Short Story

Philip slapped snooze.

Again. He never went to his stats class but always set his alarm as if he had every intention of attending. Talk about internal conflict. He rolled onto his back knowing he had just under seven minutes before he’d berate his clock again. He closed his eyes and perceived Sabrina facing away from him, fiddling with something at their lab bench, her toned tush flawless as ever. As her hazy silhouette began to rotate slowly towards him he noticed that what he had originally conceived to be Sabrina was actually a bare-breasted Mrs. Mentor, his 5^th grade art teacher of questionable morals and unquestionable unattractiveness.

Philip fled bed.

He still had no intention of going to class but the repulsive mental image of Mrs. Mentor made returning to sleep impossible. He spotted his left-footed slipper next to the foot of his bed and after some investigation found the other one under last night’s outfit. Draped in his terry-cloth robe, he exited his room, entered the kitchen and began his morning routine. He filled his electric water-boiler under the sink faucet and got some coffee from the pantry. He mixed the coffee and near-boiling water together in his Bodum French-press and gave the mixture a swirl, his nostrils reeling in the aroma.

Philip sat down.

At the kitchen table in front of him stood the typical breakfast soldiers: a carton of 2% milk, a mug of black coffee, and a box of Trix. He reached for the cereal box and aggressively opened the cardboard flaps. Staring into the box he was disappointed to find a meager amount of sweetened corn-puff fruits within the box. He reached his right hand into the box to grab the remaining cereal.

Philip was confused.

As he tried to remove his hand from the box the cereal became increasingly heavy, forcing him to stand up in order to gain leverage. As Philip grabbed the rim of the box with his left hand the weight of the cereal trumped his strength and he fell, head first, into his box of Trix. Although he felt weightless, the indiscernible items whizzing by his body at an alarming rate suggested he was falling. Fast.

Philip fell fast.

And although he perceived it to take hours, within about a minute he splashed down into a swamp of strawberry yogurt. He struggled frantically and as his gasps became increasingly filled with active cultures and thickened dairy he felt himself being tugged by his hair. A wild force had removed him from the yogurt swamp and flung him to the ground. Philip placed both hands on either side of his nose and wiped the yogurt from his eyelids only to see the myth, the legend, the Trix Rabbit.

Philip screamed Trix.

And the bunny told him that they had no time for shenanigans. We’ve gotta save Sabrina, he told him emphatically. Philip tried to respond but every time he opened his mouth Trix cereal spewed out like projectile vomit. The rabbit casually picked at the bananas as they flew through the air before tossing Philip gingerly on his back.

Philip was helpless.

As Trix hopped with haste through what seemed to be a two-dimensional forest of pastel shrubbery, Philip decided to completely shed all reservations. He had found the Trix bunny stories lackluster as a child, but the scenes before his eyes had him perceptually pleased. Embracing the absurdity of his environment – oversaturated fruits, two-toned plants and lollipop trees – he tried to wrap his head around what the rabbit had said. We’ve gotta save Sabrina. It echoed between his ears, reverberation driving contemplation.

Philip thought hard.

And reasoned that he must still be asleep. How else could he be inside a cereal box on the back of the Trix rabbit that knew the identity of his girlfriend? He slapped himself firmly in the face to test his dream-state theory but this only caused him to spew more Trix. In fact, the puffed-grain fruit shot out with such force that they startled the rabbit to a halt.

I’m trying to help you find Sabrina, can you please stop these shenanigans? Trix sounded about as frustrated as a silly rabbit could get without risking his mascot contracts with General Mills. Philip tried to apologize, again forgetting that his oral cavity had been magically converted to a cereal geyser. As the silly rabbit restarted his hopping and quickened his pace Philip decided to get creative.

Philip got creative.

He jumped off the back of the rabbit and as he was falling screamed Sabrina’s name towards the ground. The force from his Trix cannon was enough to combat gravitational forces and keep Philip suspended in the air. With enough gusto he could actually form a propulsion pillar with the Trix.

Philip flew up.

He continued to yell and continued to rise, piercing through the rainforest canopy of the cardboard Trix world towards a sky of indiscernible color. He passionately screamed her name repeatedly and accelerated upwards when suddenly he felt himself rapidly slowing down. He couldn’t see the ground below him but it didn’t matter – he knew the problem. Fucking rabbit! He thought to himself. With every jerk back towards the ground he knew that Trix was taking another bit of the questionably nutritious cereal escape pillar that Philip had built for himself.

Philip fell down.

He landed with a thud directly in front of the silly rabbit’s hind paws. The rabbit burped. Philip sighed, and as he sighed more Trix shot out, only this time they flew directly into the silly rabbit’s mouth, causing the rabbit’s eyes to fractal and spin like pinwheels. Philip repeated this procedure again and this time the silly rabbit keeled over and died. Philip wasn’t sure what to think. He hadn’t tried to kill the rabbit, and the rabbit had actually been trying to help him. Regardless, he repeated his Trix tower building procedure, screaming at the ground with great enthusiasm. After what seemed like hours but was probably seconds, Philip found himself again sitting at his kitchen table.

His phone rang. It was Sabrina.

Philip got dumped.