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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/TieDieDestoyer on 2025-06-29 23:40:37+00:00.

No amount of money is worth what happens here. I could handle the basic stuff at first—light a piece of paper, read some words, give them this order. But it just keeps getting more and more intense. It’s like these things can sense that my fortitude is cracking and are just waiting to catch me when it finally breaks.

There’s one reason I still come back, but I’ll get to that later. I just need to get this off my chest.

After that last case of déjà food (it’s a long story, you can catch up here), things went pretty okay. Shifts went like normal—at least, as normal as you can get here at Smileys. I’ve worked a few more shifts with Phil and he seems to be doing well.

He’s stopped trying to smoke in the kitchen. In fact, he hasn’t taken any smoke breaks at all. When I asked about it, he just muttered something about “doctors and my wife.” Only reason I even noticed was because I was about to ask for one. I don’t smoke, but honestly, anything helps when I have to work here.

Last night was slow. And I don’t mean Smileys slow—I mean slow even by Smileys standards. It was almost 4 a.m. and not a single person came in, human or not. I was thinking it was going to be a peaceful shift.

How wrong I was.

It was the calm before the inevitable storm. I was sitting down, watching the cameras, when I saw this odd figure walk into the drive-thru. I couldn’t see it too well from the cameras (I’m pretty sure these things are older than I am). It seemed to be gesturing at the menu, pointing at it.

Thankfully, I’ve learned my lesson. I checked the pamphlet first, looking for something about someone walking into the drive-thru.

Nothing.

I did a quick double-check, thinking maybe I missed it.

Still nothing.

My heart started beating faster and a wave of panic crept in. I told myself to calm down—it’s probably just a crackhead trying to order. (We close the lobby after 10 P.M., so if you want food, drive-thru is your only option.) I put on my headset and said,

“Welcome to Smileys, what would you like to order today?”

I kept my eyes on the cameras, trying to figure out what he wanted. But when I spoke, he stopped pointing at the menu. Then his head slowly turned to face the camera, and he raised one finger to his mouth, making a shushing motion.

I figured he was still trying to order, so I asked in my most cheerful voice,

“Do you have any questions about the menu? I’d love to help!”

He dropped his finger from his mouth and shook his head. Then he reached forward and twisted his hand like he was turning a key.

A sound came from the lobby. The sound of the door unlocking.

I froze. Whatever this was, it wasn’t human. This was one of our “special guests” that liked to appear, except...

It wasn’t in the pamphlet.

I had no rules. Nothing to do. Nothing to not do. Panicking, I called Ryan.

“Hello, Ryan here! What—” his cheerful voice began, but I cut him off.

“There’s something in the drive-thru, Ryan. I don’t know what to do.” I was trying not to lose it.

“Andrew, you’ve worked here for months now. You should know that—” Ryan began in a scolding tone.

“IT’S NOT IN THERE.” My panic was rising fast. “It just walked into the drive-thru, shushed me, and somehow unlocked the door while it was still outside.”

I kept my eyes on the camera feeds as I listened to Ryan.

“I need you to stay on the phone with me,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “Tell me exactly what you do.”

My hands were shaking as I stared at the monitors. Whatever was in the drive-thru was still looking straight into the camera. Looking at me.

It reached its hand forward and mimed grabbing something—then pulled back. A second later, I heard the door into the lobby open. From where I stood in the kitchen, my view of the lobby was blocked. Whatever was in the drive through didn’t seem to be moving, and I could reach the door before it did if I ran fast enough. I started to sprint as fast as I could, barely making it to the front counter before freezing suddenly.

He was standing at the door.

“Andrew, talk to me. What’s happening?” Ryan’s voice came through the phone, but I barely heard it. Every ounce of focus I had was on the thing in the doorway. I could see it clearly now, in all its terrifying glory.

It wore black pants, held up by suspenders, with a black-and-white shirt. White gloves covered its hands. Its face was painted white, with two black dots on the cheeks and pitch-black eyes. And its mouth...

Its mouth was stitched shut.

I stared into those dark eyes, and it stared back. Neither of us moved. Ryan’s voice finally broke the silence in my head.

“What does it look like?”

“I don’t know. It’s wearing black and white. It has gloves. Its mouth is—” I started, but as I spoke, the figure reached up a hand and pitched it’s pointer finger and thumb together. It then made a stitching motion, and I felt a sharp burning stabbing pain on my upper lip. I winced in pain, bringing my hand to my mouth. Pulling it back, I saw it was stained with blood.

“Its mouth is what? Keep talking, Andrew.” Ryan sounded stern now, focused. I slowly set my phone on the counter.

Ryan wasn’t going to be able to help me.

I had to do this on my own.

Turning to the kitchen, I grabbed various food items and quickly stuffed them into a bag. Hopefully there would be something in there that he liked. I hated turning my back to him but there really wasn’t any other choice. Steeling myself, I turned back to face him.

He was waiting at the counter, quietly. Still smiling, though parts of his lips were held shut by the taut stitching.

I approached him slowly, holding out the bag, hoping something in there would make him happy. His smile turned into a deep frown, and he slapped the bag out of my hand. Then, in one fluid motion, he started climbing over the counter.

I quickly backed away, desperate to put space between me and that thing. As I turned to run, my foot caught the edge of the fryer and I slammed into the ground. My vision went blurry, and a sharp pain flared through my skull—but it was nothing compared to the agony that shot through my leg.

The back of my thigh lit up with an excruciating, deep, throbbing pain—like something had been jammed straight into the muscle. I screamed and twisted to look. I saw that thing holding his hand in a fist on the back of my thigh. His hand wasn’t holding anything, but the pain was very, very real. Blood was already spreading beneath his invisible weapon.

I kicked out in desperation, and he backed off.

I tried to drag myself up, to stand, but my body gave out. That thing started pacing behind me—slow, deliberate—like a cat stalking wounded prey. I clawed my way toward the manager’s office and fumbled for the handle, but I couldn’t get it open. I flipped onto my back to face what was coming.

Tears that had already welled up in my eyes started to spill over. I was going to die in this stupid restaurant, having done nothing with my life. And even worse—this stupid mime was going to kill me.

This mime was going to kill me.

Then, through the fog of pain and panic, an idea hit me. A dumb, desperate idea I should’ve had way sooner.

If I was going to die, I might as well try it.

I reached out, pretending to grab something, and placed it into an invisible bag. Then I extended my hand and offered the “bag” to him.

He stopped.

His “knife”-wielding hand dropped to his side, and that wicked grin softened into something almost... pleasant. He reached out, took the fake bag from my hand, and pretended to inspect it. His expression brightened. He looked at me, gave me a thumbs up, turned around, and walked out of the store.

Relief hit me like a wave, and my tears turned into sobs of joy. The adrenaline that had kept me going finally ran out, and everything went black.

I later woke up in the hospital, Ryan by my side. He had gotten me out of the restaurant and taken me to the hospital. I guess he does care. The doctors told me that I had a bad fall in the store and that a knife fell off the counter and into my leg. I hesitated to correct them based on the glare Ryan was giving me. It wasn’t too bad, and I should be back to normal after some time resting.

After my stay in the hospital, I dreaded the idea of going to work, but Ryan insisted that I come in. That we would need to document the “accident” that happened. I got to name the thing, which is kind of cool. It’s like being able to name the super rare disease that you’re infected with and will probably die from. I told Ryan what I did, what not to do, and anything else I could remember. He told me it’ll take a while to get the pamphlet updated, but I was now officially a permanent part of Smileys history. Yippee.

He did tell me to update Phil, since he was the only other night shift worker. Thankfully he was already working and I just needed to pop out and say hi.

Phil was in the kitchen, like normal, making whatever food was ordered. Then the lights started flickering in the store. I walked toward the front counter instinctively, but saw Phil was already there. He had a paper in hand and was already burning it.

I looked at him quizzically and he said,

“What? Wouldn’t want to break any rules around here.” As he spoke, he smiled at me.

“I thought you said this stuff was bogus? I mean, you didn’t believe it when it was your wife,” I questio...

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