Every morning, right on the dot, old Mr. Thompson would step onto the porch of his little cottage in Cornwall, and there itd bea fresh loaf of bread, wrapped in plastic, waiting for him. The label had some fancy name hed never heard of, like it was from some posh bakery abroad, and straight away, his gut told him something was off.
The first time, he reckoned it mightve been the neighbours being kindmaybe someone had noticed he lived alone and fancied doing a good deed. He was a bit touched, honestly, but still, he didnt eat it. Something about free stuff always felt fishy to him.
Next day, same thingsame loaf, same packaging, same spot. This time, he wondered if it was some new government scheme for pensioners. But none of the neighbours had mentioned anything, and he hadnt got a letter about it.
By the third day, his nerves were shot. The timing, the weird brandingnone of it sat right. He grabbed the loaf and marched down to the local Tesco. You lot delivering bread now? he asked the cashier. Some sort of promotion?
She looked at him like hed lost the plot. No, love, we just sell it. Were not in the business of dropping bread on doorsteps.
Mr. Thompson left even more rattled. The more he thought about it, the more it spooked him. What if someone was tampering with it? Poisoning him?
On the fourth morning, he took matters into his own hands. He dusted off an old camcorder from the back of the cupboardone he hadnt used since his grandkids were littleand set it up to film the porch.
When he played the footage back, his heart nearly stopped. Clear as day, at four in the morning, a small drone silently swooped in, hovered over the step, dropped the loaf, and zipped off like it was nothing.
His blood ran cold. This wasnt neighbours or social services. This was something else entirely.
Hands shaking, he bundled the bread and the camera into a bag and headed straight to the police station. And thats when he found out the terrifying truth.
The officers exchanged glances after watching the footage, and one of them chuckled. Blimey, mate, youve been roped into an experiment.
Turns out, some flashy new start-up was trialling drone bread deliveries, and his address had somehow ended up in their system. A few days earlier, while fumbling with his phone to check the weather, hed accidentally clicked an ad and signed up for a months trial. He hadnt even realisedjust a misplaced tap, and boom, he was subscribed.
When they explained it, Mr. Thompson didnt know whether to laugh or scream. They refunded him and cancelled the subscription, but the whole thing left him uneasy.
And that loaf? Still sitting in his kitchen. He never did take a bitesomething about it just felt wrong.
