Creepy - I Broke Into An Abandoned Chuck E Cheese's

Episode Date: July 22, 2019

The past belongs in the past...***Written by Rhonnie14 with guest narration by Alicia Atkins***See how you can get rewarded by supporting the show at Patreon.com/Creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Produced by Steve Blizin, Puzzle Audio***Title music by Alex Aldea***Artwork by Dakota Miller ***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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I broke into an abandoned Chucky Cheeses credited to user Ronnie 14 on Reddit No Sleep With guest narration by Alicia Atkins College was supposed to be more fun Especially considering how lame high school was for a quiet geek like me These were supposed to be the best years in my life But so far They'd been far from it

I was 21 when I transferred to Columbus State University. My family was from Cassetta, so I've been to Columbus, Georgia, numerous times over the years. Only now I was on my own in a campus apartment. And unlike Cassetta, Columbus was a big city, a sprawling map of clubs, bars, and restaurants. But I didn't make it out to these places very much. I didn't socialize with anyone, really. No. I was still the shy movie geek from Cassetta High.

Still Kyle Pleasance, ladies and gentlemen. 2013 wasn't shaping up to be any better than my previous three years of online classes. I was still alienated and awkward. Attractive without being hot. Linky, without being tall. Maybe I could have done more with my unkempt and frustratingly straight brown hair. Or wore colored contacts for these brown eyes. Or, fuck it, just somehow change my bony face to chisel perfection.

Then again, maybe some fashion sense aside from constant cargo shorts and bland teas would have helped me attract women. I spent all my nights in the tiny apartment. Beer and Turner Classic movies, my only companions. I did find some ways to entertain myself. Call it urban exploration to be classy, or ghost hunting. to be crass, but I had an interest in the paranormal, particularly local legends and haunted locations. My hobbies took me all over Columbus.

There was Crybaby Bridge and the riverwalks had to be haunted by the ghosts of Civil War soldiers, but the Mona Lisa of my Kyle Pleasance project had to be the abandoned Chucky Cheese on Macon Road. Like a shunned stepchild, the large building was a lone defunct property in one of Columbus. as nicer strip malls. Okay, so maybe the treasured kitty attraction wasn't an elaborate haunted house. But I had fond memories of this place. My parents used to take me there as a kid, all the way up until 1999 when it closed.

I still had nostalgia for the Chuckster. Even if I knew there was no way I could ever explore this museum of memories. The heavy chains wrapped around its front doors made that all too close. clear, but there was still something so strange about this particular playland. Even through the darkness, I could still make out the old games and displays. The graveyard of a 90s arcade, and amongst the clutter, I could even still see a tall chucky animatronic behind the main counter. The playful Chuck you'd see on all the logos back in the day, in his patented purple

shirt and cap, not to mention those puke green shorts. curiosity got the better in me. Rather than attending parties or going out on dates, I'd hole up in my apartment and research a fucking defunct Chuckie Cheeses. I knew these stories came in one, so probably nothing too mysterious happened. But still, why'd the company leave all their shit behind? And why had no one purchased a decent location? Through my Google investigations, I found out the Maken Road Chuck didn't close for bankruptcy.

Apparently Muscogee County forced them to shut down, all due to a series of weird accidents and malfunctions known in the Columbus Press bothered to disclose. Sure, there were allusions that failed inspections and out-of-date equipment, but no mention of anything that would warrant such a sudden shutdown. No mention of any serious injuries either. Instead, the real reason became a riddle, and what I couldn't help think about. Constantly. Of course, inevitable rumors ran wild online.

The Macon Road, Chuck E. Cheese was haunted. Not that I was surprised. After all, a closed Chuckie Cheese with its animatronics and games still intact was like a ghost town fueled by childhood nightmares. My only issue was I had no way of getting in. I didn't have any friends in Columbus who knew more about this mystery. Not until I met PJ, that is. PJ was actually the one who approached me. Like a curious fan, she ambushed me in the college library,

right at the island of computers I usually occupied by myself. Rather than fulfilling a fantasy of being the manic pixie dream girl, PJ embodied that cliche of a rugged toughness. I could tell she was streetwise and didn't give a damn about having perfect makeup, being an anorexic model or keeping her hair fixed. PJ was wild Thankfully more Elizabeth Salinger than Zoe DeCinell She was herself

From the short black hair embellished by a perfect emo swoop To pale skin that hadn't seen sunlight in years She'd been dressed worse than me Always black jeans and grungy hoodies I'd never seen PJ her own before But God knows why She was pretty in an unconventional way like me, I suppose.

But instead of possessing my awkwardness, PJ was a friendly and charming 21-year-old. Over the next few weeks, we'd meet up at the library. We'd go to movies. Even though she didn't drink as much as me, we'd sometimes just chill in my apartment. She lived in a dorm on campus, so we were never too far apart. The feeling of actually having someone to share adventures was so nice.

refreshing. We were two weirdos enjoying our youth. And as much as I'd have liked to become more, we stayed friends for the most part. Then again, my gayed heart was about as pitiful as my social skills. I was just glad she didn't freak out when I did tell her I'd like to date. That being said, PJ referred to herself as mostly gay. So there were some drunken nights where things got a little frisky.

and PJ always made the first move We'd make out and feel on one another She'd have me send her picks once in a while Never anything crazy like you'd see in college movies After my 22nd birthday in January I finally got around to asking PJ more about the Maconrow Chuckie Cheeses I mean of course we discussed it before PJ had even told me she had a key for Chuckie Cheez's back entrance

apparently quite a few Columbus state adventurers did. Like me, PJ had grown up with that Macon Road fortress. In fact, her and her brother Justin used to go there every weekend. PJ even showed me one of the pictures they took at a Chucky Cheese photo machine back in the late 90s. Her brother had this long, blonde hair and a goofy smile, a mini surfer boy. But on a drunk Friday night, I pressed PJ for more info. At the time, we were bored and, you know, sharing a 12-pack on my couch.

And deep down, I was hoping she could tell me more about what caused the once-mighty-mouse to fall. PJ gave me a sardonic smile. You really like that chickie-cheeses, huh? Holding my long neck, I lean back on the sofa. I don't know. I mean, is it really haunted? PJ nodded. I like to think so.

So, like, what happens? Like a professor ready to lecture, PJ lowered my beer. It's never anything too weird. She said in that deep rasp. Not like five nights at Freddy's? I quipped. No. Nothing like that, or any of those creepy pastas.

Lost in her reflection, she looked down at an empty beer bottle standing on the ground. I just get a weird feeling there. Like everything's the same, but... warped and twisted, you know? Like the Czechie cheese spirit is still trapped inside. I took a restless sip. Well, what really happened? Why'd they close it down?

In a nervous rhythm, PJ ran her hands along her arms. They had a really terrible accident. Oh, shit. PJ looked off toward the coffee table, obvious discomfort in her expression. But no one really likes to talk about it. about it. The whole town, honestly. Like an eager child in the crowd, I waved my beer toward her. So what the hell happened?

A few kids died. He had a real bad fire and some people got trapped over by the machines and ball pit. I placed a long neck on the table. My movement's clumsy from the fear. Fuck, man. That's fucking crazy. Yeah. P.J. faced me. The whole town just a sucker I tried to shut it down after that.

Just leave it in the past. Intrigued, I moved in closer. So this is all true? How do you know? I was there. Immediately I backed off. A sympathetic move to give her space. Oh, fuck.

PJ, I'm sorry? No, it's fine. Fighting off the emotion, she was silent. I got out, but Justin didn't. Shit, I'm sorry. Doing my best to comfort her, I rat my arm around her. I'm so sorry, PJ. Calm, she helped me back.

No, it's okay. No open floodgated tears flowed from her eyes like I expected. She must have been used to the pain. Fifteen years of agony. I guess people just Make those legends up about the characters being possessed by all the kids You know Your typical bullshit way to make fun of a tragedy

I nodded No, I get that That's fucking shitty Yeah But in a way I kind of like it She flashed me a weak smile Whenever I go there

it does feel like Justin's back. Like, I can still feel him running around. I can hear him. Supportive, I returned a smile. For real? P.J. leaned in closer. But those animatronics, they don't come to life. Well, I'm glad.

In a playful gesture, PJ handed me my beer. You want to go tonight? I grabbed the booze. What? Really? She caressed my face. Regardless of her cold touch, I felt warm adrenaline run through my body. Yeah.

We'll call it a late birthday present. So we up and left. On the way, I got drunker and drunker by the second. Not to mention more and more excited. By 1 a.m. we arrived at Chuckies. The chilly January wind hurtled against us. But PJ got the back door open with ease. Then we took the plunge.

PJ and I entered straight darkness. The place felt even darker once a back door shut behind us. We were in a narrow hallway, a chilly narrow hallway. I could tell Chuckie Cheeses had grown colder over the years without any heat or rambunctious crowds. Shivering, I followed PJ down the hall. Our cell phones are only light. Our heavy breaths is the only sound. We passed a few cliques.

closed employees-only doors. Like the gates to El Dorado, I sent an opening entryway straight ahead, an entrance to Cheque Cheesy's Cavern. Come on. P.J. said. She snatched my hand in a tight grip and led us to the finish line. We stepped into the main room, shining in through the windows, the parking lot's lights helped illuminate our surroundings. I turned and stole a glance to our right,

Tall, towering figures Hent chills down my spine Until my eyes strained to see them in the darkness Then warm, fuzzy nostalgia soothes my fear Like an intimate nightclub I saw Chuckie's band standing there on stage All four of the animatronics looked ready To give the performance of their lives

Even for an audience of none There was Pascuali on the drums His mustache more flamboyant than I ever remembered Then you had Jasper the Brown Dog on guitar, his flannel shirt perfect for a redneck cartoon. Helen played bass, a long, cool hen and a pink dress. And unlike PJ, Helen appeared to be a family-friendly punk. Of course, at the front of the stage was Chuckie himself. Like a movie star, he stood with great poise, a big smile on his face,

the animatronic clad in a gold-trimmed black tuxedo. A red bow tie, and of course, his signature red derby hat. Wow. Still guiding me, PJ grinned toward the stage. Yeah, pretty neat, right? Definitely. As we got closer to the front corner, I made sure to focus in on the band. To my surprise and maybe disappointment, none of them moved a muscle.

Nor did they play Snap's rhythm as a dancer or any of their other 90s' stature. staples. Instead, the four characters were more stationary than wax figures. Only Chuckie's eyes never strayed from me. Those big bulging bastards followed PJ and I all the way up to the glass prize cases. My eyes scanned the rest of the place. There was the arcade. Even well after ten years, I could still recall the games. Then again the fact that they were all glued to the very same spot help jog my memory. I was glad to see the Ghostbusters game, the pirate ship, and all my other faves. Even without electricity, the arcade was glorious.

Everything preserved like antiques. Across the store was the ball pit. Even from here, I could see colorful circles overflowing inside of it. The awful fire must not have been bad enough to bring the contraption down. Even the thin netting looked unscathed by the flames. Right next to the pit, was the photo machine. Not a boost.

It was just a screen you stood in front of to have your picture taken. Probably the one item in here completely worthless. Not from fire or damage, just from technology. The machine had dinosaur tech gone by way of the smartphone selfie. The glass prize cases up front were also in great shape. Rose and rows of odd toys and VHS tapes worthless to any rational retailer, but invaluable to any child fortunate enough to have. have a wealth of tickets.

Another Chucky Cheese animatronics stood behind those front counters, the tall, playful one in his customary purple tea and green shorts. Letting go on my hand, PJ walked up to the cases. It hasn't changed much, I said. Even from inside, I could see layers of chains swirling around the front entrance doors like metal cotton candy. I'm honestly kind of surprised. Yeah.

Approaching her, I stumbled into the glass case. Ow! I sat with a drunken laugh. Chuckling, PJ faced me. You all right? Yeah. I looked up and saw a purple Chuckie cheese looming right over me. His beaming eyes stared at me with the zeal of a jewelry salesman.

Through my drunken haze, I couldn't remember where I'd last seen this, Chuck. Wasn't he further behind the cases? PJ grabbed my arm. Yo, look what I found. Like a proud child, she showed me a handful of gold tokens. The gold now faded into a dark smudge. But the Chucky Cheese logo is still clear as day. Wow.

Where the hell did you get these? PJ dumped him in my hand. They were on the counter. She motioned towards the arcade games. Maybe give them a shot. Scoffing, I look back at the glass cases. Like a museum exhibit displaying Native American artifacts, a dozen yo-yo's and cheap watches stare back at me.

I'm Mike can win you a ring, playful PJ gave me light push. Do it then. Armed with the coins I fiddled around in the archived arcade, none of the games worked, of course. But just to see them in this catatonic state was enlightening, enough for my emotions. And much to my delight, cobwebs didn't cover all the slots.

The games were clean, as if they'd been catered by a caretaker. In hell, the whole place just smelled nice. No storage smell or old people scent. Everything was just so fresh. PJ stuck around until her own sentimental urges took over. I didn't stop her when she gravitated over towards a ball pit. She deserved her own nostalgic fix All along I was saving the best game for last

Just like I did when I was a kid The Pirateship I stopped right in front of the classic The small wheel awaited my eager touch Before I could turn it like a deranged captain While thuds distracted me I looked down across the store to see PJ stumbling around in the pit Plastic balls swallowed up

feet and ankles. Behind a goofy grin, she gave me a wave. Hey! It looks like you're having fun! Cheasy arcade music erupted before me. A booming nautical jam. Stunned, I confronted the pirate game. There on the screen was the main menu.

A first-person perspective of an animated ocean. All to the tune of that awful sea theme, I muttered. My uneasy eyes surveyed the arcade. All the other games were still off. A void of black screens. I looked over at the stage. The band was still there, still deathly quiet. None of them had moved an inch.

Even though Chucky's eyes were focused on me with a night watchman's stare. The pirate game music somehow got louder. The conglomeration of flutes and fiddles tormented my ears. growing more and more uneasy by the second I glanced toward the ball pit one was there, not even PJ. Either she'd left me behind or the pit had swallowed her hole. In a crescendo, a beeping ring over the nautical song, a mechanical crunch erupted.

Like a dangleing tongue, a long war of tickets shot out of the pirate game slot. The sea music veered toward victory horn. I'd won the game without even trying. I stared down at the reward. No way in hell was I taking it. I may as well have been shaking hands with the devil. Footsteps echoed towards me. When around, I scanned the arcade.

Just a village of blank screens greeted me, and at a soul in sight. Even the footsteps had stopped. PJ? My trembling voice said. No reply. reply, not a voice or whisper. PJ, is that you? My gaze shifted towards glass cases.

All the overpriced prizes were still there, but playful Chuck E. wasn't. Okay, not cool, PJ. I said, forcing my voice to sound calm and collected. The polar opposite of the immense fear I felt. I stole one final glance back at those tickets. They were crisper than a fresh temperature. dollar bill. Ignoring my inner child's pleading voice, I refuse the reward.

Panicking, I sped walk back to the ball pit. My frantic footsteps echoed through the store. PJ! There was still no movement inside the pit. Not a sign of life anywhere in that colorful cage. Putting my tokens in my hoodie pocket, I glanced at the stage. The animatronic band was forever ready to play. only now they seem different

Chuckie and Helen had their heads tilted to the side and Chuckie's eyes were still on me as if you were singling me out from the crowd creeped out I walked faster I was too young and stupid than to run all because I didn't want to look like a total chicken shit in front of PJ even if I felt like one I'm ready to go man I yelled

Just a few feet away from the pit, the photo machine cut on. It didn't even have to warm up. In a split second, the screen went from black to colorful. An elevator music rendition of Smash Maltz All-Stars started playing. I came to a frightened stop. As the music played, the screen flashed old photos to tempt me toward it. Pictures of parents and children in all their 90s' glory, I looked toward the pit.

PJ. There was nothing. I mean, not a sound, not a voice. Not even a ripple amongst the sea of bright plastic balls. Pulling my hoodie tighter, I faced the picture machine. The screen now froze on a large photo. Picture of me. Seven-year-old Kyle Pleasance.

Like a flashing neon sign, the photo drew me in. I staggered up to the machine. horrified yet fascinated. The fuck. Ow! I traced a finger over the image, right over my beaming smile. I wore gym shorts

and an old Braves t-shirt then. My grinning parents stood right beside me. All of us so happy and young. The real best years of my life. I couldn't cry in the cold. Much less with all the terrified adrenaline and pumping through my veins. but the emotion still had me choking up.

In that brief moment, I was back in 1999, back with my parents, back in the glowing arcade, back chasing those cheap, shitty prizes, long before I became so isolated and jaded. Fighting back the tears, I lowered my hand, but my gaze stayed on the photo, one I really hoped mom had after all these years. Even with Smash Moulathon, I was kidding sentimental. Another picture floated across the screen and landed before my eyes. There was the picture PJ had shown me. The one of her and Justin going wild and his very Chucky Cheeses many years ago.

The two overjoyed siblings smiled right at me. Nerves exploited my heightened emotions. A lingering fear still boiled up inside me. When I turned to look toward the pit, a flash erupted. The machine's big bright camera blinded me. Cringing, I shielded my eyes. Shit! I blinked a few times for a cover, and then I looked on at the machine's freshest picture.

Horror conquered me. And just like that, my nostalgic thrill was gone. The screen showed 22-year-old Kyle Pleasant standing there. And right behind me was the playful. Chuckie stood tall. His glowing eyes staring down upon me. The animatronic display in eerie grin. Chuckie had just performed a self-aware

an all-too creepy photo bomb. Terrified, I whirled around. It was gone. Music far louder than the game or photo machine blared toward me. Spice Girls wannabe blasted through whatever speakers this place still had. End of my ever-growing fear I realized they were coming from the stage. Speakers, my eyes confronted the performance. Tux Chuck and his band moved to the beat and disjointed awkward fashion.

Like a robot rock show. I glanced at the ball pit. PJ! I screamed in a final desperate attempt to get my friend. Come on! No reply greeted me. No movement occurred in the pile of plastic. And with that, I bolted for the hallway.

Breathing heavy, I got closer to it, closer to the exit. The arcade was going crazy. The mechanical crunches echoed from all the machines. As did those flowing tongues of tickets. In a steady rhythm, they poured out of each and every game. Glancing over, I caught a frightening glimpse of the Chucksters' pantomime performance. All four of the band members and focus their intense gazes

onto me Under the strobe lights I could see Helen step toward the edge of the stage Using my phone I illuminated The dark hallway as best I could Still drunk I kept stumbling into the walls And behind me I could hear loud footsteps

Following me An army of heavy feet Like the animatronic monsters The 90s cheese chased me Sugar rays fly now shattered through the speakers. Disoriented, I reached the back door, but before I could force my way out in the cold night,

a frozen hand snatched my arm. Kyle! I heard PJ's gruff voice call out. I turned to see her standing right beside me. PJ's face so calm and chill. Her eyes showed no worry. Several kids stood a few feet away from us. Just in amongst them.

All of them under the age of ten. All of their faces blank and expressionless, much like PJs. It's okay, Kyle. She leaned in closer. A sly smile crossed her lips. It's all right. Nervous, I struggled to pull away from her tight crib. PJ, come on!

Let's fucking go! As if they sense my fear, I could hear the footsteps pick up the pace. The course is galloping through the night. Somehow, PJ tightened her grip. I cringed in pain. What are you doing? We can't go, Kyle. She said in a calm monotone.

I looked over at the children. Now they were all smiling. Justin's the wildest, most mischievous of the lot. This is where you belong, Kyle. Struggling to pull away, I looked into her distant eyes. With us. Just came to a sudden stop. Too scared to even muster a ward, I looked down the hallway.

Standing near the children were all five animatronics. Purple shirt Chuckie, the leader of the pack. Delette wide smiles at rival Justins. And they weren't moving or breathing. The five characters were back to being playful statues. Fly swirled around like a personal soundtrack. Like this was all a warped fucking advertisement for life at Chuckie Jesus. Come with us, Kyle.

PJ beckoned me. No! I shouted it. The children began chuckling. Even PJ. Their taunting laughter formed the sick chorus. My efforts break away proved futile. The struggle consumed me.

I glared at PJ. Let core me! Smirking, PJ leaned in toward my face. Please, Kyle. With all my might, I yanked my arm away from her grasp. The tokens flew out of my coat pockets and a coin explosion. A few ended up stuck in my palm. Behind an ever-present smile, PJ reached toward me.

Kyle. Gripping a few tokens, I swiped them at our outstretched hand. Get away from me! Like a blade, the tokens sliced through PJ's flush. A long strain of his skin fell to the floor. Horrified, I watched PJ raise her hand with childlike pride. Behind this smile, she showed off her hands exposed flesh, dark metal. Wires, the children's maniac laughter grew even louder.

The hallway became a literal echo chamber of terror and madness. I noticed that Chuck Echese animatronics were all so silent and still. The bulging eyes just focused on me, as if they were guards for the horror lurking down the hallway. Her movement full at twitches and quirks, PJ took a step toward me. My friend's soul and twisted fusion of animatronic wiring in human flesh. I just wanna fly. PJ sang along to the cheese.

A voice deeper and more hollow than ever. P.J. Shivering, I stayed into her unblinking eyes. PJ kept getting closer. The hallway became our stage. The laughing children are soundtrack. The silent animatronics, our audience. Put your arms around me, baby.

Surrendering to my fear, I turned and shoved the back door open. I jumped out into the January wind. Outside I stole a look back. Through the glass door I could see PJ watching me. The children all around her like she was their cherished mother. Together they smiled as if posing for one of those Chuckie Cheese pictures. I ran away, relieved they weren't following me. Over the years, I never went back to Chuckie Cheese.

The one on Macon Road or Hell. Not back to any of them. No one believed my story either. I called the police, but they found nothing out of the ordinary inside the Chucky Cheeses. They said the electricity had been out for well over a decade. But I know what happened. I even still have those ugly tokens, not to mention the horrible memories as momentos from my final urban exploration.

And recently, a PJ bracket added me on Facebook. The pictures certainly look like the PJ I knew, or the animatronic I knew, at least. I don't know. Nowadays I have trouble trusting just about anyone. Call it trauma or imposter syndrome. I mean, who's to say PJ was ever even real? For that matter. Who's to say I'm real?

Maybe PJ was right all along. Maybe I really did belong at the time. that Chucky Cheeses. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us at CreepyPod on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook, or email us at Creepypod at gmail.com. All stories told on this. podcast can be found at creepypasta wikia.com and are protected by a creative commons license.

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