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This is the first Round Robin to be posted under the new rules.
Remember, please consult the rules thread and the "Wings" discussion thread before posting here.

Steven wrote...

"What do we want?"
"Much less pollution, lower electricity costs, an end to megalomaniacal schemes and more ethical management!"
"When do we want it?"
"SOON!"
"What do we want?"
"Much less pollution, lower electricity costs, an end to megalomaniacal schemes and more ethical management!"
"When do we want it?"
"SOON!"
"What do we want?"
"Much less electricity, lower pollution costs, an end to management and more ethical megalomaniacal schemes!"
"When do we want it?"
"SOMEDAY!"

Lisa looked at the crowd... The protest did not seem to be having much of an effect. They'd been here all day, and the power plant had barely acknowledged their existence. Burns hadn't even been spotted glaring out of his window. It was getting cold, and the protesters were getting bored... and Lisa was getting glum. And when the girl playing the music gets depressed, the crowd follows her.

She slowly played a few last, slow notes on her saxophone, and stopped for a rest... the protesters were increasingly apathetic. There were a few hardcore environmentalists still going strong but people had been leaving for the past couple of hours. She'd hoped her music would help keep everyone going, but she didn't seem to be inspiring anyone anymore...

A soft hand touched Lisa's shoulder as she sat down, and she looked up to see Marge standing behind her.
"You're doing a very good job dear."
"Really?" Lisa smiled a little, but she wasn't convinced. "Thanks Mom..." She sighed again and looked toward the plant, and Burns' window. "It would have been nice for it to have meant something though. It doesn't looks like we've accomplished anything..."
"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm sure you've got through to them somehow." Marge gave Lisa a hug. "I can't think of any way Mr Burns could ignore your saxophone." Marge paused for a moment. "You play it so loud."
Lisa giggled, but looked up at Burns' balcony again. He was the man this protest needed to reach. But no reply. She'd hoped for some of his famous ranting and raving, but no dice. Burns had apparantly remained perfectly calm during the entire demonstration.

***

This was probably something to do with the fact Burns wasn't even in the power plant. He wasn't even in Springfield.

A limousine pulled up at a farm far outside the city limits. The farmer immediately dropped his things and hurried over. He tried to look in through the tinted driver's window.
"Huh-yuk!"
The window opened, and Waylon Smithers looked out at Cletus. "Mr Delroy, I presume."
"Hi-yuk! That's me!"
"Good." Smithers opened his door, quickly stepping out and walking to the passengers door on the opposite side of the car. He opened it and extended a hand to the passenger. With Smithers' help, C. Montgomery Burns clambered out of the limo. He looked out over Cletus' fields of corn.
"Ah, we're finally here. Capital." Burns turned, and spotted Cletus. The old man came close to jumping out of his loose, leathery skin. "Smithers! Who is this hobgoblin?"
"Huh-yuk!"
"Cletus Delroy sir." Smithers obediently whispered to his boss. "Our first guinea pig for project 18L?"
"Ah yes, excellent." Burns turned to Cletus. "Nice to meet you Mr Delroy."
"Huh-yic!" Cletus happily nodded to Burns, leaving the nuclear plant owner unsure of what to say next. It was rare that Burns was silenced, but the sad fact was that he wasn't used to speaking to anyone with such a poor grasp of the English language. Or indeed, any languages.
"Well..." Burns hummed and hawed.
"Hu-yk!"
Burns groaned, and decided to dispence with any pleasantries. "I suppose we should get on with it then. Smithers, fetch the product will you?"
"Certainly sir."

Smithers walked round to the trunk of the car, and pulled out a metal drum.
"Here it is." Burns said. "Burns Industries patented super-growth fertiliser." That was a little white lie... well... an outright black lie. The drum actually contained a small amount of fertiliser to give it an odour, but the majority of the contents were something else entirely.
"Hot damn." Cletus replied. He wasn't great at small talk but he could really talk about fertiliser. "This is the stuff that'll make ma crops three times bigga, huh?"
"Absolutely! And since you are our test focus group, the first ten drums are yours free of charge." That sounded good to Cletus, but it was a better deal for Burns. He usually had to pay a high premium to get people to take this stuff away. "But you can have this test drum for now, and pick up the rest at your convenience, once you're satisfied."
"Well, ah reckon ah'll come get the rest today. Ah got no reason to mistrust ya..."
Cletus had never been too aware of current events.

***

"Thanks for coming and playing, Lisa. Sorry it didn't turn out too well."

The protesters had dispersed, leaving just a few of the more dedicated ones behind. It was only Lisa and some of the ringleaders left now - the tenacious little girl had hung on till the last, but now Marge was keen to go and the leaders themselves had packed up.

Lisa sighed, and looked up at the man talking to her. "Yeah, thanks Alex... it's a shame we didn't seem to get anything done though."
"Don't worry about it," he replied. "It wasn't you fault. And we can try again any day. Burns hasn't heard the last of us!" Lisa giggled a little. "Hey... what is that for?"
"Oh, nothing." Lisa giggled a little again. She found Alex's boundless optimism pretty funny actually. But she didn't want to criticise it.

The leaders eventually piled into a minibus and took off, leaving Marge and Lisa. The two Simpson women headed for their car.
Lisa sighed again as she opened her door and climbed into the car. "I guess we had too high hopes. What could we do against Burns in one day?"
"Don't get discouraged, Lisa... you tried your hardest, and I'm sure you gave the plant problems today. You just need to persevere a little. You'll get a breakthrough that'll help you someday Lisa, I'm sure."
"You think so Mom?"
"Definitely."
Lisa smiled a little. Marge could always make her do that eventually. She looked out at the plant... and noticed something strange.
"Hey Mom... do you see that red pick up?" Sure enough, a red pick-up truck was leaving the plant, with Cletus at the wheel.
Marge shaded her eyes with her hands and looked. "Yes."
"Could we follow it?"
"Oh, don't be silly Lisa. We need to get home..."
"Please?" Lisa begged. "It's weird... there's something suspicious about it. What's a farmer doing at the power plant?"
Marge "Mhmmmm"ed. Lisa had a point.

***

They tailed the pick-up for a few miles, Marge wondering why she was bothering to do this. It eventually pulled in at the Kwik-E-Mart car park, and Cletus got out to head inside the shop.

As soon as Marge parked beside him, Lisa jumped out the car and ran to the back of Cletus' truck. She started to climb aboard, pulling herself up onto the step and over the back wall of the truck.
Marge followed her out of the car. "Lisa! What are you doing, get out of there! She tried to pull her daughter back, but Lisa was already inside. "Get out of there right now young lady, before he comes back!"
"Hang on Mom, I just want to see what's in here!" Lisa's instincts and her bad opinion of Burns told her that something bad was going on here, and she wanted to find out what it was. But as she looked around the truck, all she could see was a number of drums marked "fertiliser."
"It's just fertiliser, mom. Or at least that's what it says it is... hm..."
"Good, then there's nothing wrong. Now get out of there, Lisa!"
"Hang on!" Lisa noticed that the labels on the drums were just paper, and peeling off. She grabbed a corner of a label, and started to pull...
The truck's engine started up. Cletus had returned to the drivers seat without noticing either Lisa or Marge. He put it into reverse and took off without even checking to see who was behind him.
Lisa fell backwards as she lost her footing on the unstable floor. The suspension in the truck was terrible, and the drums were shaking about in front of her.
Marge stepped back from the truck as it suddenly pulled away. "Hey! My daughter's on there!" Marge shouted at Cletus, but he was lighting a cigarette and didn't notice. Instead he just did a quick turn, shifted into first and headed out onto the road.
Horrified, Marge practically leapt into her car and followed him.

***

Lisa's ride in the back of the truck was not a smooth one. The whole thing shook violently, and she found it very difficult to get to her feet. To make things worse, none of the drums had been tied down - they rolled and jumped around in the back, and constantly threatened to crash into Lisa.
She stumbled to her feet, and grasped onto of the side of the truck. She was trapped in one corner.
Cletus swung the truck around a corner, and Lisa and the drums all fell over to the opposite side of the truck. Lisa tried to get back up, and managed it just before the truck thudded through a pothole in the road.

A drum leapt into the air. The top was not on properly, and as it fell it sloshed out all its contents.
And a wave of stinking brown fertiliser washed over Lisa.

Lisa's reaction was not what you'd expect. She didn't yell or scream, though she dearly wanted to. She just sat there, in shock, eyes blinking. She didn't dare open her mouth anyway, because the smell of this stuff was bad enough...
So she sat on the floor of the truck, extremely shellshocked, covered from top to toe in brown sludge.
Cletus eventually stopped at a traffic signal, and Lisa took that as her chance to climb out. The road was empty, so she wandered over to the grass verge and flopped down onto her back.
A pause.
"AAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHH What am I covered in, agh God, it's disgusting!" She tried to shake the sludge off her hands, flicking it everywhere.
Marge's car pulled up beside her, and she climbed out.
"Lisa! What were you thinking..." she trailed off when she saw her daughter. "Ewww..."

***

Lisa dunked her head under the water, and rubbed her scalp and hair furiously. Once she had all the foam out she surfaced, grabbed the shampoo bottle and got some more. She'd gone through more than half a bottle trying to get this stuff out of her hair... it was disgusting. She'd also changed the bath water 3 times now, and had a shower earlier...
"This is not proving to be a good day..." she said to herself bitterly, rubbing the shampoo into the hair and then diving once again.
While she was submerged, Marge knocked and opened the door.
"Lisa?" There was no answer. Marge entered and saw her daughter scrubbing her hair amid the bubble-bath. "Ah, you're still washing your hair."
"Eubh?" Lisa surfaced, and looked up. "Oh, it's you mom." She reached for the shampoo bottle, but Marge walked over and had a look at the girl's hair, parting it and looking at her scalp.
"Hmmmm, I don't think it's going to get any cleaner honey."
"I think there's a little more..." Lisa started to pour shampoo onto her palm, but Marge took the bottle.
"I think that'll be enough."
"But Mom, I can still smell it!" Lisa made a face.
"I don't think it's you, Lisa. You left the scent all around the house on your way up here... don't worry, you're quite clean."
"Okay..."

***

Sleeping that night was a chore. The smell had pervaded the entire house, and it was a persistent stench. Nobody slept well at 742 Evergreen Terrace.
But Lisa eventually got to sleep, and awoke the next morning to the sound of birdsong. She lay in bed for a few minutes, still trying to dream a little, until she realised her legs and arms were itchy, and a little bit tickish in sensitive places like the soles of her feet.
She opened her eyes, and saw feathers all around her.
"Huh? What the?" Lisa was startled awake, and sat up in bed. A layer of feathers slid off her nightgown
as she did so... her bedsheets, pillow and duvet were gone, replaced by these layers of white and brown feathers. She picked one up by the vane, and looked closely at it.
Just a feather.
Lisa had no idea where it could have come from. She'd suspect a particulary insane practical joke from Bart, if it wasn't for the fact he was out of town with Homer just now. The two of them were away for the weekend, visiting Capital City to watch the Isotopes lose. Again.
The birdsong once again caught Lisa's attention, and she climbed out of bed. The curtains were closed, and Lisa reached up her hands to open them.
As her right hand touched one of the curtains, it immediately turned into a tangled sheet of feathers, which broke apart from each other and fluttered to the floor.
Lisa could only gape. She should have been scared, but she somehow managed to remain calm. Cautiously, she reached out her right hand and touched the other curtain. It too transformed into a mass of white and brown feathers and fell to the floor.
Lisa looked at her right hand, and wondered how this could happen. It looked the same as ever. "This has to have something to do with that fertiliser." She carefully stretched the hand out, and touched the pane of glass in the window.
The glass turned into feathers.
Somehow unsurprised, Lisa pulled her hand back. As she did so, a terrible curiosity came over her, too strong to resist. Lisa held out her left hand, and carefully touched it's fingers with her right hand.
Nothing happened.
Relieved, Lisa removed her right hand, and looked at it again. There was a small feather in it's palm.
"What?" Lisa quickly looked at her left hand. Her fingers were dissolving into streams of small feathers! Lisa tried to bite down her scream, but failed. The feathers seemed to peel away from the surface of her skin, and Lisa watched as all four of her fingers disappeared completely before her palm itself started to disintegrate.
"But, but... haa... help! Help!" Lisa started to hyperventilate as she saw the feathers spreading up her arm. Her mind raced as she tried to think if a reason or why this was happening to her. But she soon realised she had to stop it somehow.
Lisa ran for the door and grabbed the handle, but just as her fist closed around it the handle turned into a pile of feathers and fell out of her hand. Lisa bit down her scream again and pushed her hand against the door, turning the wooden door into feathers which floated down to the floor and allowed Lisa through. She ran again, this time to the bathroom and kicked the unlocked door open to avoid turning it into feathers. Once in the bathroom she grabbed the cold water tap and tried to turn it on, but the handle turned into feathers too. Fortunately that didn't stop the water from running, as without the valve to stop it is started to pour out of the spout and the top of the tap.
Lisa looked at her arm again. Her palm and wrist were gone completely, and the feathers were getting near her elbow. Lisa noticed that the feathers being produced here were a lot bigger than the ones her fingers had made. She ran the stump of her arm under the water, but the only effect this had was filling the sink with wet feathers.
Lisa looked at her arm again. The elbow was now gone. Still more feathers were flaking away from the stump as it creeped up to her shoulder. Lisa panicked again, and decided to see mom. She ran into her bedroom to see Marge sleeping in her bed.
"Mom! Mom! Help me!" Lisa tried to shake Marge awake, but forgot not to use her right hand. Marge immediately exploded into a mass of white and brown feathers.
All Lisa could do was scream.
She stumbled backwards, and tried to grab onto Marge's dresser to steady herself, but the dresser quickly dissolved into even more feathers. Lisa fell backwards, and the mirror and ornaments that had been on the dresser crashed to the ground. As if adding insult to injury, the carpet dissolved into even more feathers as soon as Lisa's hand fell onto it.
Lisa lay there, just crying. She glanced at her arm, only to see it wasn't there. It had completely disappeared, and now the feathers were eating away at the side of her torso.
Despondent, Lisa clambered to her feet. "Somebody!" she called "Help me, PLEASE!" She ran from the room and downstairs, but without her left arm to help her balance she stumbled on the stairs. As she fell she tried to grab the banister, but it only turned into feathers under her touch. Lisa tumbled down the stairs, her right hand disintegrating the carpet and floorboards under her as she rolled.
Lisa lay on her back at the bottom of the stairs.
"Why... why... what have I done... someone..." she suddenly coughed, and started having trouble breathing "hu-HELP! Hu, hu, hu, hu" and then her breathing stopped.
The feathers had dissolved her throat and spine away, and Lisa's connection with the rest of her body was cut. She was paralysed, and dying.
Lisa lost all feeling from her chin down. She tried to scream. She tried to speak. But no air would pass by her lips, and nothing below her neck would respond. The feathers finished moving across Lisa's neck, and her head rolled to the side as the connection between her head and body was completely severed.
All Lisa's head could do was lie there, waiting for the inevitable. Even if she had air to use, she could not speak because her voicebox had disintegrated into feathers. She tried to close her mouth, only to find she had no jaw. There was a loud pop, and then absolute silence as her ears were destroyed. Lisa never noticed the smell that still lingered downstairs until her nose disappeared and the smell was gone. And then Lisa went blind, as her eyes turned into piles of tiny white down.
All that was left of Lisa was her brain, and that was frantic. Lisa had never felt the fear of death so strongly before. She wondered why. She wondered about the feathers. She wondered if this was how it felt to burn to death, like a witch burning at the stake... or if this was what rotting away was like...
Lisa's brain started to flake away into feathers, her memories, knowledge and "self" falling away from her like autumn leaves...

***

Marge shook Lisa awake.
"Lisa! Are you alright?"
"Huh, wha... Mommy!"
"You were screaming in your sleep dear... and then you stopped and just shook, and you weren't waking up... are you okay Lisa? Did you have a nightmare?"
Lisa pulled her hands out from under her covers, and looked at them. Both were there, and they looked normal. "Yes... I think so..." She touched her bedclothes with her right hand, and was relieved when they did not turn into feathers. She threw her hands around Marge's waist and hugged her tightly. "But I'm feeling better now..."
"Oh, good, that's great dear..." Marge put her arm around Lisa and gently patted her daughter's head with her right hand.
Lisa exploded into a shower of white and brown feathers.

***

Lisa woke with a shock, and quickly sat up in her bed. It was still dark outside. She breathed heavily and tried to calm herself, before glancing at the clock by her bed. 5:24 AM. The room was still dark, and the sun was not quite rising yet.
Lisa looked around carefully. She'd already woken up twice this morning... what if this was another dream? She quickly pinched her cheek, HARD.
OW!
Okay, probably not a dream. Lisa lay down again, and tried to sleep, but quickly realised the futility of it. She wasn't going to sleep again this morning.

Burns stood and watched the flames rise up into the dark sky. This must be what it's like on a battlefield, he thought to himself - the heat, the light, the almost ungodly noise. But despite the thrill of robbing another man of his livelihood, C.Montgomery Burns was a troubled man.

It had to be this way. Cletus, the inbred who had taken the leftovers from Project 7F, had come back to the plant after discovering what his 'fertilizer' had done to his crops. Burns couldn't afford the adverse publicity that the yokel could potentially bring upon his company, so it had been necessary to have the evidence destroyed.

"Burn them! Make sure you destroy every trace!" Smithers barked to the gaggle of flamethrower-wielding operatives ploughing through the field, in a vain attempt to raise his voice over the roaring carnage. Satisfied he had exerted his authority, he turned his attention to an emotional Cletus. "Delroy, we need to know, did you use all of that fertilizer on your plants?"

"Ah.. ah think so. I don't got no uther place for it." Cletus sniffed. "Those was mah bestiest corn crops before alla this.. what amah gunna tell Francine?"

"You THINK so or you KNOW so?" snapped Smithers impatiently. "If any of this came into contact with humans, the results could be disastrous!"

Cletus nodded, Smithers' words failing to register inside his limited mind. "There ain't been no people near this stuff, 'cept me.. darn lucky they took the young 'uns into care, I guess."

Burns had seen enough of this needless destruction (he'd never thought the day would come when that would be the case), and indicated to his assistant that he wished to return to the plant. "Let's go, Smithers. There's no need for us to be here."

"You'd better be right Delroy, for our sake." Smithers said as a parting shot to the beleaguered Cletus. "And yours." he added darkly.

"Smithers," Burns said as he was chaperoned back to his awaiting carriage "Who where those men destroying those terrible crops? Can we trust them with this.. little secret?"

"Don't worry sir, those men are just potential kidneys from Sector 7G. They lack both the intelligence and the moral fibre to pass on any information about this." Smithers said, flicking over a few pages on his clipboard, anticipating Burns' desire to know exactly who they had left behind in Cletus' field.

"Let me see.." he said, running his finger down a short list of men who had been bribed into this 'special assignment'. "..we've got Carl Karlson, Leonard Adams, Hose Fernandez.. oh, but no Homer Simpson tonight."

"Simpson" Burns asked, his face blank. "Do we really have a Simpson at the plant, Smithers? I can't say I've encountered him."

"He's normally one of our best workers for this sort of project, sir." Smithers said, checking his notes in mild surprise at Simpson's absence. "Usually he'll do anything for a box of triple-glazed donuts."

"Oh.." said Smithers, reading from his clipboard. "He hasn't been in work for a few days now. Some sort of family crisis, apparently.."

Marge stood still by Lisa for a quite long time, motivated by her endless patience. Slowly, all the unease within the girl seemed to disspate, as her muscles relaxed and her face began to transmit an unbearable serenity. Meanwhile, Marge's mind was tied into a knot. Her brain was racing among thousands of stupid thoughts, and at moments when she looked at herself, she seemed nothing short of pathetic. Being almost Lisa's last resort, she couldn't just let it pass like every little thing was gonna be alright. Who knows what would happen next? In the moments when she wondered about that question, she could only imagine the most unpleasant situations. So she just stopped inflicting horror in herself and decided to try to get some sleep.

She wandered back to the door into the corridor, and looked back at Lisa. In a flash, she thought that Lisa certainly had the aspect of an angel... Heck. There is no good in that scene. Anyway, it was just a flash, among the millions of thoughts and images flashing at her mind. She was tired. She shut up her brain and went to bed.

Next morning passed at different paces for everyone. Marge wandered around the house, doing her work and everything. At times, she stopped to go to Lisa's room to check things out. But somehow, Marge could barely reach the door, as all that gloom and confusion seemed to suffocate her. And the sight of Lisa felt like an anvil inside her head. The girl just stood still there, in that dark room, devoid of any kind of joy. Marge knew she had to be strong to face her daughter like that, but sometimes, she felt she couldn't. Lisa's look into Marge's eyes felt like a mockery, as if the girl was programmed to torture her mind with all might. And her inner instincts was to snap at the innocent girl and yell "please, stop looking me like that." But she felt the need to carry on, and tried as best as she could to transmit tranquility to her daughter.

But Lisa felt Marge's confusion easily. And she knew there was no use to keep thinking about her misery and pitying herself. She knew there had to be a way for her to cope with her ugly situation. But those two wings seemed to whisper in her ears how idiotic she was. And that all the people outside were walking around, joyfully, without nothing to be ashamed. But if she walked around the road, what would people's reactions be? Some would just laugh at her. Some would look to her with those stupid 'pity' faces and say "oh, dear, poor girl," even if they wouldn't give a damn anymore 2 seconds later. Others would stare at her as long as she existed, as if they had magnets in their faces that had to be constantly turned to her. And others would yell, "Oh, God, it's the evil angel of apocalypse! It's the end of the world!", whether that makes any sense.

But all those people out there were normal. All shiny happy normal people. She wasn't. She was an aberration. And nothing would have happened if she hadn't done all that stupid protest. Stupid self. And then, she would start blaming herself for everything, and wishing she could go back in time and change all the story. But she couldn't, and there came the misery.

That cycle seemed to repeat itself eternally, each time faster, until would spin around in her mind so fast that it would just end on insanity. She knew that had to stop somehow. And the only way was to remove those blasted wings. Why did she need wings? Wings were stupid. She hated birds.

The morning went on quietly. Bart arrived home from school, eventually, breaking the silence a bit. He was curious about Lisa.

"Lisa's okay, just quite sad," Marge answered to Bart as he asked about her. "Just leave her alone, she's not feeling right." She didn't want to be sure that Bart wouldn't bother his sister. It really wouldn't be good.

But Bart was too curious. He quietly wandered upstairs and slowly approached Lisa's room. He gently pushed the door, hoping it was opened: It was. Probably Marge had left it open and Lisa didn't bother to close. He just opened it enough to poke his head in.

The room was dimly lit by the light of the corridor. The windows on Lisa's room were all closed. The light was enough for him to see Lisa facing away from him, with those two wings coming crom inside her back. He eyes widened. At first, it was unbearably funny and bizarre. His little young mind was in awe at that sight. It was so surreal. His feelings were something close to delight. Amazement. That sight only made his curiosity rise, but he quite didn't have the courage to approach her. Lisa still quite scared him. That figure slowly became oppresively inhuman. So, he had nothing to do but stay there, staring at her, and soon he'd notice Maggie below him, poking her head into the room to look at that weird form of Lisa. He saw that she sighed heavily, and slowly started to move.

Lisa somehow felt there was someone standing behing her. Soon, she'd notice the room was a little brighter. Instinctively, she looked back, but saw nothing. Just the door was slightly opened.

"My little Lisa... I was talking to the doctors about your wings..."

"And?"

"You are never going to be able to fly with them. Because... they're not strong enough, you're a little girl, not a bird."

"I know, Mom."

"But they can't amputate them... it might hurt you too much."

"I know, but Mom... I don't care about the pain."

"It might leave you crippled for life, or ruin... other things. They can't do it." Not now, not with current technology. Not at your age. Just say something to comfort... she couldn't.

"I know."

"You will have to live with them. They... they make you even more special."

"I know."

"Lisa... you are crying."

* * *

The following day, Homer had to go back to work, after several urgent phone calls. Marge glared at his burly, white-shirted back as he managed to get into the car. We all know that Mr Burns... she had mentioned it to him, in a none too pushy fashion, vaguely hoping that he would do something. Of course he wouldn't. He would just fold. Workers at the power plant had virtually no power, now Burns had disbanded the union again. He would have to choose between his job and standing up for his daughter. That didn't make him a traitor. Why had she been so violently angry lately?

Even so... what was the best Mr Burns could do? Apologise? Knowing him, he would never.

"Mom?"

Marge jolted from the empty breakfast table. Bart was already trotting down the garden path, head low. He hadn't said goodbye. Lisa's voice... Lisa's questioning, bright voice calling for her. She had already been given breakfast. What was it? She sounded... alive.

Marge's heart seemed to open when she saw her daughter standing in the doorway, hanging on to the doorknob in a childish fashion, as though she was afraid of falling over. She wasn't happy, and who could blame her, but she seemed determined. The tears from last night had dried, but she had cried so much lately that her cheeks looked bloody. Look at her cheeks.

"Mom, could you help me with something?"

More violent hope as Marge realised that the curtains were drawn to the side. Springfield morning light, sparkling with the highest amount of military aerosol in the state, spilled in across the lino. And Lisa stepped aside and let her get into the room. Smell of feathers, again. The doctors had cleaned them carefully with alcohol, and they no longer smelt dirty, just... animal. Don't think.

"What is it, dear?" If she wanted some book from the library, or to be told a story, or to have some audience for sax practice, or read a poem...

"Mom, could you please help me take the mirror out of here?" Lisa gestured at her heavy framed mirror, now leaning against her chest of drawers. "I took it down, but... it's heavy... I get dizzy..."

Marge was a mother, so she turned her face away and strangled the tears before they reached her eyes. She grabbed the heavy mirror and carried it out into the hallway. Lisa helped lifting the other end, even though she told her not to. Maybe she needed the exertion.

"Thanks, Mom." Now, there was actually a smile in her eyes, but it was such that Marge would have preferred tears. "Oh, and this."

It was just a little hand mirror, in a pink plastic frame shaped as clumsy roses, on top of the drawers. Marge took it gingerly, then stiffened. Like a brittle porcelain doll. Next to the mirror lay a folded red frayed-edge dress, the new Malibu Stacey Trailer Trash doll, a music box, a portrait photo of Lisa, some sheet music... and.

"Lisa, I think you need to fluff your pillow up." Her voice stayed neutral, and from the corner of her eye she saw Lisa turn around, wings rising into the air as she bent forward and shook the pillow.

Marge's hand slid out and grabbed the army knife, holding it as though it might lash and bite. "A memento from Rommelwood", said a tag on its sheath. "Good luck to the bravest boy in Cadets of '93." For all the Commandant's good sides, he had never quite been able to grasp gender diversity.

"Is that alright, Lisa? I have to go and... do things."

She hurried down the stairs, throwing the pink mirror to Maggie where she was playing in her pen, keeping the black knife until she got out into the kitchen and could control her breath. It was sharp, she barely touched the blade and it drew blood. There was an eagle engraved on the handle. She thought of the waste bin, but even so... too risky. Instead, she put it in the money jar. Lisa would never look in it, would she? She was always so considerate.

* * *

Around ten o'clock, Marge had to leave the house anyway, to buy some food. Maggie gurgled happily as she lifted her up on her shoulder and did the rounds of the house. Drawn curtains. Lisa in bed, sleeping soundly. Marge shuddered despite herself, then locked the bedroom door. It was just for a few short minutes anyway, wasn't it? She didn't want her to go downstairs, not with that knife in the house. And if anything managed to get in... another locked door, for safety's sake.

"Your sister needs to be alone", she murmured in Maggie's ear, and Maggie sucked her pacifier vigorously as though she understood.

* * *

Lisa was walking down the sunny road to the school. So she must have missed the bus... it was annoying, but she would get there in time. If only it wasn't so hot. The sun blinded her unless she looked straight into the pavement, and dust rose around her until she could hardly breathe. Her backpack was so heavy, it crooked her. She would have to stop and rest. Not yet... she wanted a chance to get there in time. So heavy. Her shoulders were starting to ache. Her knees bent only by default for every single step.

And you are never going to be able to fly.

The shoulderstraps snapped, the pack thudded to the ground, and at first she felt only relief. She was so nimble and light now, it felt as though she could rise with the dustmotes. But the pack shouldn't have been so heavy. She kneeled next to it and fumbled with the buckle, and then choked from a horrible stench. It smelt like something dead by poison. Lisa stumbled away, but the stench followed her, it got into her lungs, it made her head swirl...

... so it was a dream. She woke up, face burrowed into the pillow, halfway crushed by her wings, and it took minutes to get into an upright position.

"Mom?" But she could tell from some mental echo that the house was empty.

She dragged herself over to the chest of drawers, under the shadow of where the mirror had hung. Something seemed wrong with the stuff on top. That hand mirror was gone, of course, and... but then there was the photo. She felt... was this nostalgia? Lisa Simpson smiled back at her, it was the same year as she got her new invisible braces. Blond hair standing in every direction, clean dress, wide blue eyes. She swung it around to see clearer.

The shred of light through the opening between the curtains hit the glass on the photo, and she saw her reflection. The photo crashed out of her hand.

Lisa stumbled for the door.

"Oh, what have I done to my baby!" Marge cried as she tried to figure out what to do next.  She couldn't push the door open because it would hit her screaming daughter.  Marge dropped to her knees and grabbed Lisa's flailing arm.  She held and squeezed Lisa's hand, which calmed the girl a bit.  "I'm so sorry!  I just went to the store.  What happened?"

"I think my wing broke," Lisa replied through the tears.  "But it hurts all over -- BAD!"

Marge was a little calmer now and told Lisa straight out, "You've gotta let me in!"

Just knowing that her mother was there gave Lisa the strength and will which had been depleted minutes earlier.  She was reluctant to let go of her mother's hand, but Marge gently forced her to as Lisa crawled backwards, just enough for Marge to get in.  Lisa looked up at her mother, her savior, but once she saw Marge's horrified expression she began to panic.  She slumped face-first on the floor, landing on her chin, and began sobbing harder than before.

Marge saw that Lisa's left wing was contorted almost ninety-degrees from what it should be, and the break wasn't far from where it met her back.  She thought it would ease the pain to put it back near its proper position.  However, when she ever so gently touched the damaged new limb, the pain made Lisa shriek so hard that she spent her air and couldn't inhale for several seconds afterwards.  Marge was not about to try that again.  Instead, she put her hands on Lisa's head and turned it to the side, but even that seemed to set off more waves of pain in the writhing girl.

Even though it would only take a minute, it seemed like the hardest thing Marge would ever do in her life.  "I'll be right back honey!  I'm getting help!  I'm not leaving you!" she cried as she ran to the bedroom and picked up the phone, dialing 9-1-1.

An eternity seemed to pass between dialing and Chief Wiggum answering, "Springfield Police..."

Marge cut him off, "It's Marge Simpson!  Lisa's hurt badly and needs an ambulance!"

"An ambulance?" the Chief asked with a snort.  "If you need an ambulance then why'd you call the police?"

"JUST DO IT!" Marge screamed furiously into the phone.  "She won't fit in my car and she's hurt badly!"

Chief Wiggum responded, "Okay, okay.  What's the address?"

"742 Evergreen Terrace -- you and Sarah've come over for dinner for goodness sakes!  Just hurry!" Marge yelled and then dropped the phone before running back to Lisa.

Marge saw the wings rising and falling as Lisa heaved for every breath, but she wasn't crying anymore.  Marge fell to her knees and stroked her hair.  Lisa didn't move; she didn't speak, and her eyes were closed.  She had passed out.

"I'm a terrible mother," Marge told herself as she jumped up and yanked the comforter from the bed, which she partially folded and gently placed Lisa's head on.  She couldn't bear to see her little girl's lifeless face on the floor like that.  She continued comforting her, but there was nothing else she could do.

It didn't take long for Marge to hear the sirens of the ambulance.  She raced downstairs to let them in, using her foot to shove the fallen grocery bag into out of the way as she passed.  She flung the front door open and cried, "This way!  This way!"  Two women in white were rushing up the walkway with a gurney and a large medical kit.  They overtook Marge halfway up the stairs as she told them which bedroom.

"She's in shock.  Call it in, Tina" barked the first woman, who had "Joanne" on her name badge.  Tina dropped the kit and took the handheld radio from her belt.  Joanne spoke to Marge, "Mrs. Simpson, we have to get this costume off her."  Joanne then reached for Lisa's back.

"No!" Marge cried.  "They're not a costume!  It's her --one's broken."

As Tina talked on the radio, Joanne gently reached into the feathery spot between the wings and felt around, trying to find a clasp or strap that held them on.  "What the...!" she muttered.

Marge shouted, "Call Dr. Hibbert at Springfield Memorial!  He'll tell you!  Just don't hurt her any more!"  Not wanting to waste time, Joanne popped open the medical kit and started checking Lisa.

Tina suddenly put down the radio and shot Marge a dirty look.  "Simpson?  I remember now: she's the kid that found the fake angel skeleton last year."  She sneered, "What's this, some other publicity stunt?"

"It wasn't her fault -- she always thought it was a fake!" Marge pleaded.

Tina mocked, "Oh, right!  Like this isn't to advertise a new Starbucks there, you..."

Joanne was shining a flashlight into Lisa's eyes when she, in an extremely-impolite manner, told Tina to stop talking and take Lisa's blood pressure.  Joanne continued, "Stunt or not, it's broken and digging into her spine.  When you're done with that, grab the oxygen tank and the backboard -- and make sure that Hibbert is standing by!"

*****

Lisa was lying face down on the backboard as she was wheeled into the emergency room.  Joanne held up the splinted left wing in her hands.  Marge was right at the foot of the gurney as it rolled through the door, but she was immediately approached by the admitting nurse who stopped her.

"How did this happen, Mrs. Simpson?" she asked as Lisa was whisked away.  Marge couldn't look away even after Lisa was out of sight.

"I don't know.  I went out to the store and when I got home she had broken it somehow.  She was crying like I've never heard before.  How could I have left my poor helpless little girl all alone!?" Marge lamented.

*****

Back at the house, sleepy Maggie stuck her head up from the paper shopping bag and rubbed her eyes.  She looked around for a moment and sucked on her pacifier twice.  The front door was open and all was quiet.  She shrugged her shoulders and crawled to the family room couch.  Once there, she grabbed the remote from between the cushions and dropped to the floor, facing the television.  Click!

*****

Dr. Hibbert approached Marge and brushed off the nurse, telling her that there was already paperwork for this case.  "What's this about a broken wing, Marge?" he asked.

"Julius, the left wing really hurts!" Marge said frantically.

"Tell me about it!  You should see what I pay in taxes, huh he he he he he," he said with his trademark laugh.  "Now go let's take a look at that wing.  I've already paged Dr. Sweeper."

"The bird doctor?" Marge gasped.

*****

Lisa awoke on her stomach with her head on a pillow.  There was something blue, curly, and comforting tickling her nose, and it smelled nice.  "Mom?" she asked as she pulled her right arm from her side and wrapped it around her sleeping mother's head.  She was surprised that, for once, she wasn't tied down when she awoke: besides the side rails, only her mother's left arm was over her back kept her in bed.  Marge was asleep but beginning to stir when Lisa had a sudden flash of fear.  "Why did you...?" she started to ask.

Marge wearily lifted her head.  "You're up!  How do you feel?" she asked as the curtain parted and Doctors Hibbert and Sweeper stepped in.

Lisa replied, "It still hurts, and I feel really woozy and sick to my stomach.  Must be too much pain medicine."

Dr. Sweeper picked up Lisa's medical chart as Dr. Hibbert spoke, "Pain medication?  I didn't give you any while you were out."

Dr. Sweeper interjected, "Nope, all you got was a plain ol' saline I.V. and two quarts of whole blood, fresh squeezed from your dear ol' daddy."

"Mrrrr, that explains it," Marge let out with a huff.

Dr. Hibbert continued, "Anyway, the break was pretty severe, and it pulled on the entire nerve cluster.  Now that we've pinned and set it the bone should heal up in about six weeks, if it heals at the same rate as a femur.  Oh, and we used a ceramic pin instead of titanium so you'd still be able to fly."

Marge and Lisa looked at him with confusion before he finished, "You know, with airport security being what it is these days, huh he he he he he."  Dr. Hibbert gently took Marge's arm from Lisa's back, but he didn't let go.  He looked her right in the eyes and softly said, "Marge, let's go get a cup of coffee."

She looked nervously at Lisa, bu