A/N: Isn't it wild how 97.5% of fanfics here are basically internet fossils?


Night 5

"Make way for the king of comedy!" Mike yelled, somersaulting down the hall and crash-landing into his swivel chair. He bounced up, only to bop his noggin on the underside of the desk. "Owwie!"
"Haha, smooth move, Ex-Lax," said the chair, which startled Mike. Maybe he had a concussion?
Shaking off his apparent hallucinations, Mike sat down and scanned the camera feeds. "Man, I kinda miss that phone person," he mused, only to recall the scream-laced calls and eardrum-busting ringtones. "Or maybe not."
RIIIIIIIIIING!
"AAAHH, MY EARS! WHY?!" Mike hollered, clapping his hands over his ears as the phone erupted.
"Potatopotatopotatomashpotatopotatochipsyouarewhatyoueatpotato-EEEK!" The call abruptly ended.
Mike blinked. "Well, now I want fries." He checked the cameras again. Freddy was on stage—still and harmless. Not that Mike was afraid, no siree, it was just, um, it would be super inconvenient if Freddy decided to wander off, that's all. Absolutely unrelated to last night's near-death experience. Nope.
Chica, however, was busy in the kitchen, doing what sounded like an intense drum solo with pots and pans. And Bonnie? Of course, he was in the closet.
"May you forever step on LEGO pieces!" Mike yelled down the hallway, the echo bouncing around the pizzeria.
"How dare you? I might get high cholesterol!" Bonnie retorted.
"That's food-related, you idio—"
And just like that, Bonnie was at the left door. "Finish that sentence," he snarled.
Mike slammed the door shut and whipped out a megaphone, cranking it up to "Sonic Boom." "BACK, FOUL BEAST OF FLUFF AND BUTTONS!" he bellowed through it.
Bonnie leapt back. "My tender bunny eardrums!"
"Ha!" Mike gloated. "You're just peeved because I have the gift of gab and you don't!"
"We communicate...through suffering and gloom," Bonnie hissed, making another move.
Mike revved up the megaphone again. "I SAID, SHOO, FLOPPY EARS!"
"OUCH! OK, I get it!" Bonnie grumbled, retreating with enough force to make the floor tiles vibrate. "I'm going, I'm going!"
Mike chuckled, shaking his head. "Man, why didn't I think of this comedy gold sooner?" He looked at the security cameras just as Chica began her funky chicken-like strut down the hall.
Seized by inspiration for slapstick brilliance, Mike put on a voice of mock concern. "Oh no, wouldn't it be awful if someone launched a surprise attack on poor ol' me?" He hit the button to open the left door, just as Chica lunged.
SMACK! Chica collided with the closed right door.
"Ouch!" Chica yelled, rubbing her beak. "What's your problem?"
Mike shrugged. "Problem? I didn't do anything. That door you ran into? All you, my feathered friend."
Chica fumed. "I hope you 'Die in a Fire!'"
Mike grinned. "Geez, don't lose your stuffing. Now I want to throw you out just like my broken TV."
"Don't turn this into a musical!" Chica huffed.
"You're the one who brought out the hits!" Mike retorted.
Chica rolled her animatronic eyes. "I'm outta here."
"'ight," Mike said, chuckling as he went back to his camera feed.
Chica tried to fake Mike out, making as if she was leaving, then whirling back around. But she was too wrapped up in her own theatrics to notice the security camera. Eyes shut, she charged toward the door yelling, "Pew pew pew pew pew pew!" In her excitement, she tangled her feet and belly-flopped onto the ground, causing a minor earthquake.
Mike burst out laughing. "Ah, instant karma, you're hilarious!"
Chica muttered, "Zip it," before faceplanting and falling unconscious.
Mike chuckled. "Nice, with Chica as my roadblock, Freddy's got no shot!"
Just then, Freddy strolled down the west hallway. "Night guard, prepare to—WHEEEEEEEEEE!" He tripped over the Chica-obstacle and went sprawling. The way they landed made it look like they were smooching. Wait, no, Thunderfang205! No shipping!
Mike raised an eyebrow. "Well, Freddy, you move fast."
Freddy scrambled to his feet, miraculously avoiding pancaking Chica. "Actually, the fans usually pair Chica with Bonnie."
"Really?" Mike looked confused.
"Yup."
Awkward silence.
"So, can I come in now?"
Mike grabbed his megaphone. "Denied, Freddy, DENIED!" he bellowed, hitting the siren button for added drama.
"Ah, my ears!" Freddy yelled, backpedaling, only to once again trip over Chica's inert form.
"BAHAHAHAHA—" Mike cackled into the megaphone, then promptly lost his grip on it. The megaphone crash-landed on his foot, triggering the siren. "Cheese and crackers, my toe, my toe!" Mike hollered, hopping like a madman around his cramped office.
Just then, Foxy barreled down the left hallway and burst into the room. "Arr, ye landlubber, prepare to meet yer—"
Mike grabbed the momentarily quiet megaphone and hurled it. Bullseye! It hit Foxy square on his eyepatch, and yup, the siren went off again. "YAAARRRRGH!" Foxy did an about-face and zoomed out like a bat out of hell. "That be the wail of a banshee! Me ears, me ears!"
Mike smacked the off button on the megaphone. "Close call!"
Freddy finally stood up, glaring. "We despise you."
"The feeling's mutual!" Mike chirped, reclaiming his seat.
"You're on borrowed time, mate."
"Am I? Clock says 5 AM and I've still got half my power. Your move, furball."
"Argh, are you kidding me?" Freddy bellowed, slamming into the door. Mike chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "Unlock the door, you...you meanie!"
"Hmm, let me ponder that for a sec—nah."
"I swear I'll—"
"Whoop-whoop-whoop!" The shrill sound of Mike's megaphone siren pierced the air as he gleefully hit the button. He shut it off.
"Quit it, you—"
"Whoop-whoop-whoop!"
"I SWEAR I'LL—"
"Whoop-whoop-whoop!"
Just then, the clock chimed. "Blast it!" Freddy yelled, sprinting back towards the stage. Bonnie was casually hanging out backstage. "Tomorrow, man, tomorrow!"
"Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming," Mike chuckled, leaping out of his chair and making a break for it through the right door. That's when he tripped over Chica.
"Oof!" Mike groaned, skidding across the floor. "Why do you keep making us look like clowns, Thunderfang205?"
'Cause it's hilarious, dude.
"It's NOT!"
Bet my readers would think otherwise.
"Just let me outta here!"
Alright.
Picking himself up, Mike bolted towards the dining area, pretending he was a steam train. "Choo-choo, losers!" he hollered, whizzing past the stage.
"WE LOATHE YOU!" Bonnie and Freddy screamed in unison.
"Back atcha!" Mike cackled, bursting through the front door.
Awkward silence.
"Do you think he even knows about Golden Freddy?" Freddy quizzed Bonnie.
"Nope," Bonnie replied, shaking his head. "He's too busy being a one-man circus."
"Drat," Freddy sighed. "Maybe he'll notice... eventually."


Mike glanced at his paycheck for $120.00. "GOOD JOB, SPORT! See you next week!" the check seemed to cheer.
"Yeah, yeah, pipe down, Cash McPaper. It's snooze time!" Mike retorted, lobbing the check onto his dresser. He then launched himself into bed with Olympic-grade ineptitude, bonking his head and KO'ing himself on the spot.
How's he not forgotten his name yet?