Shrek knew what he had to do. He didn't need a sword or a dragon this time—he needed to be his most "unpleasant" self.
Shrek’s ears twitched. His peaceful, stinky sanctuary was being turned into a theme park. He looked out past his fence and saw it: a bright, sparkly sign that definitely didn't belong in a bog. Behind it, a crowd of villagers from were already lining up, holding "I Love Shrek" foam fingers.
stepped out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron. "It’s a bit much, isn’t it? I just tried to pick some nightshade and a little girl asked me for a selfie."
"Shrek! Shrek! You gotta help me!" came the high-pitched, motor-mouthed braying of .
He walked out to the edge of his property, where the first wagon of tourists had just arrived. A man in a velvet vest stepped out. "Oh look! The authentic ogre experience! Do the roar, big guy!"
"I’m not a hero," Shrek growled, his voice low. "I’m an ogre. I’m supposed to be feared, not... marketed ."
A kényelmes és biztonságos online fizetést a Barion Payment Zrt. biztosítja.