A/N: I think I should explain that this is more of a satire than a parody. It was inspired, rather heavily, by Mattel's recent "rebranding" of the movies. I don't really agree with this decision, but this won't just be a giant rant about the new, modern, "fashion orientated" movies. I'm hoping to give this a point, even if it's not clear right now.

Major Mint was broke. Not "running low on funds", not "a little short of money"; just plain, flat out broke, and it couldn't have been at a worse time.

He'd received the news at around 7:30 that morning, just as he'd set out for work and the boys had set out for school. The letter had been lying there on the floor, and he'd scooped it up as he'd strode out. It was undoubtedly going to be more bills, he'd thought, and that was the last thing Elizabeth needed to deal with in her condition. They'd seemed to acquire more and more bills as the year went on, and the more they arrived, the harder it was to pay them. So that was what Mint had expected; another bill. Instead, he found a bank statement declaring that all their money was gone.

It had haunted him like a ghost. What would they do? How would they get it back? How did it happen in the first place?

Elizabeth, when he told her, hadn't been much help.

"What do you mean, we're broke?" she asked frantically.

"I mean just what I said," her husband replied. "We have no money, Lizzie."

"But – but we've got to have money! They can't just not pay you, Robert! What about your job?"

Mint shook his head. The army may as well have not existed, it did so little for the community. Since this kingdom had plenty of good witches and fairies to defend it, all the army had to do was patrol the border between their home and the villains', and since the villains never did anything anymore, there wasn't much point in paying them vast amounts of money.

"Well, what... what about the profits you earn? What about all that? We can't just be broke, Robert! We can't! What about our sons? What about..."

Her hand drifted to her stomach; whether it was intentional or not, Mint couldn't be sure. She was starting to show now, and that only made the Major feel even worse.

"Lizzie," he said gently, putting his hand in front of her. "You need to calm down."
"How can I calm down?" she asked him. "How long do you think we'll last without money?"

"But we can get money. You just keep writing those songs of yours. Those people at the theatre always pay you for them, don't they?"

Elizabeth nodded, but she still looked terrified. "I can't work there forever. I'll have to go on maternity leave soon, they insisted on it-"

"But you don't have to leave right now. You just keep doing that, and I'll..." he took a deep breath. "I'll go get those profits."

Elizabeth looked all flustered at the thought of it. "Oh, no, I can do that-"

"No, you cannot. You'll be too busy writing those songs and keeping an eye on things, is that clear?"

"But you'd hate doing that, dear; it'll feel like you're begging!"

"No, it won't."

Yes, it did.

There was nothing quite so harrowing as the walk to the communications centre. It was on the far side of the kingdom, stuck on an isolated road. Once you went down that road, everyone knew where you were headed and why. It was embarrassing beyond words, but Major Mint kept walking. He had no other choice.

As he passed through the centre of town, he silently cursed the place's existence. It had seemed like such a good idea on paper – putting everyone from this franchise in the same place – but it didn't seem to benefit anyone who actually lived there. The citizens had been yanked from their respective kingdoms and lumped together in this great big one. It was never given a proper name; it had started out as the "Mini Kingdom", which was a laugh in itself seeing as it was now the size of a small city. As more movies were made, more cast members moved in and even the producers who ran this place realised what a stupid name it was. Now it was simply "the kingdom", and it seemed to be growing every day. Even from where Mint stood, he could see more signs of the population increasing; something called "Fashion Fairytale". He didn't know what that was and he didn't want to know. He had nothing in common with these new people and they didn't seem to want to know him. Plus, they meant his chance of earning anything decreased rapidly.

While the citizens of the kingdom were, for the most part, completely sheltered from the outside world, they knew how well their movies were doing because every time their face appeared on merchandise, they'd get paid. If you starred in a book, you got paid. If your movie was re-released, you got paid. Being made into a doll was the ultimate goldmine because you earned something for every time someone bought it. These "profits", as they were known, were the only real way anyone could make money in this kingdom without taking on a job, and jobs were in short supply. Not surprisingly, the main cast members earned the most money, which is why the main street seemed to consist entirely of pretty blonde girls in huge castles. If you starred in a new movie, you were basically covered for the next two years, providing people liked it. But you had to make the most of it; once your movie faded into obscurity, the money stopped rolling in.

That was Major Mint's problem. His movie was one of the most obscure. It was never mentioned in merchandise, and when it was, he never got anything because he wasn't mentioned. It wasn't something he'd minded before – he'd had the army to cover his family's needs – but the army wasn't bringing in much anymore. What Mint was thinking, as he walked down that road, was that, somewhere out there, there was money that belonged to him. Something from this film had to have sold, or this kingdom probably wouldn't exist. There had to be something out there with him in it. There had to be.

He still wasn't looking forward to putting this across, though. Most people didn't visit the communications centre; they just waited for their money to come to them. The only ones who actually went and asked for it were really, really desperate. It wasn't quite on the same level as begging for money in the streets, but almost.

Major Mint had always found begging to be quite undignified.

"So," drawled the producer, "you're Major Mint, right?"

Mint nodded, briefly distracted by the office he'd been ushered in. He'd expected this place to look smart and dignified – since these people ran the kingdom, it was practically a given – but he hadn't expected it to be so pink. It was almost embarrassing.

The producer – whose name was apparently Jason and how he could stand to work in this pink office, Mint would never know – looked at him patronisingly over his desk. "And what are you here for, Major?"

"I'm here to ask about my profits," replied the Major. "I know it's been a while since my film was released, but I'm sure I'm entitled to something, aren't I?"

"Need the money, huh?"

Mint didn't say anything to that. He could only stare at the ludicrously pink desk and wonder if he could sink any lower. Meanwhile, Jason was tapping away at the rose-coloured computer.

"You are aware," he suddenly announced, "that 'Nutcracker' was released before this kingdom even existed, right?"

"Of course." He knew that already. He quite clearly remembered moving here; his eldest son, Robert Jr, had been about five at the time. "I am still entitled to something, though, aren't I?"

"... Not really, no."

The Major's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You're getting paid for re-releases and this sticker book you were in a while back, but that's it. "

"Oh, come on! That's preposterous! What about storybooks and dolls and things? I was in those, wasn't I?"

Jason seemed hesitant.

"Wasn't I?" asked the Major again.

The producer shook his head. Mint sprang up and put both hands on the desk, slamming them down and glaring at the younger man. He'd be damned if he'd taken this humiliating walk and sat down in this ridiculous office for nothing!

"I was in that film," he hissed. "I played a big role in those events. You can ask anyone. My wife will confirm it. My friends will confirm it. You cannot – cannot – tell me that they've not given me anything."

"Oh, they acknowledged you," Jason replied, unusually calmly given the situation he was in. "But it's... well, it's not really you, Major. That's why you're not getting paid for it."

"Well, who is?"

"This little boy, Ken's brother... Tommy, his name is."

"Why's a little boy getting credit for my work?"

Jason didn't say anything; all he did was turn the monitor towards Mint. The Major looked at it. His eyes widened.

The doll was dressed perfectly; that was his uniform. It had his name on the box and everything. The only problem was that the doll was a toddler. In fact, the doll looked more like one of Mint's children than the Major himself.

"WHAT THE DEVIL IS THAT?" shouted the Major.

Jason showed him another picture, this time from the "Nutcracker" storybook. Once again, the uniform was perfect; the age wasn't.

The Major sank down into his chair, trying to get a grip on the whole situation. His hands were clenched into fists, and Jason felt slightly relieved that there was a heavy desk between him and the officer.

"How could this happen?" he asked. His anger appeared to have been replaced by outright confusion. "I suppose I could understand if... if they'd got my name mixed up with the Captain's or something like that, but how could they... how is that even possible?"

Jason sighed. He almost felt sorry for Mint now.

"You really don't know?"

Mint shook his head. "I can't understand it at all. Why on earth would they have me portrayed as a toddler? How much sense does that make?"

"Major," the producer said gently, "it's not a personal thing, I assure you. It's just that this" – and he gestured to the monitor – "sells you better."

"But it's not me, is it? It's this little boy!"

"The little boy is you, as for as merchandise is concerned."

"But why? Everyone knows that's not me!"

Jason shook his head. He really had no idea.

"Look, Major; I don't know if you've realised this, but most of this stuff – not just from your movie, all the others too – is bought by small girls. You're an old man who shouts a lot. Small girls don't really like that in a character."

Mint shook his head again; not out of denial, but out of confusion.

"The fact is, Major; you don't sell. Your image doesn't sell. And if your image doesn't sell, then you're not gonna get any profits, are you?"

"But – but that's ridiculous!" Mint spluttered. "I have a family to support! I need this money! I'm a good man! I do what's right! What does it matter if I'm old?"

"I'm sorry, Major," the producer told him, "you're just not cute enough."