Subject Sits, Unmoved
By Missy

SERIES: Subject Sits, Unmoved
PART: one of one
Author: Missy
Email: lasfic@yahoo.com
RATING: PG (For language)
PAIRING(s): S/C refference

DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Kai, and FG so far; any other archives are welcome to ask (Please Email Me), but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine. Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"

Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!

DISCLAIMER: Laverne and Shirley, of course, not my property and belongs to its creators.

CATEGORY: Drama, S/C
CANNON/SPOILERS: Post "The Mummy's Bride"
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: It's been twenty years since the class of '56 emptied onto the streets. Shirley wants to make a big impression.
NOTES: I've been watching too much "Exteme Makeover"...

***

She had come with a hope burning inside of her; to impress those old fools. Lord knows, she had spent most of her life trying to live their taunts down.

Frigid. Cold.

Well, she had a husband. A DOCTOR, damnit. A doctor who was so busy that he couldn't fly down to Milwaukee to be with her for this reunion.

Laverne was doing better than her at the moment; flauting husband number three in their faces, and her new breast lift, to boot.

But She, Shirley Feeney-Meeney? Still scoffed at. Still laughed at.

Still an object of whispers.

Still 'cold'. 'frigid'.

She had changed her hair for the night; pulled back her wrinkles. She looked beautiful again, fresh, as she had before.

But they persisted in their destruction.

Abruptly, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Big, rough ones wiping away her tears.

"C'Mon." Carmine said, "We'll dance."

His embrace was a familiar comfort. And, as the twirled around the room to 'Where Are You Little Star", she understood how futile it was. To live to please another person, worse, an entire group of people, was nonsense.

People retain their opinions. One cannot change them.

And she still loved Carmine.

He hugged her goodbye when the song ended, disappearing into the masses. Leaving her alone in an unmoved and uncaring crowd.




The End!