(The camera quickly pans to the creator, buried deep under a mountain of blankets. A hand slowly emerges, flails blindly, and hits the snooze button with a loud thwack.)
Creator (Voiceover, groggy and dramatic): The alarm. The cruel, soul-crushing siren that marks the end of my peaceful existence and the beginning of the great daily deception: “Rise and Shine.”
(The alarm goes off again two minutes later. The creator groans, pulling the blanket over their head.)
Creator (Muffled, highly emotional): I reject this reality! I refuse the light! I am an earthworm, and I will burrow until the sun goes down!
Phase 1: The Blanket Battle and The First Fall
(The creator reluctantly attempts to sit up. They are wearing mismatched socks and an oversized t-shirt.)
Creator (Stretching, letting out a loud, pained groan): Okay. Okay. We are upright. That’s 50% of the battle. Now, for the tactical extraction from the blanket fort. (They try to kick the blanket off but get tangled, resulting in them nearly falling off the bed.)
Creator (Whispering with mock panic): Man down! Man down! I’m tangled in the linens! This is how the day ends! Not with a bang, but with a thread count of 600!
(The creator finally untangles themselves and stands up, swaying slightly. They immediately walk into the door frame.)
Creator: OW! (Rubs their head.) Proof that my equilibrium is currently on vacation. This is why I can’t have nice things, like working coordination before 8 AM.
Phase 2: The Zombie Shuffle to Coffee
(The creator shuffles into the kitchen, moving extremely slowly, like a zombie in search of brains—or caffeine.)
Creator (Narrating in a dramatic, gravelly whisper): The pilgrimage begins. The path is long, the kitchen light is offensively bright, but the reward… the reward is the black nectar of temporary functioning.
(The creator stumbles slightly while reaching for the coffee grounds, knocking a spoon onto the floor with a loud CLANG.)
Creator (Wincing and jumping): Why is everything so loud? The universe is actively conspiring against my delicate state!
(The creator manages to start the coffee maker. They lean against the counter, staring vacantly at the machine as it drips.)
Creator: This is the most riveting television I will watch all day. Watching life slowly infuse into hot water. Don’t rush it, darling. Don’t rush my salvation.
Phase 3: The Mirror’s Betrayal
(The creator takes a triumphant sip of coffee, finally looking slightly more human. They then walk toward the bathroom mirror.)
Creator (Looking into the camera, relieved): Ah, coffee. It’s like hitting the reset button. I feel capable. I feel presentable. I feel—
(The creator catches a glimpse of themselves in the mirror and stops talking. The camera zooms in on their wild bed hair, creased face, and the dark circles under their eyes.)
Creator (Staring at their reflection with horror): Who is that? Is that a monster? Is that a disgruntled swamp creature that has temporarily borrowed my face? That is not “shining.” That is definitely not “rising.” That is “barely surviving.”
(They try to quickly smooth their hair down with both hands, making it look worse.)
Creator (Sighing heavily): Okay, new plan. Avoid all reflective surfaces until Phase 4: Full Makeup and Denial.
The Final Attempt at Cheer
(The creator is back in the kitchen, taking a much larger, more confident sip of coffee.)
Creator: Alright, folks. The eyes are open, the coffee is flowing, and the worst of the brain fog is receding. We are now upgraded from “Sleeping Earthworm” to “Semi-Functional Human-Shaped Vessel.”
Creator (Forcing a giant, unnatural smile): So, yes! Rise and Shine! Don’t you just love mornings? (The forced smile immediately drops into a weary grimace.) Okay, I’m still lying, but I’m caffeinated, and that’s close enough.
