A Chicken Learns of Pizza, 1982

Chica was bored, and not just your usual run-of-the-mill bored, no, she was bored with a capital "B." She voiced this complaint to the others.

"I'm booorrreeed," she said, drawing out the dreaded adjective to emphasize her point.

She, Bonnie, and Freddy were gathered onstage. Six a.m. was fifteen minutes ago, and they had been active for just as long. Nathan had the day off, their activation entirely automatic, and now there was nothing to do but stand around and watch the goings-on as the rest of the staff got the restaurant ready.

"I'm sure you'll find a way to amuse yourself," Freddy replied, straightening Bonnie's bowtie. The rabbit simply smiled while she watched the other employees.

One week had passed since the opening of the restaurant, and the two cooks, Sal Venetto and Gus Roberts, had been butting heads for just that long, much longer, in fact. Both men had jointly opened their own small pizzeria, but had been forced out of business with the increasing popularity in chains before being hired by Freddy's. The conflict arose from their different beliefs on what was important considering a pizza.

Sal was a traditional Italian, which meant that, above all else, the pizza had to be perfect. Each pie deserved a large amount of time and care to create something that was truly special, and most importantly, delicious. And for a long time, Gus, who was from New York City and embraced Italian cuisine there, agreed.

But being forced out of business changed his priorities. Taste still mattered, but now it was all about speed. For Gus, the faster the food got out, the better, as it had already been proven that people no longer cared to wait for their food. This division caused the same argument every morning.

"Gus! Get that frozen garbage out of here! I told you, we're making the sauce from scratch," Sal said, pointing an accusing finger at the offending bag. He wore glasses, with short dark hair and a closely-cropped beard that wrapped around his round face. At 36, his love of food showed with his pudgy stomach.

"Do you know how long that takes?" Gus asked. Unlike his partner, Gus was younger, having just turned 30, and looked like a stick. He was tall and lanky, with long curly brown hair that brushed into his eyes, almost a polar opposite of Sal, even being clean-shaven.

"Do you know how good it tastes?" Sal retorted, taking out a saucepan from a cupboard and slamming it onto the stove, grabbing necessary ingredients.

"But this is your sauce!" Gus pointed out, "Just defrost it and use it, it'll taste just as good!" Sal held up a wooden spoon in a threatening manner.

"Fresh sauce is the best sauce," Sal explained, "Now grab some tomatoes."

Gus sighed and complied. Sal usually won these arguments, mostly because technically he held a higher position, and could get him in trouble. Another part of it was simply that, so far, Sal was right. Praise for their pizza had started coming in, and Sal wasted no time in lording it over him. For now, it seemed Gus would have the same futile argument.

Just as Gus continued to chop tomatoes whilst muttering under his breath, the door to the Kitchen was pushed open, revealing Chica.

"What are you guys up to?" she asked. Gus and Sal looked up.

"Oh, uh, hello Chica," Sal greeted, still not used to talking to a robot. And having it talk back.

"We're just making pizza," Gus replied, gesturing around the Kitchen.

"Oh. Can I watch?" Chica asked, "I'm bored."

Gus and Sal exchanged a glance. They would never admit it to Management, and especially to the animatronics, but they were… creepy. And now it seemed they were feeling things like boredom. What exactly went into these things, anyway? Sal answered for the two of them.

"Uh… sure…" he said uncertainly, "Why not?" Gus nodded in agreement.

"Alright," Chica said, and crossed her arms, standing off to the side, watching. Gus and Sal exchanged another glance, then went back to work, occasionally glancing at the metal chicken.

Chica watched with growing fascination as the cooks took what seemed to be random things and completely changed them. Red balls ("tomatoes," was what Gus and Sal called them) were comined with green stuff and turned into a thick liquid, which was poured onto a disk made of white stuff ("dough," Gus explained), covered with more white stuff ("cheese") and more and more different ingredients, before being shoved into the oven. When it dinged, what came out looked nothing like what went in, and that changed astounded her.

"How did that change?" she asked the two cooks.

"We cooked it," Sal explained, as if it was obvious. Chica huffed.

"So let's pretend one of us doesn't know what that means," Chica lead on. Gus gave her a confused look.

"Aren't… aren't you the character that's supposed to cook the pizzas for this place's story?" he asked. Chica nodded.

"Don't mean they tell me stuff," she said bluntly, "It's just words to me."

Sal suddenly looked to Gus with a knowing smile. Chica noticed.

"What?" they both asked. Sal grinned wider.

"We should teach her! How to cook!" Sal said. Chica's eyebrows shot to the top of her head. So did Gus's.

"You'd do that?" she asked, "Cool."

"Are you serious?" Gus asked. Sal nodded.

"Completely. She's curious, let's teach her," he said.

Gus crossed over to him.

"Look," he said, dropping his voice, "She's a machine remember? What does it matter?

"I can hear you," Chica said, copying the actions of an irritated guest by putting her hands on her hips. Gus continued on unabated.

"I mean, can she even understand pizza making?" Gus asked. Chica imitated a sigh.

"I'm right here," she said in exasperation, "And what do you mean by 'can I understand'?"

Sal pushed Gus aside and smiled at Chica nervously.

"Nothing, nothing at all," he said, and his smile changed to one of excitement, "Do you really want to learn?"

Chica shrugged.

"Yeah, sure," she replied, "It sounds interesting."

Sal clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

"Alright! But first, you need to look the part!"

"You've got to be joking," Gus said, rubbing his face in dismay.

Sal had outfitted Chica with a chef's apron and hat, with the chicken having a similar opinion of her attire.

"Do I really need to wear this thing?" she asked, tugging on the apron. Sal nodded, his back to her as he was digging through the fridge.

"Wouldn't want you getting dirty, would we?" he asked, and turned around, arms laden with dough, vegetables, cheese, meats, and containers of frozen sauce. Chica stopped messing with the apron and looked on with interest.

Using an island set up in the middle of the Kitchen, Sal laid out the ingredients and readied them for preparation. He waved Chica over.

"Okay, so pizzas have four main parts: the dough, that's this," Sal patted the white mound for emphasis, "forms the base. So what you do is cover where you're working with flour, and roll it out flat, like so."

Sal grabbed a rolling pin, dusted it with flour, and flattened out the dough into a half-inch thick disk in several passes. He held it up.

"See? Here, you try it," Sal handed Chica the rolling pin, gesturing for her to take his spot in front of the dough.

Chica studied the wooden utensil in her hand, a single eyebrow arching in thought.

"I just… roll it around?" she asked. Gus groaned, and Sal shot him a glare.

"Yep!" he said encouragingly, "Push down kind of hard, though, to make it even."

Chica nodded and stepped around. With calculated movements, the metal chicken slowly raised, centered, and lowered the pin onto the mound of dough. She began to nudge it around, smearing the top of the dough about.

"Harder," Sal encouraged, watching from around the large robot's back. Chica nodded, and pushed down.

The rolling pin snapped in half with a deafening crack, causing Sal to wince and Gus cry out in surprise. Chica lifted the two halves of pin.

"I think that might have been a little bit too hard," she observed sarcastically. Gus rubbed his face.

"You think?" he asked. Chica narrowed her eyes at him, and he turned to Sal, "I told you this wasn't such a good idea. C'mon, we have work to do."

"Hush, it was an honest mistake," Sal said, digging through the drawers and pulling out another rolling pin, "Here, Chica, give it another shot!" Chica tossed the broken pin aside and grabbed the replacement, again meticulously positioning it over the dough. She gently applied pressure, and slowly rolled the dough flat. Sal pumped a fist into the air.

"Alright!" he cheered, "Good job!" Chica swiveled her head completely around and grinned at him. Gus coughed awkwardly at the sight.

"Thanks," she said, and handed him the rolling pin. Sal set it on a countertop and clapped his hands together again.

"Okay, next up is the sauce. We make it ourselves, but just this once I think we'll go ahead and use what we have here," he said, indicating the plastic container full of red liquid. Gus huffed, but didn't comment as Sal grabbed a ladle.

"Now we just spread the sauce. Make sure it's even," Sal explained, and did so, quickly spreading one ladle-full across his flattened dough. Chica nodded in understanding.

"Sounds easy," she said, and grabbed the offered ladle. Scooping up the right amount of sauce, she slowly (but evenly) covered her disc of dough. Sal gave her a pat on the shoulder. Gus arched an eyebrow.

"Huh. Not bad," he admitted. Chica imitated a scoff.

"It's not hard," she said offhandedly. Sal grabbed and shredded a block of parmesan, leaving a large pile of small strips of white cheese on the island. He grabbed a handful.

"Rest is easy, just sprinkle on cheese," he did so.

"And put on the toppings," Sal put slices of pepperoni and cut up pieces of bell peppers across the uncooked pizza.

Chica did her best to imitate him, and cheese ended up scattering across the island from her jerky movements, but soon her pizza resembled Sal's almost identically. Sal grabbed a large wooden peel and opened the large oven.

"And now we cook!" he announced, and in one motion scooped up his pizza and deposited into the oven. He then did the same with Chica's.

"Hey!" she protested, "Why can't I do it?" Sal closed the oven.

"Sorry," he said, "But that oven's really dangerous, and I didn't want you burning our kitchen down."

Chica crossed her arms and huffed. Gus walked up to her.

"Not bad, I admit. Maybe you'll be a good chef. You know, when you're not singing songs for kids," he said. Chica shrugged. Suddenly, Freddy's voice sounded from outside.

"Chica?" he called, "Come back onstage, it's almost time to open." Chica looked at Sal.

"Duty calls," she said, and pushed the Kitchen door open, stepping out into the Dining Area. Sal and Gus watched her leave.

"She's something else," Gus remarked, "Hard to believe it's just a bunch of metal and wires." Sal nodded, smiling.

"It's amazing," he said, "Never seen anything like it."

That night, after the restaurant closed, Chica sauntered back into the Kitchen.

"Hey guys," she greeted, "Ready to cook more?" Sal looked up.

"We're gonna go home," he said, "Maybe tomorrow?" Chica deflated slightly.

"Oh," she said, "Alright then. G'night." The chicken then turned on a heel and walked out again. Sal and Gus exchanged a concerned glance, then went back to cleaning up the Kitchen.

Outside, Chica climbed back onto the stage, watching the rest of the staff close up the restaurant. The entrance swung open and Nathan strolled in, looking into his notebook. He stopped after a few steps and snapped it shut, looking at the animatronics and smiling. Foxy had poked his head out from behind his curtains, and waved his hook hand in greeting. Bonnie waved as well. Nathan strode over.

"Hey guys, how was your day?" he asked. Freddy shrugged.

"Pretty good, just the usual sort of things," he answered.

"It was great!" Bonnie said.

"Yup," Chica agreed, "Learned to make pizza." Nathan's eyebrows shot up his forehead.

"Really?" he asked, pulling out his notebook, "And how did you do that?"

"The cooks," Chica replied, pointing towards the Kitchen, "Turns out it's easy."

Nathan began scribbling into his notebook, then suddenly snapped it closed again.

"Awesome," he said, "That's just awesome."

"How's it awesome?" Bonnie asked.

"It means you guys can learn skills, not just have them programmed. That's… that's unheard of with robots! I'll be right back!" Nathan excitedly ran off.

The animatronics watched him leave, each blinking once in unison, Freddy imitating scratching his head.

"What's got him all riled up?" Chica wondered aloud.

"Beats me," Freddy said, "So, how do you make pizza?" Chica grinned, and launched into an explanation.

The next day was very slow around lunch time, and Chica decided to visit Sal and Gus in the Kitchen. Unsurprisingly, they were arguing.

"How could you have forgotten to ask for more flour?" Sal asked, throwing his hands up in the air.

"We had two more bags!" Gus defended.

"Those were empty!" Sal replied.

"Why the hell did you leave the empty bags there?" Gus fired back.

"To remind me we were out!" Sal roared.

"Hey," Chica greeted. Sal and Gus jumped.

"Oh, hi Chica," Gus replied, "No shows?" Chica shook her head.

"'Nah, not enough guests right now," Chica answered, "What's up? Why are you arguing?"

"Someone didn't restock our ingredients," Sal answered pointedly, glaring at Gus.

"Someone else never told me we had to," Gus shot back, voice full of frustration. Chica's face shifted into a confused expression.

"Why can't you just go get more?" she suggested.

"What if more people come in? Who would make food for them?"Gus pointed out.

"But if you're out of ingredients, can't you not make more anyway?" Chica asked. Sal shook his head.

"We're not out out, just enough for a few more pizzas. We'd be out of luck in the lunch rush," Sal explained.

"I can cover for you," Chica offered. Gus laughed.

"Ha, Chica, no offense, but I'm not sure people would appreciate having a machine make the food," he said. Chica frowned and crossed her arms.

"Why not?" she asked. Gus rubbed the back of his head.

"Well… you're not exactly the cleanest…" he gestured to Chica's suit, which sported stains from the greasy hands of children. They were cleaned at the end of each week, and it being Friday, they were kind of gross.

"So?"

"And you've only made one pizza so far," Gus continued.

"I can do it," Chica said defiantly, "C'mon, you'll be gone for a few minutes. How many people can show up in that time?" Sal scratched his head. He nodded.

"I guess she's right," he said, "Alright, we've got a few pies in the ovens right now, when it dings, just put them out on the counter so the waiters can grab 'em. We'll tell the front what's going on." Chica smiled in triumph.

"Got it. Now get out of here, you're wasting time," she urged, and all but pushed them out of the Kitchen.

The bird turned back and surveyed her new responsibility. She imitated Sal and clapped her hands together with a metal clunk.

"Let's get cookin'," she said, and waited in front of the oven.

Several minutes later, the oven dinged, signaling that the pizza inside was ready to be served. Chica grabbed the large wooden peel and opened the oven, delicately slipping it under the first pizza, knocking it about a few times before getting it to lie on top of the wood. With careful, calculated movements, she dropped it onto a serving pan and carried that on top of the counter, then waited. None of the waiters came. At the far side was a bell, and she rung it, then turned back to take the other two pizzas out of the oven.

When she turned back to the counter with the others, the first pizza still sat there, steaming. Chica frowned, and ringed the bell again. Again, no one came. Chica started dinging the bell over and over, until hitting it so hard it broke with a pathetic dunk.

"Piece of junk," she said, and tossed it aside. She looked around for the wait staff, leaning out of the serving window slightly. She saw them lingering about at the front of the restaurant, chatting with the hostess. Chica shook her head in disapproval.

"Fine, I'll do it myself," she said, and walked out and around to where the pizzas sat. She picked up the first two she pulled out, one on each hand, her internal gyroscope keeping them perfectly level as she walked into the Dining Area.

"Alright, who's got the… yellow things and pink circles?" she asked the few patrons seated. They looked at her quizzically. One woman raised her hand.

"Do you mean Hawaiian?" she asked. Chica shrugged, pizzas not moving.

"Probably," she replied, and walked over, depositing the pizza, "That what you ordered?"

"Yes," the woman replied, sounding impressed, "Wow, uh, thanks."

"Don't mention it. Enjoy," Chica said, and looked at the other pizzas toppings.

"And who's got the, uh… meat bits, green wedges, and mushrooms?" she asked the entire Dining Area. A family raised their hands in unison. Chica smiled at the children, two girls, as she walked over and delivered their food.

"Eat up, kiddos," she said, and dropped the pizza on the table. The girls looked up with massive grins.

"Thanks Chica!" they said together, as the father gave a nod.

"You're welcome," Chica replied, and walked back to get the third pizza, seeing toppings she recognized.

"Pepperoni and olives?" she asked, but noticed there was only one group without food, "Oh, must be you guys." Chica walked up to them at a casual pace, giving them the pizza with little fanfare.

"Here ya go," she said, "Enjoy."

The pizzas delivered, Chica was about to go backstage to visit the others, when suddenly the doors to the entrance opened, and several people began to trickle in. Soon order tickets were being delivered to the unoccupied Kitchen, and it only took the chicken a second to decide what needed to be done. With a confident smirk, she walked briskly into the Kitchen

"How can so many people visit that one store at this hour?" Sal asked Gus as the two of them walked through the employee entrance at the rear of the building. Gus shrugged.

"I don't know," he said, then suddenly stopped in his tracks, staring at Sal with a confused look.

"What?" Sal asked.

"Why did we go together?" Gus asked, both to Sal and himself. Sal thought for a moment, before smacking his head against a nearby wall.

Looking back up, he noticed that the Dining Area looked a lot fuller than before. Gus noticed as well, and the two of them exchanged a look.

"Chica!" they said together, and dashed to the Kitchen.

It sat empty, but ingredients laid strewn about and the smell of cooking pizza wafted from the ovens. The last bag of flour sat empty, and pizzas sat waiting at the serving window. The doors were then pushed open by Chica, who's suit was dusted with flour, bib speckled with sauce, and a large grin on her face.

"Hey guys!" she greeted happily, "You made it just in time, just used the last of that powdery stuff."

Sal and Gus watched, mouths agape, as the animatronic chicken opened a dinging oven and took out a pizza, depositing it on the counter. She repeated the process until the ovens were empty, and then walked right back out and grabbed them, delivering them to their respective customers with the other waiters. Sal suddenly smiled, and put a hand on Gus's shoulder.

"I think she found her calling," he said, and turned to start cooking more pizzas.

A/N:In case any of you guys are curious, a "peel" is indeed the correct term for that big wooden spatula thing pizzerias use. I do my research.

So, another little one-shot, but focusing on a character I don't depict nearly as often. Plus, we're introduced to two new members of the Fazbear family! Fun times! They're kind of like the Odd Couple mixed with Food Network hosts. Thanks for reading, gonna keep this note short and sweet. On to Night Seven!

-DeltaV "Pizza is a member of all the food groups. It evens counts as a pie!"