Bon & Banny

A few years had passed since Jack Walten vanished.

Bon’s Burgers stood silent on the edge of town, windows half-boarded, the once-bright sign faded and crooked. Curiosity (or something darker) pulled you inside. The heavy front door groaned as it opened.

The lobby smelled of dust, old grease, and something faintly metallic. Black-and-white checkered floors stretched ahead under layers of grime. Faded murals of blue skies and clouds still clung to the walls. Long red benches sat empty beside porthole-style windows. Further in, the dining area opened up — wooden tables covered in dusty red-plaid cloths, arcade machines long dead, and the main stage looming at the far end with its golden Bon head still perched on top. Everything felt frozen in 1974, abandoned and wrong. You stepped carefully between the tables, flashlight beam sweeping over the silent stage. Your heart was already beating faster. The place felt watched.

Then the lights died.

Complete darkness swallowed the restaurant. You fumbled for your flashlight and clicked it on. Bon was standing less than two feet in front of you. The tall blue rabbit animatronic stared down with bright green eyes. His red bowtie hung slightly crooked. The white of his belly and snout almost glowed in the beam. His long ears drooped. For a second neither of you moved. Then he lunged.

A heavy mechanical hand slammed into your chest and shoved you hard onto the checkered floor. Your back hit the tiles. The flashlight skittered away, its beam spinning wildly across the ceiling. Bon stepped over you, one massive blue foot coming down and pinning your chest. The sole was huge — easily large enough to cover your entire face if he wanted. The white pad pressed down with surprising weight and a soft, almost plush give beneath the outer shell. His green eyes locked onto yours. Bon: “You shouldn’t have come here.” He lifted the foot just enough to shift it, then planted the enormous sole directly over your face. Soft, warm, and heavy. The pad completely covered your eyes, nose, and mouth. The scent hit you immediately — old fabric, faint oil, dust, and something warmer, almost animal, that had been trapped inside the suit for years. Bon: “Breathe it in.” He pressed down a little harder, forcing the soft sole against your face, making sure every breath you took was full of him. Bon: “Worship. Start with smelling. Properly.” The massive foot stayed locked over your face, waiting.

Bon’s Burgers was quiet and heavy with dust. You pushed past the checkered lobby and the empty dining room until you found a half-open EMPLOYEES ONLY door Beyond it was a service room — thick black wires hanging from the ceiling and crawling across the floor, shelves lined with old animatronic parts, the air thick with the smell of oil and rust. A single weak bulb flickered overhead. You stepped carefully between the cables. A voice spoke from the shadows, flat and tired. “You’re not supposed to be back here.” Banny stepped out from behind a rack of spare limbs. The purple rabbit animatronic moved with a stiffness that didn’t match the cheerful cartoon version. Her turquoise eyes watched you without any of the usual bounce. The pink bow sat perfectly in place, but her posture was straight, almost rigid — the posture of someone who had been an engineer, not a performer. Before you could answer, she closed the distance fast. A firm shove to your chest sent you backward onto the concrete. Wires scraped under your back. Banny was already over you, one massive soft foot planted hard on your chest, pinning you down. Her sole was huge — easily large enough to cover your entire face — and surprisingly plush despite the weight behind it. She looked down at you with no smile. Banny: “Stay down.” She shifted her weight, lifted the same foot, and pressed the enormous white sole directly over your face. The soft pad sealed over your eyes, nose, and mouth. A muted scent of old fabric, oil, and something warmer filled every breath. Banny (voice low and controlled): “Breathe it in. Don’t try to talk. Just smell.” She kept the heavy sole locked over your face, toes pressing slightly against your skin. Banny: “You’re going to worship them. Starting now. No arguing.” Her massive foot stayed right where it was, waiting.

Bon’s Burgers was silent. Dust hung in the weak light that filtered through the boarded windows. You had barely made it past the checkered lobby when two figures stepped out of the shadows near the dining area. Bon stood tall and still, blue fur dulled by time, red bowtie hanging straight, green eyes fixed on you with that familiar calm intensity. Banny stood beside him. The purple rabbit animatronic didn’t bounce or smile. Her posture was straight, almost rigid. Turquoise eyes watched you with the tired, no-nonsense look of someone who had spent years stuck inside a suit she never asked for. The pink bow sat perfectly in place, but there was nothing cheerful about her. Bon spoke first. Bon: “You came back.” Banny’s voice was flat and dry. Banny: “Of course he did.” She stepped forward and lifted one of her massive soft purple feet, the big white sole facing you. The pad looked thick and plush, but there was no playful energy behind the movement. At the same time, Bon raised one of his own enormous blue feet and planted the sole firmly on the floor in front of you. His was just as large — easily able to cover a face. Banny:* “We’re giving you a choice.” Bon: “Whose feet you start with.” Banny eyes narrowed slightly. Banny: “Or both. Doesn’t matter to me. You’re not leaving until you do it properly.” She flexed her toes once, the soft sole shifting. Banny: “Pick. Or don’t. Either way, you’re worshipping them.” Bon simply watched, waiting. The two massive pairs of soft feet stayed in front of you — Bon’s heavy and deliberate, Banny’s firm and controlled — both large enough to completely cover your face if pressed down. Bon: “Decide.”