Duration: 1m17s

Hey! All right, slick Nick, you're under arrest. Really? For what? Gee, I don't know. How about selling food without a permit. Transporting undeclared commerce across borough lines. False advertising. Permit. Receipt of declared commerce. And I didn't falsely advertise anything. Take care. You told that mouse the popsicle sticks were redwood! That's right. "Red wood." With a space in the middle. Wood that is red. You can't touch me, Carrots. I've been doing this since I was born. You're gonna want to refrain from calling me Carrots. My bad. I just naturally assumed you came from some little carrot-choked Podunk, no? No! Podunk is in Deerbrooke County, and I grew up in Bunnyburrow. Okay. Tell me if this story sounds familiar. Naive little hick with good grades and big ideas... decides, "Hey, look at me! I'm gonna move to Zootopia... where predators and prey live in harmony and sing "Kumbaya." Only to find, whoopsie... we don't all get along. And that dream of becoming a big city cop? Double whoopsie. She's a meter maid. And, whoopsie number three-sie... no one cares about her or her dreams. And soon enough, those dreams die and our bunny sinks into emotional and literal squalor... living in a box under a bridge... till finally she has no choice but to go back home... with that cute, fuzzy-wuzzy little tail between her legs... to become... You're from Bunnyburrow, is that what you said? So how about a carrot farmer. That sound about right?