A Chicken Learns of Pizza, 1982
Chica was bored, and not just your usual run-of-the-mill bored, no, she was bored with a capital "B." She voiced this complaint to the others.
"I'm booorrreeed," she said, drawing out the dreaded adjective to emphasize her point.
She, Bonnie, and Freddy were gathered onstage. Six a.m. was fifteen minutes ago, and they had been active for just as long. Nathan had the day off, their activation entirely automatic, and now there was nothing to do but stand around and watch the goings-on as the rest of the staff got the restaurant ready.
"I'm sure you'll find a way to amuse yourself," Freddy replied, straightening Bonnie's bowtie. The rabbit simply smiled while she watched the other employees.
One week had passed since the opening of the restaurant, and the two cooks, Sal Venetto and Gus Roberts, had been butting heads for just that long, much longer, in fact. Both men had jointly opened their own small pizzeria, but had been forced out of business with the increasing popularity in chains before being hired by Freddy's. The conflict arose from their different beliefs on what was important considering a pizza.
Sal was a traditional Italian, which meant that, above all else, the pizza had to be perfect. Each pie deserved a large amount of time and care to create something that was truly special, and most importantly, delicious. And for a long time, Gus, who was from New York City and embraced Italian cuisine there, agreed.
But being forced out of business changed his priorities. Taste still mattered, but now it was all about speed. For Gus, the faster the food got out, the better, as it had already been proven that people no longer cared to wait for their food. This division caused the same argument every morning.
"Gus! Get that frozen garbage out of here! I told you, we're making the sauce from scratch," Sal said, pointing an accusing finger at the offending bag. He wore glasses, with short dark hair and a closely-cropped beard that wrapped around his round face. At 36, his love of food showed with his pudgy stomach.
"Do you know how long that takes?" Gus asked. Unlike his partner, Gus was younger, having just turned 30, and looked like a stick. He was tall and lanky, with long curly brown hair that brushed into his eyes, almost a polar opposite of Sal, even being clean-shaven.
"Do you know how good it tastes?" Sal retorted, taking out a saucepan from a cupboard and slamming it onto the stove, grabbing necessary ingredients.
"But this is your sauce!" Gus pointed out, "Just defrost it and use it, it'll taste just as good!" Sal held up a wooden spoon in a threatening manner.
"Fresh sauce is the best sauce," Sal explained, "Now grab some tomatoes."
Gus sighed and complied. Sal usually won these arguments, mostly because technically he held a higher position, and could get him in trouble. Another part of it was simply that, so far, Sal was right. Praise for their pizza had started coming in, and Sal wasted no time in lording it over him. For now, it seemed Gus would have the same futile argument.
Just as Gus continued to chop tomatoes whilst muttering under his breath, the door to the Kitchen was pushed open, revealing Chica.
"What are you guys up to?" she asked. Gus and Sal looked up.
"Oh, uh, hello Chica," Sal greeted, still not used to talking to a robot. And having it talk back.
"We're just making pizza," Gus replied, gesturing around the Kitchen.
"Oh. Can I watch?" Chica asked, "I'm bored."
Gus and Sal exchanged a glance. They would never admit it to Management, and especially to the animatronics, but they were... creepy. And now it seemed they were feeling things like boredom. What exactly went into these things, anyway? Sal answered for the two of them.
