They locked me up. I was fueled. They told me I could call someone. I called my friends, and none of them panswered. I sat in the cell and watched my cellmate who told me to "just call him Daddy", pace around and swear under his breath.
"I have a plan." I whispered. Daddy didn't hear me. That's okay, I wasn't talking to him. I was talking to the sickening crunches. I called to them, feeling the rhythm of the cockroaches legs scurrying across the floor. They climbed up the cell bars and start gnawing away. I also started gnawing away... on them. I picked them off, and grinded them between my teeth. Daddy had already ran off. I picked up one of the bars that was now laying on the bottom of the cell and start hitting the guards guns out of their hands and knocking them off.
I ripped off my shirt and yelled THAT! SICKENING! CRUNNNNNNNCCCCHHHHH!!!!
I watched in satisfaction as all the police officers scurried off. I love that sickening crunch.