Since the opening, there'd been no sign of his so-called father. Mike couldn't decide if it was good or bad, but the fact that there was no news of dead kids was good enough for now, even if it was only temporary.
Mike had gotten used to the regulars—who came, how busy it got, which kids caused trouble and which ones just wanted to stand near the stage. The rest of the staff stayed busy too. Some cleaned while others kept the kids away from the staff-only areas. Foxy had been getting more unstable lately, needing more attention than the others. It was unfortunate, considering he was Mike's favourite. Ralph liked Foxy too, and that common interest made them get along much better. Ralph naturally did most of the talking. Mike didn't mind.
Lolbit had started showing up on his phone, texting him whenever things got quiet or boring. At least there was someone to keep him company between parents complaining about pizza temperature and kids screaming because they couldn't eat Chica's animatronic cupcake.
*I should seriously ask Lolbit for a therapist referral, but she'd probably send me a link to a chatbot and call it a day.*
At home, Bonnet drew pictures or played games with Lolbit, who'd always cheat. It wasn't like anyone had anything better to do. Yenndo adjusted and cleaned things even if it was pointless, still playing butler after all these years.
One Friday in late September, the air finally carrying the first real chill of autumn, Mike was busy moving boxes of food ingredients, along with plates, cups, spoons, and other essentials for restocking the place.
Later, Nancy passed him in the hallway. "Boxes all moved?"
"Yeah."
"There's going to be another birthday party tomorrow, so everyone needs to make sure everything is prepared."
"Got it. Anything else?"
"I want you, along with whoever is available, to get the boxes that were delivered in the back and make sure we have enough cups and plates set out."
Nodding, Mike headed over to the boxes and opened them up to find small plastic horses, wrapped in cellophane with little ribbons.
He looked up. "Any reason for the horse toys?"
"They asked for horse stuff, so this was the best we could do for them."
The rest of the shift was the usual. Mike helped arrange tables and chairs in the dining area, making sure there was enough room for the party crowd. Ralph showed up with coffee in hand, watched for a while, then got roped into helping by Bill. The two of them bickered lightly as they moved tables. At one point, Ralph tripped over a chair leg and went down, landing in a pile of party hats. He lay there for a moment, groaning about his back.
"You good?" Mike asked.
"I don't think my back's ever going to forgive me."
Mike helped him up.
Dominic showed up in the doorway, clipboard in hand. "Hey, Mike and Samantha, could you guys throw away the extra boxes and take the garbage out?"
"Sure," Mike said.
Mike and Samantha threw away as many boxes as they could, tossing them into the dumpster. The dumpster was already half full with the week's trash.
"You ever wonder why we're the ones usually doing this?" Samantha asked, tossing her boxes into the dumpster.
"Someone has to do it eventually."
"Yeah, but shouldn't the janitors be taking out the trash?"
"Not when they are busy cleaning up the customers' mess. Besides, I've seen the other guys take out the trash. Personally, it's the best thing you could be doing. You get some alone time away from all the more difficult tasks."
"Fair point." Samantha tossed the last bag.
Ralph stepped out, coffee still in hand, jacket pulled tight around his shoulders.
"What are you doing out here?" Mike asked.
"Taking a break. It's quieter out here, although a little cold around this time compared to being inside." Ralph looked at the dumpster. "You guys finish with the trash?"
"Just finished up," Samantha said. "I'm going back in before I freeze."
She headed inside. Ralph took a sip of coffee. "Good," he said. "That means Nancy won't ask me to do it."
"You're welcome."
"I think I'm going to head back in and wrap things up."
"See you tomorrow, then."
"You too."
Mike headed back inside, making his way to the supply closet just off the back hallway. He'd noticed earlier that some of the arcade machines were getting smudged by the kids. It was a narrow room, lined with shelves of cleaning products, spare rags, and industrial-sized bottles of disinfectant with faded, peeling labels. He grabbed a rag, checked that it was clean enough to use, and made his way to the arcade.
The racing and fighting machines were the most popular. Mike wiped them down—greasy fingerprints, smudged screens—and put the rag back in the supply closet. Seeing that everyone else had their tasks covered, he clocked out. He got in his car and left. There were still a few other people finishing things up in the building, but it wasn't any of his business. He pulled out of the lot and onto the main road.
The gas light flicked on just as he was driving. Mike glanced at the dashboard, then at the road ahead. There was a station near the main road, not too far from here. He found the place and drove in.
A few cars were pulling in and out, but he found an open pump without any hassle, parked the car, and got out. He filled the tank and went inside to pay. The guy behind the counter looked half-dead. Mike handed over the cash and walked back to the car. There were a lot of things his mind kept going back to: the remnant failing with Jeremy, the dead kids at the previous location, and William's whereabouts. Reaching home, he pulled into the driveway and walked inside.
"Welcome back, Mike," Yenndo said. "You seem to be getting busier and busier by the day. Did anything interesting happen?"
Mike hung his jacket on the hook by the door. "Not really. Just another party tomorrow."
"Mike, can you tell us some good jokes? Lolbit is really bad at it," Bonnet asked, popping up suddenly from somewhere.
"I am not bad at jokes," Lolbit said, her voice crackling from the monitor on the desk. "I have a great sense of humour; it's just you guys don't like to laugh."
"Then why don't you explain your last joke?" Bonnet replied. She'd heard Lolbit's jokes countless times; they never got any better.
Lolbit's voice took on the tone of a lecturer addressing a particularly slow class. "So when I asked you why the animatronic crossed the road, and you asked why, I said, because it's programmed to. The humour comes from the complete absence of a punchline. It's anti-comedy. You're supposed to appreciate the subversion."
Silence.
"That's the worst explanation of a joke I've ever heard," Bonnet said finally.
"It's not meant to be heard. It's meant to be appreciated intellectually."
"I'm not appreciating it."
"You're not intellectual enough."
"Are you seriously calling me stupid?"
"Yes, I am."
"Oh yeah? Well, you're too stupid to understand that a joke is supposed to be creative and funny," Bonnet said. "Do you have any idea how many times I've heard you say, 'Why did something cross the road?' You always use the same overused jokes—knock-knock jokes, or those annoying yo-mama jokes—to the point where they aren't even funny anymore. Mike, show her how a real professional tells a joke."
"Alright then. A bear, a rabbit, a chicken and a fox are inside a pizzeria. They see a completely unguarded, unlocked exit door leading outside. They ignore it and wait until 6 A.M. to disappear. Do you know why?