Shelter. Why is it that the human race desires, requires, to have a surface over their head for them to be happy. Unless one has a place to stay, with four walls around them and a roof over their head, they are not entirely satisfied. They require something to hide them from nature�s wrath, from the wind, the rain and the cold. And if one does not have this much-needed shelter for every day and night, they are branded �homeless� and are looked down on by society. Should all our focus be on whether or not one has shelter, is it that necessary. The scene re-opens, but not in the same place as it last was. This time the camera is viewing a long street. The street is an outer city street, and it is night. Only the few street lamps along it illuminate the street. On either side of a narrow road there are many buildings; houses, inns, and the occasional shop. The weather is terrible. Rain shoots from dark, grey clouds, each drop hitting the floor like a bucket of water, splashing heavily onto the wet concrete. A river of rainwater has developed on the slightly sloping street, and it flows from the top to the bottom. The wind blows wildly, with the force to blow an average person off their feet. Lightning cracks the skyline, followed by the roar of thunder. And, of course, onto the scene bursts a figure, struggling to stay on its feet, as it hurries down the street in search of shelter for the night. The figure is wearing a long, brown cloak covering its entire body, from neck to toes. On its head there is a brown, detective-style hat, which the figure clutches frantically to keep it on its head. Long, blonde hair can be seen poking out of the hat, and blowing crazily in the wind. And on the figure�s back there is a full-packed rucksack of red, blue and green colouring. The figure charges across the street, and stops outside a tall building. The building has a sign on the small front porch. It reads: �COME ON INN.� The figure runs up the porch of the inn, and raps madly on the front door. RAT-A-TAT-TAT! The door of the inn swings open, and an old man with grey hair (and a bald patch) steps onto the porch. He is wearing a black shirt and a pair of blue jeans. The camera now looks into the soaked face of the figure, and we can now realise that the figure is GWO�s Commonwealth Champion, The Jackrabbit, although he is not wearing his customary sunshades. THE JACKRABBIT: �Please, mister� dude, the weather is wild and it is very cold. Please let me stay at your inn.� OLD MAN: �I�m sorry, my son, but my inn is full and there are no rooms. I cannot let you in my inn.� The Jackrabbit scowls and runs from the porch, back onto the slimy wet sidewalk. He continues to run up the street as the rain whips at his clothes and the wind fights against him, going in the opposite direction. He finally reaches another building. It is bigger than the last, though there are not as many lights in. This is a good sign. The Jackrabbit steps up to the door, and raps at the door. THE JACKRABBIT: �Yo, I�m back and I�m here to stay, There�s nothing you can do but stop and say, we�ve vacancies here and�� No, you idiot, not that type of rap! Just hit the door! RAT-A-TAT-TAT! The Jackrabbit waits patiently, as he gets colder and colder and wetter and wetter. But there is no reply. He raps the door again. RAT-A-TAT-TAT! Again the Commonwealth Champion waits patiently, but he has no luck. There is definitely no reply coming from this inn. He leaves the doorway angrily, as the weather shows no mercy. He spits at the sign on the inn�s front lawn, to show his disrespect for it. He does not notice the name on it: �THE NOBODY INN.� The Jackrabbit continues his search, hoping that �third time lucky� is the case for him tonight. He reaches another inn, �WELCOME INN� This inn is not as big as the second, but is larger than the first. Perhaps he�ll have luck this time around. He walks up onto the front porch, and raps at the door. (The right type of rap this time.) RAT-A-TAT-TAT! The door is opened, fortunately, and a middle aged man answers. He has short, black hair, and glowing blue eyes. (Not literally glowing, like an alien� that�d be just too weird.) He is wearing a red, long sleeved shirt and a pair of white corduroys. THE JACKRABBIT: �Please, dude, the weather is wild and it is even colder than the last time I tried an inn. Please let me stay at your inn.� MAN: �I�m sorry, pal, but the inn is full and there are no rooms. I cannot let you stay in my inn. However, I can see you are weary. We have a stable round back where our animals are kept; you can stay there if you wish. It is all I can offer you.� The Jackrabbit needs no time to think the offer over. THE JACKRABBIT: �Stay in your stable? Are you crazy? What do I look like, an animal? Well, I am The Jackrabbit, but I�m not a real rabbit! I can�t believe how dumb you is! What do I look like to you, Virgin Mary?� The man is flabbergasted. But nonetheless, he closes the door and The Jackrabbit leaves, disgusted. The rain has got heavier and heavier, and the wind has got stronger and stronger. And the night has got colder and colder. The Jackrabbit decides to try one last inn, with hope of finding shelter. If he odes not, he decides, then he might just sleep with the animals after all� He finds the next inn some five minutes later, and even now the weather has not eased off. He walks grudgingly up onto the front porch, and raps at the door. RAT-A-TAT-TAT! Eventually the door swings open, and standing there is a girl. She has brown hair, tied back in a ponytail, and is wearing a tight white T-shirt and a black skirt. THE JACKRABBIT: �Please, girly, the weather is wild and it is so cold I feel numb. Please let me stay at your inn. Please� if you turn me away I�ll� I�ll� I�ll�� GIRL: �Fear not, there is plenty of room in our inn. You are welcome to stay. It�ll cost you, of course.� THE JACKRABBIT: �Wahoo!� The Jackrabbit barges past the young woman and into the inn. He wastes no time in getting a key for his room, paying the man at the desk, and finding his room� (Well, okay, it did take him five minutes to find his room, but that wasn�t his fault.) The Jackrabbit was very happy about being in shelter and being able to dry himself off on the crisp towels (that were, perhaps, a little too crisp. He jumps onto the bed, but like an average bed it does not bounce of give way, but stays solid, and The Jackrabbit hits it like he is hitting the floor, and then flops limply to the floor itself. He sits on the floor, nursing his read end, before looking into the camera, acknowledging it for the first time. He speaks out in his usual high-pitched voice: THE JACKRABBIT: �Hey-a �Rabbit Fans! You�re looking at The GWO Wealthy Commoner Champion, The Unorthodox One himself, The Jackrabbit� that�s me! Whoo! Well, there�s my welcoming line over and out� let�s get talking. I spoken with a few people over the last few hours, days, whatever� I�m sure I�ll find The Wealthy Commoner sometime soon. I met a weird little elf called Yoyo or summat, and he spoke all back-to-front, and he loads of oriental people with him, but he just said he had loadsa knowledge but he wouldn�t share any. Pretty selfish, methinks. He said I gotta believe in myself, or summat. That�s dumb, of course I believe in myself. I know I�m real. I can touch me, smell me, see me, and even taste me (if I lick my hand or summat.) So I know I�m real. Though I wonder if Yoyo was real� maybe I imagined him� I seen imaginary elves sometimes before� they look a bit different from Yoyo though� hmm�. Well, nonetheless, Yoyo is gone and I still ain�t found The Wealthy Commoner� and in a few hours I�ll be facing some kid called Dylan Cell at GWO Murder. Well, Dyl-Dyl is in trouble. You know why? �Cos he�s facing The Jackrabbit at Murder. I don�t make a habit of losing to people like Cell� you know, I don�t make a habit of losing to people at all� Draco was an accident. And losing to him last week was even more of an accident. But lightning doesn�t strike twice� though with weather like there is outside it probably will cos it�ll have run outta places to strike already. But in general, lightning don�t strike twice. Which is why I ain�t gonna lose again. I seen that, been that, and woulda bought the T-shirt if it was cheaper. At Murder I�m gonna beat Cell, no matter what I gotta do to pull it off. Unless it involves anything Trayboy would enjoy, then it is strictly off limits. Sorry �bout that Dyl-Dyl. �Cos Cell enjoys doing Troyish things. Particularly with Justin Woodstream. That�s naughty, Cell� what type of an image are you trying to give GWO? But Cell isn�t the important thing� Talon with an Acao is an important thing! Acao beat on me last week at Murder� that�s pretty annoying. I don�t like being beat on. Acao, you�re forgetting our Geography� no, Maths� History! I meant History! You�re forgetting our history, Talon. Acao. Whatever! You tried to kill me! You tried to kill Ja� I mean, The Jackrabbit. You didn�t. You can�t kill something unless it wants to be killed. And I don�t wanna! You shouldn�t hunt what you can�t kill, hunter. You�re gonna be the Hunted Turn Hunter Turn Hunted. Again. I got you and I got you bad, Acao. And if you mess about with The Unorthodox One, you�ll get something unexpected. You be made into a joke. A Standing Joke. Or, maybe just maybe� ahh, who am I kidding? Definitely� The Jackrabbit will definitely get The Last Laugh!� The Jackrabbit tips back his head, and lets out a long, crazy, hysterical laugh. As he does, he bangs his head against the end of the stiff bed. He lets out a shriek, clutches his aching head, and frowns as the scene fades out to err�. light blue?