Garrett Uard, nighttime security guard at Fazbear's Fright, was a very bored man. He had taken his dangerous job - managing a facility filled with noxious fumes where he was pursued by a corpse in a rabbit suit - and made it easy, all with the use of some duct tape and tenacious diplomacy (as in, he evaded the living corpse until it grew tired of the chase and instead opted to simply lounge around the building). The corpse, a former serial killer whom he came to know as Springtrap for the suit that had killed him, had become a strange sort of friend to him in the time since their relationship was pacified, but they did not spend all of their time together. A scheme here and there, some errant conversation, but for the most part, it was up to Garrett alone to find some way to kill time every night. Thus, being the poor man he was, the night guard found himself making a hobby of finding camrips of popular new movies to view during his shifts.

Unfortunately for him, even at his mostly uneventful job, Garrett was still sometimes bothered by workplace distractions. Immediately after he had finished setting up his laptop to watch his latest pick, a crash was heard by the entrance of the building. As much as he wanted to be lazy, he was obligated to investigate. The source of the noise was not an intruder, but something Garrett dreaded much, much more: rats. Rats which he was told were his responsibility to exterminate, lest he be fired upon their discovery. He sighed in frustration. Time to get the bat with the nails in it and get to work.

Two hours later, Garrett's work was finished. At least, he was fairly certain it was. If there were any rats remaining that he had not sponged off the floor, he did not know of them, and he hoped they would be scared off. He was tired, he did not desire to deal with rodents any more than he already had. It was time to curl up with a movie and wait for six o'clock to come, damn the consequences.

As Garrett walked into his office, his ears, much to his surprise, caught the sounds of a kitschy pop song filtered through a dismal microphone. Popping in, he found his laptop to be the source. Sitting in front of it in his chair was none other than the familiar sack of meat in worn yellow foam, Springtrap. His eyes were glued to the screen.

"Ahem," Garrett signaled, getting Springtrap to turn his head toward the guard. "What are you doing?"

"You were gone," answered the zombie. "I put on one of your movies."

"From, uh..." Garrett's eyes darted around anxiously. "From what folder?"

"Just under 'Movies.'"

"Ah. Okay. Okay, that's fine." A weight lifted from the guard's chest. "Which one?"

He walked over to the desk, checking the screen for some tell of what film may have been on display. The monitor darkened for a moment before credits popped up, displaying the movie's name.

"Zootopia?" Garrett asked.

"Yeah. It's good," Springtrap said.

"...You're into these kinds of movies?" the guard asked in a dubious tone, an eyebrow raised.

"You saying I'm a furry?"

"No! Well, I mean, a fursuit kind of killed you, but I just mean kid's movies."

Springtrap stood from the office chair and grabbed Garrett by his shoulders, staring him dead in the eyes.

"Oh, this is no mere kid's movie, Mr. Ward!"

"Uard."

"Whatever. This film, this is a master work of animation!"

"Seriously?" Garrett inquired. "It just looked like a generic buddy cop movie from the trailers."

"Ah, but it is so much more!" Springtrap insisted. "Yes, it is a buddy cop movie, but it's not just that. It's all about... society." The zombie looked away and waved a hand slowly in front of his face.

"Uh-huh," Garrett murmured.

"Nay, it is true! The film tackles serious themes about racism and prejudice."

"Well, lots of stuff for kids does that."

"But they skirt around the issue. Or they only go in so far as the surface level. They talk of discrimination, but they show not its true nature."

"What do you mean?"

Springtrap let go of Garrett to free his fingers for counting. "Institutionalized racism. Affirmative action. Perceived biological predispositions towards savagery. Pigeonholing. Victims of hate becoming perpetrators under the guise of justice. Scapegoating. Race wars. All in the film, and none of it hidden under subtext."

"That sounds way too dark for a Disney movie."

"Well, it is not without its levity. The characters are cute, the environments are fun and interesting, and the humor is most on-point."

"Doesn't sound so special."

"Wrong again! Everything is rendered in such stunning detail, with such masterful visual direction! The fur textures, the environmental details – not just model detail, but detail in regards to small touches of worldbuilding being added to so many shots."

"Okay, okay, I get it. You're a fanatic. The adventures of Furry Anna and Dreamworks Face Fox really got to you."

"Be still your tongue, swine!" Springtrap growled before extending his hand and slapping Garrett across the face. "These are no mere caricatures! They are people, three-dimensional as you or I!"

Garrett covered the smarting red part of his face. "Ow," he whispered, disturbed by the zombie's sudden rage.

"Judy Hopps is a naive optimist overachiever who is forced to confront the ugly reality of a society which marginalizes her, and she has to learn to accept her own limitations and the nature of the world while trying to be a good cop. Nick Wilde may be smug, yes, but his jaded views are seeded in depths which I dare not spoil for you. And the two of them together..." Springtrap sniffled.

"Um, dude?" Garrett inquired, perturbed by the sight of blood streaming down Springtrap's foam cheeks. "Are you, uh, are you crying? Is that crying for you?"

"I just," Springtrap sobbed, "I just want to see them together so badly!" He fell to his knees, grasping at Garrett's shirt with both hands, bawled uncontrollably. "Their chemistry, they just work too well together... If they do not get married in the sequel and have a million little children, I won't know what to do with myself! Oh God, they would be such a beautiful couple!"

Garrett pushed the weeping zombie away. "Okay, you're really weirding me out, man."

Springtrap sprung upward, closing Garrett in with a tight hug."

"Racism needs to end, man," he cried. "We need to be good to each other, man!"

"Good to each other-" the guard repeated, "You murdered a bunch of kids!"

"Oh, the kids!" Springtrap wailed. "A bunny and a fox, their offspring would be, I don't know, funnies? Boxes?"

"Okay, you need to get off of me," Garrett said, pushing Springtrap away once more.

"You need to promise me you'll watch it!"

"Fine, fine, I'll put it on tomorrow."

"No, you will march into the theater, buy a ticket, and support this work of art!" Springtrap insisted, his crying having ceased.

"It's Disney! They have ALL the money already! And I'll look like a kid diddler going alone!"

"I guarantee, nobody cares about your existence," the zombie reassured.

"Alright, okay, just get out of my office."

Springtrap looked at Garrett for a moment, before nodding, wiping away his bloody tears, and walking out. He stopped, however, just short of the doorway and turned to the guard once more.

"Just one last thing," he said, his tone sheepish. "Is it, uh, weird that the buff, shirtless tigers at the end made me... feel things?"

"Out," Garrett insisted with a pointed finger.

"Okay, goodnight." Springtrap took his leave.

Garrett sighed. He sat back down in his chair and checked the time. Seeing he still had half of his shift to go, he loaded up a movie from one of his more clandestine folders and leaned back in his chair.

"Damned furries," he grunted.