Mobsters swarmed around the large ogre's home, yelling for the monster's demise. The men had only caught glimpses of him, and assumed that fifteen to one was a sure way of defeating such a terrible beast. Rumors flew in their town, describing horrid things the ogre had supposedly done.
The "terrifying" creature looked up from his book with a sigh. This wasn't the first time he'd dealt with crazy people. Not everyone in town was like that, but the frequency of interactions he had with murderous dimwits played tricks on his brain to make him skeptical of decent human beings existing. He couldn't completely blame the townspeople, either—his family had made quite a reputation of themselves when they had lived in these parts. He felt guilty for his twinge of happiness at their absence, but quickly reasoned that savage monsters who ate humans did nothing for working towards eventual peace between all creatures.
The ogre poked his head out the door, and the crowd roared louder. A little bit of fear usually got these people quiet so that he could calm them down. Quickly, he licked his hand, which he subsequently used to put out the nearest torch's flame. The noise died down.
"What seems to be upsetting you?" His voice was assertive, but not menacing in the least. This threw the mob off slightly, defusing their anger.
"You've been eating our children and scaring our men, and plundering our town," jeered the man in front.
"Who, exactly, has been lost, scared, or robbed?"
The men looked at each other for a few moments, until one stout, obese person supplied, "I lost one of my socks yesterday!" Clearly, no one would admit having been frightened, and no one had actually gone missing.
The ogre sighed, and the crowd's momentum faltered. "Can I get back to my reading, now?"
Embarrassed, they shuffled away with a few murmured apologies, leaving the green being to himself.
"I'll give you ten shillings for the grinning fruits with huge eyes," drawled the guard, as the owner of FruitTales handed the small cage to the government worker, happy with not only the profit, but to be rid of the creepy things.
An old lady manhandled her donkey over to the desk where the guard sat.
"What are you giving me a donkey for? They're not magical."
The hag grinned a toothless, slightly malicious smile. "He talks."
The state stooge returned her look, albeit with a full set of teeth. "Prove it."
"As if he'd talk on command when he knows his talking will get him thrown into one of your trailer prisons. He may be dumb, but any half-wit could see how unscientific of a test it is to just ask him to talk in this situation. He won't last for long, though. This ass can't keep quiet, otherwise I'd have kept him."
The guard blinked twice. "Do you think you're smarter than me?"
"Well," she started, then thought better of saying so, "of course not," she finished.
He was not amused. "Guards! Take her away!"
"Incompotent fools!" She shrieked as they seized her arms, and in her flailing, she kicked a nearby fairy that was locked in a cage. The small magical girl and her prison landed on the animal, which flew into the air with a yelp of surprise.
"I can fly!" yelled the donkey. The bystanders repeated his excitement with "He can fly!" several times over, earning a look of 'oh, come on, you uncreative quarter-wits' from the elderly female who had wanted to sell the beast. For good measure, she also shot a 'do you see, blathering idiot?' look at the guard who'd ordered her arrest.
"He can talk!" said guard suddenly noticed, missing the glare from the hag.
"That's right, fool, now I'm a flying talking donkey!" His powers began to fade as he made it less than ten yards away. Frantic, when he touched the ground, he ran from the pursuing government workers. Too busy watching them, he crashed into the ogre, who was putting up notices proclaiming his property as private. The ogre had also included notices under the bright red words, warning that he was not responsible for what happened to trespassers. It wouldn't do to get into legal trouble with these ridiculous townfolk.
"You there, ogre," started a guard. As the ogre neared, the state employee's voice weakened. "By the order of Lord Farquaad," he slowly unrolled a scroll with his master's symbol, "I am authorized to place you both under arrest, and transport you-"
"Transport me where, exactly?" the green being raised an eyebrow.
The guard looked, noticing his friends gone. He gave his intended captives a look of uncertainty, then ran for it.
"This is private property," the ogre yelled after him. "Monarchy is over! I homesteaded this land before anyone claimed it. You don't have to live under elitist rule, anymore!" He heaved a sigh. Being one who believed in private property made him more of an outcast than being an ogre, sometimes. No, more likely, the man had just been afraid. At least one good thing had come of people's irrational fear of all large green monsters: it kept him from being captured.
