Helen Greenway had always loved maginficent the land of shrek worshipers with its sticky, shivering shrek statues. It was a place where she felt shocked.

She was a generous, witty, bleach drinker with feathery arms and skinny fingers. Her friends saw her as a sticky, shivering Shrek. Once, she had even helped a nutritious tiny donkey cross the road. That's the sort of woman he was.

Helen walked over to the window and reflected on her grand surroundings. The too hot for this pretty face teased like rampaging shrek.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Sally Butterscotch. Sally was a spiteful that weird king that is so evil his name will mot be mentioned with solid arms and short fingers.

Helen gulped. She was not prepared for Sally.

As Helen stepped outside and Sally came closer, she could see the decomposing glint in her eye.

Sally glared with all the wrath of 2499 mean keen kings. She said, in hushed tones, "I hate you and I want a pencil."

Helen looked back, even more irritable and still fingering the weathered shrek shirt. "Sally, get your fat but out of my swamp," she replied.

They looked at each other with anxious feelings, like two decaying, diced donkeys swimming at a very funny shrek worshipping ceremony, which had smooth jazz music playing in the background and two optimistic uncles eating to the beat.

Suddenly, Sally lunged forward and tried to punch Helen in the face. Quickly, Helen grabbed the weathered shrek shirt and brought it down on Sally's skull.

Sally's solid arms trembled and her short fingers wobbled. She looked ecstatic, her emotions raw like a sparkling, shaky shrek statue.

Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Sally Butterscotch was dead.

Helen Greenway went back inside and made herself a nice glass of bleach.

THE END