Fredrick

There once was a bunny. His name was Frederick and he was on his death bed. He lived for about 10 years but was finally giving the go-ahead to the grim reaper to take him back to the essence of the universe. The rainbow-colored hospital dimmed in color as the entire place began mourning Frederick. His family, a bunch of money-grubbing social wimps, waited at bay for the appropriate moment to begin suing Fredrick's estate for his millions of carrots. The situation was too much for his son, Jeffery, to handle and he killed himself by choking on his cotton-ball tail. Frederick sat in his chair, staring outside of the window, watching the protestors walk by. His heart filled with joy when he saw the youth acting on their own beliefs rather than the systems. Little did Frederick know that the protestors were hired by a cigarette company to gain publicity.
The nurse walked to his bedside, holding her paws together.
"Mr. Frederick?"
"...ye, yes?"
"This is kind of awkward. Um, my husband, he loves your work."
"Oh, oh thank you."
"Yeah, but...here's the thing. He heard that you were in the hospital right now so he made an unusual request."
"What is it, my dear?"
"I can't say it out loud or I might get fired."
"Oh, okay, just whisper it."
"Um...all right."
The young rabbit, wearing the cutest red cross hat, hopped over to the wise hare, and whispered, “He wants me to french-kiss you. He only gets turned on by the saliva of his dying heroes.”
“oh, OH! Uh...well...okay, but I want my eyes closed the whole time. My faithful wife, Dorothy, bless her soul, would be devastated if she ever knew."
"No problem, and really, I don't mean to offend."
"I understand."
The wise hare closed his eyes. His illness slowed down his movements so it took him a minute to close them fully. The nurse closed the door. She slowly reached toward Fredrick's lips, and stuck her tongue in his mouth. She swiveled around for a while, sticking into molars and incisors until finally snake-wrapping it around Fredrick’s flattened tongue. The nurse did everything in her will to prevent her heel from rising up, reminding herself that she is not supposed to be enjoying this. She stops, and looks at Frederick, thinking he's dead.
“Oh,” Fredrick says, “you remind of Beatrice, my first companion."
"Really?"
“Yes. There's a reason why she was my first."
"Oh. Sorry, sir. I have to leave now. You understand, though?"
"Of course. Give him my blessings."
"I, I will. Farewell," said the nurse, opening the door, and hopping outside to reach her disturbed lover. Strangely, this was not the only time old Frederick received such requests. For his sake, I will not reprint the more absurd ones. 
Frederick was a watch maker. He had a shop in the town square. Against everyone's wishes, he built the quaint shop next to a shopping mall, and was almost sure that he would become bankrupt in a matter of days. His business grew and grew, and more bunnies preferred to line up to have their watches repaired than to watch the controversial remake of Deep Throat starring only children.
His secret? He was a fantastic conversationalist. Even in his early years, he resembled a rugged Socrates, a rabbit who understood how and why the world functions but didn't stop questioning when someone or himself was wrong. Frederick never swore, either. Never even thought about it. He offended people, accidentally, but he never went out of his way to be vulgar. His family couldn't stand him, thought he was a despicable disgrace who ruined the family name. He wouldn't hesitate speaking to his family if they ever came by his shop, but everyone in the town knew him as Frederick the watch-shop owner. And everyone waited in bated breath for the death of their famed conversationalist.