MONDAY 11:00
There's me, walking down the street with my friend Sara, looking for some jobs to deal with. We pass by thousands and thousands of perfect jobs, but I want something I can work with AND cook.
"A potato maker!" she says.
"No"
"A chef!"
"No"
"A pizzeria worker!"
"No... wait. Pizzeria worker?" I say with joy.
"Yeah! At Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria! There is a job for nightshift." she says pointing at the 'Help Wanted' sign. We cross the street and walk into the restaurant. The first thing we smell is pizza grease, and soda pop. There were kids shouting and jumping on a table, in the very bak corner. We go up to the front desk and ask the man sitting there, on his iPhone:
"I am here to fill in for nightshift"
"Ok, just put on this suit and go to the office" he said.
"So we got the job?" I ask.
"YOU got the job. Your friend didn't" he says, looking at Sara.
I look at her and she looks back.
"It's OK. I think working as a chef would be just fine for me! You go and hurry to your new job."
So when the man passes me my suit, he also passes me a sheet. A waver. Are they saying that i'll get hurt during my time here? At the bottom it shows I get a 5 day trial to work here. 5 Nights At Freddy's Pizzeria... It sounded so familiar... but I let it go. ( A/N LET IT GOO LET IT GOO I'm sorry) Then I start to walk pass the little kids. They all shut up and their staring at my cloths. A purple hoodie and jeans... why are they staring? Maybe its my gray eyes. Whatever.
