There is a swirling. What does that even mean? A swirling? Like a tumble-dryer or something? The imagination stretches out across the horizon of existence- does imagination even stretch? It stretches like a carrier bag being filled with bowling balls. Ah okay, that clears that one up then. The quintessential aspects of life hang in the balance. So, television and Saturday Night takeaways then? Somewhere in the endless plains, there is a hut. Well, it's less a hut and more of a garden shed. The rickety panels seem to have been replaced a dozen times, rotting and wilted areas replaced with the latest special offer at the local DIY store. Makes you wonder why they keep bothering to replace it, doesn't it? You can pick up a flat-pack shed for the best part of fifty bucks. Inside dwells an outcast, a reject from our society, a man that has never truly fit in with others awaits. Awaits with a sense of longing. Redemption? Redemption is in the garden shed? Well no, not Redemption. It's actually The Jackrabbit, okay? The Jackrabbit is in the shed. This isn't a difficult concept. But the Jackrabbit isn't alone. He isn't alone? Then how is he an outcast and a reject if he isn't alone? Well, he's being an outcast and a reject with another outcast and reject, okay? Because co-existing with the man they call The Unorthodox One, is another. Another Unorthodox One, much like his counterpart. Like the former, he wears those trademark plaid blue shorts. Well they're not actually plaid, because Kohl�s only had striped. And they're not actually blue, more like a seaweed green. But like his counterpart, he does wear shades, and he does have blonde hair. Well, a blonde wig. He is pretty much an exact replica of The Jackrabbit, a double, a twin, a doppelganger in every way. "My momentum of triumph!" cackles The Jackrabbit, "I has created another Jackrabbit!" Oh, except that he is 2 foot tall. "Well, we's still working on that part." �And he laughs. The Jackrabbit laughs, his infamous cackle of hysteria echoing throughout the garden shed. "Aaaaa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaa hah a ha ha ha ha ha haaaaa!" And then, with a nudge to prompt him, his smaller counterpart laughs too. "Har de har har." "No no no, it's like yous not even trying..." "I am. Harrrr de har." "Nooo, you got it wrong again Jackrabbittwo." "I thought it was "Pygmyrabbit." "Well that's utterlytotally irrelevant! Okay, work on the laughing in your own time.. Now, try saying something� cuckoo-CRAZY." "Why?" "Because... well, because that's what we be! We're CRAZY like cuckoos! And you're my CRAZY little clone." "I'm not a clone. I'm a trained professional actor, Mr Johnson signed me on due to my extensive fifteen year resum� in..." "Alright, geez, you clones sure does get like ants. But we needs CRAZY if you're gonna be Jackrabbitwo.. So, let's hear it, gimme your craziest!" "Uhm,rargh. It's crazytime!" "Okies not bad, but next time we needs you to capitalise it. We'll practice that at a later date. Now, we needs you to be winning your World Midget Championship match at Addition." �"Addiction.." "Okay, you's saying that wrong, we'll work on that later. Okie, fore and firstmost to be a Jackrabbit, you's gonna need to hit people in the head with things." �From the eternal void, which seems to work pretty much like a woman's handbag, The Jackrabbit produces a steel folding chair and hands it to his miniature counterpart. What's with the steel chair thing, anyway? You think they'd have stopped bringing those to shows at this point. �"Hit me hit me hit me hit me!" "I'm not hitting you with a chair, I'm not even sure I'm legally signed off to..." "Yes you is, because we Jackrabbits be CRAZY! Remember, the CRAZINESS!?" CLINK. That is an accurate depiction of the noise the chair makes against the Jackrabbit's kneecap. "Hmmm... needs more umph! Let me shows you how..." The Jackrabbit wrestles the steel chair from his counterparts tiny grip, and then swings it as hard as he can. He's a 6'4 pro-athlete, so he can swing it pretty damn hard. It connects square with his own head, dropping him to the ground and causing him to roll around in what-appears-to-be feigned agony. "Are you CRAZY!?" �"Yays, now you're catching on!" The Jackrabbit does something that, in his own head, probably looked like a picture perfect Shawn Michaels kip-up. "Okies, so tomorrow we'll go over all of my favouritist moves. But first, you needs to be able to rant." "You mean monologue into the camera?" "Oh no, we did away with the whole camera thingamabob. It's a rant." "Alright, I think I can.." "You knows you can. We Jackrabbits don't like to think, if we's can help it." "Okay.. I issue forth this address to you, Pink Mini-Ninja, John Grim and Sleepy-" "Okay okay, woooooah boy! We's getting this all inside out. A Jackrabbit never ever gets his opponent's name right. It's rule number 56." "But I've done extensive research.." "And stop saying big words properly. We saves that for narration-man." "Narra-" "Shush! Now speak Jackrabbity.." "Okay... Uhm.. Mini-Pink-Ninja, and.. Jonny� Grum... and Sleep... Sleep." "Sleeping Beauty, silly..." "Sleeping Beauty.. right? ... Come Addiction.." "Addition. We never get show names right, neither.." "Come Addition... you're in for the biggest nightmare..." "Smallest nightmare, we's Jackrabbits try not to lie.." "That's entirely preju-" "Keep ranting, the camera's still rolling! With CRAZY!" "Uhm, rargh. Come Addition your.... smallest... nightmare is coming true. CRAZY-style!" The Jackrabbit appears to be emulating a fan, wooping and clapping and cheering and then supping on a soda which may or may not have been retrieved from the eternal void. "Perfect perfection! Now finish 'em off with the line we've been practicizing!" "B-because The Pygmyrabbit is always the last to start laughing. Har de har har! " "That'll do, pygmy, that'll do! Now then, let's go teach you how to love ice-creams!" And we fade to orange. Because black wasn't available, presumably.