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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/LucyEphemera on 2024-10-08 04:15:10+00:00.

I’ve been an Uber Eats driver for a couple months now. It’s a poor excuse for work, especially in a small city like Lafayette, but it’s been just enough to get me by until I find something better. Some nights people are generous, others they’re stingy, but I can’t really be mad about that. I know money’s no easy thing to come by, I just have to keep reminding myself that it’s temporary. It’s temporary.

Something’s changed, though. I can’t blame anyone for not believing me, but I have to tell someone about this. Maybe if the word gets out it’ll reach somebody who knows what I’m dealing with, maybe they can tell me how much time I have left. Whatever this is, it’s far beyond me. It started about a month ago on a Friday night.

It was slower than most Fridays, usually I can rely on the weekend bringing in the money but I only got a few trips worth taking that night. At 9pm I was just about to head back to my friend’s apartment, back to the couch I’ve been calling home, when I heard that annoying sound Uber uses to tell you someone wants food again. Guess I forgot to go offline. I opened the app, reflexively moved my thumb to decline the trip, but then I saw the estimated fare. “$78.47.”

I was in disbelief, I had never seen a fare that high before, not even close. I figured it had to be a cruel joke, sometimes customers will tease you with big tips to incentivize you to cancel any other orders and get them their food faster, only to reduce the tip at the last minute. My thumb started moving again towards that little X, but I hesitated. I couldn’t bring myself to refuse it. Maybe I was desperate to make that night worthwhile, maybe such an unorthodox fare demanded my attention, either way I was running out of time to take the offer. Unable to think it over any longer before it disappeared, I accepted.

The trip was short and easy. I was lucky enough to already be on the east side of town, and the pickup spot was only four minutes away. I walked in, waited in line, went through the same steps that have become a near nightly routine, walked up to the counter and said “I’ve got an Uber Eats order for Bailey J.” At the sound of that name the cashiers’ faces immediately went sour. They looked at me like I had offended them just by walking in, like I’d ruined their whole day with that one sentence.

After a few seconds of no response I tried to cut through the tension that’d suddenly crept over me, asking “do you need to see the or-” they cut me off sharply, “no, no we don’t.” One of the cashiers turned around, grabbed three big carryout bags and simply said “here.” That one word dripped with so much spite, as if they wanted whatever was in those bags out of their store as soon as possible. I left in a hurry, and had no idea why they were so upset until I got back in my car and took a closer look at the order. This person, Bailey J, had ordered 30 burgers, all with no bread, no cheese, nothing but the meat.

Maybe this seems like an overreaction to you but people don’t do stuff like this, they’re predictable. They get the meal, a side and a milkshake, four drinks with no food maybe, not 10 pounds of nothing but ground beef, so this really had me freaked out. I thought about canceling the order right there, I hadn’t verified the pickup yet so I could’ve done so without any real issue. What time I didn’t have to think this over earlier caught back up to me, as my mind started to race with the worst possibilities. What if this is some sicko using the app to lure me to his place with the money, only for me to end up missing? What if I was murdered, or kidnapped? What if the burgers were just an appetizer, and I was the main course?

After a couple minutes of my mind running wild with panic, my worries started dying down as I offered myself some more reasonable explanations. Some people are very picky, and maybe they just really like this place’s burgers in particular? Or, maybe they’re planning for a week of bulking? People do some pretty stupid shit to get their protein in after all. I wasn’t all too satisfied with these explanations, but they felt more likely than a psycho killer baiting me through Uber Eats. So, I collected myself, found my breath again, and verified the pickup. My imagination can get away from me, but even my worst expectations failed to prepare me for what was waiting.

The customer’s dropoff spot was a Studio 6 off of I-49, just on the edge of where Lafayette meets Carencro. When I drove up I wasn’t exactly expecting to see the life of luxury, but this place was rundown even for a highway motel in Louisiana. It was surrounded by a rusted over chain link fence, most of the street lamps along the perimeter were burnt out or flickering, and there were no signs of life besides a few cars dotted around the parking lot. I was filled with further doubts as I noticed many of them were broken into and missing tires, and there wasn’t a single soul around to comfort my growing suspicion that something was very wrong here.

I found the right room, parked right outside it and hurried to the door. The instructions said “meet at door” but I was determined to leave the bag, give a knock, and book it out of there like my life depended on it. In that moment, I certainly felt like it did. I raised my hand to give a knock, but another surprise struck me. The door was cracked open, with a pale blue light peeking through.

I dropped the bag, and rushed to just text them that I’d left it outside so I could leave but before I could even open my phone I heard a frail, cracked voice come through the opening. “Please, can you bring the food in? I can’t get up to grab it.” The weary sound of these pleading words made me feel something other than terror, something strong enough to overpower how jumpy I had been. I felt empathy. 

Many people order food because they don’t have the privilege of being able to get in a car with ease to get it themselves. They might be bedridden, or wheelchair-bound, either way they rely on people like me to bring what they need to them. So, I faced the door again, and replied, “I’ll bring it in, one sec.” I grabbed the bag off the ground, took a couple seconds to still my nerves, and opened the door.

I was immediately greeted with an awful smell, though I tried my best to not let it show on my face for the sake of being polite. But, whoever had called me into that sad little motel room was nowhere in sight. Unwilling to go any further in, I called out “Food for Bailey J? I have the bags here, I can set them dow-” the voice interrupted, louder and much less weak than before, “Yes, I’m in here. Come in please.” The sound seemed to be coming from all around me, but I noticed the bathroom door was open. This was the source of that light, a bright fluorescent glow, an offense to eyes that’d been accustomed to the dark of the night. I slowly crept over, my heart and mind far outpacing my feet, rapidly theorizing what could possibly be awaiting me. The smell got stronger with every step I took forward, it became impossible for me to ignore. I almost crossed the threshold when I saw a thick drop of liquid fall from the ceiling.

I froze, and arched my neck to see something part of me still fails to admit was really there. Just above me was a massive set of teeth, yellowed and gnashing, with exposed, discolored gums. The teeth belonged to a greater mass, some amalgamation of flesh clinging to the tiles of the bathroom ceiling. Even without eyes or a nose it knew I had approached, and it became restless. Its tongue darted out of its mouth, reaching for something to grab hold of. Coils of muscle and tendon stretched from the mass, wildly thrashing through the air, grazing just past the top of my head.

I quickly backed away from the bathroom and ran to the door, but it had shut and locked, with no attempts to flip the bolt or twist the knob making any difference. I was trapped. I started screaming out of hopes someone might hear me, but there was no stir from the neighboring rooms. I fell to the floor, and began to cry, when I heard the voice again. This time, it made no attempt to seem meek, or even human. The words boomed in my head, as if they were spoken from right behind my eyes. “Feed me, and you may leave.” 

After a moment or two of denial and acceptance grappling for control over my next course of action, I peered back into that brightly lit room. From this distance I couldn’t see any sign of the teeth, but I could hear them chattering in anticipation. Finally, I got up, grabbed the bags, and walked to the entrance of the bathroom. Now I noticed in the corner, next to the toilet, was a shovel.

I opened all the styrofoam containers, five patties in each one, and picked up the shovel. As I did I could tell the mass was delighted at my cooperation, more saliva dripped to the floor as its tongue appeared again from behind its teeth. I put several patties on the shovel, and lifted it up, angling it carefully to not drop any out of fear that might make it angry. It lapped the meat into its mouth, and began to chew. Bits of beef and spit fell onto me, my skin crawled at the touch but I dreaded the idea of upsetting this thing so much that I stood still and stomached it.

After a few more shovelfuls, the meat was gone and the mass seemed pleased with itself. I then heard a loud click come from the door, signaling my freedom. Desperate to be anywhere but there I made my way towards it, never taking my eyes off the bathroom. Be…

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