"Ugh! Mom, did I have come with you?" he moaned.
"Yes honey," she replied, a cheerful voice with a pin-prick of annoyance, "it is your sisters' birthdays after all. Besides, I used to take you to this place all the time. Don't you remember the fun you used to have in this place?"
"I might be able to," the boy half-spoke, half-mumbled, "if it didn't reek of grease and throw-up." The boy stared at the animatronics on the stage, part of him actually trying to remember what fun he had here, another part of him wanting the chuck them into a ditch and bury them, might they never be found again. The boy wore a dark pair of jeans and a jacket made of black vinyl. He was pale, to say the least with contradicting black hair that was longer than normal for most boys his age, sweeping it to the right. He looked different against everything else here, with even the floor and walls bearing some decorative pattern. He was a dot of gloom in a very large sea of joy and pizza and small children.
He was only here because his mother had made him, since his younger sisters both had to have their birthdays' here, of all places. He turned towards his mother, speaking very reluctantly.
"I'm gonna go use the restroom." He said, pointing across the room.
"Don't be long." His mother said. "Your sister is about to blow out her candles." The boy went into the restroom, washed his hands, and stood in the restroom, since there was nobody there at the time. He looked in the mirror and washed his face and stood in front of the sink, contemplating his life. As he left the bathroom, he looked around at all of the commotion in the pizza parlor. Children were running around, if not singing with the animatronics on stage, listening to Foxy over in Pirate Cove, or eating with other kids. Even the parents were having fun, either running around with their children or talking to the other parents here, sharing gossip.
"It's disgusting, isn't it?" said a voice beside the boy that made him jump a bit. A man wearing an outfit, much like those of the other employees, stood beside the boy. The outfit had more of a hue of purple than blue, and the man himself was quite creepy to be completely honest. He was tall and slinky-looking, with sullen eyes and a staid completion, his thin lips pressed in a thin line.
"All these little grease-stains running all over the place, inhaling junk food, or staring at the oversized dolls." The man said, staring at the wall across the restraunt. "Kid, this is what you're gonna have to do when you get older. Work in a disgusting place and get next to nothing for it." He looked over at me; his eyes were a light brown, but a horrid hue of such. It was like the inside of tree bark mixed with throw-up. He had a very sly look on his face, but he was able to blend it with a neutral expression, like it was a silhouette and nothing more.
"I'm only here 'cause of my sisters." The boy replied. He gave a smirk with his thin lips.
"Follow me." He said.
"I got some stuff backstage that might be little more your style kid." Out of complete boredom and curiosity, the boy followed him, although offset by the air surrounding him.
"Hey," said the boy, "I'm gonna go tell my mother. Don't want her to worry about me later." The man nodded to the boy and walked backstage. The boy ran over and updated his mother, after arguing a small bit about details, and then walked over to the backstage door. He opened it and walked inside. To say it was disturbing was and understatement. Animatronic heads were placed on the shelves, all of Bonnie, Freddy, and Chica. The boy was never able to tell whether Chica was a chicken or a duck. Either way, the thing was still creepy. And although he wasn't interested in the well-being of the animatronics, he never understood why the fox never got any affection by the employees. There wasn't a single fox head in the backstage area.
The boy wasn't able to think anything beyond that because he was too frantic about a gag being put over his mouth and a bag over his head. He thrashed about, trying to find something to hit. He was pulled back by the bag and heard a whisper.
"Stop trying to resist." said the whisper. "You can't beat me. You can't." After that was said, the boy was bludgeoned on the back of the neck with a breaking force. He blacked out seconds afterward.