This is my First Fanfiction, feel free to read and review but be gentle, no flaming please!

Quick note, my stories will most likely revolve around Frankie, Mac will be living at the house for my series, simply because I don't like his mum or Terrance, but I haven't come up with a reason yet so bear with me.

The Schedule-Chapter 1

The red-headed young woman's alarm sounded, loud and ear-splitting, she immediately slapped the snooze button and settled again into blissful rest.

1 minute 13 seconds later

"Miss Frances!" Roared the man-sized rabbit, his austere voice filled the room and obnoxiously reverberated off of every wall.

"AAAH" Frankie yelled, leaping 4ft in the air, in the shock of her rude awakening.

"Do I have it on my schedule that our estate manager should arise at-" he took a second to flick open the golden fob watch from his waistcoat pocket, "06:02:04 AM? Or do I have it written down that you should awaken at precisely six?"

Frankie sighed, however as she began to get up it became apparent the anthropomorphic rabbit wasn't asking a rhetorical question.

"Well..."

"Mr H I-"

"What time abides by my schedule, Miss Frances?"

"Six o'clock," she moaned

"Well I hope your little 'lie in' was worth it was you have reduced your showering/vanity time to 15 minutes,"

"Look bugs, I barely have enough time to get dry as it is-"

"14 minutes, 54 seconds now Miss Frances."

"AAAAH!" she yelled, throwing her arms into the air in her exasperation, she made a beeline to the bathroom only to find it locked, there was the distinct noise of singing from the other side.

"Hello," she shouted through the door, the voice immediately stopped it's awful rendition of 'Poker Face', Frankie heard the toilet flush and the unknown, would-be pop star hastily washed their hands and unlocked the door.

Bloo emerged and sped down the hallway, his red blush turned him a sort of lilac shade, Frankie only chuckled, "Every morning, like clockwork."

"13 minutes 49 seconds Miss Frances!"

"Yeah whatever!" she ran into the bathroom and closed the door, she immediately tried to remove her clothing, only to slip on the bunched up pyjama bottoms around her ankles. Panic seized her as she tumbled like a tree being felled by lumber jacks, her long arms flailed out as she grasped for anything to take a hold off and stop her fall. She could have grabbed the bath, the cabinet, even the wall would have been preferable to grabbing the flimsy shower curtain, which, due to sod's law (which seemed to dictate most of her life) was exactly what she did. She collapsed in a heap of dishevelled, red-haired, half-nakedness, as the floral plastic shall came undone from it's moorings

After wasting another 2 minutes pinning up the shower curtain and delicately removing her underwear whilst trying not to graze any of her newly acquired bruises. She turned the shower dial and was immediately greeted with what she could only describe as a recently melted ice berg, she grabbed the dial and twisted it as far the opposite was way. That was no better, as it felt like a stream of white-hot liquid metal was scalding her naked body. She retreated to the other end of the shower, wholly convinced the infernal contraption was trying to kill her. She managed to delicately twist the dial into the idea area... ahh, this was sometimes as best as it got, a hot shower, considering the rest of her day was spent cleaning, cooking, cleaning, running errands, cleaning, comforting friends, cleaning, and sometimes if she was lucky, cleaning. However since Mac starting living at the house, he and Wilt would often give her a hand, it's not that she minded working endlessly for the friends at Foster's, she loved them all, "Some more than others," she chuckled, remembering Ed, Wilt, Coco, Bloo and Mac. However the impossible workload did sometimes get the better of her.

She turned off the stream of water, and was horrified to realise the room wasn't as quiet as it should be, she could hear a gravelly voice singing loudly "72 bottles of beer on the wall, 72 bottles of beer!"

72? How long has he been there?

She nervously peeked out from behind the curtain to find Eduardo, brushing his fur. He was singing along to his MP3 player, and obviously hadn't noticed Frankie showering.

"Who has '99 bottles of beer' on their IPod?" she thought to herself quickly. Ed began slathering soap on his face, he then resumed serenading his own reflection in the mirror, blowing the occasional soapy bubble. Frankie considered her options, if she tapped him he would almost certainly freak out, and with his massive bulk he could cause untold damage, if she tried to sneak around him she'd probably be noticed, and she didn't want Ed to join the ever-growing list of friends who accidentally catch a glimpse of her naked body. She could just wait him out, but he was a big guy that took a lot of cleaning, the duration was often doubled by Ed's love for hygiene. "5 Minutes Miss Frances!" she heard the bunny shout, "That's it," she thought, she slowly reached over and tentatively laid a hand on Ed's shoulder, he stopped singing and shrieked to high heaven. "El monstruo yo quiere muerto! MUERTO!" He launched himself at the door, creating an Ed-shaped hole in the space of wall where the door used to be. Frankie winced as she heard Ed smashing and crashing down Foster's intricate series of corridors in his endeavour to put as much distance between himself and the source of his terror.

Frankie went back into her room, and pressed play on the stereo, only to shut it off seconds later, upon angrily recalling Herriman's imposed time constraints. She looked herself up and down in the mirror, and pondered how she was going to manage to get dry and ready in 3 minutes. Banishing all sensible ideas from her head, she simply coated herself in towels and tried to get as much as her body in contact with her impromptu dress as possible, to anyone else looking it must have looked like a mummy was trying to have a fight with itself, and somehow losing. She tried to help by blasting herself with the hairdryer, which seemed to be working, until she realised that she had been blowing her hair in all different directions, resulting in what looked like a crimson tumbleweed on her head. She quickly tied her hair behind her head in a ponytail and straightened her fringe, she would've loved to occasionally wear her hair long, but since she always had to rush getting ready, she would often look like a female, red-headed Pat Sharp.

Mr Herriman stood in the foyer tapping one of his large feet, didn't that girl know she was now a whole 1 minute and 12 seconds behind schedule? "Hmph! Probably standing in front of a mirror with her GHB'S or whatever her age group were obsessed with," he huffed, before quickly checking around to make sure no one noticed the momentary lapse of his usual collected self. Frankie thundered down the stairs to meet the rabbit's less-than-impressed gaze, he once again opened his gleaming fob watch, "We are now a grand total of 3 minutes and 46 seconds behind schedule Miss Frances, can't you keep to these basic time constraints? I mean honestly, how hard is it for a twenty year old girl to get up in the morning and be ready by 6:20 AM?"

"You have both asked and answered that question Mr H," Frankie replied sarcastically

"Well in any case, as house president I decide upon the schedule, that dictates your work day, so hop to it!" he lectured, before turning on his furry heel and hopping into his office. Frankie sighed, she had a feeling this was going to be a long day.