Torment. The art of inflicting severe punishment onto another living creature, with only the intent to cause harm, in order to obtain what is so strongly desired. Torment comes in two forms. Mental abuse and physical torture. But either way, the effects are hazardous, and not recommended or wished upon any living organism. Not even a human being. But what is the reason for the torment in the world? Why is torment such a commonly used method, and is it right? The scene opens up in a dimly lit room, with a ceiling of sharp wooden panels bolted together, walls of hard, white, unpainted plaster and an uncarpeted, cold, grey, concrete floor. Only a single lamp hanging from the centre of the wooden roof lights the dull and almost empty room, and no lampshade diverts the dreary lighting of the low Watt bulb. In the corner of the room is a rotting pine table, with coffee stains marking its rough surface. On the table is an open box of microwave chicken wings, yet no microwave can be noticed in the room. Beside this box is a chipped china mug, with dark, black coffee dripping down the side. The handle of the mug is missing, and can be seen lying on the concrete floor. Beside this severed handle, lays several unorthodox items. A roll of barbed wire slightly bloodstained and rusted in patches. And a knife, with a blunt and bent blade. And several steel road signs, bent as though to fit a head, reading, �STOP� and �GIVE WAY!� And a spray-paint can, capless, with a rabbit�s head emblazoned meaningfully on its base. And a sledgehammer lying heavily on the floor, its large solid end giving no gleam. And a photo frame, the bronze paint flaking from the frame, and the glass inside smashed. And a steel chair, dented, with a maddened rabbit splashed on the seat in paint. And amongst the chaotic, yet dangerous, tools, is a wooden stool, rotting from the insides, with one leg missing. And on this stool, sat with his legs crossed at the ankles, is a character dressed in tartan, blue long-shorts and a black T-shirt. And emblazoned on the T-shirt is a head. The head of a maddened rabbit, its red eyes shining, its long fore teeth sticking out, and its long, grey ears pointed high. The camera moves to the character�s head, to reveal long, blonde hair, tied back, and unrevealing, tainted shades hiding the eyes by the reflection of the peculiar scene. The character is The Jackrabbit of the Total Anarchy Wrestling. The Jackrabbit gives out an ear-piercing laugh, and pushes the colourful Canadian Championship belt up onto his shoulder. He lifts the belt off, holding it out into the camera, as he laughs aloud. The Jackrabbit now drops the title belt lazily onto his shoulder, laughs once more, and then begins to speak in his usual unusually high voice. �Hey-a �Rabbit Fans! And a very, very warm welcome to all my fans in Canadia... Err�. The Jackrabbit looks at his title belt and reads the word �Canada� from its engraved text. �Canada. I meant Canada! Darn! Start again� �Hey-a �Rabbit Fans! And a very, very warm welcome to all my fans in� Canada. I �spose you all wanna know what I�ve been up to lately. Well err�. I have basically� basically, been sitting here in this room. For quite a while. Well maybe quite a few weeks. And just as it seemed I might be escaping �The House Of Madness�� well, more like �Room Of Madness�.� Just as it seemed I might be escaping this place for a day to fight my so-called �grudge� match with Shawn Boyd, it turns out TAW management is so dumb, they can�t even organise an event! I mean, not that Shawn Boyd showed his face either, but with a face like his, I can quite understand that. In fact, I�m surprised that guy even got to go on live television, and the chance to horrify all my �Rabbit Fans by having his ugly mug on the camera. But Boyd knew he couldn�t beat The Unorthodox One, The Jackrabbit� that�s me! Boyd knew that he is only a Loserweight Champion, and that I am the all-seeing, all-knowing, all-doing all-laughing Jackrabbit of all jackrabbits! I mean, what is a Boyd anyway? A Standing Joke, I expect. But Boyd is past, and it will come as a big, huge, gigantic, enormous, massive surprise to me and the millions upon dozens, if Boyd ever gets on TAW television again. Do you think I overdid that at all? �Cause I can start again, if you want. Okay� �Hey-a �Rabbit Fans! And a very, very warm welc�! No? Okay. I�ll carry on from where I left off. Wait� where did I leave off? Err� welcome, been away, ugly, not beat me, joke, all the �big� words in one sentence�. Ahh, yes. I remember. I was talking about �Mortal Torment� Marc Neilson. Wasn�t I? Well anyway, it seems like the one and only, soul owner, think I�m-big-even-though-I-ain�t Prez Maxo has accepted my challenge to Neilson for a one-on-one Canadian Title match at the Paper Pay-Per-View. �Cause it must have been Prez One, �cause �Mortal Termite� ain�t got the guts to accept a challenge from me� a big ice cream with lovely soft whipped cream, delicious banana centre, sticky, strawberry sauce, a crunchy chocolate Flake and a cherry on top� maybe, but never a challenge from The Jackrabbit. I ain�t a lover of ice cream, but I bet Mort is. I am a lover of extrematics� if that is a word� well if it is, I am a lover of that� and if it isn�t, it will be this week when I get into the ring one-on-me with Marc Neilson. I mean �Torment?� What type of a name is that? What type of idiot would go into a company, acting like a complete fool, and sporting a completely ridiculous name to go with that? It would take a mindless and insane lunatic to do something so ludicrous. �Mortal Termite� is ridicule, and I will prove that by beating him sore this Sunday at that P.P.V thingy. Since Morty beat me, somehow� by cheating probably, at the last Paper Pay-Per-View, and he screwed� err, that�s a horrible word� he cheated me out of a World Title Finals match, I have wanted to get unorthodox with that freak of nature. I have wanted to crush him like the termite he is. This is the classic story of the termite and the jackrabbit. Yeah. You know how this one goes� �There once was a termite� and err� there was also a jackrabbit. This termite, like, he thought he was big and clever and real funny. But this here jackrabbit, he didn�t think the termite was all that cool. So, err�. the jackrabbit, he got all annoyed and stuff, and he told the termite to� err� go away. And the termite, he just got all stubborn and said �nah.� And so the jackrabbit had a fight with this termite and the termite got a cheating win� like, a fluke� and the jackrabbit, he was well steamed. So he�. Err� he stepped on the termite, and the termite went squish. And they all lively happily ever after� except the termite, �cause he was like, all squished. And except the jackrabbit, �cause like, he got taken away to a mental institute. But the rest of them in the story, they all lived happily ever after. In a tent.� So that�s the story of the termite and the jackrabbit. And the moral of this story is� err�. it�s� err� don�t live in a tent! Yep, that�s it. Oh yeah, and that The Jackrabbit always gets The Last La�ahhhhhhhhhhhhgh!� The Jackrabbit jumps up from the three legged stool, knocking it to the floor, clutching his head in his hands. Pain surges through his head, and he bends down picking up the broken photo frame from the untidy floor. In the shattered frame, is a picture of The Jackrabbit himself, smiling widely, standing next to another, taller man. The photo is brown and crispy on the right hand side, where the other man stands, and his features cannot be seen. The Jackrabbit drops the photo to the floor with a scream, and then he freezes, deathly still. He stares into the camera, and then erupts into an unexpected fit of hysterical laughter. He then mutters these words into the camera, in an unusually high, gruff voice. �That�s it! I see it now, all so clearly. The key is Golden!�