The Ogre arrived in Germany with its handler, Dr. Lin-Jim Dung a retired rocket scientist from Jet Propulsion Laboratories. Constant companions after 30 years, the Ogre was his secret experiment and by the looks of it, it hadn’t gone well. Biking was the only “sport” the Ogre could do according to Dr. Lin-Jim Dung who had tried everything to keep his specimen active, fit and upright. You see the main problem with Ogres is a weak, gelatinous spine.

The Ogre was not fully hunchbacked but definitely stooped and rather stiff. It shuffled along, head down. When the Ogre wanted something (as it often did) it reared its head, parted its lips as a fish sucks air, and whined commands and comments in an androgynous monotone. A most unpleasant Ogre, this model. There might have been some troll DNA in the genetic line, but one can’t be sure.

Every day, the Ogre wore the same outfit: tan camping pants, a t-shirt and frumpy jacket that didn’t fit well, revealing a soft fleshy form. A lumpy potato sack would be a kind metaphor. If one didn’t know better, it would be easy to mistake the Ogre for “Pat” on Saturday Night Live.

Ogres are mean and sneaky. They try to be nice, but it’s not their true nature. Dr. Lin-Jim Dung spent many years trying to teach his Ogre manners and human emotions, but after his lobotomy in graduate school, he too wasn’t operating on all cylinders which compromised his ability to think about any topic other than a tiny frequency band on the light spectrum.

The Ogre stumbled through life in general, spilling things, causing accidents and making problems for others to clean up. Ogres always blame others for their mistakes. A general malaise follows them like a rain cloud so it is wise to veer from an Ogre’s path. If you walk around unaware, you might accidentally bump into an Ogre and get their sticky black essence on you. And once you get this tar-like poison on your skin, it’s very difficult to remove.

Every day on the bike path, the Ogre and Dr. Lin-Jim Dung went far, far astray and were always late, usually after roadside meltdowns and delayed rescue missions. How? Nobody knows for sure. What goes through an Ogre’s mind is a mystery. While its brain is double the size of an average human, it is filled with a substance much like mayonnaise-based potato salad, and the intelligence part is only a minuscule fraction of the total mass. Between their multitudinous Ivy League degrees, neither could be counted on to find their way out of a wet paper bag.

Wherever this duo went, they wreaked havoc on the native people. They never learned to eat properly so food went flying from their mouths and off their plates. Mon Dieu, tables in Europe are not set for Ogres or their handlers. Dining with dogs would be more pleasant. If you’ve never seen an Ogre eat, be forewarned… Often, Ogres will order room service just so they can eat the way they like, in privacy. Preparing lunches from the breakfast buffet in five-star hotels is de rigueur when traveling with them. You should see their guest rooms; making order after an Ogre departs is no picnic in the park. Oh, the Housekeeping!

Beauty makes Ogres very uncomfortable. One day on the bike path, a German Princess was crossing the street, pushing a stroller with her royal infant. Upon seeing this, the Ogre became agitated and couldn’t control itself, failed to brake properly and flew over the handle bars into the baby carriage. Luckily, the beautiful blond Princess from Frankfurt had Angels of Mercy on her side, and both she and her baby were spared. The Ogre however, landed flat on its face making it even more heinous than before. Ogre blood is almost impossible to get out of fabric.

The Princess was even kind enough to drive the Ogre and Dr. Lin-Jim Dung back to their hotel in her Porsche Cayenne, apologizing and gushing profusely, even when it everyone knew it was the Ogre’s fault.  This made the Ogre so mad, it spewed forth every excuse why it had crashed, but everyone knew the truth and moved away from its incoherent tirade.

It is challenging to take an Ogre biking. They simply cannot adapt to being outside in the light and moving among humanity. It is best to keep them home, chained in a dark basement where they are most comfortable.

Indeed it is true what they say, tales about Ogres, including modern ones, are usually rather Grimm.