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.It's What's Inside That Counts	By : keithcompany Category: +M through R > Precious Moments Views: 2204 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the cartoon(s) that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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More disclaimer: Do not repost this story beyond the limits of the Fair Use standards of Copyright Law (quotes, examples, ‘you gotta read this’ excerpts, the usual). the author is not making any kind of profit from this fanfic.

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Michael was the Best Man. He was content with that. It was what he was made to be. What he would always be.

Others on the shelf filled out the wedding scene. There were a dozen couples: couples getting engaged, couples being wed, couples leaving the altar. A few people were on the outskirts of the ceremony: the mother of the bride, bridesmaids, a man who might be the bride’s father, a parson. And aside from the couples there was a brace of individual brides.

Michael enjoyed being part of the Wedding shelf for quite a few years. Many figures were sold, many more happy faces replaced them. He was only moved twice. Once to be marked ‘Retired,’ and given a higher price. And just six months ago, he was marked up to almost three times his original price.

That’s when the problem started.

Every other time, he’d been replaced carefully, positioned to frame the wedding couples. It was his job and he was quite satisfied with it. This last time, he was twisted slightly away from the little wooden altar.

And he saw the shelf with the Spanish imports.

A women posed in the corner there, a slender nude with high pointy breasts. Her smooth, endless skin was tanned, darker than anyone he’d ever met. Her head was malproportioned but he found her compelling despite the strangeness.

She raised a pure white dove up in an offering of peace and his heart was lost.

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With feelings as strong as Michael’s there was no way to hide them from the others. His figurine family discussed his situation.

“Birds of a feather collect together,” the promotionals said. They were about the worst. “Can’t get enough of our club,” they reminded him.

Michael was sure that his love transcended mere brand name. “What the world needs is love,“ he replied.

Some of his friends supported him. “Teach us to love one another!” they rallied.

But “It’s a girl,” more than a few said dismissively.

“It may be greener,” even more cautioned.

Michael swore that his love was true, more than just lust or a passing fancy. “We share a love forever young!”

Love was a powerful issue to the group. It was key to their creation, their distribution, their catalog. Many were swayed that he should at least be given a chance. “Only love can make a home,” they whispered back and forth.

The promotionals were adamant. “Our club can’t be beat,” they insisted. They kept repeating this over and over. To their chagrin, they ended up alienating everyone who enjoyed a more liberal distribution.

“Marching to the beat of freedom’s drum,” became a group mantra. They shouted down the club member perks whenever they tried to make a stink.

Stinks were just not tolerated among the figurines.

Finally, the greater part of the community decided, if not support for Michael’s plight, or sympathy for his desire, at least they would be tolerant of his love.

Not that there was much to be done about it. He was cast, painted and displayed. The magic of his creation could only go so far. No figure had the power to grant him the freedom he needed.

Still, there was magic in the world. And as every figurine knew, "Dreams really do come true.”

Michael wrapped his hope up in that thought and tried to be happy. Not content, he couldn’t have that, not until she was in his arms. But happy. Happy he could do.

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One night after the store closed, Michael went to sleep while staring at his love. Her form was barely visible in the light of the neon Elvis signs, but it didn’t matter. He had every inch of her cold-cast body memorized, every brush stroke engrained upon his soul. From waking sight to sleeping dream, she knelt clear in his vision.

Others of the community were awake for longer. They became aware of the glowing blue light as it drifted through the store. Some were amused, some frightened.

By the time Michael woke up, her song was audible. A lilting voice described a mission of true love found, of hearts unbound, thus her trip to the ground.

She passed the shelf a few times. They saw that she was a fairy. A slender, purple woman about eight inches tall, with butterfly wings, she floated by with her wand extended. The light was a bright sapphire spark at the end.

Michael realized she was using it as a dowsing rod. She looped the store twice (giving the cash register a wide berth), finally zeroing in on the wedding shelf.

She drifted gently to the glass and shone the light around. Her expression grew confused. She glanced down to see the little plaque that named the series and sound it out slowly.

“Pre...cious...mo...men...ments...wedd...wedding...co...coll... Ah. Precious Moments Wedding Collection!” She smiled in triumph and looked around. Her smile faded, then her brows lowered. “Ah, HELLS no.”
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