There I was, in the church crypt, praying to the almighty Lord, Shrek. I was a career criminal, looking for my next victim to burgle. That was when I saw him, the old man across the crypt. I saw him there, standing, just waiting to be burgled by my burgalicious burgling abilities. I took my chances when I saw him go upstairs and into the restroom. I followed him, and three seconds after he went into the bathroom, I initiated on my opponent. I launched my onionade swiftly into the bathroom and I planted myself against the door, stopping anyone from escaping.
I heard his screaming echo through the church crypt as the onionade took effect. The way an onionade works is like a grenade, except it is like an onion. It makes you cry, and fills your body with the scent of oniony goodness, but there’s kind of a slight twist. See, if I were to leave it to be only onions, that wouldn’t be very effective. So, I fill them with Anthrax as well, so let’s just say inhaling it probably isn’t the best idea. I slid my onion mask on and slipped into the restroom. I scanned the ground, my eyes skittering all over the bathroom, that’s when I saw him. He sat there, writhing on  the ground, almost like a group of flamingos having a rave. I scoured his mangled body for every last bit of wealth. I stood there for a second… thinking to myself, “Have I gone too far? How many times have I burgled? I can’t remember… It has been countless times.”
The sirens started before I was even done burgling. I heard them, echoing into the church. I had to escape and clean up all evidence of this being me, the one and only, onion burglar. I took off my bag and lightly placed the valuable items in it, and then swiftly flushed the remnants of my onionades down the toilet. I swiftly turned, exiting the stall and examining the walls and ceiling for a possible escape route. There was an air vent above the handicap stall. I ran into the handicap stall and locked the door behind me. I ripped the vent off the wall and expeditiously escaped from the building. I navigated through the byzantine of vents when I finally saw gridded sunlight at the end of a turn. Knowing it was a vent to the outside, I eagerly crawled towards it, knowing that freedom was in my grasp.
When I reached the exit, I saw a grouping of squirrels standing there, as if they waiting for something. I looked at them for a long moment, then climbed out of the vent. I took out an onion and handed it to the young squirrel, and I said, “Here ye are laddeh, use it well.”
He looked up at me and smiled, his eyes looking like little beads of inspiration…
The next few days I laid low. I knew the police would come to me eventually. They knew that I was the only one who would manage to kill someone with onions. The stench always lingered after I took another harmless victim’s life. I had a history with the police. Definitely not the best, but I will save that story for another day.
The next day I decided to check the news. As it turned out, I had burgled a very wealthy politician, and he died. The police did not make it to the site in time to save him. I had to be careful for my next burgle. If the oniony scent remained when I escaped the building, they would know it was me. I needed to keep my guard up.
I awakened the next day to the sound of knocking. I figured I knew what this was going to be about. I lived deep within the swamp, far from the village where I burgled the old man. I opened the door and saw a grouping of police officers. I swiftly pulled out my onion spray out and sprayed them. I yelled “THIS IS MY SWAMP” as I slammed the door and swiftly ran up the stairs to hide my stolen goods. I heard them coughing and large thumps that might have been them passing out. I creeped down the stairs, attempting to be as quiet as possible. I opened the door to see 6 lifeless police officers laying there, the scent of onion and anthrax filling the air. I should probably state I was born with a rare mutation. Anthrax doesn’t affect me. Nobody knows why, or even how, but that’s just the way it was. It has been fairly helpful when it comes to burgling.
I quickly hid the bodies, throwing them in the muddy swamp. Their bodies sank into the deep mud where no one would find them. I hoped that maybe my oniongators would destroy the evidence by eating the remnants of their bodies. As I turned around to go back into my house, I heard the oniongators tearing the officers to shreds. I could always rely on them to hide a body.
I decided that I would go to the Onion-market and pick up some groceries. I ran and hopped into my onionari. It was a Ferrari convertible, onion themed. The tires were onions, the seats were made out of onions, the rear view mirrors were ogre ears. It was the sickest car on the streets. I went to the onion market. I had my Shrek 2 T-shirt on, my ogre-green pants, and my Shrek crocs on.
I shuffled into the onion market, and looked around, scanning my surroundings. The aisles were crowded with everything an onion lover could want. Onion-O’s, Onion bars, onion pancake mix, onion juice, etc. The only thing about the onion market, is that you pay in onions. Not actual physical onions, though. It’s a complicated form of currency.
As I walked into aisle three, the toy aisle, I saw it. The Onion Bicycle. The most legendary bicycle of oniony goodness. I had my onionades on me… my onion mask… I made a decision. I was going to steal the Onion Bike. See, this bike was being auctioned off. Right now the price was 500,000 onions. It was a one  out of twenty limited edition Onion Bicycle. I didn’t have 500,000 onions. Let alone 100,000. So, the decision was made.
I went into the bathroom, slipped my onion mask on, stepped out, and threw as many onionades as possible. The anthrax onion gases would take effect and destroy this place. I ran to the onion bicycle and hopped on. As my feet rested on the pedals, I knew this bike was meant for me. I floored it out of the store as the screams of the innocent echoed from the inside of the Onion Market. I initiated phase two. The nuclear bombs rained down upon the city behind me. I flew into the air on my onion bike, the praises of Shrek echoing around me.
As I soared into the clouds, I heard the streamlines of my nuclear weapons whistling past me. All I needed in life was this oniony bicycle of flight. It was my most prized possession. As the first nuclear bombs began to detonate, I knew I might not make it out alive. I closed my eyes and thought about Shrek. I prayed to him for praising me this day. I looked down at the bike I was riding, and at that moment I knew that I loved it with all my heart.

Shrek is love, Shrek, is life.

Shrek is love, Shrek... is Life.