A 'Touched by an Angel' & 'Shrek'

Crossover story

By: Yvette Jessen

"What are you doing in my swamp?" The voice brought Andrew, the Angel of Death crashing back down to earth. He turned around and saw a creature that some might describe as being so ugly he was cute, but it was Shrek, and his eyes were baring down on Andrew as though he was just waiting for one slip up. "I don't see any pitchforks or armies, so why are you here?"

The voice of the ogre had an Irish lilt to it and after Andrew had taken a deep breath, his green eyes met the brown eyes of the ogre. "Well, I saw your movie, and thought that maybe since you rarely entertain," he motioned towards the sign that said 'beware ogre' on it, before he continued speaking. "Well, I figured that I could come here and get away from those crazy fan fiction writers." Andrew replied trying to sound convincing, but all the while he was looking around the area with obvious nervousness.

"Fan fiction writers, huh?" The ogre asked sarcastically. "So, you decided to come here to escape from a bunch of writers. What did they do; ruffle your hair with a quill?"

"No, it's kind of hard to explain, but they are brutal," Andrew said solemnly. "The fact of the matter is, I'm not going back there."

"Well they can't be any worse than the fairy tale creatures that have decided to take up residency here," Shrek responded. He knew that this was very strange, he had no idea who this man was, but one thing he realized was that he did not trust anyone, and this person was a part of anyone, and so that made him someone not to trust. You follow?

Andrew looked at the ogre and took a deep breath. "Well, it's like this, I came here so that I would be safe and have a chance to recover from the past few weeks."

"Safe? Safe from what, pointed objects that would gouge your eyes out?" The ogre asked pointedly, but there was something in Andrew's voice that made him take notice. "OK, who are you and what's your story?"

"My name is Andrew, and, well, how can I put this, I'm an angel," he began.

"An angel, huh?" Shrek asked as he looked around Andrew to survey and find out if this weird stranger had wings. When he noticed that there were none, he shook his head. "I don't buy it."

"It's true," Andrew began. "It started about a week ago, I had had a conversation with Monica, she's another angel, and she told me that I shouldn't quit, but I finally had had enough."

"Enough, what do angels become, besides annoying, when they have had enough?" Shrek asked.

"Well, we could either fall, which would not be a very smart move. I mean; separating oneself from the light of God for more than a short time is rather hard," Andrew said. "We could drown our sorrows in Mocha Lattes which is how my friend Monica handles on the job stress, or we could make some really strange jokes about it, like my friend Adam does. Mostly we just put in word that we want to go Home."

"Right, I follow," Shrek said but his eyes rolled and he looked at Andrew. "What do you do, leave a note saying 'bye-bye'?"

Andrew squirmed ever so slightly. "Kind of."

"I've gotta hear this, pull up a toadstool and let's chat," Shrek said.

"What's your name first?"

"What the big guy didn't tell you?"

"No, we sort of work on a 'need to know' basis," Andrew said.

"Do you necessarily need to know my name?"

"Would you prefer that I call you 'ogre'?"

"It's Shrek," came the annoyed response.

"OK, Shrek, this is what happened. It was about a week ago…"

Flashback: A Week Ago

Andrew sat on his bed, his back was leaning against the headboard, his nose was deeply delved in his reading, and he was frowning. What was he reading that made him so nervous? Was it printouts from the newspaper with catastrophes or natural disasters? No, but he turned a page, the color draining from his face as he stared down at it.

Oh Father, he groaned as he stared at the printout. Somehow someone had gotten his email address and overloaded his account with fan fiction. He sighed deeply as he pulled out the first page of a new story. He had just read 'The Greatest Human Form of All' and although it was a well-written story, he was not pleased that he ended up with bulimia. This just doesn't seem fair, and binging and purging is not an extremely angelic thing to do…in fact, it made him feel sick when he thought about it, yet, humans suffered from this every day, but why him?

At any rate, after recovering from that, he started reading another story, this one about him being accused of molesting a child. This was more tragic than the last one, and he could feel the tears streaming from beneath his compassionate green eyes as he read. He finally had to stop reading and put the pages down because it was affecting him too much to read this one. Life was just as hard as the stories depicted because somehow every story that he read, he had also experienced these things.

He reached for a third story, this one taking place on Halloween, his least favorite day of the year, but he smiled weakly as he began to read about the little boy named Matthew who had visited him that one year when he had worked a case with Monica and Tess. This story was sweet, and he smiled as he remembered the small boy, and the friendship they shared.

Finally, he took a deep breath and covered his face with his hands. Many of these stories were very nice, they were depictions of his everyday life as an Angel of Death, but 'the misadventures of Andrew' had become the biggest hobby of Androoler fan fiction writers since his alter ego, John raised a ruckus with that green shirt photo. Now he realized that many of the writers he knew could not even say the two words without getting sweaty palms and baying at the moon, or worse still, calling the plumber and complaining about the drool problem at their homes.

"Oh Eva," he moaned, "now I'm at fault for your marital problems." He sighed deeply as he read a story about a woman named Eva Jensen and how she had gotten into trouble with her husband after having dinner with him.

Sighing sadly, he looked at the clock and pulled the covers even further up until they were lodged right under his chin. If truth be known, this didn't happen very much, in fact Tess always told him that it did not become the Angel of Death to whine. However, enough was enough and that was precisely what Andrew was feeling and anyone who would look at him could tell that he was not happy, in fact, he looked nervous. A pile of papers were still at his side, and his eyes closed as he tried to block out the images his curious mind led him to.

"Andrew," Monica's voice emerged and he glanced up to see her coming into the room, her bright brown eyes met his own and she was smiling as though she had already drank twenty Mocha Lattes and was ripe and ready for number 21.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw the scowl covering his handsome face. He looked so annoyed that she almost didn't recognize him. "Why so glum, you look like you just lost in a ginger ale drinking contest with Adam?"

"Have you seen some of these stories?" Andrew whined. "These fan fiction writers are totally brutal, Monica. I have been so busy in their stories; I barely have time to actually be someone's angel when their time came. I mean; Adam's been taking my workload because I've been so busy in these stories. So, I have decided that I'm not getting out of bed at least until the next millennium because I need an extended rest. Maybe if I don't get up, these girls won't write anymore about me, and maybe they'll make you, Tess or Gloria the main angel in their stories and you can see how it feels to get all this attention. I need a nap!!!"

"What on earth are you talking about?" Monica asked.

"Just look at some of this," Andrew moaned. "In this one I have bulimia, and in this one I'm strung out on drugs, here's one where I'm in a fire, and one where I'm blind or deaf, or…" His voice trailed off and he looked at her as though his dignity had been squelched. "I just can't take any more, Monica. These humans are more brutal than Tess when she cops an attitude, and usually I can handle Tess OK."

Monica looked at her friend, he looked exceedingly nervous. "So, let me get this straight, you are intending on staying here, and not going anywhere just because a bunch of talented writers have seen fit to write stories about you? Come on Andrew, you should be honored that these talented people care enough to write about you. But, you'd rather stay here and mope?"

"That's right," Andrew crossed his arms over his chest and tried to give his friend his best 'injured puppy dog' look. "I am exhausted, Monica, I was just sent to protect a girl from a murderer, and was nearly accused of murder all in one story. Then I was in an earthquake and was kidnapped by a demon. I just can't take anymore, the buck stops here!"

"There are going to be a lot of fans disappointed that you aren't willing to do anymore, Andrew. After all, you're the hero, and they all love you so much," Monica tried to persuade him. "What would their stories be without their favorite angel?"

"Well, Adam and Henry are still around," Andrew grumped.

"Yes, but only Yvette and a few others have been using Adam in stories, but you're needed by the whole lot of them, Andrew," Monica said softly.

"No," Andrew said. "Besides, what's the chance of a meteor falling on this building, or me getting stung by 500 killer bees if I stay right here, and not move at all?"

"I don't know, but if you stay here, you will find out," Monica replied as she glanced back over at the door where a crop of fan fiction writers were hanging around with buckets of grapes, all the while she could sense that they were wanting to swipe his favorite green shirt. "I guess you know, this is going to be your call, but I think it's a wee bit of a pity simply because it's such a nice day and you promised me a Mocha Latte and you know as well as I do that an angel always keeps his or her promises."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Andrew moaned. "Can I come later, I think I'm going to read a couple more of these stories. At least here, I can't have a house land on me."

Flashback End

"So, you and your friend went out for coffee, then what happened?" Shrek asked.

"Well, she told me that I would survive, but then I was written into a story where I was hit by a drunk driver and was in a coma for a week!" Andrew explained. "It was horrible, because every story that is written about me, actually happens to me. That's why I'm here, I needed to get to a place where I couldn't have a building collapse on me, be beaten up by demons, have accidents, anorexia, mud splattered on me, or something much worse."

"What could be worse than that?" Shrek asked. "A good mud bath, well there's nothing better than that, I'd say."

"How about hosting the best of the 70's Hit Parade?" Andrew shot back all the while arching an eyebrow.

Shrek looked horrified. "Yep, that could be bad. OK, you can stick around tonight, but then tomorrow I have to go to Dulac and get someone to get these fairy tale creatures off my land."

"Why?" Andrew wanted to know.

"I like my privacy," he said. "Besides, would you want a dead broad on your table during dinner time?"

"Well, if she was really dead, then chances are I would have been notified," Andrew said as he pulled his watch from his pocket and opened the cover. "But, I think I can handle this all fine."

"You would have been notified if she had really died. Well, Snow White looked dead to me," came the response. "So what kind of angel are you?" Shrek asked.

"Angel of Death," Andrew replied but he did not see Shrek's eyes begin to roll.

"Soooo, let me get this straight, you got a bunch of fan fiction writers telling stories about an Angel of Death?" Shrek looked at Andrew with unsuppressed amusement but the words he wanted to ask whether or not the writers were taking mind altering medication. He suppressed the urge when he saw Andrew's face. "So, tell me what ever happened to having a hero that lived happily ever after, or are they still among the living once you show up?"

This time Andrew sighed deeply as he tried to get his thoughts straight. "Well, it's like this, these people call themselves 'Androolers' and they write stories about me and get me into all different kinds of misadventures."

"'Androolers', sounds like you've got a major problem on your hands," Shrek said trying to curtail his amusement.

"Yes, but it's hard because every single thing they write me into eventually happens, I can't get any work done, and now I have a backlog of cases waiting to be taken care of. Lately, Adam's been taking care of them for me."

"So, you cowered out, wrote your friends a note and said, bye-bye baby?"

"Yes, that's about what happened, I came back to the apartment where we had a case. Tess and Monica were out, but I kept seeing these writers, especially Yva, she's a nice lady, but she's the worst of the lot."

"Oh really, so tell me about it."

"It happened yesterday…"

Flashback: Yesterday

A loud thumping sound emerged and Andrew sat up after Monica had left. He went to open the door, and standing on the other side was Yva. She had just written him into a story where he was a Scarecrow in a strange version of 'The Wizard of Oz', and she was smiling at him.

"Hi Andrew," she said.

"Hello, Yva," he responded in kind, but his eyes were filled with nervousness.

"I just had the greatest piece of inspiration for a story, I wanted to pop by and tell you about it before I started writing it."

Andrew looked at her. "You have already gotten me in a coma, and I heard through the grapevine that you were going to give me amnesia next. Please don't write that one."

"I can't stop now, Andrew, I'm about half way done, and it's really a great story. Don't worry, you'll get your memory back by the end of it."

"Will I?" Andrew asked. "So, what's your idea?"

"Well, someone suggested that I write a 'Mary Poppins' crossover, I thought it was a great idea and wanted to write you as Bert. You know the one man band, sidewalk artist, chimney sweep, person?"

Andrew looked at her with unsuppressed sadness in his eyes. That's it, I've had enough, and I'm getting out of here. With that, before Yva could finish her idea, he had disappeared.

Flashback End

"So you left her, just like that, practically in mid-sentence?" Shrek asked.

Andrew nodded, "I just reached the point where I just couldn't take anymore. So I left a note for Tess and Monica, and split."

Shrek nodded as though he understood. "What did the note say?"

Andrew cleared his throat:

Dear Tess & Monica,

I am out of here, you don't have the grief I have with these fan fiction writers, so I'm leaving and will not be back. Don't try to find me, and tell Yva that I'm sorry for leaving her hanging like that, but I can't take anymore.

Love,

Andrew

*****

At the same time when Andrew was telling the ogre what was in his letter to Tess and Monica, Yva was standing in the room as they had finished reading the note he had left for them. The writer's face was a depiction of agony. "It's all my fault," she whispered under her breath, "I clearly went too far with him with my stories and now --- Now he's gone."

"Yva, we know where he went," Monica said gently. "I think that between the three of us, we can go, find him, and encourage him to come back."

"How?"

"Well it's easy, baby, we know that he went to the edge of the Fairy Tale forest and right now, he is at Shrek's swamp."

"Shrek as in that ogre from the movie?" Yva asked. "So Andrew ran to an ogre and sought protection from him? He's gonna eat the Angel Boy for lunch."

"No he won't, you have to remember that ogres are like onions, they have layers," Tess said. "Deep inside Shrek is more than just an ill-tempered ogre, he's got a good heart."

"Yeah, underneath all those layers," Yva quipped.

"You have to learn to look beyond appearances, honey," Tess said. "The point of all of this is, we will find Andrew and hopefully you can help encourage him to come back."

Yva was not convinced, she figured that Andrew would be another statistic on the ten o'clock news, but instead of speaking of this concern, she went and got in the backseat of Tess' Cadillac while the two angels got in the front seat. As they drove in the direction of Fairy Tale Land and Shrek's swamp, she could not help but wonder.

*****

At that moment, Shrek was making his specialty, wild rat stew, for dinner, but Andrew declined. The ogre was getting a kick out of having the angel hanging around. Andrew respected his being different, and he seemed to look beyond the idea that Shrek was an ogre.

"So you got any stories to tell me tonight, I've already ripped up my fairy tale book," Shrek said as they sat down for coffee after dinner.

"Well, I'm afraid I don't, but if you ever meet any of the fan fiction writers on the message board, they would tell you a batch full of stories, your outhouse would be so full of papers, that you wouldn't have any space left to use the small room for it's intended purpose."

Shrek let out a laugh, and Andrew smiled. He really liked the ogre, the swamp was really peaceful, and the best thing about it, no fan fiction writers for miles around. At least that was what he thought until he heard an excited voice emerging.

"Andrew, we found you!" He turned around and looked up to see Yva, Tess, and Monica now standing in Shrek's house. Without thinking twice about what she was doing, Yva flung herself into Andrew's arms and hugged him with all her might. "I'm sorry I upset you," she said as she planted a big, wet kiss on his cheek.

Andrew glanced over towards Shrek and quickly provided an introduction. "Yva, Shrek, Shrek, Yva." Glancing over he could see that Monica and Tess were standing in the doorway, neither angel saying anything. "Shrek, these are my friends, Monica and Tess."

"Charmed, now what are you doing in my swamp?" Shrek asked, cutting straight to the chase.

"We're here to take Andrew home," Monica said.

"Well, he said that he's the Angel of Death, so I figured that it would be the other way around," Shrek said.

"Technically, that's true, but…" Yva began but she looked at Andrew. "Please Andrew, you've got to come back, if you stay here, then every fan fiction writer on the message board is gonna hate me."

"Why would they hate you?" Andrew asked.

"Because…" she sniffed as she looked at him. "They just would. If they didn't have you to write stories about, then they would be really mad because their favorite Angel of Death would be gone."

"So, this is really interesting," Shrek said. "You really are the Angel of Death, hmmm? And here I thought you were some strange, eccentric creature from another planet."

"Shrek, I am the Angel of Death," Andrew said simply and this time, he began to glow.

The ogre nodded and after a few seconds he spoke, his temperament getting the better of him and his voice emerged ferocious. "Get out of my swamp, all of you!"

"I guess that means there's not going to be a sequel," Yva muttered under her breath as the three angels accompanied her outside and climbed into the Cadillac. Moments later, they sped away from the swamp all the while Yva wondered if Tess was now reconsidering her earlier words about Shrek having a good heart under all those layers.

Yva looked at Andrew, who was sitting next to her in the backseat. She felt only a little insecure about saying something to Andrew, but finally she found the courage to speak to him. She only hoped that she would somehow be able to rectify the situation her story had inadvertently caused only a day ago. "Andrew?" She spoke his name.

"Yes?" He looked over at her and she nearly melted.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm really sorry I upset you and caused you to run away from your friends. It wasn't my intention to hurt you. Would you please forgive me?" she asked all the while keeping her voice soft.

"That's OK, Yva," he smiled weakly at her, but reached over and tapped Tess on the shoulder. "What's say we stop for cheeseburgers?"

Yva giggled and looked at him. "Why, I thought you had eaten at Shrek's place?"

Andrew's face flushed, and he looked at her. "Between you and me, Yva, I was seriously considering becoming a vegetarian…" With a smile on his face, he leaned over and wrapped her in his arms. "Shrek is OK, but I realized through this little adventure that I really don't mind you writing stories about me, but will you do me a favor?"

"What?" She looked up at him all the while feeling his arms holding her.

"Please, just give me time to recover from them." He smiled weakly at her and as their hug loosened, he offered her his hand. "Do we have a deal?"

Yva smiled and nodded as she accepted his hand and held it tightly in both of hers. "Yes," she managed to say, but added. "Believe me, I've learned my lesson, Andrew.

The End

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