[Currently under my bed. If I rewrite I will post the rewrite as a new story - and link when I do.] All Fred wants is to dance on Broadway. This dream is looking increasingly unlikely, as he dies on the second page.  An absurdist exploration of death, dungeons, and dance coupled with mind-bending philosophical questions (such as whether or not a jaffa cake is really a cake or just a pretentious biscuit). WARNINGS: Puns. Stats. Gore. Ballet. British. So British your blood will turn to tea. Strong language. You have been warned. There will be rude words. Likewise, if you are related to me in anyway, turn off your device and walk away right now.