UglyDolls: Redux [ON HOLD]

2: No, Wait, I Meant TODAY'S The Day!

A/N: Before we start, I want to try a new thing in this chapter, just as an experiment. Idk if I'll do it in future chapters or not.

The song I listened to while I was writing this: (Wish I Could Fly Like) Superman by The Kinks (it's in the media ↑↑↑)

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Lucky Bat perched himself unsteadily on a makeshift swing he'd hung from the ceiling. It wasn't very secure. He couldn't ask Babo to help with the installation. Not this time. Not for this.

The bamboo shades were shut, what little light that was able to slant through illuminated shelves of various brick-a-brack, his groceries and personal belongings intermingling with natural substances that were useful to him as a healer. The feeble light glinted off of a boudoir-style set of three mirrors large enough they nearly scraped the ceiling.

Directly in front of Lucky stood a massive machine hobbled together with all manner of materials: gears, wheels, rubber bands. Anything he could get his wings on. The most prominent feature was a series of paper fans attached to robot arms, which churned the air furiously, enough to make the yellow cape which he wore snap in the breeze.

He took a deep breath. Okay. Here goes... Screwing his eyes shut, he crouched as low as he could on the swing without losing his purchase and launched himself into the air. Gritting his teeth, he pumped his wing muscles like he'd never pumped before, until they fairly screamed for mercy. But he didn't slow up, continuing to go as hard as his body would let him.

It worked. His body was hovering in place, not exactly an impressive height but he was flying. He was flying!

...For about three seconds. Then gravity kicked in and he smacked headfirst into the floor. Whimpering faintly, he flopped onto his back. And to make matters worse, I bit my tongue, too. He was a bit dazed, but at least he hadn't fallen as hard as Wedgehead.

He didn't understand it, flying seemed to come so easily to the other winged Uglies. Though that didn't sting so much as the fact that it also seemed to come easily to Ox, who had no wings whatsoever!

No matter what he did, Lucky just couldn't keep himself off the ground for more than three seconds. He'd poured over books about lift and thrust. Done enough complex calculations to make him seasick. He'd donned his cape in an attempt to give his small frame some more drag (Well, okay, plus the added bonus of looking cool). And now the wind machine was another failure.

It had been that way since the day he'd come hurdling out of the giant pipe. He had tried to fly then too. It ended pretty much the same way as his most recent experiment. Publicly, at least, he had resigned himself to keeping both feet firmly planted on the ground. Which wasn't so bad, really. It was peaceful. And it gave him a sort of serene, contemplative quality. He was, after all, quite literally "down to earth."

Still... From time to time he just couldn't shake the feeling that.. That some sort of.. Mistake had been made with his wings. That they were supposed to be bigger, like Ice Bat's.

But that was a ridiculous notion. There was no supposed to be in Uglyville. There was only is.

Without really meaning to, he allowed himself to slip into a daydream. His wings were the standard size for a bat, maybe even a little bigger. He was flying over the top of Uglyville. And oh, all the houses looked so different from the top! He still wore his cape, which billowed dramatically behind him every time he dipped or rose. He burst through a puff of steam trailing from his teahouse, and loop-de-looped through the sails of the mill atop Wage's bakery just like Peggy did every morning.