Happy Birthday, Mike!

When Mike turned 1 year old, he couldn't remember anything about the birthday party his parents held. According to his scarce amount of friends over the years, their parents held a grand get together at the house, inviting practically all their relatives from cousins to great aunts and uncles who were twice removed. They all ate a big cake while taking turns holding the birthday baby.

Mike once looked through his family photo album and found the section where he was born, and went a few pages further from there. Since there weren't a lot of photos of him as an infant, he found his first birthday without trouble. He was bothered to see that there was only one page involving his birthday, and it was only a picture of him at his highchair with a small cupcake holding a single candle, sitting right in front of his smiling baby face. He wasn't that bothered, but compared to what he's heard over the years, he wondered if his parents even tried that day.

When Mike turned 4, his mom invited only a handful of children from his preschool to come over to their house for a party in the afternoon. Mike hardly remembered what exactly happened, but recognized some aspects in the photos that caused his memory to spark. He remembered having blue streamers and the cool Transformers party hats for his classmates and he got the big crown made of paper. When he inspected the pictures he noticed how glum he looked but how joyful his classmates seemed. They were getting along and happily eating at the cake but little Mike who sat at the head of the kitchen table was either picking at his slice of cake or staring down into his lap. Mike, for the life of him, couldn't remember what had happened that made him so upset that day but he had a hunch it either involved someone saying something to him. Probably his parents.

When he turned 5, he was sick with strep throat and had to stay home sucking popsicles while his grouchy neighbor baby sat him. That sucked.

When Mike turned 6, he remembered it being his best birthday turning into his worst. He had the same type of party he did in preschool, but he invited more people who were more or less his friends than just random classmates his mom felt sorry for. It was at his house again, and his parents had little games set up in his playroom. Mike remembers trying to play, but not having much fun. His birthday party slowly turned into regular competitive roughhousing he experienced during recess than really having a laid back time and giving attention to him, the birthday boy of the day. That was the same year when he pleaded his mom to make a certain over the top birthday cake, a huge step forward from the mundane chocolate icing on chocolate cake she usually made for him. It was difficult to make, and Mike regretted making her do it, because at the end of the day when it was time to eat it, his mother was not happy with him. She acted passive aggressive for the rest of the day, frustrated that her time and effort was just going to be destroyed anyway. She still holds that memory against her son to this day, and he acts like he hardly remembers anything. But he remembers the scowl on her face, his greedy friends attacking at it, and how Mike felt anything but happy that day.

When Mike turned 10, the big double digits, he knew that year had to be special. His mother told him that his two best friends, Brian and Davey, wanted to play with him after school, the day before his birthday. Mike was oblivious to what was happening, despite his mother's cheeky smile the whole car ride there. Walking into his friend's house, he was greeted by them spring from behind the furniture, underneath a hand drawn banner done in crayons that read 'H A PpY BiRTH DAY MIKE ! !" It was a shame that Mike was so overjoyed in the beginning, expecting a great day of games and presents but it surely went downhill whenever Brian wanted to go do something and Davey shooting it down and insisting they do something else. It had nothing to do with Mike, and the rest of the day consisted of his two friends bickering and arguing and their mothers coming in to shout at them every time their voice rose too high. Mike remembers the sour feeling of not having a good time and secretly sneaking past the fighting to his mom and nervously asking if they could go home.

Middle school was a blur to Mike because each year seemed the same. He'd go into school and instead of getting a chorus of "Happy Birthday!"'s he was met with various fists colliding into his thin wimpy arms and walking off stiffly with bruises from birthday punches all day. There was one year when he turned 12, and a girl in his class liked the tradition of making a bracelet out of colorful string from a bracelet making kit she always carried around and giving it to her classmates on their birthday. She would welcome them when they walked in early in the morning and put the bracelet on them while wishing them a happy birthday. Not only was Mike excited to get the bracelet from her, but he always thought she was pretty cute, and blushed at the thought of maybe giving her a thank you kiss on the cheek or at least a hug. When he walked into school on his birthday, he saw her, but she wasn't standing by the door. She was far across the room, talking with her friends. She had the bracelet kit on her desk, but it wasn't opened. Mike felt a hard pang of sadness in his chest but kept his head looking down as he unpacked and took his seat. When they announced his name on the morning announcements under the birthdays for November 30th, Mike sneaked a peek from underneath his bangs and saw the look of utter shock break out on her face, he felt a little bit better. She just forgot, that's why. She quickly turned to her friend sitting next to her, pointing her finger very obviously at Mike, looking distraught. He then saw her friend giving a 'whatever' shrug and the cute girl nodded her head, agreeing. That pang of sadness came back as a series of bricks against's Mike's chest, and he kept his head down the entire day.

Dealing with his birthday in high school wasn't nearly as bad as middle school, or the years prior. He was lucky it fell on a weekend for two years in a row so he didn't have to encounter any other "presents" with a fate worse than innocent punches. Besides, when you reach high school, as a teenage boy, no one really cares in the first place but your parents. He walked side by side with his mother going down the aisle in a random craft store at the mall when she found a pack of professional sketching pencils hanging on the wall for a cheap price. She asked "You said you wanted to practice drawing right? Because you're in that art class?" Mike studied the pack and nodded before she casually dropped the pencils in her cart. "Happy Birthday, then."

Everyone says once you're in college everything gets better, right? Unless better involves debt, relationships and depression then yes, things certainly did change for Mike. He stopped mentioning to people that his birthday was a few days away because he expected nothing in return. His roommate did not like him very much, and neither did the roommate's friends who lived on that floor. Their present to Mike was ignoring him the whole day and giving him peace and quiet. Whether they actually did that to be nice or to be jerks, Mike will never know. He checked his Facebook and all he got were the same Happy Birthdays from family members who used emoticons and lingo that made Mike cringe and shut his laptop. His girlfriend one year, Clara, did take him out for dinner on his birthday, but he accidentally let something "slip out" about the dress she was wearing and she stormed out, leaving him to pay the pricey bill. She's now his ex-girlfriend, he's living in an apartment complex by himself in the suburbs with little to no connection with his parents and all his friends abandoned him. The only "Happy Birthday" Mike got was from himself when he glared at himself in the mirror in the morning before going to whatever crap job he had holding down at the time.

This year that crap job was titled Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, a 30 year old pizza joint that had seen better days. The establishment's history bothered Mike but he honestly had no motivation to crack down on the mystery, especially with his overly cheery boss who is most likely only using that persona as a barrier between the Freddy Fazbear's the children know and the Freddy Fazbear's only he's allowed to know.

He had been there for nearly a month now, for a measly wage of four dollars per hour. At this point, Mike didn't care. He certainly changed a lot over the years; from a kid who worried about anything to an adult who cared about nothing. He wasn't trying to impress anyone. Even if there was someone, he showed to emotion besides a cracked smile or a limp shrug. To save on expensive bills, he hardly showered and only used the street lamps as lights at night time. Now that he has this night time security job, he had no reason to worry about the electricity. In his home, at least.

Mike doesn't like thinking about the horrible first week or so at this crap job. Just to remember those animatronics-y'know, those robot creatures that sing and do a little dance for children during the day-trying to capture him and ultimately kill him gave him a bad taste in his mouth. Ever since he got fed up that one night and secretly tampered with their A.I levels for the nighttime, they were pretty much acting the same they would during the day. They saw him as a friend instead of a threat. They saw him and treated him like they would with the children they entertained. He wasn't all too keen on it, and even though they stopped trying to track him down, he preferred to stay in his office, isolated. Not like he can communicate with a bunch of walking and talking pieces of metal. What use can they be?

The tired young man of 24 was drifting off to sleep after pondering these memories before he heard the store's clock chime, and saw it read six o'clock on the dot. As he backed up his belongings, which wasn't much, his boss strode in through the front glass doors, hearing the local train rolling by when the doors opened.

"Top of the mornin, Mikey!" His boss gave a happy wave and Mike cringed at the nickname his mom gave him. "Mornin', Sir."

Mike started taking a quick path for the doors but his boss, who had walked over to the stage where the animatronics stood frozen in order to inspect them, spun around and hollered after him.

"Mikey, wait! Come over here."

'Blow me,' Mike mentally groaned and dragged himself over to his boss, meeting him halfway. "Yes, sir?"

The sneaky grin stretched out on his boss's wrinkled face made him feel uncomfortable. "I heard from a few document papers that it's your birthday tomorrow!"

If it wasn't his boss saying this, he would have been thrilled that someone remembered his birthday. "Uh, yes, sir. It is. I'll be 25."

"Ah!" His boss boomed, holding his stomach. "What a great age to be! I'd do anything to be at that young age again."

'No kidding.'

"And what a great way to start your birthday, here at Fazbear's where we take every birthday to heart!" His boss then reached in his breast pocket and pulled out a small velvet pouch. "Take this, as my birthday gift to you, young man."

Mike held out his hand, took the pouch and looked inside.

"...Pennies."

His boss waved a fat finger in front of his face, smirking for who the fuck knows. "Pennies bring good luck, my boy. You'll thank me later."

"Gee, I don't know what to say..." Mike's eyes lazily drifted from his boss's smiling face to the useless pennies in his hands. "...I can buy a whole pack of gum with this."

"Maybe even two!" His boss chuckled and patted the young man on his shoulder. "Now get some sleep. You'll be needing it for your birthday shift."

Mike was unconsciously glaring at the pouch of pennies in his hands but it subtly melted away. It was better than punches.

"Thank you, sir. I will."

Mike got very little sleep that morning but it's not like it mattered because he can spend his whole shift catching up on it. He never bothered to look at his social media sites, he didn't check his text messages. He just watched television all day until it was time to pull himself together and go to work.

He got to the pizzeria and noticed his boss was not there waiting for him, like he usually is. Mike shrugged, did a mock salute to the Freddy, Bonnie and Chica who remained on the stage and went to his office. The clock chimed 12 and Mike ripped up a few pieces of scrap paper and threw it in the air as it came fluttering down like confetti.

"Happy birthday to me."

A few minutes passed as his eyes already began to drift shut, idly listening to the fan buzz and the florescent lights hum as he kept his feet propped up on the desk, leaning back in his rolling chair.

Then there came a screech.

Not the actual screeching from the robots, but what sounded like a chair leg being pulled across the floor.

Mike cracked open and eye and waited.

There was more squeaking, sounding like multiple chairs were being moved around. Louder screeches were then heard all at the same time, probably tables being reorganized. Mike knew those robots were weird in keeping their restaurant in order and often heard this before but not as noisy and rushed as this. He heard different sounds being mixed together like shuffling, mummers, clanging, squeaks and guitar strings, most likely Bonnie with his guitar, but why was he even holding his guitar? Were they going to preform? Absolutely not.

He finally decided to check the cameras to see what in the hell those things were doing but-

"The fuck?"

All the cameras were working perfectly fine and showed vacant room, one after another until he got to the dining hall-it was pitch black. It was working, because there was no message saying it was disabled unlike the kitchen camera, but it showed no picture.

Sighing, Mike felt around the desk for the flash light and took it before shining it in the dimly lit hallway on his right side. He gulped, still finding the peeling posters and chipped walls eerie in this setting, and waited a few moments until something happened that would give him a good enough reason to leave his office.

POP!

What sounded like a balloon popping, Mike grumbled and hoisted himself from his chair. The further he went down the hallway, the quieter the noises got until it was silent aside from Mike's shoes shuffling on the floor. His flashlight shone on the stage, where the curtains remained wide open and there were no animatronics in sight. Even on their good terms, Mike didn't trust these guys completely, and bit his lip nervously as the battery for his flashlight began to die out.

"Reeeal funny, guys. Look, I don't know what you did with the camera in here but-"

On que, his flashlight flickered and finally shut off, and as he began cursing and shaking it to turn it back on in luck, the spot lights on the stage flashed on, causing Mike to jump back and frantically search the room. All the colorful spotlights hanging from the cieling pointed towards the center of the room, on the table where the child who celebrates their birthday usually sit at, to see it decorated with a box of freshly baked pizza, and beautifully decorated cake with fondant and candles and those four fucking robots standing behind it-the rabbit, the bear, the duck and that fox-who literally came skidding in to the picture from probably working the spotlights, all rose their stiff arms into the air, the biggest smile they can manage to make with their metal jaws as they sang in booming, cheerful voices.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MICHAEL!"

The birthday boy stood as still as a statue, except for his unsteady fall and rising of his chest. His eyes kept sweeping across the room at the display in front of him. The table they stood behind was drapped in a special table cloth unlike the other tables, as had streamers attached to the corners. There were five chairs pushing into it, each having a few balloons tied to the tops. Mike began to scratch at his pant leg out of nervous habit.

"You guys did this."

"Yes, we did." Bonnie jerked his head to nod.

"Just for me."

"Yes." Chica did so to.

"You knew it was my birthday."

"Ay, wes heard ya speaking to ta' boss." Foxy had the remains of the rubber from a popped balloon stuck to his hook.

"And you did this all, just for me."

"Why of course, it's your birthday." Freddy said.

The young man stood there, emotionless, and it soon began to worry the animatronics since this isn't the typical reaction of someone walking in on a birthday surprise. They didn't know what to do, or so, and instinctively, three heads turned towards their leader, as Freddy waddled his way around the table, approaching Mike.

"Michael? Are you alright?"

The bear reached his paw out to take Mike by the arm-

And then Mike fell to his knees.

He dropped his flashlight and fell to his knees.

Mike fell to his knees, buried his face into his hands and cried.

He cried like he never cried before on his birthday.