~Disclaimer: I do not own the Trix Rabbit or Trix cereal, as you all know. The Keebler elf doesn't belong to me either. But I do own Frederick and all of the other characters!~

"How appetizing," Frederick said, looking down at his humungous sundae. There was vanilla ice cream with caramel swirls and pecans and every topping anyone could ever think of. While reaching for his spoon, Boris grabbed him by his ears and lifted him out of his chair.

"Nuh-uh, Fred!" Boris scolded. "You know to keep to your diet. I'm not having a fat rabbit advertise my cereal." He shoved Frederick towards the table piled with carrot sticks. "You can eat all you want right here." Then he picked up the sundae and began to gobble it up greedily.

Frederick wanted to say, "Silly Boris! Ice creams are for rabbits!" and snatch it away. In fact, he wasn't even a rabbit. He was a hare. But of course, no one knew the difference.

Boris patted his overly large belly and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Fred, where are The Kids?" He asked as if Frederick was supposed to know.

"Should I know?" If they never started shooting the newest commercial, it was just fine with him. It was the most ridiculous one yet.

"Yes, you should. Go find them. NOW!" Frederick sighed. He hated looking for The Kids everyday. He hated being called Fred. He hated his whole blasted job and wondered how he even got into the cereal sales business in the first place.

But he understood very well how he did. He wanted so badly to blame his mother for it all. She was the one who made him go into show biz to get rich like the famed Bugs Bunny. Who knew he would end up promoting the buying of artificially colored/flavored breakfast food?

"Kids," Frederick called wearily, and while walking, hit the bright red door to the dressing room. He fell backwards, unconscious.

"Fred! How many times have you killed yourself running smack into that same door?" Boris shouted, pouring a bucket of water over his head, which he always kept handy. "Put in your contacts!"

Frederick had told his boss a countless number of times that contacts caused severe irritation to his eyes and made them swollen. Boris never listened.

He stood up and called for The Kids some more. He knew they wouldn't come. Then something heavy knocked him in the back of his head. He was on the ground once more. Giggles could be heard behind him.

It was The Kids.

They had thrown a bowling ball at his head, and now it was rolling across the hard, concrete floor.

They thought they could do anything to Frederick. They were wrong though, because bowling balls hurt terribly, even if you are a cartoon.

"Hahahaha! That was funny." The lanky boy called George laughed.

"Yeah. Let's do it again!" said a revolting girl named Kaitlyn.

"Duh. . ." said Harvey, completely clueless.

"Kids, you can't knock out our buddy Fred here!" Boris yelled. The Kids and Frederick looked up in surprise.

"Well, at least not when we're just about to start filming another commercial! Lets move it!" The Kids raced each other to the set, which was this time, a tree house

"Boris, I don't like this one. I think I've seen it before," said Kaitlyn.

"Of course you have, you dope. So what if I stole it from that Keebler dude? He's just some old guy who bakes cookies," Boris said, annoyed. "Okay, lets get on with it! People, take your places!" Everyone rushed to his or her spots in the scene.

"!"

Frederick put on his I'm-Just-A-Stupid-Rabbit voice.

"Hehehaha! The Kids won't recognize me in this disguise!" He slipped on a T- shirt, jeans, and baseball cap, then climbed up the tree. Seeing that The Kids each held a bowl of Trix, he asked to have some. "Sure," Harvey said, handing him a bowl. Frederick tried his best not to sneeze. Being allergic to his own cereal was horrible. At least he never had to taste it.

Skillfully, he whirled in to the air, convincingly describing the wonderful colors and taste of Trix cereal. In the middle, his cap fell off of his head, revealing his large ears.

"Hey! It's the rabbit!" announced George with a look of surprise on his face, obviously practiced well. He took the bowl away from Frederick, spilling cold milk on Frederick's bare toes. He winced.

"Silly rabbit! Trix are for Kids!" Kaitlyn announced for the gazillionth time in her life.

"Cut!" shouted Boris. "That stunk! Fred, your eyes got all red and I could tell that you were going to sneeze again. You were supposed to do a triple skip-twirl. Harvey, you look like an idiot standing there! Take two!"

Two hours later. . .

"Take sixty-three!"

Another two hours later. . .

"Take one thousand eighty-seven!"

And finally,

"Okay, cut! That was good. Y'all are done for the day. Go home and don't bother me."

Frederick, exhausted, slumped in a chair. His throat hurt, and he gulped down a gallon of water quicker than you could say "silly rabbit".

"Fred! Stay late and clean up. I have an important meeting to go to." Boris headed out.

"Oh, and by the way." Frederick glanced up at him.

"Twenty-bucks off of your paycheck for the lousy performance today."

"What?!?! You can't do that!"

"Who do ya think you are to say that to me?" His huge teeth showed as he grinned, a sickening sight.

"The Trix Rabbit," Frederick answered fast.

"Well, I'm the Trix Rabbit's boss, and what I say goes." He slammed the door.

As soon as Boris was gone, Frederick let it all out.

"AAAARRRGH!!!" How dare he! Frederick thought angrily to himself. Do I have no rights? I should be treated just as fairly as The Kids are! It was his worst day yet. He stormed into his dressing room and put on his glasses. Everything was clear again. Grabbing his tweed jacket off of the stand, he exited the studio.

Rain splashed onto the pavement, making it all the more gloomier. While opening his umbrella, Frederick poked himself in the eye, and so he didn't see the bus going past. He sighed. That was the second time this week.

He waited for the next bus to come. It didn't. He had no choice but to walk home.

All the while he thought about his miserable life. As he thought longer, he realized something. He didn't have a life.

And boy did he wish he had one.

On his way he stopped by the Trixville Dance Theatre (yes, the town was named after the cereal). It was late and everyone had gone. However, the doors were always left unlocked. Frederick pulled on the handle and stepped inside. The warm air felt good; his coat was drenched and his teeth chattered furiously.

Frederick took one of the soft red seats in the farthest row back, as usual. The brilliant music of Tchaikovsky played quietly, mellow and comforting. Several dim lamps on the walls gave the place a nice glow.

His eyes were transfixed on the dancer, a tall rabbit, leaping through the air like the pro she was. Gauzy purple fabric was entwined in her arms, flying behind her as she spun.

He came to watch her often, although she never noticed. She was the only highlight in his days.

And it was then, when watching this rabbit dance so freely and passionately, that he decided there was no reason why he couldn't have a life also. He reached into his jacket pocket for his journal and pen.

It is at this theatre where I feel most at peace. No one knows I am here, and so I am not bothered. I can forget about all of my troubles and relax. Even the muffled sound of rain outside seems to put me at ease.

I sit here

in another world
where nothing matters,
nothing,

nothing but the dancer,

flying across the stage

weightless
free of everything;
a symbol
of how life should be.

Ha! I bet you didn't think the Trix Rabbit to be much of a poet, did you? Well, now you know. Anyway, on with the story. . .

So, Frederick makes the decision to pursue his dream as a writer. He says to himself, why should I go on wasting my time and my life any longer? He thinks to quit his lousy job and do what he was meant to do.

Yeah! Go Frederick!

"Yeah! Go me!" He stood up and yelled. Boy, did it feel good! The ballerina bunny, startled, stopped in the middle of a fouetté. Frederick, whom was terribly embarrassed, sank low into his seat.

"What was that?" The bunny was puzzled and quite afraid, as anyone would be.

Frederick hid until he saw that she was gone. Then he rushed out the door and in the direction of his apartment.

============

The next morning Frederick was in a very good mood. He sipped his coffee at his kitchen table, taking notes on Shakespeare's plays in his leather journal. (Believe it or not, that is what he does for fun.)

After finishing his coffee, he went back to his bedroom, where he had started putting his things into boxes. He taped one shut and wrote BOOKS on it with a sharpie. There were eight other boxes labeled that, along with JUNK and MY PRIZED TWEED JACKETS, also of which he had quite a collection.

Frederick worked the whole morning and by lunchtime, everything was packed. He carried all of them down the four flights of stairs and watched as a truck took them away. He said goodbye to his home and caught a bus to the next town, a small one where he expected no one to find him.

The other night he had found a bargain in the newspaper. He called the number and was given the house for just one thousand dollars. The picture showed a very decent looking cottage surrounded in cabbage gardens, and he did have a liking for cabbage.

While heading for Lala Street, Frederick suddenly got lost in a field of corn. He wandered endlessly and let out a cry when a hillbilly man jumped out at him. He wore a straw hat and overalls and talked funny.

"What ya doing here?"

"Uh, I'm-I think I made a wrong turn. Do you know the way to this house?" He showed the man the newspaper ad.

"Oh, so you is the rabbit wanting to buy. Come with me, see." He led Frederick through the maze of corn to a run-down barn that looked about to fall apart, probably as old as the man. Its green paint was peeling off, and it seemed deserted.

"There it is. Bootiful, ain't it?"

"Um, well, it doesn't look at all like the picture here." He glanced back down at the newspaper clipping.

"Of course it don't! I just took a picture of another house and put it in the ad. Now where's my thousand bucks?"

"Wha-what about my cabbages?" Frederick said desperately.

"Cabbages? What ya need them for when ya got corn?"

"This is absolutely ridiculous. You've cheated me. I think I'll find a different place to stay."

"Can't do that." A curious smile crossed his face. "See here rabbit, I could always tell everyone where you are. I've seen yer goofy face on my telly. Prolly runnin' away or somethin'. Now pay up."

Frederick reluctantly took the dollar bills out of his pocket and held them out to the man. The man grabbed them and sniffed them gleefully.

"Good. Yer boxes are already in the barn. Go on in."

"Wait. . ." Frederick said. The man had disappeared.

"The people around here are completely insane," he muttered to himself. Now he was to write his soon-to-be-famous poems and inspiring novels in a shack in the middle of nowhere.

Great.

And he had no clue how to get back to civilization to use the toilet.