"Five Nights at Freddy's XXX"
by J.D. Savanyu
September 5
th
, 1989
A bunch of hookers were turning tricks on a creepy foggy night in the worst part of Hurricane, Utah. Four busty blondes and one flat-chested redhead pixie were dolled-up in tight skimpy outfits, in front of an abandoned KidKraze toy factory. Caroline tossed her ginger pigtails wearily, sticking out like a sore thumb. Her parents were killed in a house fire two months ago, just two days after her eighteenth birthday, forcing her out on the street and into the flesh trade.
Caroline lit up a cigarette while leaning against the brick wall of the factory, glancing up at the full moon. An indistinct blob of light filtered through the fog. The dive bars and seedy nightclubs nearby were closing down for the night, and dozens of headlights soon approached on Malvern Boulevard. A green Oldsmobile pulled up next to the whores, and a fat guy waved at Debbie.
"Hey blondie!" he beamed.
"Hey baby-doll," Debbie uttered seductively, leaning through an open window to show off her ample cleavage. "Ya looking for a good time?"
"Of
course
he is," Caroline grunted enviously. Debbie shot her a dirty look. The terms of service were briefly discussed, and Debbie hopped in the passenger seat. That obese oaf sped off down the boulevard, taking her god-knows-where.
Over the next five minutes, three more cars pulled up and propositioned three more hookers, not including Caroline. They were all whisked away, leaving that redhead all by her lonesome in front of the crumbling factory where they used to make that stupid KidKraze Krazy Foam that bullies would always spray on grade school geeks. She recalled her own bully-ridden youth, with many other girls and boys pulling her pigtails, stealing her lunch money, and making her life miserable in various other ways. She got pretty about four years too late.
Ten minutes and thirty more cars passed by. A few of them slowed down for a closer look, but nobody stopped. Caroline sighed wearily and called it a night, stamping out her cigarette on the sidewalk and turning toward her dingy little apartment on Kensington Avenue, where the rent was long overdue. She was too busy moping to notice a blue Saturn pulling up next to her.
"Hey ginger. You're looking rather sad and lonely."
She quickly put her act together, adjusting her pigtails and assuming her usual schoolgirl-ish hooker persona. Like a naughty Pippi Longstocking. Leaning through the open window, she saw a middle-aged guy with a gray scraggly beard and a muscular frame, wrapped in blue industrial overalls.
"That's right, honey. I got a bad case of the blues."
"You need a little lovin' to cure those blues," he replied in a creepy gravelly voice.
"All you need is love . . . and cash," she giggled, teasing her cute pigtails. "I charge fifty bucks for one hour, a hundred for two hours, and two hundred for an all-nighter. How does that sound, Mister..." as her eyes drifted down to a nametag on his overalls, "Afton?"
"Sounds great, Miss..."
"Caroline."
"Ah, Sweet Caroline. Neil Diamond would write a chart-topping hit about a charming redhead like you."
"Aww, you're too kind," she beamed, hopping into the passenger seat, even though something was clearly not right about Afton's personality, raising red flags of craziness. He was the kind of guy Caroline would avoid if she was off-duty, looking for a real non-business date with dinner and a movie before the "action."
They cruised through a desolate neighborhood that used to be a vibrant bohemian enclave, before the "war on poverty" bombed it to hell. Caroline didn't smell any alcohol on his breath, so that was a welcome change of pace. She loved rough sex, but her usual drunken bozo clients rarely satisfied her need to get manhandled and pussy-pounded.
"You look rather young, Caroline. Are you sure you're, uh . . . street legal?"
"Legal and lovin' it, baby. I'm barely eighteen."
"But you haven't gotten much business lately, I'm guessing."
"Not much at all," she sighed. "Most guys don't want flat-chested boyish ladies like me."
"Those guys are shallow assholes, so screw 'em. But only if they pay you to."
"That's the spirit, Mister Afton," she snickered.
"'Mister Afton' sounds like a cruel headmaster in a Dickens novel. Call me William."
"Okay, William. Where are you taking me tonight?"
A devilish grin broke through his stoic facade. "It's a surprise."
"Ooh, I love surprises."
William popped an REO Speedwagon CD into the stereo system and bobbed his head to "Keep on Loving You." (The only thing he wanted to do.) The depressing inner city gradually faded into the prosperous suburbs. The "outer bands" of Hurricane. They entered the big-box commercial district on Stuart Road, with a flood of bright lights and big colored signs, eerily enhanced by dense fog. The bland corporate big-box stores and restaurants were all closed for the night, with racoons skittering across the empty parking lots.
Her pussy buzzed with anticipation beneath her tight cut-off Daisy Dukes. Something about William made her feel like she was "living on the edge." Venturing off on a harrowing erotic adventure, like a grown-up version of those fairy tales she spent too much time reading and daydreaming about, instead of paying attention in school.
William turned off the road and parked his car in front of a . . .
"Freddy Fazbear's?" Caroline chortled. "A
kid's
place?"
"That's right, ginger. I work here, and now
I'm
having some fun here."
"But it's closed for the night."
"I maintain the animatronic characters like Freddy and Bonnie, so I always work after-hours," he replied, pulling out a large key chain.
"Holy shit. I always dreamed about sneaking into that place late at night, and playing all the arcade games for free," Caroline beamed.
"Well, now that fantasy is coming true. With a party of two."
"Fuck yeah, Big Willy. Let's get this party started!"
Caroline hopped out of the blue Saturn and beheld the big red checkered pizzeria building, with a bright blinking sign above the entrance. A bow-tied cartoon Freddy jutted out above the sign, flashing a big buck toothed smile and waving at nobody in particular. That tapioca-colored anthropomorphic bear was like a cross between Fozzie Bear from The Muppets and Barney the Dinosaur from PBS. (She hated that purple douchebag so fucking much!)
"Damn, I feel like a kid again," she beamed, prancing toward the front door.
"I'm forty-five, but I still haven't grown up yet," William mused. He unlocked the glass door and a roll-up metal security barrier, revealing a large dimly lit space. Then he unlocked a metal utility box on the wall and flipped a bunch of switches, making Freddy Fazbear's come to life in gaudy glory.
"Wow, totally gnarly!" Caroline cheered like a valley girl. "Where a kid can be a kid, and parents get a little break from those hellish rascals."
Caroline hurried around a wall that blocked the view of the showrooms from the parking lot. She maneuvered around a bunch of arcade cabinets and tables with red checkered tablecloths, and went right up to the main stage. Four standing cartoon animatronics gazed back at her with weird plastic eyes. Bonnie was a yellow rabbit with a red bowtie and a red electric guitar, like a cross between Peter Cottontail and Peter Frampton. Foxy was a red furry fox on drums, with pointy ears, a Blackbeard eye patch, and a sharp curved hook where his right claw used to be. (Who the hell thought that wouldn't give kids nightmares?)
Chica the Chicken stood upright on the left end of the stage, covered with yellow fur and only three feathers on top of her head, holding another guitar and wearing a bib that proclaimed "Let's Eat!" Chica's orange beak opened and closed mechanically during shows, urging kids and their parents to load up on empty carbs. She held a pink birthday cupcake with eyeballs and a mouth on a plate. (Made with her own eggs.)
Freddy Fazbear stood front and center with a microphone, stealing the show in a pint-size fedora hat. Like Fozzie's inbred cousin from Alabama. It was just a matter of time until they got sued by Jim Henson for copyright infringement.
"Oh my god, they keep getting creepier as I get older," Caroline remarked, gazing at Bonnie's anthropomorphic eyes.
"It's the 'uncanny valley' effect," William replied, wrapping his left arm around her slender waist. "The more an inanimate object resembles a human, the more uncomfortable it makes you feel. The effect is even worse for cartoon animals that look human, especially when you get older and smarter."
"Wow. I should have paid more attention in school," she giggled. "So you're the guy who keeps these robots singing and swaying?"
"That's right. But they're animatronics, not robots. There's a big difference. Robots have complex digital circuits for performing industrial tasks, while animatronics are much simpler, using the same analog principle as player pianos."
"Whatever you say, Mister Wizard."
William laughed warmly, and squeezed her tight. "God, I love feisty redheads like you."
"Feisty as I wanna be, Mister
Afton
."
