Rewritten version of Sugar and Molasses

Chapter 2: The Rise of the Rebellion

(Rawr. I come again to throw some random sentences to you)

(This one is going to be more for the funny rather than actually working on the plot. I mean it does show some like, background info on what the fuck is happening besides MC.)

(Can I just say that cockroaches will be significant characters in the story? Like, just saying as a warning.)

(Last time I was too serious for sure)

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It's late morning when you wake up, after gruelling in your bed for hours. You managed to sleep at 2:30 AM finally. But you crashed, sleeping for eight hours after an exhausting day of stress. You mindlessly blink for a few seconds, trying to activate your mind. At least you didn't have to go to work today.

You turn over and check the time on your phone, seeing the numbers displayed on the screen. You don't want to get out of bed. Your bed is too comforting to leave. The world is too cold and cruel. You would rather stay in your little burrito. But then you remembered something. That crime scene outside, did it finally get reported? You hope so. You didn't want to go through with it. You despised the thought of being interrogated by the police.

Your mind can't muster every single time and action taken during and before the sighting of the crime scene. It's bad enough already with your anxiety. Being spotlighted for such a serious matter would drive your heart nuts. You wanted no tears today. Just a peaceful day and of course, your bed.

You open up YouTube and watch a few videos, trying to distract yourself from your worried mind. You laugh a little a few times, enjoying the dumpster fire of editing going on. This is the kind of environment you want to forever live in. Pure comedy and of course, your bed.

But after procrastinating for an hour or two, you get out of bed. You briefly glance at yourself in the mirror. Your eyebags are less prominent after crashing for the night. You then slump off to the kitchen, your throat feeling like sand and gummies that have been sitting out in the sun for an hour too long.

You stare at the coffee pot. You weren't really in the mood for coffee this morning. The coffee was leftover from the night before. It was cold. You turn your attention away from it and open the fridge. Your eyes search for something to drink that could stop that scratchy feeling in your throat.

Once you drink some liquid, your mind feels a bit more awake; more aware of its surroundings. You look over at the clock, checking what hour it is: 12:34. Should you do some tasks today? Your eyes trace over the furniture of your apartment. After working late shifts all week, it's in quite a disarray. Yeah, you should clean. You may be a rat, but you can't let shrivelled cockroaches make your home their home base.

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Meanwhile, in the walls of an abandoned building, there's a tiny structure made out of cardboard, matches, and gum. A sturdy base amid the brick walls. Inside is a whole colony of cockroaches. Some wore miniature nurse hats made out of newspaper or helmets out of walnut cases. They communicated with each other using little chatters and squeaks, their antennae brushing against each other. Although being bugs despised by the rest of the world, these cockroaches seemed to have formed a little society of intelligent beings.

In the center of the cardboard building is a little meeting room, with a miniature pool table scattered with chess pieces and papers. On the end stood a cockroach with a general hat made out of green fabric. A golden pin as its star in the center. Its fellow members surrounded the rest of the pool table, sitting in little seats made out of straws.