Springtrap
Ow . . .
It hurts . . .
Everything hurts! My arms, my legs, my neck, my face; every goddamn joint in this fucking suit has a trap, and wherever there's a trap, there's pain.
So much for a brilliant hiding place, huh? Stupid kids . . . Now I'm no better than they are; stuck in this smelly golden bunny suit with no way out . . . I suppose i deserved it.
Help me . . .
Help . . . me!
I hate to sound like one of those pesky brats, but I want to go home. I want to be able to take off this suit! I want to be able to lie down in my own bed at home and eat a nice warm meal . . . Maybe watch a little bit of the news while I'm at it; listen to the stories about how the children are still missing.
And I just know . . .
I know that they'll never find them. They'll never find us! Who the hell would look for the bodies of five dead children in a handful of animatronic suits in this goddamn pizza joint?
That was the question I asked myself the day I killed those brats. It seemed so easy to cover my tracks. After all, when children go missing, nobody suspects the security guard at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.
Now, I'm wishing they'd find us in here. I wish they'd find our bodies. I wish they'd find my body. At least then they could figure out a way to get rid of the traps and get me out of this fucking suit. Maybe they'll peel off the outside. Or maybe there's some magic button that opens the traps. Ha! That would be a bitch! Or maybe . . .
Maybe they'll just bury me in it; still trapped in the suit, six feet under dirt and rocks. At this point, I'll take anything. I'll take burning in Hell for eternity over this . . .
Wait a minute . . .
Wait just a goddamn minute! Burning!
That's it! I'll burn everything! This restaurant, the other animatronics, and this god-forsaken suit; it can all be burned away! Why didn't I think of this sooner?
Matches . . . I need matches!
Huh . . . I'm lucky tonight, i guess. Jeremy's left his lighter and cigarettes in his office . . .
Thank you, Jeremy.
You've set me free!
