"Ay, donkey, we've got'ta find out who's been calling lovers and posing as one of their dead parents." Shrek pulled out a case file and slammed it on the desk.
"My name is Slenderman."
"Can it, donkey! Is this one of ya pranks? Are you phone?"
"Shrek, this is ridiculous. You know as well as I do that I hate most forms of modern technology."
"But I also know that you'll do ''anythin' ''for twenty bucks!"
"I won't prostitute myself."
"Well, yes, but-"
"I won't eat puppies."
"Okay, but-"
"I won't join the angry fan horde in demanding that Jeff The Killer be removed from Trollpasta Wiki."
"I get it, but I'm tryin' ta say is-"
"I won't say Gakupo is my favorite Vocaloid."
"Voca-what? Vodka? Ah, so you were drunk when ya called, is that it?" Shrek slammed his fists on the table. "Blast it, donkey, I knew you were workin' against me!"
"W-what? No! I would never touch vodka! And I never touch phones!"
"Then what's this?" Shrek slid a photo of Slenderman with a phone across the table. "
"A poorly photoshopped picture. Did you make this in Microsoft Paint?"
"I'll have ya know that a very anonymous informant gave me this picture! And by the by, a little birdie told meh that it's not just lovers that are victims of the phone. No... normal people, goin' about their day-ta-day business have been victims. We need ta know who was phone, and I'm tellin ya donkey, YOU was phone!"
"That's ridiculous! You have no real evidence pointing to me as the culprit!"
"I've got enough to put you away for-" the phone on Shrek's desk began to ring. He picked it up. "Shrek here. Who is this? I'm in tha middle of somethin'!"
"Sorry to bother you. I just need to talk to my son, Slenderman."
"Ah." Shrek held out the phone to Slendy. "It's ya dad."
If Slenderman had eyes, they would've widened. "But... my father's been dead for ten years."
Shrek pulled the phone back up to his ear. "Now wait just a minute! Who are ya, really?"
Whoever was phone, they had hung up. Shrek calmly put the phone back down.
"This must mean you're not phone, donkey."
Shrek turned to face the window, the blood-red sunset painting the city in various hues of blood. It was a strange natural phenomena, and a very smelly one at that; city maintenance workers usually quit on such days due to the copious amounts of smelly blood they had to mop up and dispose of.
"But if you're not phone... then, who is?"