Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story

A/N I would like to thank everybody that has taken time to read and/or support this story. You readers are ineffable!

This chapter is a follow-up to "As You Wish" A/N

"...and then the brave, noble porcupine stole off into the night, determined not to look back - and of course, in the nature of doing so, looked back twice."

Whoosh.

Obviously, as the boldest, most ostentatious show of dramatic accentuation, Mr. Pricklepants swept his arms into the air with flamboyant inelegance and bowed to the crowd. The applause he received – mainly the result of four in the toys in the group working off and of the others dozing or daydreaming – warmed his spirits, and compelled him to bow a second time.

"Yes, yes, thank you all so very much for appreciating my ingenuity with your awe-filled silence," he smiled, and manoeuvred his limbs into a theatrical motion that was no more a indication of courtesy than it was a gesture of decadence. "It very much flatters my ego that my story has compelled you into such reverence."

His omniscient eyes swept the group of toys that were gathered before him. He noticed Rex, fixatedly staring at the floor at a loss of what to do next after listening to such a compellingly riveting story; then Mr. Potato-Head, who was sat with his spud of a head plopped in his hands, his mind pondering and pondering over the thematic queries and perturbations raised by what he'd just heard; then the three peas, who were staring at Mr. Pricklepants in wide-eyed fascination, their jaws agape and their smiles pervading their cheeks like delicious chocolate spread; then, just at the back of the group, Hamm, who seemed to be sleeping.

Dreaming about my work, I would hope to imagine. This thought brought a smile to his face, and with this, he turned to Woody and asked:

"So, what did you really think of my story?" he inquired hopefully. "I thought myself that my own interpretation of morality covered through the porcupine's incessant delusions may have been a bit too opulent considering its lack of contextual significance in some of my other works, but otherwise, I felt that the story was very riveting. What did you think?"

Woody, his hat lopsided and his eyes dazed, flushed and said, "H-huh...? Oh, you're talking about your work...well, it was certainly very...interesting, and the..." his lips were perched in a low, lulling murmur as he pressed for thought, and smacked together when he resumed speaking, his voice filled with habitual geniality. "The character of Paulie the Porcupine was certainly very fascinating. He's a modern-day rowdy cow-poke, all right." The Sheriff noted with pleasure that Mr. Pricklepants' smile of vainglory was growing larger and larger as he rambled, almost as though feasting on his courteous compliments. "Did you think of him all by yourself?"

The bash smile reached its pinnacle, and as he remarked the casual, "Of course I did – well, aside from one or two inklings of inspiration from all the authors of most classic literary fiction," he was shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Classic litter fiction?" Hamm chirruped, his head too heavy a weight for his body as he woke himself from his doze. "I think I may... I think I may have misheard."

"Never mind, Hamm, it's easy to do," elaborated the porcupine with a placid countenance." Classic literary fiction is what I said, not litter. Stories of rubbish and garbage hardly make for decent inspiration – unless you're Shakespeare, of course. That deity could create beauty from utter distastefulness."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," said Dolly. "Are we finished - ?"

"Ooh! Oooh!" the three peas chorused, all peering eagerly out from their pod at the rest of the group. "Another story! Please!"

"Paulie was so brave!" Rex exclaimed, gibbering in excitement. "And he had short arms – like me!"

"That was a great story, Mr. Pricklepants!" resumed Peatrice, her mellow, smiling cheeks blushed with the lightest splotches of pink. "Could you tell us another one?"

A collective murmur of assent from her siblings, a disguised groan from the rest of the group.

"I'd love to, my child, I honestly would. But it is with the sincerest regret that I must inform you all that my creative juices have been...well, exhausted themselves today.

"Oh, please, please, please!"

"My dear child, Paulie the Porcupine's rites of passage have pervaded my mind with oh so much resolution – I simply cannot commit my creativity to elsewhere matters." A few eyebrows rose in hope, then drooped again as he continued, "Oh, that dear fellow has so much in store for him. To betray his unveiling would be sacrilege!"

Rocking to and fro eagerly, Peanelope, peering out from the midst of her pod, pleaded. "Oh, please! Tell us more of Paulie!"

Through some miracle, the silence that followed as Mr. Pricklepants brooded and meditated, a long black claw hooked under his chin and his feet twitching and bopping on Bonnie's bright flooring, was eventually blemished by the porcupine so cogitating, "In time, child, definitely in time. In time, I will disclose his adventures, and Paulie shall forever flourish!"

The last note was thoughtfully prologued for less than half a second before a voice – probably Mr. Potato-Head's – inquired, "Are we done yet?"

Woody, currently yawning and stretching his arms in preparation to rising to his feet, declared, "Yes, I think -" he lifted to his feet, overbalanced, and finished his yawn - "I think that's the knot tied for today-"

"Wait a second," Hamm interfered, still shaking off after his dose. "I thought this was a story session – shouldn't there be more than one story?"

Mrs. Potato-Head, nudging her spouse heavily to keep his anxious witticism at bay, clasped her hands and declared, "That would be wonderful! I'm sure everyone is just teeming with imagination!"

"Haven't we already had a story-time session?" Jessie lukewarmly enquired, her hands pillowing her cheeks just as Bullseye enthusiastically nodded his head to the spud's idea, her question going unheeded.

"If the story session were to contain more than one recital of a story, as it should do, then I would respectively have my own story to tell, if the rest of you would be so kind as to let me."

"Hamm!" Mr. Potato-Head exclaimed. "You? No chance!"

"Now, now, Potato-Head, there's no need to create havoc. Now, the peas here have kindly brought this occasion up so that we may all take turns. And, if Hamm wishes to, it is only fair that he has his turn." He smiled courteously, and gestured to the piggy-bank. "Hamm, if you'd like to tell us your story, I'm sure we'd all love to hear it."

Smiling arrogantly, Hamm took this opportunity. Rising elegantly to his feet, he trod toward the front of the group, his rosy pink behind whipping indignantly from side to side almost as if to patronise the group.

Once he had his place, he cleared his throat, exhaled, inhaled, then outlined with a voice so masterfully condescending the synopsis of his story. "Now, have any of you ever read the guide so entitled How to Study Cosmetics? No? That's good, as this is all a story of how one young man didn't arrive to his examination on time..."

And so the session continued.

A/N – Yikes, silly me for forgetting to update for a year.

Well, this chapter is the conclusion to "As You Wish", which I posted as a birthday present for DoctorWhoLover815. Happy birthday, Morgan! (She's amazing)

My apologies for the delay. I hope you all have a nice day/night!

~x~FanFicAddict02