I Fingered Freddy: My Q&A With The Current Morbid Mascot
Like many of you, I was pretty stoked on the Five Nights at Freddy’s flick - I mean, it ‘toats reminded me of my childhood–running around places like Showtime Pizza and, of course, Chucky E. Cheese. Games. Crappy Pizza. All the soda you want plus crap toys you could win after spending butt loads of money on games to win a few tickets. A simpler time fueled by sugar, fats, and chap toys made in underground, sweltering basements in lands unknown.
But I’m not here to bore you with my childhood memories, that would get super dark…I’m here because I ran into one of the stars of Five Nights at Freddy’s, and it was a fucking eye-opener.
When I noticed the celebrity, I quickly texted Sammy over here at the Mac’ D - sent him a photo, and (obvi) he flipped. My phone rang. “Dude. Nick, get an interview with him–the publication will blow up for real, for real–even a damned photo af”, Sam’sters bellowed in my ear. I knew it was a grand idea, and I was stoked to know he was learning the lingo of TikTok.
For real. For real,
I told him I’d give it my best shot…so here’s the story.
Freddy and I were both at O’Hare International; I was flying off to Kansas City to meet with Hallmark execs to pitch my new Holiday love story screenplay Discarded. I had no idea why Freddy was there, but he was belly up to an airport bar–nursing what looked like a tall Mojito. I scooted in next to him and ordered whatever NA beer they had in the bottle. And he took notice. YES!
“Not a big drinker, huh?”, he mumbled at me. I quickly replied, “Not so much anymore, but I for sure was back in the day. So what brings you to Chicago?” Freddy cocked his head toward me, I figured he knew that I recognized him. “Publicity tour. It sucks,” he cackled. I just nodded and took a sip of my non-beer. “Where’s the next stop?” I nonchalantly asked. “Fucking Birmingham, Alabama. Flight leaves in 15 minutes,” he said while looking at his phone. “Shit,” I thought., “I gotta get something for the MD.” So I got up the nerve and just went for it…”Mr. Freddy, I occasionally spill words for a rad online publication called Macabre Daily, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” He lowered his head and glared at me. “You’ve got 10 minutes, and it’ll cost you a shot–actually two–one Midori and one Malort.” “Odd,” I thought to myself, but whatevs…I was in.
MD: Freddy, thanks for taking the time to chat with Macabre Daily.
Freddy: Yeah, fine. You bought me shots. What do you want to know?
MD: Well, what got you in the biz?
Freddy: Performing at Pizza places in the 80s, I guess.
MD: Oh, were you close to Chuck E.?
Right then, I knew I had fucked up. He slammed the shot glass to the floor, breaking it. He glared at me and quietly yelled, “Don’t you ever mention that motherfucker’s name in my presence. Ever. I will knock the living shit out of you.”
“Yo, Fred. My bad. I had no idea,” I nervously replied. He just glared at me. But I persisted.
MD: What’s the beef with that old rat?
Freddy (laughing to himself): We were close once. But that fucking cock-smack made millions off my ideas, my planning, and my know-how.
MD: What was that? Pizza and games?
Freddy: Dude, it was more than just pizza and games, it was a lifestyle. Among the kids, we were gods. We were untouchable. But ol’ Chuck, he was a devious one - he went underground to find a financial fuck boy to embezzle our money to his personal accounts–and these accounts, they were living in many, many different international banking establishments.
MD: Holy shit, that sucks.
Freddy (slamming his last shot): Ahhh, it was my fault. With the fame came my addictions. I was too fucked up to notice what ol’Charlie was doing. If I wasn’t coked up, I was banging Mom’s all over the nation.
This is when he puts his head on the bar.
Freddy: But I did give it to Chuck pretty hard, or rather his girlfriend at the time, Helen Henny.
MD: Oh, shit. That singer in his band. She was his partner?
Freddy: Yup. And the son she had with him, well, it’s not his. Let’s just say he looks “bear-y” much like me.
MD: Oh shit. Really?
Freddy: Yeah. Helen told me.
MD: Cool.
This is when they announce last call for the Birmingham passengers.
Freddy: Gotta go. Good talking to you, man.
MD: Yeah, thanks, Fred. Oh, and fuck Chuck.
Freddy fist-bumps me and walks to his gate. I never got the photo, nor did I really dive into the blockbuster film he just starred in…but I did get a pretty cool story.
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