🐜Chapter 3: “Remembering When of the Booshu’s”
After the Cheeto feast, the Shuboo’s retreated to their deep, dark wall caves—full, smug, and temporarily harmless.
But they’re not the only tribe in my world.
On the other side of the bed: Booshu. Yes, it’s Shuboo spelled backwards. Yes, there was a war over the name.
They argued. Loudly. I snapped. “Why are you yelling? I need sleep. Either shut this noise or go to bed!”
They froze. Mouths wide. Masterpieces of confusion.
So I gave them a choice. “Those who want the name ‘Shuboo,’ go to this side of the bed.” Blank stares. “Raise your leg if you want ‘Shuboo.’” They did. I blinked. They understand me?
“Okay, you go to the other side.”
I turned to the rest. “What name do you want?” They trembled. Whispered, “Booshu.”
“Fine. You get this side.”
Then I declared, “There’s a meeting soon. Rules will be set. Be there—or else.”
They bowed. “My Queen, we humbly say we are so sorry.” I nodded. “Next time, don’t do it again.”
They still break the rules. But now? They get along. Mostly.
🐇 Continue to Chapter 4 — “The Meeting of Mischief”
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