The Politics of Kissing

The following morning, Shrek busied himself with splitting logs in the front yard. Fiona noticed a subtle change in the wind, in the slight shading of the leaves; winter would be coming soon.

She passed Carmen a cup of tea as she sat down across the table from the refined feline. She sat, stirring the mucky brew about in her cup with the tip of her finger.

"Signora; something troubles you." Carmen noticed.

"No, it's nothing." Fiona insisted.

"Fear not, Princessa; I know that look. I wore it for many sad days, waiting for my Ramon to return. Something troubles you about your knight."

Fiona contemplated the reflection in her tea, then placed it on the table. "It's not just Shrek." She crossed her palms against the heavy wood. "What Shrek told me last night made me think about everyone who'd been victimized by the Fairy Godmother. All of those enchantments wore off when my father helped to destroy her."

The cat shook her head, "A pity."

"It doesn't have to be." Fiona said, her thoughts becoming abruptly clear. "Maybe there's another way to bring the lonely people of the world together, without magic enchantments being involved."

"Si. We call this good luck in the old country." Said a bemused Carmen.

"Well, luck would be involved, but we all need some advice, some confidence..." Fiona said, most practically.

"And just how do you propose to do this?"


***

Shrek grunted as he dropped the last slat of wood into place. "There you go. A desk."

Fiona sat primly behind it. "Thank you." She reached out and kissed him on the lips.

He drew back from her. "All of that work, and I get one wee kiss?"

"Consider it a beginning." She smirked. "Did you find Pinnochio?"

"Yah; Donkey's talking to him."

"So the problem will be to get him away from Donkey." Joked Fiona.

"I'll manage it."

Fiona watched her husband stroll away, smiling to herself. Shrek was a wonderfully willful sort of guy, but all she had to do was ask him and he would do her a favor. Just another reason why she loved him.

A moment passed before Shrek pushed his way back through the forest clearing, Pinnochio underneath his arm.

"Okay," Shrek declared, dumping the puppet onto the ground before Fiona. "I'm gonna go get dinner."

"Shrek! Shrek, Can I come too? I mean, I got a bunch of mouths to feed, and..."

"Okay, Donkey, all right." Shrek said kindly, escorting his jabbering friend out of the clearing.

"Pinnochio, what's your fondest wish?"

"Oh...well." The puppet stammered. "I wish I could be a real boy."

"You were a real boy, back at the party...did you...wish you could stay that way?"

Pinnochio thought for a moment. "Golly, Princess; I didn't have enough time to think about it."

Fiona thought for a moment. "I couldn't make you into a one, of course. But..." She smiled. "What do you think you'll gain, being a real boy?"

"Well, lots of things! People won't stare, and I could walk down the street without being looked at."

A light bulb went off in Fiona's mind. "That's the answer! Have you ever noticed the way real boys walk?"

"Like they don't have a care in the world." Pinnochio said, almost bitterly.

"That's right! So the next time you walk down a street keep your head high. Act just like those little boys, and people will treat you like a real boy!"

"I guess anything's worth a try." He smiled. "Thank you, Princess."

Fiona felt a hint of satisfaction as the puppet strolled away, head high, arms swinging.


***

Dunlocke, Puss thought to himself, She looks like a litterbox.

He walked with pride, keeping his body erect and his paw constantly at the hilt of his sword. The buildings, dingy gray and small, gave him no sense of confidence. His pride would not allow him to agree with the Princess' assessment; it was entirely unsuitable for his mother's delicate nature.

A rustling behind him perked his ears. Unsheathing the sword, he dashed a look over each shoulder, then skillfully extended the tip of his rapier. Swiftly, he turned himself around, then in every possible direction. But no one stood to challenge him. Pridefully, he re-sheathed his sword.

"Even from such a distance, they must know a master swordsman when they see one!" He remarked happily.

Unfortunately, master swordsmen don't have eyes in the back of their heads. Puss saw two shoes before him seconds before the pounding within his head sent him to unconsciousness.

***

Fiona seemed rather cheerful as she bustled about the dining area of their abode. Shrek watched her with one raised eyebrow, his spoon paralyzed halfway to his mouth. Fiona suddenly realized what Shrek was doing, and smiled sheepishly. She only felt this free in front of him; had Carmen not been asleep, or had Puss been there, she would not have lost herself to easily.

"Am I humming loudly?"

"Yah, but it's good dinner music."

Fiona returned to her stew, smiling happily. "And what makes ye so pleasant today?"

"A number of things, sir knight!" Fiona said playfully. "The stew came out marvelously, my sunflowers are starting to sprout, and I've found something to make others truly happy."

"And what would that be? Have anything to do with the desk I made for you?"

Fiona smiled. "Maybe..."

"Come on, Fi; you can tell me."

She didn't need much coaxing. "Do you remember the enchantments the Fairy Godmother had made for everyone in the Kingdom?"

"Uh, yah."

"How silly of me; how could you forget?" She shook her head. "Anyway, I thought that maybe I could take her place."

Shrek's features sharpened. "Why would you want to take her place?!"

"I didn't mean it like that..."

"What did ye mean?"

"I think I might be good at offering advice to everyone left stranded by the loss of her enchantments."

Shrek thought about this for a moment. "But wouldn't ya be interfering, too?"

"No...well, not as badly as the Fairy Godmother."

"But you'd still be meddlin' in someone else's affairs. That makes it just as bad."

"But Shrek!"

"No, Fi!"

"If you'd just listen-" She yanked aside the living room curtain in frustration; her jaw dropped wide open.

"What?"

Even Shrek was astonished by the line which had formed respectfully before their door.

And at the head of that line was Lord Farquaad.



Go On