"You commie shit! How many times have I fucking told you to set parties to "no fill"?! I don't want these fuckin' bots coming in and fucking up my perfect rank because you don't have any fucking friends, you low-life son of a bitch!"

"Okay, here's the plan," Bonnie whispered, standing just out of earshot.

"Can I grab some pizza? I'm hungry," Chica said.

"No, you cannot grab some-HUNGRY? What do you mean hungry?! You don't have any fucking organs!"

"Yeah, but my robo-senses are tingling and they're saying Feed me! Feed me! You know I can't resist them, Bonnie, they always sound so sad." Chica curled her fingers together and rested her head on them to signify a sleeping baby.

"Go grab your damn pizza. We don't have all day," Chica smiled at him gratefully and raced down the hallway towards the kitchen.

"So…what's the plan again?" Mangle said.

"Oh, right," Bonnie replied. "We're gonna fuckin' yell at him until he wakes up from his stupor."

Jesus Christ, Mangle thought, putting her hand to her head.

"I'm back," said Chica, munching on day-old pepperoni. "What happened?"

"Okay, y'know what?" Mangle said. "We're doing a last-minute revision to the plan. "I talk to him whenever he takes a break, calmly and firmly, WITHOUT SHOUTING. I can't believe you two thought that would ever work."

"Damn, bitch, what crawled up your ass and died?" Bonnie said.

"I think it was the rats, they've been awfully feisty lately," Chica replied thoughtfully.

"Scott almighty," Mangle mumbled. How does anyone get through the day without strangling these two?

"Hellooooo," Bonnie said, snapping his fingers in front of her face. "You there? You with us?"

Mangle pinched her forehead. "Sorry, y'all, I've been on edge lately with Freddy carrying on and the kiddies being even crazier than usual. I don't want to cause even more drama by starting fights where they don't need to be started."

"Hey, if you got a problem with my plan, why don't you just come out and say it?!" Bonnie demanded.

Mangle glowered at him.I'm saying that he might listen to me more than you guys since he doesn't know me so well and it might come out different from a stranger's mouth as opposed to one of his friends."

"You're calling us idiots," Bonnie deadpanned.

"If the suit fits…" Mangle muttered under her breath. She forced a smile. "Look, y'all go manage the business. I'll take care of Freddy. Trust me, I'll handle it. Y'all don't worry about a thing."

"Thanks, Foxy," Chica smiled. "You're really saving our hides right now."

"No problem, Chica," Mangle said, smiling back in spite of herself. "I got it covered. If I don't have him whipped into shape by closing time tonight, y'all have my full permission to go in there and shove your foot up his ass. Sound like a plan?"

Bonnie and Chica nodded with varying degrees of enthusiasm and left. Mangle rubbed her head and wondered how the hell she was going to pull this off.

It just so happened there was a birthday party that day, and Chica herself was scheduled to make an appearance. While the kids were distracted running around and trying to get her picture taken, Mangle had time to think and process the best course of action for dealing with the animatronic bear.

That bear's a thick one…I can't force him to listen, and chances are it's one ear out the other with his stubborn ass anyway. I could scare him into listening, but Chica hates that kinda thing…damn. This is gonna be rough. Her thoughts were interrupted as a wide-mouthed toddler wandered into the room, and she grimaced in anticipation as he toddled towards her with biceps thicker than steel pipe and a one-toothed grin plastered on his chubby face.

"Fucking hell," Bonnie muttered as the workday came to a close. Today had been incredibly brutal; while he walked around meeting families and strumming his beloved guitar, the unusually overhyped children had attempted to tackle him with grease-soaked hands while management repeatedly warned teenagers that Chica couldn't accompany them to the restrooms.

"I hope your friend Mangle can get through to that piece of shit," Bonnie told Chica, who yawned heavily and laid back on the stage. "If another day goes by where I have to clean vomit off my face I'm going to fucking lose it."

"I told you to stop calling her that," replied Chica icily. "She has a name like everyone else. Anyway, yeah, today was shit. I love this job and everything about it, but man, I wish these detached parents would control their freaking kids every once in a while and not have the animatronics play babysitter." She yawned again. "I have faith that Foxy will fix Freddy. Don't you?"

"Fix him?" Bonnie raised his voice. "Why do you keep acting like there's something wrong with him, apart from being a lazy fuck?! He's as functional as we are, he's just a mooching shitbag cunt who can't control his volume and reeks of mildew despite being made of wires and stainless metal! I don't understand you sometimes!"

"Well, excuse me for being positive and trying to see the good in people!" Chica yelled. "I'm not like you where I have to get into a fight every second because someone called me a twink and it upset my masculinity. Get over yourself!"

Hurt and rage flashed in Bonnie's eyes. "You…STUPID SLUT! No, actually, what the fuck would you know about literally goddamn anything?" Chica flinched slightly and looked guiltily away. You know what, forget it. I can't deal with your bullshit right now. You can check on that fucking cocksucker yourself, and don't come crying to me when your namby-pamby ass fuckin' fairy friend can't fix his little PROBLEMS you're oh-so fucking fixated on. Go fuck yourself, Chica," He sneered, angrily walking out of the room.

Chica gritted her teeth as he stalked off, burying her face in her arms as she tried to calm herself down. Mangle clambered in, stopping short upon seeing the normally peppy chicken in such a downcast state.

"...Chica? Are you alright?" Foxy asked timidly.

Chica quickly ran an arm over her face and smiled up at her. "Yeah, what's up? Did he listen to what you said?"

"I gotta level with you, girl," Mangle replied. "I could tell from about five seconds of interaction that he doesn't give a flying shit about anything I have to say."

Chica's face fell. "Did you try…scaring him?"

"No, I guess the guy grew a pair since our initial construction. He only cares about his games, but there is good news. While he was distracted I got him to agree to talk to you, alone, without preaching at him or trying to diagnose him with something. You're the one who has a way with words, Chica, and trying to get us two involved ends tragically because Bonnie has a mouth and I'm not friendly with him at all."

Chica looked guilty again. "You're…you're right. I'll go talk to him, just him and me, no smoke and mirrors, no bullshit. I…I shouldn't have gotten you guys into this. I already knew we should talk alone, I was just scared because he's been…a real dick lately and I didn't want to cause any drama." She pulled Mangle into a hug. "Thanks, Foxy."

"For what?" Mangle said, slightly confused.

"Don't worry about it," Chica said, releasing her with a sigh. "I'll…tell you how it goes."

"Go get him, girl," Mangle said. Chica smiled slightly and walked away, still looking a little sad.

Mangle groaned, rubbing her temples in exasperation. Can't we wrap this freaking thing up already?