Yorrick sighed loudly, and shifted his stick to his other shoulder.  On the end of the stick was a red and white spotted handkerchief, which contained all his worldly possessions.  Now, you would think that a five year old wouldn't have that many things, but at only three foot high, what little he did have weighed heavily on his shoulder.  With his burden came the added discomfort of a sweltering hot day.  The lane he wandered down was dusty, and seemed to go on forever.  He was tired, sore, and choking on the swirls of dust that twisted around him - and he'd only been on the move for twenty minutes.
   Yorrick scuffed the ground, and then stopped because it made even more dust rise up and envelop him.  He was starting to curse the day he had lifted two metaphorical fingers to Sunnydale and headed out into the big wide world.
   After Giles' death in the poorly explained explosion that demolished Sunnydale High, Yorrick had been taken in by Willow and Xander.  At first, everything had been good.  The two youngsters had nurtured the traumatized Yorrick, pampered over him, and he began to get over his creator's death, which he had not yet avenged.  However, things went down hill after that, though not for Xander and Willow who seemed to be screwing twenty three hours a day.  Yorrick would huddle in the living room, listening to the squeaking mattress springs above him, watching endless re-runs of Walker Texas Ranger amid a growing mountain of takeaway boxes.  It was a good relationship; they would phone for a takeaway, which Yorrick would enjoy, while Willow and Xander would dine on the delivery boy.
   This existence was good for a time.  But soon Yorrick began to notice things were a little unfair.  For a start, why didn't Yorrick ever get a sex scene?  The only place that didn't seem to mind the depletion of delivery boys was the Macrobiotic Mongolian takeaway, and as fond as Yorrick was of boiled lamb washed down with fermented mares milk, he wasn't sure how much more he could take.  The trio had moved into a vacant house, with two bedrooms too horrible to go into, and with the loving couple imprisoned in the only decent bedroom, Yorrick was relegated to the lounge.  The final insult came from the TV.  Yorrick had bought it cheap since the man at the second hand shop was convinced it was cursed.  Yorrick had scoffed at the idea, but soon discovered it would automatically seek out Chuck Norris.  With over 300 satellite channels, this was constant, and Yorrick had already watched Delta Force in French, Arabic, Vietnamese and Xhosa - and he doubted he could take much more.
   In fact, Yorrick had spent much of his time thinking.  He had often wondered exactly who had planted that bomb, and why.  He wanted revenge, and he wanted it badly.  The only problem being, he had no idea where to start.  Not to mention that the world was a big, scary place, and especially if you are a lowly vest.