My name is Mike. Last name Schmidt. I'm writing this note in case if things do not go as planned and something happens to me.
I work as a night watchman at an old pizzeria with a dark and blood stained past. The place is called Freddy Fazbears' pizza. I just needed some cash for me and my wife Joan. She does have a job as a storyboard artist. But I thought that I should try to make ends meat since we’re pretty close to having our first child together. Joan said that she didn't want me to get a job that would mess with my sleeping patterns, but I told her that if I didn't like the job, I would quit after I get paid by the end of the week. I'm not enjoying this crap job one bit.
The place hasn't had any good business for years. Not since sometime had an accident with one of the animatronic animals that they have for entertainment here. Some guy on the phone said that the poor guy had his frontal lobe ripped out of his forehead. Hard to believe that he survived something like that. I have an office where I have to look through cameras that are all over the place. The one in the kitchen is broken so I can only hear the audio coming from it. I’ve gotta be careful about the power too, cause there's not much of it. Guess the boss is too cheap to do shit about it(cheap asshole). There’re two doors on the left and right of the room, but I can't keep them for long or they'll use up all the power. Sure, it doesn't sound as bad as I'm letting on. But there's something else.
You know the animatronics? The ones they use to keep the kids happy and entertained? They move. On their own. It's bad enough that from an adult’s eye, they look like something that came from the dark corners of an evil kids’ mind! And they keep trying to get inside the office so they can “kill me with their love”! The phone guy that they want to stuff me in one of the spare Freddy suit cause they somehow think that I'm a robot skeleton and apparently, that's not allowed in a shit hole like this. That might sound ok. If the suit wasn't full of sharp metal parts and other iron maiden style shit! Well... I tried telling the boss about it. But he made a threat and said that he would use my skull for an ashtray. Nobody has any idea how much I wanna kick that bastards’ ass so badly. It's almost the end of the week. So if I can just hold out one more damn night against the spawn from hell, I can get my pay check and quit. But, if something goes wrong, I'm gonna make a run for the doors and get out of this blood stained playground so I can live to see Joan and meet my son or daughter. My shift starts at midnight. Maybe if anyone is reading this I might be dead or I’ll still be living and breathing and I didn't end up like the guy on the phone. So in the words of the phone guy, see ya on the flip side. And wish me luck. I'll need it.