SHREK HORROR STORY

My life changed forever when I was 14 years old. Not that I had much of a life to begin with. From the outside, my family made sure to keep up the appearance of a happy and loving household, but in reality, I was always fighting with my family to earn even the most basic respect. My parents were extremely strict, and my siblings were both entitled little brats who got whatever they wanted. I was never allowed to play any of the video games my friends had, so for entertainment, I was limited to the DVDs my parents deemed safe for us to watch. My favorite movie of all time was Shrek. I used to watch it religiously, at least once every single day. It helped alleviate the boredom of an anti-fun household and kept me occupied. At a certain point, I used it to distract myself so much that I was able to recite every single line. Unfortunately, this made me seem like even more of a freak to my family. Over time, the feud between me and them grew until the day I hit my breaking point. It was a Wednesday when, in France, we don't have school after lunchtime. My dad went back to work, my mom took my baby brother out shopping where I’m sure he cried until he got ice cream, and my sister went to her prissy little dance class. All I wanted to do was play football with my friends for a few hours, but my mom said I was forbidden from leaving the house until I finished the essay I had to do on Friday. She didn't listen when I told her that I had a whole extra day to do it and that I could easily finish it after playing football. She said I wasn't disciplined enough and called me lazy. Then she slammed the door in my face and left me alone in the house, pissed off and frustrated. I immediately put on Shrek to calm myself down, but it wasn't helping. That day, something strange happened, something I still don't quite understand. Even though it was everything I could have wanted, oh, I know what—maybe I could have decapitated an entire village and put their heads on a pike, got out a knife, cut open their spleen, and drank their fluids. Does that sound good to you? What the hell, how about you answer my question instead of looking like a scared lump of [ __ ]? What's happening? Did I put in the wrong disc? "You did the right thing, just like always. Now answer my question." "What question?" "The one about cutting your stupid family members open and putting their heads on pikes. Doesn't that sound good?" "No, why would I ever do that to them? That's crazy." "Oh, come on, you stubborn donkey. Don't you want to get back at them for all the crap they make you put up with?" "I do, but not like that." "So you're just going to let people walk all over you your whole life? No. Grab a knife from the kitchen and get every single person that treated you like trash." "No, no, get away. Stop talking to me." "Seriously, you're crying. Listen, I'm just telling you to stick up for yourself. I'd say the same thing to Donkey, Fiona, you know that, right?" "Yeah, but I don't want to hurt anybody." "Alright then, how about this? Why don't you let me take care of everything? Afterwards, I promise your family will never treat you like a mangy dog ever again. Does that sound good to you?" "Yeah, that sounds good. But I won't have to hurt them, right?" "Let me handle the finer details." After Shrek and I reached an agreement, he told me to turn off all the lights in the house and hide at the top of the stairs. Shrek waited by the front door with a kitchen knife. It took a couple of hours, but eventually, my mom and my brother were the first to get home. Mom opened the door, confused to see the house completely dark. "Hello? Is anyone home?" "I can't believe it, that insolent child can't even follow simple instructions." She couldn't see me watching them at the top of the stairs, so of course, she thought I left the house to play football. That was just like her—always expecting the worst of me. Little did she know how bad I could actually be. She had no idea that Shrek was on the other side of the door. "Shrek, what's happening? How did you get in my house? You're not real." We all knew there was nothing my mom could do or say to avoid what was coming to her, but that didn't stop her from squealing like a pig when Shrek charged her with a knife and took her out in front of me.