Chapter Three: Bruschetta (1981)
The rest of Milford's initial week at Fredbear's went relatively smoothly.
On the Wednesday a family with two kids came into the restaraunt, much to James' joy. Milford had paraded in front of the youngsters, but had left swiftly when one of them started to cry, his eyes streaming with fearful tears.
Milford could hardly blame the poor kid. There was just something about that bear's face that gave him shivers when he changed in and out of the costume. As cliched as it sounded, it really did feel as though it was watching his every move with its big, glassy eyes.
On Thursday some kind of extracurricular pre-school club came into the diner, which offered a lucrative business opportunity for all concerned. Milford mostly stayed out of their way, occasionally turning up with a balloon or napkin whenever such accessories were requested.
Finally, the end of the week rolled around. Milford came into Fredbear's on Friday morning feeling vitalised by his knowledge of being able to sleep in the next morning. Even Jenny could not top his enthusiasm as he arrived in the backroom, a good four minutes ahead of schedule, to dress for the day.
Fredbear was starting to smell quite a bit. James suggested that Milford take the costume to the cleaners at the end of every week to avoid any kind of repulsion in the customers.
Milford was just about to place the bear's head aloft his own when he noticed Andrew sitting on a crate in the corner, watching him closely. He offered the janitor a polite nod - a gesture that was not returned.
"It must be mighty cosy in one of them suits," Andrew remarked, completely out of the blue.
Milford looked at him, surprised by his comment. "Can't really complain. A bit stuffy, though."
Andrew nodded succinctly with a blank expression - he was strangely akin to a computer interpreting data. "S'like one of them Russian dolls. Layers inside layers."
Milford frowned bemusedly. "Yeah, that's a costume for you."
"You got you, then the costume... then Freddy."
"Fredbear," Milford corrected, somewhat confused by Andrew's remark. "Well, actually, I like Freddy better. I don't know who came up with the name."
"That would be me."
Milford glanced up quickly as he realized his boss had entered the room. Andrew leapt off of his perch, nearly knocking over the bucket of soapy water at his feet.
James looked at least ten years younger now that the stress of his first week was starting to wane. His lips were curled in what appeared to be a concerted effort to smile.
"I have something to show you all," he explained, gesturing to the dining hall.
Milford and Andrew followed him out into the room, where all of the other employees were now situated, waiting patiently in a semi-circle for James to make his announcement.
Milford sidled up next to Jenny, who glanced over at him and smiled warmly.
"It's a big day today," James boomed. "I want to introduce you to three new members of our group dynamic."
Milford looked around, expecting to see a trio of fresh faces in tidy new uniforms. Instead, his gaze fell on a collection of cardboard boxes in the centre of the room.
James approached the boxes in turn, opening them and pulling out a multicoloured item from each. Then, he turned to face his employees, showing them what he had.
In his hands were two felt animal heads. In one, a purple bunny with a Kermit the Frog -style sock puppet mouth; in the other, a yellow chicken with a luminous orange bill.
"Ladies and gents," he started, beaming. "Meet Bonnie the Bunny and Chica the Chicken!"
(-)
"So, you're turning Fredbear into a musical act?"
James smiled. "That's right. Fredbear's Ensemble. You're our frontman."
Milford turned over the Bonnie head in his hands. For reasons that he could not summarise in words, the strong purple colour of the rabbit mascot repulsed him, and its large, bulbous eyes drew all kinds of comparisons to creepy children's icons of yore.
"But I can't sing," Milford protested.
James laughed. "Who can? Don't worry, we have a recording. Just get up on stage and mouth along. We'll play the song from a stereo behind you."
"So, who's going to wear the chicken and the rabbit?" Milford asked, now eyeing 'Chica's head disdainfully.
"Joe is going to be Bonnie and Jenny will be Chica," James clarified. "And I don't want to hear any arguments. Earn your paychecks, people!"
Jenny seemed as chipper as ever but Joe took one look at the purple rabbit and shook his head profusely. "Not happening."
"I'll do it."
Andrew had appeared rather suddenly from next to Milford. James looked at him dubiously, trying to imagine the stumpy little man in the purple outfit. Eventually, he seemed to lose interest and waved his hand dismissively. "Fine."
"What do I have to do?" Jenny asked, beaming all-the-while.
"You'll be back-up vocals," James explained. "And Andrew... you're going to play the guitar. Well, not really of course. Just hit a couple of strings every once in a while."
Andrew nodded, apparently determined. "Strings. Right on."
"What is this song anyway?" Joe questioned, leaning against the wall.
"Here," James said, heaving a small stereo onto a nearby table. "Have a listen."
He hit the rewind button first, and Milford heard the chirpy frenzy of a nightmarishly-galling tune rip through the air. And then, James pressed play.
The song started with a small guitar piece, before erupting with a chorus of childlike voices, clearly sung by older women.
"If you want some pizza, there's only one place in town!
If you want a burger, then there's no need to frown!
Come along my friend, and very soon you'll see!
Fredbear's Diner is the only place for me!
Ohhhhhhhhhhhh
Fredbear's Diner is the only place to be!
A fun and happy place, just for you and me!
The best place to eat, clearly you can see!
Fredbear's Diner - the only place for me!"
James stopped the tape abruptly, causing the frenzied and excited sound to cut out sharply, like a vinyl being taken off.
"So, what do you think?" James asked, beaming.
Milford had no words.
The only thing he knew was that there was no way, no way in hell, that he was standing on a stage while that song played, in front of an audience.
(-)
- Three Days Later -
"Fredbear's Diner is the only place to be!
A fun and happy place, just for you and me!
The best place to eat, clearly you can see!
Fredbear's Diner - the only place for me!"
Milford, sweating profusely underneath the stuffy bear head, turned to high-five Jenny, who was dressed from head-to-toe in the Chica outfit next to him.
The bright lights that were focusing on him were starting to make him feel very dizzy, and he was aware that his 'dancing' - representing more of a zombified trance - was starting to look tired and drained.
As the song started to quiet down into silence, Milford turned to Andrew, dressed as Bonnie, and gave him an exhausted fist bump. The curtains fell, obscuring the trio from the bright lights. Milford immediately tore Fredbear's head off, choking and panting for air.
Just as the blood had started to flow freely around his head again, the curtain suddenly rose again, revealing the now- headless Fredbear.
Milford immediately put the head back on, but not before he heard the wail of a small child somewhere in the darkened restaurant. As an awkward silence descended, Milford felt the head slip onto one side, as though Fredbear were looking sideways at the audience.
Through his suffocating embarrassment, Milford could make out a faint flurry of applause.
"Woo!" Eddie called out, munching on a slice of pizza with one hand and punching the air with the other. "You rock!"
As confetti streamers exploded near their feet, the trio took depleted bows, before exiting to the right.
As soon as Milford reached the storeroom he practically threw the head across the room. He felt nauseous, and his cheeks burned red like hot coals.
Andrew sidled up next to him, whispering. "I think that wen' pretty well!"
Milford turned to him and scowled. "Says you. You only had to hold that guitar and twirl a bit. I had the full routine!"
"You're good, Mifford!"
"No, I'm exhausted."
Jenny arrived, removing the Chica head and offering a fatigued smile. "Tough crowd, eh?"
Milford put his head in his hands. "I probably scarred that kid for life," he groaned.
"I'm sure it was fine," Jenny replied.
Just at that moment, James burst into the storeroom, angrier than anyone had ever seen him, and started to yell at Milford.
"Barnes, what the hell did you think you were doing with the Fredbear head?" he shouted. "I tell you when to get out of costume. Do you hear me?"
"The curtain was down!" Milford protested. "I thought it was over."
"Never heard of taking a bow, huh? Some performer you are."
James' last words stung Milford like a hornet, and so, in a fit of pained rage, he turned on James.
"That's exactly the point! I'm not a performer! When I went for this job I wasn't expecting to have to dance about like a monkey! Since when have fucking bears sung and pranced about like fucking monkeys?!"
James was stunned, and said nothing.
"They don't want this. The kids. You can see it. Dancing animals in costumes and hats... Nobody likes that shit anymore! Disney wrung out the last of that a long time ago."
"Barnes," James said quietly. "Calm down right now, or you are fired."
Milford pinched his lips together and sat down heavily on a nearby box.
"Now, I suggest you take a long walk, and have a think about whether dressing up like a 'fucking bear' and dancing like a 'fucking monkey' is a career that you wish to continue. You are the face of Fredbear's Diner... But you can be replaced. Understood?"
Milford nodded, feeling the vertigo of defeat setting in.
With that, James took his leave.
Milford felt a consoling hand on his shoulder.
"S'okay, Mifford," Andrew said. "I still think you were good."
(-)
The bus came late again.
Milford arrived home with a bright white crescent moon hanging in the sky, suspending by a velvety cloak of stars.
Feeling depleted, he only managed to eat a cheese sandwich for dinner, opting to head up to his bedroom as an alternative to hearing yet more criticism from his mother.
Closing the door behind him, Milford went straight to his desk and sat down.
With all of his grievances and qualms, Milford took a sheet of paper from next to his lamp. Milford started to picture James in his head. First, he envisaged the short, balding man that he was, with his face contorted by rage and body stiffened by shockwaves of paralysing anger.
Then, the image slowly started to deform, becoming wildly more demonic, before his boss' eyes started to mould and change shape into the peepers of one of the Fredbear mascots.
Milford pictured this image clearly, until it was practically lifelike in front of his eyes.
Then, he started to draw.