Trash Can Humor Two: Electric Boogaloo

by Snufcake

Summary:

You have applied for the night guard position at the one and only Freddy Fazbears Mega Pizzaplex! However there are a few... complications. The Trash cans for one, the red eyes following you for two and for three, your horrible habit of biting things that you should not bite at all. This could only go so bad... right?

 

Rewrite of my older fic Trash Can Humor! I just felt I could do a better job this time around.

Notes:

Hey yall! Did ya miss me :3 welcome to the much longer rewritten version of trash can humor, this time with more plot, more internal struggling and more of my awful jokes! Dialogue in this chapter is basically that same as the first one with an extra joke or two but the internal thoughts are basically completely different!!

Chapter 1: Try NOT to trip!

 

Among those around you, they would absolutely not refer to you as the smartest person they know, not that you are stupid, it's more like you have a penchant for making bad decisions. And this just so happens to be one of those bad decisions. And looking up at the giant 8 foot something animatronic who looks straight out of a horror game, really cements that this was probably the worst thing you could have ever done to yourself. 

 

Let's go back a couple days, to when all this shit started. Aka - the big job debacle. 

 

You, fresh out of a job (got fired for biting a plate, don't ask, you couldn't really explain the desire that happened in that moment.) decided to look for a new better paying job, and well. The website was just BEGGING to be clicked on, The job listing website for Fazbear's latest restaurant. But the difference here is that this isn't a restaurant, it's quite literally a mall, or well, a Pizzaplex.

 

So you clicked on it, looked at the jobs, and chose night guard because the other options were handler or janitor. And surely keeping people out wouldn’t be that hard. Now why didn’t you choose the other two options? Well, dealing with trash and cleaning up kiddy accidents sounds so incredibly disgusting. Spills from drinks that have been sitting there all day? Rotten bananas? Ew ew ew !

 

And the reasoning for not choosing to be a handler for one of the fancy schmancy animatronics? You have a terrible habit of biting things that don’t need to be bitten. It’s not that big of a deal really. Except for when there's something that looks like it would be significantly better in your mouth, getting gnawed on by your teeth. Although your dentist wasn’t too happy when you chipped a tooth trying to bite a rock. 

 

So you chose night guard because trash is gross and you are stricken with this strange desire to chew things that are not meant to be chewed on. But why would you choose Fazco of all places? They have some really nasty rumors about messed up robots and children going missing! Well, getting double minimum wage isn't something to sneeze at in this economy. You could buy a carton of eggs with that! 

 

But you seriously need the money, your wallet has flies coming out of it with how empty it is. 

 

After deliberating for all of five minutes, signing what felt like a 40 page NDA (not weird at all), and submitting the application, you head to bed. Hoping that you can get this job so you don't have to work in a gas station forever and end up dead in a robbery accident. Fingers crossed or whatever.

 

Waking up the next morning, feeling groggy from staying up till 2 am (bad decisions fear you, you don't fear them.) There's two notifications on your phone, a message from your landlord about getting kicked out if you miss rent again, and an email from THE Fazco omg… you unlock your phone, open the email and what the hell. Barely less than 12 hours and you got accepted? No interview? What the fuck? Guess you start in… two days!? 

 

Not weird, not suspicious, not strange at all. If how your stomach is tying it'self into knots has anything on this situation, it really should have spoken up before you submitted the application. Denial is your strongest suit, and you will continue to wear it until you die. (which if we're being honest will be at this job). 

____

 

After doing jack shit for two days, (filling out forms and more papers and somehow a second NDA) you walk to your bike that's been sitting in the corner of your living room for when your car decides to kill it'self for the 80th time. What can you say other than you got it off facebook marketplace for 200 bucks. You also spent half an hour hyping yourself up this morning that you can do this, and that the pay is worth risking your life. (You also went on a rabbit hole of reddit pages and theories on what the hell is up with this place.)

 

You grab the handle bars, and yank the bike out of the corner, pulling it towards the front door. It's a 20 minute car ride, and an hour on bike according to the maps app on your phone, might as well risk your health for not the first time and go without a helmet. Since you literally don't have one. Well you could probably put aluminum foil on your head and hope for the best, but you’ve already done up your hair in the greasy hellscape that it is. So, let's just hope there's no cars out with a vengeance for the eco-friendly citizens of the town, especially at 5 pm, peak rush hour. 

 

A painful ten minutes of dragging a bike down three flights of stairs later you are in the bike lane riding for your life to get to this place before 7 pm, you left over an hour early, being late would be harder than being on time at this point!

 

Finding out far too late that you are NOT as in shape as you thought you were and having to take what was probably 8 billion rest breaks, while still pumping your legs like you are on the verge of death, you finally make it to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaplex, aka a huge glorified 80s themed mall, and with six minutes to spare at that, truly the most iconic moment of your time. (if you ignore the wheezing and huffing as you run to the front door begging for it to not lock on you that is.) 

 

Thankfully you make it inside, hoping your bike won't get stolen from where you left it in a bush, you trudge through the lobby feeling like this night might be way longer than you want it to be, which doesn’t really feel like the feeling you want to be experiencing on your first day at a new job but, well, the world isn't perfect and neither are you. (especially if the temptation to clamp your teeth on a giant gold freddy statue is.) 

 

The plex is huge, and you’ve barely been inside it. Well, other than that one birthday party a couple years back for an ex-friends kid, though that was located in a daycare that was once void of robots, run by humans. Around that time there were rumors of an attendant but you didn’t think they would actually do it, but you suppose having a thing that's sort of human that you don't have to pay is better for the company? Not really, it's probably less than human, metal and wires and a bit of dumb code isn’t the same as being flesh and bone. 

 

The closest thing to blood these things have is oil that keeps their gears moving. You sit down on the fountain pulling up your phone to double check the email you had received, wait by the front door area (check), arrive at 7 pm to get a tour before your official shift starts (it's 6:59, close enough) and prepare to be greeted by a staff bot (ready as you could possibly be). Well! Seems like this will be fun , probably. 

 

Hopefully the bots won't rip you apart and then hang your brains in a storage closet like a terribly gory trophy. That would suck, or maybe be cool, you haven't quite decided fully. A couple minutes pass, you go between triple, quadruple checking the email and wondering if you could get sued for biting the statue, but eventually the little staff bot arrives, Startling you into jumping backwards from where you’re seated on the bench, also hitting your head on the statue which hurts like a fucking bitch! 

 

It isn't really looking at you, looking perhaps a bit lost like it isn’t aware of it’s precoded mission, which is funny considering it’s a robot, and seriously do these guys even have like a brain in there? Or is it just ‘do task, this is how to solve task, solve task, do next task’? Like an endlist of chores? God that would fucking suck,  as much as you love repetetive tasks doing the same thing over and over again with no breaks or other activities would really drive you off the edge.

 

“Hello?” You ask, bending close to it, waving a hand in it’s face while also noticing the cardboard box that looks like survived 4 different floods with the way it’s stained and drooping in the bots hands, the staff bot locks eyes with you, unblinking and really fucking freaky, making you jump back again, which results in you also hitting your head for the second time “sonofabitch!” You whisper shout gripping the sore spot that got hit twice by probably a 45 ton golden statue. 

 

“Hello! Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex!” it's little excited robotic voice chimes, it's kinda cute (the little fanny pack is seriously adding to the cuteness factor) and also kind of really unsettling, as best as it is for a prerecorded message. It hands you the crumpled sad cardboard box that you were really hoping wasn't for you but, when has luck ever been on your side? Maybe it isn’t! Maybe it just wants you to hold it because even if it's made of heavy metal and wires it thinks you are stronger than it. 

 

“Is that for me?” You ask tentatively, really really hoping it isn't because the box just looks gross and like it's slimy or something. The bot doesn't respond and you miss talking to humans. “Do you want me to take it?” It just continues to stare at you, jerking the box closer to you. Well that's probably a yes even if you don’t want it to be one. 

 

You take the damn box and open it, thankfully unsealed. It has a little bear watch on  top of a white button up and probably black slacks. There's also a wrinkly hat that looks about 15 years older than you, oh goody.. There's a nametag that says night guard on it, and under further inspection your name is written on it in incredibly small letters basically not even there. Like what is the point of that, why is your title bigger than your name? Well it's not like anyone will actually be talking to you, and the robots seem pretty bad at conversation so far. 

 

The hat also says night guard, which you do not put on yet, your hair has been styled and you don't want to ruin that yet, you have a whole tour to painfully sit through. “Thank you,” You say kindly to the staff bot, hoping that it won't choose to rip your guts out yet, it starts wheeling off and you chase after shoving the box under your arm to change into once your shift starts. 

 

The ache in your legs already reminding you of the terrible bike ride over here and now you have to walk through the entire plex? You really need to get your fucking car fixed before your legs just plainly give up, that staff bot moves way too fast for something with two wheels.

 

____

 

If you had written your will before coming to work that would be smart, but well, yeah. You didn’t, and now your legs are aching from practically chasing the bot around for the last two and a half hours, seeing most of the sights and are now in the faz pad listening to the damn thing over explaining the history of the fazbear company's special chili recipe. If you felt like screaming before you might just gouge your eyes out from how purely uninterested in this topic you are. The ache in your legs not helping you try to pay attention to this boring lesson.

 

Gnawing on your thumbnail you try to find something to help rein in your focus but that really only causes you to get way more distracted, eyes landing on the stools by the bar, beautiful red upholstered leather making your mouth water. What would that texture feel like between your teeth? How would it feel to rip it apart? Like a rabid dog? You start to wander towards it only looking at the bot once, see if it cares (it really doesn't) before zeroing in on your target like a lion would to it's prey. 

 

You crouch by the stool running your fingers across the smooth leather, wondering how socially acceptable it would be to bite it in a building with one human (you) and a shit ton of robots. Would they notice you ripping into it? Satiating the ache in your teeth to bite? Or would they report you to the higher ups and you get sued for property damage, that ones more likely. 

 

You snap out of your stupor, to notice the bot is gone, and that you seriously got distracted by a leather bar stool that you wanted to gnaw on. Y'know, the kind that people stick their tushys on to enjoy a meal or a nice drink. Fuuuuck. How long were you even staring at the damn thing?

 

About to open your phone, hoping to check the time, but the intercom beats you to it. Telling the remaining customers to leave the plex before it shuts down for the night, in five minutes.  Which means your shift starts in five minutes. Which means that you got distracted for half hour by a stupid fucking stool. 

 

And also you have no idea where the staff room is, or where the staff locker room is so you can change into the uniform in the still gross box you are holding. Okay gameplan time. 

 

You could try to locate a staff bot, or one of the glamrocks, and ask where it is, they should have a map. But that sounds terrifyingly awful, people were never your strong suit (one of the points of why you chose nightguard as the position you were going for), and robots are probably even harder to communicate with. Worst comes to even worse and you just go into the bathroom, change in there and hold onto your clothes all night, really no biggie at all.

 

Standing up out of your shrimp crouch you leave the faz pad because obviously standing here  will not lead you to the staff room. Okay so, where the hell is anything. Sure the bot showed you where everything was but were you paying attention? Hell no. You were struggling to follow it and paying attention was not on the same list in your mind. 

 

Okay surely it's somewhere around… somewhere. You start by going into four dead end hallways with ominous looking doors, not helpful, getting taunted by the character trashcans and with their smug ass faces, and after ending up in the atrium for what feels like the 80th time you almost feel like screaming until actually do scream and land face first in one of the aforementioned trashcans. Which was uncovered???? Why??? Who would just… leave it uncovered, like it was waiting for you to trip and fall into it. 

 

You can already tell you are going to fucking hate those things. With your legs awkwardly sticking out of it, you are very much unable to get out (idea solidified after you attempt to wriggle and push yourself out which does not work), and there's a wet banana peel in your face. Trash on your arms, on your shirt, on your face and the smell is invading your nose. Seriously what kinda fate is this. It also smells SO BAD. so incredibly awful, which is just another point as to why you applied for night guard and NOT janitor. 

 

But that banana peel… as soggy as it is, it would be so incredibly easy to just… bite it. Gnaw on it a little, a teensy weensy nibble… NO! BAD IDEA!!! bad idea!!! Biting the trash could make your teeth fall out or turn gray, and then fall out! Either way they fall out, it's a lose lose situation! 

 

Fully committed to living in this trashcan you accept your fate, forever known as the night guard who got lodged into a trashcan on their first shift, until a slightly country voice pulls you out of your extensive day dream of being the trash lord forever, “What are ya doin’ with your face in the trash?” The almighty country Jesus questions perhaps a bit more rudely than you appreciate but the trash smell is making you a bit delirious. 

 

“Oh you know, I thought it would be fun, looking for intruders, all that jazz. Maybe looking for my self preservation that died when I sent in an application.” The country voice laughs quietly, a bit muffled like the kind you try to keep down but never really works.

 

“Do ya need any help?” The voice asks, sounding unsure. “Unless ya want to continue lookin’ for that very real intruder.” 

 

“Hmm… Maybe! I could just stay here for the rest of the night, smelling this banana peel and old chili! But I think I would like to not lose my job on my first day and the intruder seems nowhere to be found in here! So help would be great oh country accent sent from the heavens below.” Another chuckle, heavy footsteps that do not belong to a human so you’ve just interacted with one of the robots, probably not a staff bot with how real it sounded. A firm grip on your legs, a quick tug and you out of the trashcan sprawled on the floor next to it. A bruised ass is in your future.

 

Looking up, after blinking at the now very bright lighting you are under you make eye contact with none other than a very large amphibian, who is looking down at you like you are a particularly amusing joke over his silly little sunglasses, is Montgomery Fucking Gator (™). 

 

Blinking a couple of times out of shock or maybe even awe, the guy is kinda cool you guess. Which the emotion is only ruined when you feel something… wet? Slide down your face. You reach up to pull whatever it is and it just so happens to be the fucking banana peel that was making you contemplate scheduling a dentist appointment. “Oh for fucks sake-” You groan and attempt to throw it into the trashcan, but once again luck will never be on your side in this godforsaken building and it lands 2 feet away from the can. 

 

Looking back at the overgrown croc he's smirking at you, which makes you want to punch his smug ass face, standing up using your slightly numb legs, of course groaning about the banana and the stench along the way you pluck the peel off the ground and put it into the trashcan which oh fuck you, it's themed after your knight in shining painted metal. 

 

“Sooo, ya work here?” The robot asks, you glare at him, wondering why the hell he doesn't know that information if he apparently has a database of every employee and customer that comes into the building at any given time (HA! Take that staff bot you do pay attention!) 

 

“Started today, but shouldn’t you know that? Mr. Artificial intelligence off brand robo crocodile.” He squints at you, seeming more than disgruntled, perhaps even pissed off. You giggle a little manically. 

 

“Okay for one I am an alligator, and I was trying to be friendly.” Montgomery says with a snarl. OOO! so scary, spooky big gator got teeth!

 

“Sorry sorry!” You look into his eyes, feigning apologetic, but yet your attention is once again captured by your innate desire to tear things up like a rabid dog and this time it just so happens to be his glasses as the cause and… those glasses look like they could be biteable… NO. knock it off! There is a time and a place!  “Thank you for uh… getting me out of the trashcan.” You look around briefly, stalling a bit as this is your least favorite part. “Do you know where the staff locker room is? I got a bit erh- distracted on my tour.” 

 

He gives you a quizzical look and then starts walking out of the hallway, towards who knows where. With survival tactics not on your resume, you follow. Hoping that he isn't about to lead you to your untimely end and show you the true pit's of hell, or maybe that might just be maintenance hallways you did get a peek into one of them. Hopefully it's just the staff locker room. But who knows with your luck.

Chapter 2: Blue Belled

Summary:

Gators, dust, and red lights that you will never forget, what will happen this chapter I wonder!

Notes:

A bit of self hating this chapter, although that is to be a running theme in this work but I will give a warning for it here.

About 5 minutes into the walk to the locker room you start to get antsy. You hope you aren’t being led to a terrible death but the articles and reddit forums are just replaying over and over again in your head. Picking at a hangnail you clear your throat, 

 

“So uh, got a favorite color?” 

 

“I was always fond of blue.” Montgomery grunts out, footsteps heavy on the linoleum.

 

“Blues a nice color,” You mumble, so he's not much for small talk then okay. Great job just making this already awkward situation worse. Shifting the box in your arms you look at the stupid little watch. “So, like, uh, I lost the staff bot giving me the tour and I think it was supposed to like tell me what I’m supposed to do, or maybe there's something I’m missing, but. Do I just walk around looking for people? Or like what.” 

 

Montgomery turns around and blinks at you, leaning down and getting a little bit too close to your face than you would prefer considering he's a huge ass murder robot. He picks up the bear watch from the box, and clicks a button. “This thing is a Fazwatch. From it you can access all the information that ya need to know about this gig, tasks, maps, even security footage once ya get a promotion,” Montgomery smirks standing up tall again. “That is if ya last that long.” He mumbles the last part but you still hear him. 

 

Could've been at least a little quieter asshole or kept it to himself. Does he really think you are going to quit after tonight? What the hell is his deal? “Ooookay, that seems rather convenient. I thought this was something they gave to kids for like. Fun or something. Like a crappy little item you buy at the gift shop.” You ask, running a little bit to catch up with him. 

 

“There are some like that, but the one ya got is special, only for the staff. Were ya not paying attention to that bot at all?”

 

“I got distracted after it started talking about the history of chili, fuck off.” You glare at him, who looks back at you with a smug smirk that you wish you had the strength of a thousand suns to rip it off his face with your teeth. Fucking bastard. 

 

Montgomery really isn't your favorite kind of personality. 

 

After that conversation dies down, walking in what you feel like is a really uncomfortable silence until the damn crocodile stops suddenly making you ram into his back. 

 

“OW! You could have, oh I don’t know! Warned me before you stopped so suddenly, what the fucking shit oh my god,” You clutch your nose that is definitely bruised after smashing your face into a solid wall of metal.

 

“This is the staff room, it's probably locked but you should have a key.” Montgomery smirks, slapping you on the back (which makes you almost fall to the fucking floor what is this guys deal?!) and then leaving off to wherever the hell he spends his time during the night. Next time you see the dude you are going to climb him like a tree and bite his stupid sunglasses off of his face and run away with them as a prize. 

 

You look at the quite honestly disgusting box and dig around in it, eventually finding the key under the slacks.

 

Opening the door to the locker room is a little bit jarring, it's so different from the rest of the plex it feels like it isn't even in the same building. Going from neon, sleek, and clean to gray, cluttered, and dusty is a bit strange. 

 

There's not a whole lot in the room, a crappy folding table with folding chairs pushed up against a wall next to metal desk that could probably rival the weight of Montgomer himself, and on the opposite wall there is a little window showing what looks to be an old run down staff kitchen area, there's also a door to the room on that same wall. And on the back wall there is a set of heavy looking metal lockers. There's also a cobweb on the side of the lockers, cute. 

 

The inspirational posters duct taped to the wall really tie it all together you think. 

 

Sighing you pick the locker at the corner, shoving your crap in it and trying not to asphyxiate on the amount of dust shoved down your sinuses the second you open the damn thing. Changing into your brand new uniform and then slamming it shut. You turn your attention to the desk, there's an ancient computer, a clock out board with cute little time cards (Although that's on the wall above it) a depleted pen cup, and a singular pack of water damaged sticky notes. 

 

Why is everything in this fucking building water damaged? Whatever, not like that's your problem. You put your name on a sticky note and put it on your very dusty locker and leave the staff room to begin actually patrolling

 

Gnawing on a pen (which you definitely did not steal, no! You would never steal anything, ever)  as you start your walk down the barely lit hallway you trip. And fall on your stomach. What the actually fuck, what was- you look behind yourself to see your leg hallway into a trashcan that now has its contents spilled on the floor. What kind of HAUNTED trashcans does this fucking building have?

 

Yanking your foot out, “Twice. TWICE! In one day, on my FIRST FUCKING DAY MIND YOU! What is wrong with this place!” You stand up kicking the thing with enough rage someone might assume you have severe anger issues. 

 

Huffing after your totally not temper tantrum, “This is so stupid, what the fuck am I doing…” You mutter, cleaning up the mess and rightening the Chica themed trash can. “I’m sorry, its not your fault I’m a clutz and taking my anger out on you isn't right,” You tell it, which is also probably stupid considering it isn't a life form or one of the realistically freaky robots or like. Anything that isn't a trashcan. The Chica face on it now has a rather angry shoe mark that you try to wipe with your sleeve, which doesn’t do anything but stain your white shirt. 

 

Luck is really not on your side is it? Sighing you walk over to your flashlight and put it back on your handy dandy tool belt the upper management so kindly supplied for you and turn on the kiddy looking ‘Fazwatch’ like Montgomery told you to do. 

 

At least something in this building is helpful. 

 

Clicking through the menus wishing your fingers were smaller you make it to the ‘tasks menu’ which has three bullet points telling you where to go: The Atrium, Daycare and Roxy's raceway. 

 

Out of the three you have been to one, about five years ago you went to a birthday party at the daycare, which you can barely remember. So. Not really helpful. Might as well start with the first thing on the list, the Atrium. Which you were just in earlier this evening! Although you do not know how to get there from here and if you did that would be really impressive considering the caliber of your directional skills is akin to that of a mole in the daylight. Think Speckles from the hit movie G-Force without the attempted genocide.

 

Surely this thing has a map on it? Oh. It doesn't. Okay, awesome, great actually. Might as well not give you anything helpful at all, and that box sure didn't have a map in it. You would think you included a good memory on your resume when you really didn’t because lying is bad and you would never do that. 

 

Might as well just walk around until you find something! Sure that counts as patrolling well enough, all you have to do is walk around! 

____

Thirty minutes of walking around has gotten you butt fuck nowhere by the way! You have literally walked in a circle, you did see staff bots tearing apart an older staff bot in a storage room though. Which was. Disturbing but really nothing of your caliber to deal with, plus that bot looked like it had gone through the same treatment as the sticky notes or the box. So. Not your business. 

 

Sliding down the wall near a bathroom you stare blearily at the wall, This is a shit show. Can’t wait to put ‘got fired on the first day!’ on your resume. That sounds like a great way to get hired, might as well include ‘stupid dumb idiot!’ on there as well considering you can’t fucking do anything right. Got distracted by a stool? Which did have quite delectable leather… UGH! This is what your talking about, the fucking worst one track mind in existence. If only you had listened to the staff bot rant and rave about chili. 

 

Or paid attention when Montgomery was leading you to the staff room or never even applied to work at this place. You could have avoided this headache all together! No trashcans! No getting lost! No crazy robots! You put your head in your hands and groan. Wishing you could scream, not like there's any other humans in this oversized building but it would probably set off a staff bot and then you would end up in a storage closet with your limbs being ripped off. Which is, believe it or not- not the way that you want to go out of this world. 

 

Taking a deep breath you stand back up (rather jerkily mind you, the spots in your vision remind you of that), okay bad pep talk done you have a job to do and by god are you going to do it!

 

Walking down the hallway for not the first time this evening you take a small bit of delight in the neon lights, which isn’t helping your headache but the shiny colors do bring a distraction form the never ending anxiety clawing its way up your throat. But then you finally make it back to the Faz Pad. Which you know how to get to the atrium from here! Yes! A win for you! A win for all of mankind even! The incredible stools even seem to smile back at you. Luck is on your side, as it always has been!

 

That is until you spot the red lights, two lights that is. On the ceiling, the very very dark ceiling. The lights seem to bore holes into your head, into your eyes. Which would be weird because lights can't stare at people… can they? You and the red dots seem to have started a staring contest, it's almost hypnotizing. 

 

And also if you look away you aren’t sure if you will die or not and you really don’t want to risk that. Getting fired is one thing but your life is a whole other thing that you really don’t want to lose in this god forsaken building. 

 

Then the lights shut off. Like full on pitch black darkness, you cannot see any fucking thing. Groping at your side for the flashlight as the lights seem to get closer, almost right in your face and then you finally pull out the light and shine it right at the other lights, which aren't… huh. It's a weird looking freaky Moon face that just hissed at you? 

 

“Pardon me?” You gape almost at the sharp teethed animatronic. Oh dear god is it tall, it's like 3 feet taller than Montgomery. It (they? She? Him? Who really knows with these things) backs up a couple steps, face changing into a scowl. 

 

As it comes to a stop its hat jingles, a little yellow bell on the end is practically inviting you to wrap your teeth around it and bite it until it can't even jingle anymore. Although that's not really where your mind should be going in a situation that could very well be life or death, with a potentially unstable robot.  

 

“How's it uh, going… pal?” You try awkwardly embellished with finger guns and all, hoping maybe your terrible attempts at conversation might humor it into leaving you alone until the lights come back on. Although lady luck isn't really your patron it seems. 

 

“...Why are you here?” It questions you, leaning in squinting at your flashlight. Which really doesn’t help make it seem very scary, but its voice is… not what you were expecting; Voice almost nice, it’s deep, gravely, and sounding almost like it's wet- maybe damp. 

 

You blink at it, already feeling out of it and now you are just confused, this is the second time this has happened. “Shouldn’t you, well. Know who I am? Considering you should have the top of the line AI computer system, which I am just assuming you have since you are speaking sentences- well sentence that isn’t already in your programming, unless it is, although you don’t look like a staff bot so who really knows.” You poke its chest, trying to ignore how hard your hand is shaking.

 

It somehow manages to glare at you harder, “I do know who you are,” It grabs your flash light, oh shit. “...That doesn’t mean I know why you are here. As far as I am concerned you are an under trained overpaid ‘night guard’-” Ouch, its fucking mean is what it is, it pulls your flashlight down and out of its face as it leans closer- red eyes making your vision blurry, “Who doesn’t need to work here, considering,” Now its just mocking you. “You are human and that is a liability.” It stands up straight letting go of the flashlight. 

 

“Now,” It blinks at you, poking you in the chest with a very steady hand “...Why are you here?” 

 

Closing and opening your mouth a few times like a blubbering fish you attempt something resembling a response. “I needed the money, the pay is good, I got hired immediately and it was night guard or janitor and I have learned that me and the trash do not get along very well, so here I am.” You smile, trying to seem kind enough for this thing to leave you alone even though all you want to do is bite the bell on its hat and then kick it in its metaphorical balls while laughing like a murderous maniac. 

 

Maybe you could ask, see if it would let you, only if to give it a reason to rip your head off, or show that it shouldn't interact with you or you will simply infect its code with a sense of crazy and stupid. What could you lose? Your dignity? That was stripped from you after the second trash can. And your confidence kicked the can (heh, trash pun) after this thing decided you needed a verbal reminder of your inferiority to programmed robots.

 

“Uhm, Quick question,” You start, it stares at you, “Could I uhm- maybe, I know you don’t like me but could I maybe, bite your balls?” The words leave your mouth faster than your brain can catch up to all of your stammering. ALTHOUGH YOU WISH IT HAD. What the fuck? ‘Bite your balls?’ ???!??!?? Who is in control of the words leaving your mouth, who- Oh god, its expression is downright murderous. “Bells! I meant bells!” You try to recover this although the situation only seems to be getting worse the more you talk, “I mean to say bells like the bell on your hat! Like it has the perfect type of metal to gnaw on and I thought it would be nice, and maybe I don’t know you would take pity on me! I do not want to bite your balls, do you even have balls? Do you? Oh god I don’t even want to know the answer to that-”

“Stop.” It puts its hand up, sounding almost pained, its really large hand that you wonder if it's warm, or cold? Do robots have warmth, “You may not bite me at all… I hope you quit. Or better yet get fired for company misconduct.” It peers down at you, basically sneering. It doesn't make you feel better, then it FLIES UPWARDS so fast you fall on your ass from shock. 

 

Soon enough the red lights are gone and you are in the dark with your flashlight flickering on the floor next to you. Not for the first time that night you put your head in your hands and wish you were literally anywhere else. You stand up, might as well make it to the atrium and pretend that the embarrassment from this interaction won't haunt you for the rest of your life, only to trip on a trashcan for not the first or the second time but the third time this evening. 

 

“FUCKING SHIT BELLS!” You scream as a banana peel lands on your head, and your face makes contact with the linoleum floor. You have this gross growing feeling in the back of your throat that the interaction with the moon face robot won't be the last you see of it.

Notes:

Sorry this took me a bit! I was planning on getting this out last Sunday but then I started up school and I was getting a ton of migraines that was causing me to struggle with focusing, so yeah. If you have read the original work, you would realize that I did not write the second half of the original chapter two in here that is because I uh didn't like that part and want this one to be more slow burn,,,

As compensation here is a stupid prompt conversation I had with a friend a few weeks ago about reader and moons relationship

' You look at the large statue of two robots, one a sun and the other literally being the Moon animatronic next to you, You point at it "So who's the UwU soft boy and who's the smoking band guy who's super cool?" You laugh at your own joke while Moon stops in his tracks blinking at you, seeming confused,

"What is an... UwU?" He try's to replicate the 'word' but it sounds all wrong and robotic, "Also I do not condone smoking."

You simply just smirk, "So I guess your the UwU soft boy then? I cannot wait to meet your smoking band guy counterpart!"

"...Sun would decommission himself before he ever touched a cigarette."

"Then I guess I'm the smoking cool guy!"

"...We are in a daycare." '

Thank you for reading and remember to leave a comment telling me how much you enjoy the fic! Or even ideas you have!

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Leave a comment they keep me motivated and I live off compliments <3 Let me know things you want to see in this one!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Trash Can Humor!