door, Mike used whatever energy he had left and went to go dance with Freddy.
The two practically looked like morons in Chica's eyes. She was cooking in the kitchen like she usually did, and was finishing up a batch of 4 cheese pizza in the oven when Mike arrived. Although she hated how hard hitting Freddy's music was, she liked working in the kitchen with some form of sound. It was much more welcoming than working to silence like she did in the past.
If only there was some type of music that was smooth; music that rarely had singing and loved to just be both relaxing and motivating back ground music. The music that Freddy blasted provided some form of concentration enhancement, but at times it would just get to crazy and Chica couldn't focus. If only she could have her kind of music; but she had no idea what her type of music would be.
As fate were to have it, at one point during their dancing, Mike started to become really tired. He became light headed and somewhat woozy, and started leaning to the left. Eventually, his tired out body slammed into Freddy.
Freddy, looking down at Mike, interpreted Mike's contact as an initiation to start a mosh pit. Freddy, laughing, pushed back.
Mike however was not in the right headspace to begin a fun-loving mosh pit. His brain practically wanted to shut down, so Mike went into "fight-or-flight," mode when he was pushed. Not even sure where he was, Mike instinctively pushed back.
Freddy, not expecting such a hard rebuttal, went flying backwards. With his arms flailing about, he tried grabbing anything on his way down; and so he grabbed the table that supported the portable CD player/sound system from the back room.
Everything went to shambles. The CD player was destroyed almost instantly.
Mike immediately realized his mistake, and rushed to Freddy on the ground.
"Freddy!" Mike asked frantically. "Freddy! Are you alright?"
The bear on the floor began to laugh. "Mike, honestly it's ok." Freddy replied. "I should've take it that you would've been the professional mosher. It was you who introduced me to metal after all."
Mike held out his hand and hosted him up. When the figurehead of the establishment was on his metallic feet, Mike asked "You injured? How well can you move?"
Freddy inquisitively looked at all his limbs, one-by-one, and moved them.
"Yep, everything is in working condition," Freddy concluded. "And you don't have to worry about my condition unless I get shot or something. As you know, are sensory adapters don't detect pain, they just detect."
Both Freddy and Mike then looked at the floor. Their handiwork through their mosh-pit dance was present before them. Somehow, miraculously, the CD that was in the player popped out while the speaker was flying, and ended up undamaged on the other side of the room. Mike pointed this out as they cleaned everything up.
"Player is shot though," Freddy commented.
"That's alright," Mike stated as he put the CD's back not the table. "It was due time anyways. I got a gift for you."
Freddy shot Mike a look. "You serious?"
"Tis the Season," Mike replied.
A few minutes later, the guard returned back into the pizzeria. Underneath his arm was a huge box. Mike had bought a Crosley - multipurpose turntable. It could play anything and everything: from CD's to Vinyl. Mike both it because not only could he then bring in some of his Vinyl records, not only could Freddy have a better way to listen to the CD's, but the thing looked pretty boss as well. It was wooden with tweed speakers. It reminded Foxy of a treasure chest when Mike opened it up and placed it onto the stage near the closest electrical outlet.
"The real treasure is what this baby does," Mike told Foxy.
Mike had brought a vinyl record to demonstrate to the animatronics how the player operated. He knew the animatronic's were not stupid, and they've probably seen a vinyl player in the past of some sort. But he also knew that every player operated differently.
The vinyl record that he had brought in was a classic. Miles Davis's Kind of Blue.
The minute the needle dropped, Chica's head perked up from the Kitchen while she was removing a pizza from the oven. The sound coming from the main room was…..oddly familiar. Groovy yet complicated, chill yet up-lifting. The perfect background noise.
The music lead her into the main room, where Mike sat on the edge of the stage, snapping his fingers away. Foxy was lightly bobbing his head while Freddy simply sat off to the side, analyzing the record player. Bonnie was on stage re-stringing her guitar; not really paying attention to the music.
Chica, however, was practically enamored.
Mike's eyes opened and noticed Chica with the most puzzled look on her face.
"Hey Chica, what's happening?" Mike asked nonchalantly.
Chica pointed her wing at the record player. "The heck is this?"
Mike smiled, "Jazz," he announced in a smooth tone.
Chica shot Mike a strange look. "Jazz?" She asked.
Mike smiled wildly. "Picture a genre with no rules. A genre personified by freedom of expression through improvisation. America's art music. A sound that brought about major cultural change. Music that launched us into the stratosphere. Jazz."
Chica continued listening to the music. "It certainly sounds that way," Chica commented on the music.
Mike hopped off the stage. "I'm surprised you haven't heard any jazz before. Right after Metal, Country, and Pop; Jazz is one of the most popular genres in the world. It's everywhere," Mike stated.
"Maybe I have heard of Jazz before, I'm just not sure what it is or where to start," Chica replied.
"And that's why I'm here," Mike said. He then went to his laptop and burned Chica a copy of Kind of Blue.
Mike decided that unlike Freddy, he was going to analyze Chica a little more and give her CD's later on, than just giving the animatronic a starter pack. He wanted to see what she picked up on while she listened to the music.
And as the weeks progressed, he noticed that the major thing Chica picked up on was the mood of the music. The smoother the song, the more driving it's rhythm was, the more she would respond to it. She always listened to the album while she worked in the kitchen. The music was like the soundtrack to her life; her movements dictated by the actions of the song.
With that in mind, Mike knew that she would probably want driving jazz that added a sort of "ballroom-esque dancing," impression. He had to give her something that made her move, even if that move was erratic. Working jazz music.
Mike then burned her a copy of Dizzy Gillespie's greatest hits: A Night in Tunisia.
She began working like a mad man (or mad chicken in her case) in the kitchen. The beat of Gillespie spurred her on to cook many things; cook new things, try new flavors and marvel in the wonder that was her craft. The music was her soundtrack; and the food she cooked was influenced by the music she made.
Gillespie was one of the pioneers of American jazz artist introducing cuban and latino sounds to the artform of jazz. Naturally, Chica picked up on this and made many South American foods. Quesadillas, Guacamole salad, Tostada's…
Mike ate very well for those two weeks Chica was on her Dizzy Gillespie kick.
And in the mean time he kept introducing Chica to new Jazz Artist. John Coltrane, Sun Ra, Glen Miller and Herbie Handcock: no matter what type of jazz it was, Mike kept passing the Cd's along to Chica.
But the day he found Chica her favorite artist, was the day Mike started his summer break. Which actually started in the spring (gotta love music college).
He had recently purchased a CD for Foxy. After discovering the type of music Foxy liked, he began experimenting with the soundscape Foxy could tolerate. How far could he push the pirate and just what was the pirate looking for? Further examination required new artists, even artists that Mike had never heard from before.
All his friends in college were foaming at the mouth about this one band called "Snarky Puppy." The hook for Mike was that the band Snarky Puppy had a rotating line up of 40 different members. 40 MEMBERS! Mike just had to hear what was in store.
He figured the band would be perfect for Foxy because the band often collaborated with many hip-hop icons. He also heard that Snarky Puppy used a lot of bass in their sounds and synthesizers as well. It seemed right up Foxy's alley.
But when Mike pressed play, a whole new world of possibilities opened up. It was Jazz fusion, but it was unlike any jazz fusion Mike had heard before. That keyboardist was like a magician. The bass player was sick as f**k. The beats were somehow playing the perfect oxymoron - complicated yet smooth.
All of this could be heard off the first track of the album he bought (Ground Up), "Ground Up."
But then track two started with a pummeling beat. It was driving in a way Mike had never heard a driving beat performed before. The multiple horn sections were a huge kicker - proving an infectious grove.
But little did he know that behind him stood Chica. She had heard the song in the party room where her, Bonnie, and Freddy decided to play cards. She walked away from the table, drawn to the music like rats to the pried piper.
When track two finally hit a low (if there was such a thing as a low for track two) Chica interjected.
"WHO THE F**K ARE THESE GUYS?!" Chica asked in wonder. Her comment scared the bejesus out of Mike, causing him to fall backwards out of his rolling chair.
And that's how Snarky Puppy became Chica's favorite band. How fitting that an animatronic known for her after dark snarky attitude, came to like a band with "Snarky," in the title.
As the pizzeria closed down to be opened up fairly soon, Mike left his office chair, remembering how odd it was that in his quest in trying to search for Foxy's music, he came to find Chica's favorite band. He honestly didn't know why out of all the genres of music Foxy could listen to, the Animatronic picked Hip-hop.
It wasn't like the music didn't fit his attitude. After seeing Foxy's emotions while listening to the music, it made sense why Foxy would gravitate to the certain type of Hip-hop he was listening to.
But why hip-hop? There were thousands of other genre's that featured the same types of tones and sounds that the hip-hop of Foxy's had; but why hip-hop instead of those other genres?
And then Mike remembered. It came like a ton of bricks. Perhaps the long nights were causing Mike's brain to work slower. Either that, or he was doing too much partying in the dorms. But nevermind.
Foxy was the first time Mike had to follow up on an animatronic's quest for music Valhalla.
Mike remembered the story quite well. He was talking with Bonnie in his office about how his day had been going, when while flipping through the camera's on his monitor, he noticed Foxy acting quite strange.
Foxy's strangeness wasn't unusual. Mike would usually catch Foxy either waiting in a corner of Pirate Cove, or trying out some of that "parkour," stuff Mike showed Foxy on the internet one day (usually failing at said parkour, which always provided Chica a laugh).
But this time, Foxy's hands were around his voice box, and he was making strange movements with his jaw. On top of that, he seemed to be rocking his body in a rhythmic pattern. Mike wasn't sure what he was doing. He hadn't seen an animatronic cry before….maybe Foxy was crying?
Mike left his office and started walking towards Pirate Cove. As he kept on approaching, he started to make out a strange sound. Although distorted, it had a beat. As he kept creeping closer and closer, he realized that whatever sound that was coming from Pirate Cove, it had a backbeat.
When Mike peeked through the curtains of Pirate Cove, he found Foxy sitting on a box, hands enclosing his voice box while his jaw moved to the rhythmic measure.
Sonovabitch..Mike thought. Foxy is trying to beat box.
Suddenly, Foxy caught Mike off guard and whipped the curtain back. Mike yelped in surprise.
"Arg, what do my eyes prec-c-c-c-c-c-ieve?" Foxy proclaimed. "Ol' Mikey snoopy around a Pirate's domai….-a-a-a-a-a-a-ain like a rodent-odent."
"I'm really sorry Foxy," Mike said defensively. "I wasn't prying on anything. I was just watching the monitors-"
"That'd be PRYING matey!" Foxy retorted. Then the pirate let out a sigh. " Though, I ain't that mad. I know ya too well to take ya as the-e-e-e-e-e-e- type to go snooping into other people's business unless youououououououououou thought something was a-mi-ss."
Mike stared down at the floor like a little child that just got in trouble. Funny how the tables can turn both ways between him and Foxy. The pirate in question went back to sitting on the box.
"I just thought you were crying," Mike stated. "I've only known you guys - like, know know you guys - for about 5 months. I don't get to interact with you guys behind the scenes, so I didn't know if…..crying, was a thing you guys could do."
" Arg," Foxy breathed. " We do cry Mikey. Even fealess riders of the seven-nnn zzzzz - seas can't escape drowning in a brokenenenenene broken heart."
"You lost someone?" Mike asked inquisitively.
" Yeah but, that'd be a long, long t-t-t-t-time ago-ago-ago-ag-g-g-g-o." Foxy replied. " But that'd be beside the point. I wasn't c-c-c-c-crying in the first place."
"Well, what were you trying to do?" Mike asked.
" Yarg. Back in the day where-ere-ere-e the laddies weren not so scared of me, i'd get to walk through the res-t-t-t-taurant and have all sorts of fun." Foxy Began. " I mostly just asked them-a-a-asked them how they-ey-ey-ey were doing-n-ng-n-gn-gn-ng. But one day, there was this laddie who had a scalawag landlubber for a brother. The brother wasn't smart enough to even put on his own ha-t-t-t-a-hat the right w-w-way. He wore it backwards-ackwards. I didn't get engaged with him, even though that bastard taunted the poor little lad. But eventually I had-a-a-a-had to strike up a dialogue with the rest of the boys mateys, and after talking to the ma and pa, I had to speak to the brother. He wore headphones and the music was blasting so loud that the parents had to tell him to take it off when he spoke to me…..I'm not sure music he was listening to…..but it had a…..a beat. It just moved. It had power like the most powerful of ships on the seven seas, yet it flowed like the water that the ship stood upon. Later durring Freddy's show, I noticed the kid placing his handss-s-s-zzzzzzz-s- hands around his face. I thought he'd be-he'd be sick or trying to warm himself-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f up. But then I listen-en-en-ened….He was trying to make that beat I heard before, just using his voice. I'm not sure what music it was, but to this day, I can't g-g-g-g-et it out of my-my-my-my head."
Mike could piece it all together. Backwards cap, punk attitude, braggadocios, beat-boxing; it was fairly obvious.
"Hip-Hop," Mike commented.
" what?" Foxy replied.
"Hip-hop rap," Mike told Foxy. "That music you heard was either Hip-hop or rap. I got a whole bunch of it, you want some?"
" As much as I appreciate that matey," Foxy began. " I'm afraid you can't do for me what you've done for Bonnie and Freddy. My voicebo-oooooooo-ox-xxxxxxx is brok-k-k-k-k-en. I can't just put the CD in and know the music. I'd have to sit and listen to it-t-it-it-it."
"So?" Mike shrugged his shoulders. "What's the problem with that?"
"We have nothing to listen to CD's on," Foxy stated.
Mike in response, went on a mission. Going to the back room, he was able to find a portable stereo/CD player. The same one that weeks later, him and Freddy would destroy. He gave the CD player to Foxy, and the two hid the player in his cove for the rest of it's days.
In the mean time, as Mike was doing his job watching the security cam footage, he began working on coming up with a snazzy CD setlist for Foxy. He kept the classics on there. RUN DMC, Public Enemy, NWA, Beastie Boys…..but then Mike wanted to go a little experimental. He wanted to show Foxy what Hip-Hop/Rap had become since it's public debut in pop culture.
But at the same time, Mike felt that he had to keep all the music within the time frame that Foxy remembered listening to it.
In the end, Mike created two CD's: one with all the classic's on it, and one with all of Mike's favorite new rap artists. He gave Foxy only the classics one, and waited for when Foxy finally got around to hearing it.
The next night, Foxy stormed into Mike's office. Anger was present on his face.
" I honestly don't understand why this music caught me pirate's eye! I didn't like anything on here. Sometimes it was to violent, other times they just shouted obscenities, and booty….BOOTY?!…Booty is treasure, not a fine lass's backside! GET IT RIGHT!"
With that stated, Mike gave Foxy the second CD; the one with the new artist on it. Foxy was at first very hesitant to receive it. Mike couldn't really blame the pirate. Not much changed since the formation of Hip-hop, other than the way it came across. The same themes, instrumentation, and styles were ever present. But the way they were packaged was much nicer in Mike's opinion.
And Foxy felt the same way.
Mike could remember the first time Foxy listened to track 1 of the CD, "Good Ass Intro," by Chance the Rapper.
He was watching the camera feeds late at night when he saw Foxy putting in the CD. From the hall, Mike couldn't faintly hear where Foxy was at in the track. As he watched the monitors while the track progressed, he saw the greatest sight ever.
He saw, first hand, another being falling IN LOVE with music like Mike did.
It began softly. Foxy seemed to enjoy the arrangement of the track instrumentation and melody wise. But when Chance came in with his first first, Mike watched Foxy's jaw slowly drop.
Mike said it best in his liner notes that he gave to Foxy for each track. "Chance the Rapper literally decimates the english language in under 30 seconds."
With each track, Mike found Foxy's emotions varying wildly.
Kendrick Lamar's "The Art of Peer Pressure," was up after Chance. Foxy's eyes glistened when the story came in after the great intro, but his head still bounced to the beat of the track during the intro.
Mike threw a curveball with the next track. Although it was one of his favorite groups of all time, he could understand why he and many others were in the minority of that opinion.
The song was "The Fever (Aye Aye)," by Death Grips.
Foxy sat and listened to the track in it's entirety, which impressed Mike because judging from the reaction he saw on camera, Foxy didn't like it one bit. It's a hard band to vibe to, mainly because it's a hardcore band. That's what the music was about; daring it's listener to like them.
Foxy did NOT like hardcore music.
The next track was "Chum," by Earl Sweatshirt. The beat was less abrasive, but still dark in it's content, and Mike could tell that while on first listen the song wasn't sinking it's hook; on second or third listen, he could picture being an "odd future," kid.
Each track, the emotions waned, from "Really dug it," to "Hate it," to "ehh."
But then he came to the last track on the album; Mike's favorite piece by Childish Gambino - "Shadows."
The next day, Mike could hear Foxy humming that infectious groove during his entire shift.
With each passing day, Mike had to give Foxy everything Gambino was involved in. Foxy loved all of it. After getting to know Foxy, Mike understood why out of all the hip-hop artist, why Gambino would be Foxy's favorite.
Gambino could make banger tracks. An examination of the song "Bonfire," is a perfect example. With lines like, "Move white girls like there's coke up my ass crack," Gambino was literally eating the microphone and attacking his audience. However, unlike Death Grips which used the deafening and horrifying low-fi production to heighten the terrible lifestyle of a gang banger, the beat behind Gambino's music was catchy and commercial. Did this mean that it glorified the lifestyle like the old Hip-hop of the past did at points?
No, because after singing songs like "Bonfire," he'd sing songs like "Outside." A song that was very detailed about Donald's personal life.
It was all an act; a braggadocios act. A font that people (or animatronics) who put on fonts would recognize.
Foxy wouldn't admit it directly, but indirectly he has revealed some dark, sad layers behind the pirate demeanor. Childish Gambino was his music, because behind the sick beats, there were moments of truth. And when the songs were nothing but truth, it hurt the very soul.
But the music was also danceable. Foxy loved the very low-end bass sounds provided by the synths and the drum machines, that when auto-tuned, had a melodic quality to the beat they provided.
Overall, there was something about the bass, the groove, and the hooks in all of Gambino's songs that just made Foxy want to bust a move. Freddy could headbang, Chica could cook, and Bonnie could try to emulate the music they heard, but Foxy simply just wanted to move with it.
The music moved him in all ways. And his favorite song from Gambino had to be "Telegraph Ave." The lyrics were simple. The message - beautiful.
"I took off my nine to five / But you still don't have the time to kiss me (just hit me) / And if I left you all alone, would you still pick up the phone / It's iffy, you miss me / I got furniture to move, and we'll both be thirty soon / In Oakland, in Oakland / The only one I know is you, so the fuck I'm supposed to do? / In Oakland, in Oakland."
As Mike left his office, he passed by the stage where the animatronics stood idly. Although tired, something about the animatronics grabbed his attention. Maybe it was the fact that one low amounts of sleep, Mike tends to get emotional. Or maybe ti was because Mike felt the compelling need to just say something about his relationship to these guys.
Mike wasn't going to work at the Pizzeria forever. That was the sad truth. The only thing Mike could do was address it.
He began very awkwardly, staring at his feet as he spoke to the lifeless robots.
"Look," he said. "I…..uh…I know I'm a f**k up. Right? I mean, sure, I got the band going well, the studio stuff going, and this job is pretty swell….but you know as well as I that this isn't the most dignified job in the world….. I party too much, I tend not to focus on the shit I really need to focus on….stuff like that."
He looked back up at the animatronics. Though they couldn't respond to what he was saying, he knew that they had to be able to retain his message in some way.
"Be that as it may," Mike continued, now with more confidence. "I wouldn't have my life any other way. The mistakes I make, I learn from them; and if I don't know I'm making mistakes, one day I will. This job certainly wasn't a mistake. I love it. I think out of all the things in my life, this is going to be the one thing I remember the most. The bad gigs? fuck em. The bad rehearsals? fuck em. The good rehearsals, the great practices, they will be major memories I hold fondly. But not as fondly as this experience. As strange and as weird as it is, it's it's strangeness that makes it an unbeatable memory."
Then there was a silence.
"But will you remember me?" Mike asked the lifeless robots, not expecting answer. "I don't know. I don't know the circuits or if they ware out or what. But I do know that art: music is forever. And I hope that by providing you the soundtracks of our lives….I can live forever with you guys….in some way."
Mike stepped onto the stage. Compelled, but not sure why, he hugged Freddy.
When he released the animatronic from his grasp, he walked away, humming a line from a Kendrick Lamar song.
"When the lights shut off / And its my turn to settle down / My main concern / Promise that you will sing about me / Promise that you will sing about me."