Chapter 3: Family Matters
Slowly, but surely, Mrs. Schmidt began to thoroughly enjoy being with the animatronics. Her favorite by far seemed to be Chica, who eagerly ate up all of Mrs. Schmidt's stories about Mike, much to the guard's chagrin. The two also held a shared interest in cooking, although Mrs. Schmidt was more of a desert person.
"But of course, our little Mikey refused to put on his pants, and ran out of the front door with just a shirt on!" Mrs. Schmidt finished, and she and Chica shared a laugh, although Chica's was more at Mike's expense. Mike frowned.
"Mom, c'mon, I was like, three!" he complained. Chica laughed anyway.
Mrs. Schmidt also really liked Bonnie, calling her "a sweet little thing," ignoring the fact the rabbit towered over her. Bonnie didn't care, and loved sharing stories of when they could move around as they pleased. She even remembered a story that had Mike in it.
It was Mike's second visit to the pizzeria in as many days, since it was summer break and both of his parents had to work, and his fourth overall. By now, he had made friends with one of the staff, a waitress named Denise. The boy had also achieved the status of "regular," and was recognized by the animatronics.
"Hello again, Michael!" Freddy greeted, tipping his hat.
"Hi Freddy!" Mike replied, and Freddy continued on his way, having arranged a simple game to be played with Foxy.
It was one of the fox's favorites, and was essentially a scavenger hunt throughout the restaurant. Freddy would keep the children distracted while Foxy ran around hiding little trinkets, some in plain sight, others masterfully hidden. The pirate would then assume his post in Pirate's Cove, and give little clues as to where they were. Whoever found them got to keep them.
With Foxy serving as a clue giver, Freddy and another staff member (usually Denise, who didn't mind the robots) would police the pizzeria, breaking up scuffles over an item, and making sure nothing got broken. The game was popular with the children, since there was a desirable award, and the entire thing felt like an adventure! This was also its appeal to Foxy.
When the game got into full swing, Mike wandered around. He had no desire to play, instead using the distraction of the event to talk with the usually swarmed mascots. Chica had decided to visit the Kitchen, so that left Bonnie.
The rabbit enjoyed watching the game progress, but hated it when Foxy would make her guitar one of the clues. She noticed Mike walking towards her, and she waved.
"Hi Mike!" she said, "Back again?"
"Yup," Mike replied, sitting next to Bonnie, watching the game as well. It got particularly interesting when one child kept just narrowly missing an eye patch.
Foxy had hidden it rather obviously, placing it around the head of a cardboard cut-out of Freddy that was used to promote the restaurant's birthday packages. The poor kid never noticed the bear sported only one eye, and would constantly walk back and forth between the cut-out and the Cove, clearly not getting whatever clues Foxy was telling him.
Eventually, it seemed to click, and the kid dashed out from the Cove, happily claiming his new pirate garb. Mike and Bonnie both cheered at the child's success. Bonnie looked at Mike.
"Why aren't you playing?" she asked.
"I dunno," Mike replied, "I just didn't want to."
"Foxy might appreciate it if you visited," Bonnie suggested, "I don't think he knows you're around, and I'm sure he'd love to know!"
The fox, however, did know Mike was there, having spotted him while hiding the items. Getting up and leaning through the curtained doorway that separated Pirate's Cove from the rest of the restaurant, he gathered a few of the players.
"See tha' lad there, sittin' with Bonnie?" Foxy said, pointing, "Ye all migh' wan' ta check his shoes." The children that had heard the clue immediately dashed off, leaving Foxy to start to chuckle to himself.
Back on the stage, Mike was startled by the group of kids that were making a beeline for him. Letting out a shout, Mike jumped off the stage and legged it for safety.
"And they chased him around until he tripped, and took his shoes!" Bonnie finished, "For days, Foxy would always laugh when you reminded him about it!" Mrs. Schmidt laughed as well. Mike was angry.
"Foxy did that!?" Mike said, "I thought I pissed off a gang or something! God, even back then he screwed with me!" Mike crossed his arms, pouting. Mrs. Schmidt and Chica just laughed, and dropped back into conversation.
Mr. Schmidt, on the other hand, wasn't adjusting nearly as quickly. Freddy had offered to show him the Backstage, to show him he had nothing to worry about, with Foxy tagging along. The room clearly unnerved Mr. Schmidt just as much as it did Mike, and being by himself wasn't making things better. Freddy tried to improve it by risking using extra power to turn on the few lights.
But, Mr. Schmidt buried any misgivings, and followed Freddy towards the spare suits, hearing Foxy clanking right behind him. The bear carefully pulled a suit off of its rack, and held it up for Mr. Schmidt to see.
He let out a low whistle upon seeing the many wires and crossbars that crossed the suit and gave it structure.
"Yeah, I can see how that would hurt," Mr. Schmidt commented.
"Yes," Freddy agreed, "I'm glad that phase is behind us."
"You and me both, considering where I'm standing," Mr. Schmidt said.
He looked around at the other suits on the rack, noticing that a few sported large, dark stains. Frowning, he stepped closer, pulling the arm of one of the stained suits out into the light. Mr. Schmidt assumed it was oil, but in the light, the color didn't seem right. Oil turned brown, not black. He suddenly realized what it was, and dropped it in shock, backing away from the suit. Foxy noticed.
"Ye alrigh'?" Foxy asked, looking over his shoulder and spotting the dirty suit. "Oh," he said simply.
"I'll… assume that hasn't been cleaned in a long time," Mr. Schmidt said nervously.
"Most likely never," Freddy said, trying to put the man at ease.
Mr. Schmidt took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked around, staring into the empty eye sockets of the heads lining the shelf.
"Let's go, this place is giving me the creeps," he said, and walked around Foxy to the exit. After stepping back onstage, Mr. Schmidt ran a hand through his thinning hair, blowing air out through his mouth. Freddy and Foxy exchanged a glance. Mike walked up, face portraying a sour mood.
"Hey Dad," Mike greeted, "Trust them yet?"
"Yes," Mr. Schmidt replied, "I'm not dead, right?"
"So far," Mike said, smiling at the look on his father's face, "I'm kidding. Hey, Foxy, didn't you want to show my parents something from Pirate's Cove?"
Foxy's eyes lit up, and he grinned.
"Tha's right! C'mon, matey!" Foxy exclaimed, and hoisted Mr. Schmidt aloft by the back of his shirt, and sprinting for the Cove.
"Hey!" Mr. Schmidt protested as he was carried away. Mike looked at Freddy.
"He's… gonna be okay, right?" Mike asked, watching the fox and his father disappear behind the curtain.
"We can only hope," Freddy told the guard with a small smile.
Mr. Schmidt had been dumped into a chair that had been left in the Cove. There were no lights, so the large room was incredibly dark. Foxy was fiddling around in the back of the room, as far as Mr. Schmidt could see. A click was heard, and several of the ceiling lights switched on, illuminating the space.
Looking around, Mr. Schmidt could see that it was essentially a large, barren room, with a faded oceanic mural dominating one of the walls. Against the wall closest to the curtain was a small stage that sported a battered ship design. It was bare except for a large treasure chest on the far right, which Foxy was now bent over, rummaging through it. The carpet of the large room was faded and threadbare, torn in places where Foxy's metal feet had gotten snagged. There was a large spot of carpet that wasn't nearly as worn, and its silhouette seemed to suggest a small playground of sorts used to be present. The only piece of furniture was the black folding chair Mr. Schmidt sat in, the rest of the room just blank blue carpet. The walls had holes and scratches, including a large set of tally marks that covered the wall behind the stage.
The entire room gave off the feeling almost akin to an actual cave, its decades-old lighting not sufficient to light up everything. There were windows along the back wall, but they had the glass knocked out and replaced with plywood.
Foxy finally straightened, having found what he was looking for, giving a shout of triumph.
"'Ere it is! Been waitin' a long time ta use this!" Foxy announced, holding up what was quite possibly the most cliché pirate's hat. It was shaped almost like a taco, and proudly displayed a skull and crossed swords on the front. It was small, clearly sized for children, quite possibly as a prize or gift shop item, and was bent out of shape from spending years in the chest. Foxy walked up to Mr. Schmidt.
"This makes ya me first mate!" Foxy told the man, holding the hat out in front of him.
"Um… Okay…" Mr. Schmidt said, not quite understanding. Foxy shook the hat, clearly wanting Mr. Schmidt to take it. He didn't.
"C'mon, lad, ye have to wear tha hat!" Foxy said, moving it closer to Mr. Schmidt's face.
Mr. Schmidt looked at the hat, which was almost hitting him in the face, and at then looked at Foxy.
"You can't be serious," Mr. Schmidt said. Foxy's happy grin dropped into an almost scowl-like frown.
"Wear. Tha. Hat." Foxy ordered in a low voice.
Surprised at this sudden change in demeanor, Mr. Schmidt quickly complied, squeezing the small hat onto his head, almost tearing it apart. Foxy's grin returned, unnaturally wide due to his broken jaw. The fox climbed back onto the stage.
"I couldn' do this with Mike, ya know," Foxy explained, "'Cause he be tha guard. But ye, ye be a guest!"
"Lucky me," Mr. Schmidt grumbled, but played along, not wanting to anger the large metal pirate.
Foxy launched into one of his stories, happily describing all the adventures he and his first mate Schmidty had participated in. This one featured, according to Foxy:
"Tha most vile, wicked beast a sailor ever saw: the Kraken!" Foxy said, dropping his voice to increase the drama, "They say it be as long as three galleons, with tentacles as big 'round as the mast on me ship…" And so on and so forth.
Through it all, Mr. Schmidt sat awkwardly, fake smile plastered on his face, and fumbling with questions Foxy would ask him. Slowly, however, even he became enthralled by the story, and began to get invested in it as well.
Once Foxy broke into a rendition of "Pump Shanty," Mr. Schmidt was surprised to find himself singing along, despite not knowing the words. After the seventh chorus, Mr. Schmidt was onstage, swaying along with Foxy as they belted out verse after verse, Foxy's voice slightly garbled with the effort.
The noise carried down the hall, and reminded Mike that his father had been missing in action for quite a long time, and checked his watch. It was getting close to six. Mr. Schmidt had been in the Cove for nearly two hours, so Mike decided to check on him. Of all the things, possibly horrific, he had steeled himself to see, the last thing he expected was his father and Foxy getting along.
Mr. Schmidt, the man that slammed the security door in Bonnie's face and tried to sneak out the entrance, was standing onstage with Foxy, wearing a pirate hat, singing some old sea shanty. During a pause Foxy took to allow Mr. Schmidt to catch his breath, Mike cleared his throat loudly.
"Having fun?" Mike asked, grinning as his father scrambled to take off the hat.
"Ahoy, Mike!" Foxy greeted, "We just be finishin' our story. Care to join?" Mr. Schimdt turned to the fox.
"Actually, Capta-, uh, Foxy, it's getting pretty late… my wife and I better go," he said, face turning red from embarrassment. Foxy visibly deflated.
"Oh. Alrigh' then, I s'pose I'll see ye around, aye?" Foxy asked hopefully.
"I don't know. Maybe?" Mr. Schmidt said, awkwardly handing the hat back to Foxy.
"Keep it," Foxy said, "Ta remind ya of yer adventure!" Mike snickered.
"I can't wait to hear about it, matey," Mike teased his father.
"Shut up, Mike. You're still in hot water for earlier," Mr. Schmidt scolded.
"What? You gonna send me to my room?" Mike baited.
Foxy stepped between the two, and turned to Mike.
"C'mon, lad, ye best be respectin' yer parents!" Foxy scolded, narrowing his eyes. Mike put his hands up defensively.
"Alright, alright, relax," Mike said. But Foxy didn't move. "What?" Mike asked.
"Well, say yer sorry," Foxy said, crossing his arms. Mike looked at him bewildered.
"Mike. Say yer sorry," Foxy repeated, lowering his voice. Mike nodded.
"Sorry for the… you know," Mike awkwardly apologized, glaring at the smug look on his father's face.
"Better be careful sport. Looks like I'm his favorite," Mr. Schmidt said, and walked around to the exit.
"Thanks for the show, Foxy. I really enjoyed it," Mr. Schmidt told the fox. Foxy grinned.
"Any time mate, any time!" Foxy said happily, and went to turn off the lights.
Cove now plunged into darkness, Mike, Foxy, and Mr. Schmidt returned to the others. They were still surrounding the table, talking, when they walked up.
"There you are!" Mrs. Schmidt said, watching her husband approach, "Do you feel better now?"
"Yes, dear," Mr. Schmidt sighed, and he walked up to Bonnie.
"Sorry about all that… stuff earlier," he said. Bonnie smiled.
"It's fine!" she said, and pulled the man into a hug.
"Gah!" Mr. Schmidt said, caught off guard by the tight hug.
When the rabbit let go, Mr. Schmidt gasped slightly. The others bid farewell to Mike's parents, and escorted them out the front door.
"You're parents are really nice," Bonnie told Mike, watching them drive away.
"And you're mom's hilarious," Chica added, grinning at the guard.
"Yeah, yeah. You know most of that stuff isn't true, right?" Mike replied.
"Sure it isn't," Chica said, rolling her eyes.
Mike's watch beeped. Five minutes until six.
"Well, you guys better get back into position. Glad we finally got that out of the way," Mike said, walking back towards the security office.
As the animatronics returned, and Arianna arrived to relieve him, Mike suddenly had a crippling sense of dread. Something wasn't quite right, he thought, confused at where this was coming from. He couldn't quite place it, but some deep down gut feeling told him something was wrong. Uncertain as to what it could possibly mean, Mike ignored it and waited for the bus. He could figure it out at home.
A/N: Look! I learned how to page break! This isn't the end, since that would be a story shorter than average. And that's no good. Anyway, nothing new to report on the fan creations as of yet, but I'm still incredibly excited! I'll update this chapter's Author's Note should stuff pop up before the next one is released, linking (if I can figure that out) or using just a simple shout out to help you find it.
Another thing I want to share: This "secret project" I've been working on. I've been strongly considering getting a few beta readers to work out the kinks, but now I'm wondering if I should just straight up upload it upon the masses. So, a poll: Should I get beta readers (these would be people like Cenobia100, who inspired the embarrassing Mike stories, as well as other long-time readers) or should I just turn it loose for everyone? Leave your vote in your review! (FYI: It's not done yet)
As always, thanks for reading, I hope you've enjoyed this latest installment. I know the whole "funny feeling" shtick is a bit overdone, but just couldn't end this story here. There needed to be some pizzazz, some more… oomph! Or something. Anyway, thanks again for everything, you guys are great. –DeltaV "I used to pretend to be normal. But that got boring, so I went back to being me!"
