Shrek ruined my life. Now:
Ogres are green with deally-bops on their heads.
Or pointy, stick out ears.
They can put aside ogreish tendencies.
They are good and kind hearted.
Loving and romantic.
Female ogres wear tiaras and long dresses.
Male ogres have talking companions like a juiced-up donkey.
All ogres have gastric issues.
I’m biased, okay, very biased.
I’m an ogress. Hate that sexist term. Orgette?
I’m mean and cranky.
I have no redeeming qualities.
I never wear a dress – long or short.
My companion would be a wolf, or a griffin.
I used to scare children. Used to.
Parents tell stories about evil ogres who steal children. Eat babies. Etc.
Ghastly stuff. Just the kind of intro I like.
I DO NOT eat babies! That’s too gross even for an ogrene.
It goes like this:
I make my horrifying entrance; kid asks who I am.
“An ogress” I answer.
“No your not,” the kid firmly replies
“Ogress are green, have pointy ears, have husbands who fart, burp, and are funny.”
Ogres aren’t exactly trained for another line of work.
So now I hang out at a sleazy tavern.
My drinking companions are trolls.
Thanks Shrek and Fiona.
I’ve hit rock bottom.
(the trolls; I have better personal hygiene)
Inspired by fairy tales on mindlovemisery’s menagerie