I was only nine years old. I loved Shrek so much, I had all the merchandise and movies. I’d pray to Shrek every night before I go to bed, thanking for the life I’ve been given. “Shrek is love”, I would say, “Shrek is life”. My dad hears me and calls me a f*****. I knew he was just jealous for my devotion of Shrek. I called him a c***. He slaps me and sends me to go to sleep. I’m crying now and my face hurts. I lay in bed and it’s really cold. A warmth is moving towards me. I feel something touch me. It’s Shrek. I’m so happy. He whispers in my ear, “TAXATION IS THEFT”

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