You Make My Freak Flag Wave

1. Is This Legal?

For the fifth time that week, he found himself walking along the same sidewalk caught in the same rain. 

He had practically memorized each tapping noise every raindrop would make upon impact on each place in the sidewalk. He knew each crack in the cement he passed and each small pebble he would kick down a stormwater drain if he had the energy. 

There was just something about a rainy day that suddenly turned the monotony of the city so unbearably stifling. Haussmann-style buildings creeping up all around him blended with contemporary apartments and napoleonic-era architectural artifacts. 

No matter how highly-regarded life was in the so-called "city of love", it was nothing compared to the Scottish moor of his childhood. The rolling hills and lush grass; the sunlight hitting the morning dew perfectly beside the creek. He missed hunting for toads and palmate newts in rocky streams behind his parents farm, or sketching the oddly-bent trees and roots on a boulder in the middle of a secluded forest. 

But nonetheless, Shrek understood he had to grow up and away from his roots. 

It was hard to make a name for himself, and he was proud to say that in this vast city, he was not one of the people who could do so successfully. What, it's not like he was the leading man in a movie franchise acclaimed for its witty humour, wide appeal, plot, animation, and soundtrack from 2001 featuring music from Smash Mouth and possibly the best rendition of Holding Out For A Hero (written by lyricist Dean Pitchford, sung by Bonnie Tyler) known to man. 

No, he was just Shrek, an ordinary heterosexual (????) man who should probably shower a bit more than he did. Standing at a strong 187cm with atrocious posture, a scraggly stubble dotting his chin, and a slightly stained sweater. But let's be honest, nobody was looking that closely at his sweater. And if he really thought about it, when he picked it off his floor today, it vaguely passed the sniff test, so it was good enough for him. 

Trudging down the identical sidewalk bricks, Shrek held his grocery bags closer to his chest. He may have slightly regretted his decision to use paper bags in the name of the environment, considering the heavy rain was starting to weaken their structural integrity. Luckily for him, his apartment complex was only a couple metres ahead. 

Ah, slashing through the clouds like practically every other modern building in this god-forsaken city, there it stood. Shrek liked to refer to it as "the swamp" considering its sicking muddy-green external concrete walls, its internal repugnant stench of mud-and-manure-caked wooden floors, and of course, the perpetual humid state of the hallways that lacked air conditioning. 

All flaws in mind, Shrek loved The Swamp, as it was his, and very few children lived there. He thoroughly believed that every child should be drop-kicked off the face of the Earth, and that if people really thought about it, was the Horizontal Tango™ really worth it just for a small, screaming projectile to come out of a hole that was seemingly way too small for that task nine months later? No, reproduction as a whole should have been banned. In every other apartment complex, he would have to worry about this. But not in here, the beautiful Swamp. No one would want to reproduce or move with a child into this horrendous building. 

Almost brushing his head across the sagging ceilings of the hallways, Shrek made his way over to the elevator. The once-pristine but now cracked and faded tiles of the elevator welcomed him home, more or less. Silver sliding doors closed him into this crammed, claustrophobic, rattling box with one flickering light the three flies seemed to love a fatal amount. Despite the atrocities of engineering and health code hazards of this particular elevator, Shrek felt as though he could finally take in a deep breath. At last, a familiar space, away from the bustling, wet nature of the city. Yet this elevator also held a mysteriously-wet nature in each tenebrous nook and cranny, but Shrek did not have the energy of the heart to further inspect. Yes, finally alone at last with just him and his groceries.