The Politics of Kissing

Shrek stormed out of his front door and glaring at the hundreds of fairytale folk in front of him. "What in the name of Pete are you all doing here?!" He bellowed.

"If I may." Farquaad said coolly, stepping apart from the rabble. "Your wife has gotten a bit of a reputation as a problem-solver, in no part due to my ability to spread gossip. As a group, we have come to have our spirits lifted by her eloquent tongue."

"Woah, woah, woah! No one's doing anything with me wife's tongue..." Shrek's eyes bugged out, the thin thread of suspension keeping his psyche from wholly processing his reality caving in. "FARQUAAD!" He grabbed the Lord by his shoulders.

"Cease your ingress, ogre! I mean no harm...I...argh! Fiona!" Shrek paid Farquaad no heed, shaking the man as hard as he could without delivering a blow.

"Boys, break it up!" Fiona barked.

"Are ye out of your mind? The man tried to have ye killed from beyond the grave!"

"Yeah, and considerin' he's alive and well, he did a good job with it, too!" Donkey said, scratching the porch with his hoof.

The meaning behind Donkey's words struck Shrek. "He's not even dead?"

"I should say not! Unhand me!"

Shrek released the Lord, causing him to land in an ungainly heap. "What in Blue Blazes is going on?!" Shrek cried.

"It's quite simple, really." Farquaad said from the floor. "Your dragon friend had morning sickness, you see, and..."

"I dinna need to hear that." Shrek complained.

"...Yes." Farquaad continued. "And I was expelled whole from her stomach. After a month living in exile inside of a windmill, your wife encountered me, forgave me, and offered her advice on a personal matter, which worked splendidly." He coughed. "I have returned to have her further council. However, it appears that you're both suffering from Halloween-related delusions, as to my ghost!"

"Fiona." Shrek said, through a false smile. "Do ye know anyone who could make it look like a ghost was hautin' us?"

"Well...that wicked witch always did like her Halloweens."

Shrek groaned. "Fiona!"

"Please go inside and eat your dinner." Fiona said, practicality overtaking her tone. "We have guests."

Shrek opened his mouth to add something, but his posture gradually relaxed in defeat. Shoulders slumped, he walked back into the cottage and began to eat his cooling stew.

***

Puss stirred against the dark night. His green eyes opened to slits, then, when reality rushed in on him, he flung himself to a standing position.

"No! Don't move. You should rest..."

He thrashed in the darkness, trying to find the voice's origin. The tone was as mellifluous as a belle, appealing to him with its slight British tinge.

"Please; you'll tear out your stitches."

With a grunt, he went still, his body pitching forward and slumping to the cold, paved ground.

"I'm running out of matches." She muttered to herself. "There won't be enough to keep the stove lit..." She let out a gasp when a bright white paw came down on her own furry wrist.

"Who...who are you?" Puss managed to gasp.

"It doesn't matter." She said kindly. Perhaps it was his exhaustion, or his wound, but her fur seemed so dark as to blend in with the pitch of the night. His eyes stayed focused upon hers. "I-" She struggled for the right words. "Think of me only as one of three."

This satisfied him. The weight he made upon her wrist lightened as he fell into a natural sleep.

She watched him long after he first drowsed, until her last match flickered out.

***

"Fiona!!!"

She winced. "So I wouldn't worry about what kind of magic you deal in. No one could confuse the three of you with the Fairy Godmother."

"Darn tootin! She was a b-"

The little green fairy pressed a hand over the little blue fairy's mouth. "Thank you, Princess-"

"SHOO!" Shrek bellowed, waving his hand in front of Fiona's face, scattering the fairies with various squeaks and muffled cursing.

"Don't forget!!" Fiona called after the blinking lights. "Magic is what you make of it!" She turned to her husband. "And so is your time." She responded airly.

"Oh?" He rose a brow. "Then how come ye've spent the whole night out on the porch talking to our annoying neighbors?"

"Because, they need my help." She brushed past him gently and into the house. "Boy, the stew still smells good!" She sat down behind her plate, and struck her spoon against the stew.

It bounced back, nearly striking her in the face. "It couldn't have been that long."

"Ye weren't. Weed Rat fat turns to jelly if you leave it cool."

They ate in an unaccustomed stony silence. Neither of them could keep it up for very long, and when Fiona turned from the finished meal to the hearth to soak the dishes, Shrek began to speak.

"I just don't know, Fi. There were so many...things here. It was just getting' quiet..." He took a new tack. "We haven't been married for a year yet, and yer already bored!"

"I'm not bored!" She insisted, beginning to dry the plates and mugs. "I just want to do some good."

"But.."

"You say that I have to trust you." She placed the silver back up in their cupboard shelves. "But maybe you have to trust me, too."

Shrek gulped in response. Fiona was about the only woman he'd ever trusted.

If that was enough to overcome his trepidation...

***

"Meoowww!"

Shrek's hand instinctively tightened on Fiona's waist at the yowling noise beckoning from outside of his door. The scratching sent him in search of his shirt.

"Carmen?" He asked. Bright sunlight pierced his eyeballs as the cat entered the room.

"Signore, you must help me! My son, he did not come home!" She mewled, circling Shrek's ankles.

"Maybe he stayed out for a pint." Shrek suggested.

"My son doesn't drink!" Shrek bit his tongue, deciding not to contradict Carmen.

"Okay, okay, easy now." He scooped up the cat and placed her beside the sleeping Fiona. "I'll go to Dunlocke and try to find your son."

"What should I tell the Princessa?"

"Don't worry. I'll leave her a note." Shrek felt some sympathy for the older cat, and scratched her head. "Don't worry your wee head. It'll be all right."

"You are gallant and wise." Declared Carmen dreamily, resting against the mattress. She watched Shrek scribble out a brief note, place it against the sunflower vase, then leave them.

Carmen fell into a deep sleep soon afterward, only to be awakened by the complaints of Fiona.

"Gone to Dunlocke!? He'll be hurt!"

"Princessa, your knight is a brave and a courteous and honest. He will survive."

"I wish I'd gone with him." Fiona sighed.

"That doesn't matter now. What does is..." A sharp rapping sounded at the door. "Answering the door."

Fiona yelped, tossing on her gown and finger-combing back her hair. She smoothed the skirt and smiled professionally as she pulled open the door, greeting the day.



Go On