A Midsummer

Nightmare’s Daria

 

 

 

Text ©2008 The Angst Guy (theangstguy@yahoo.com)

Daria and associated characters are ©2008 MTV Networks

 

 

Feedback (good, bad, indifferent, just want to bother me, whatever) is appreciated. Please write to: theangstguy@yahoo.com

 

Synopsis: Quinn pulls a prank that causes Jake to think that Daria has taken up demon worship, so he takes Daria to a weekend father-daughter seminar to “bring her back to the light.” Add in a few former classmates, romance, and an unexpected twist straight out of Stephen King’s world, and a very strange summer weekend gets underway in Lawndale.

 

Author’s Notes: Portions of this cartoon script (now rewritten) originally appeared on www.fanfiction.net in chapter form. The entire story was collected 7/1/02 and posted on the Internet. Extensive notes and corrections from Galen “Lawndale Stalker” Hardesty were received within a week after that, but I was burnt out and did not add in his fixes until now. Sorry for the delay!

       The events herein take place about one or two months after the Daria TV movie, Is It College Yet? during Daria’s last summer at home before she heads off to college in Boston. When the characters speak of Boston Fine Arts College, Jane’s alma mater-to-be, they usually use the acronym (BFAC) as a word, pronouncing it as “bee fak.” Also, Andrea’s name is pronounced “ahn DRAY ah” by those who know her.

       Certain scenes marked as “Daria’s Daydreams” are fantasy scenes that take place in Daria’s imagination or unconscious mind. Certain other scenes labeled “Andrea’s Memory” show events that Andrea recalls from earlier in her life.

       Script excerpts appear in this story, taken from Dr. Strangelove, Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (©1964 Columbia Pictures). Lyrics from AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” also appear (©1979 J. Albert & Son (Pty) Ltd.)

 

Acknowledgements: My heartfelt gratitude goes out to beta-reader Robert Nowall, who offered life-saving advice on revising the entire story and taking out the bad parts. I am less of a bozo because of his superb work. Special thanks also to Mike Xeno, who beta-read several sections of this tale and straightened me out on the characters, making many suggestions that I stole on the spot. Thank you both, thank you, thank you, thank you! As noted above, Galen Hardesty later sent many pages of corrections and comments that have improved this story considerably. I must also credit the following persons, as I steal from only the best sources.

 

·         Mike Xeno, from whose story “The Next Step” I unashamedly and without hesitation or moral qualm stole the idea for having Jane work as a window dresser at Cashman’s over her last summer before going to BFAC.

·         Kara Wild, who provided inspiration in her story, “That Thing You Say,” for Quinn’s screwing up of Jake’s platinum credit card while shopping; in her story, “Andrea Speaks!” for a tidbit about Andrea’s potential family life; and, in her story “Shipped Out!” for the bit about Daria’s class having to learn Othello from Mr. O’Neill at Lawndale High. Apologies also to Kara, as I promised I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Quinn, but—oh, well.

·         barmor9292 (alt.tv.daria) for the idea about Andrea doing a webcomic. Cool.

·         Galen Hardesty, who reminded me of a “medieval” comment that I added.

·         The wonderful fanfic authors who are (I pray) good sports about involuntarily contributing ideas from their “Daria” works to scene #52. Please don’t hurt me.

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

INT: Interior scene

EXT: Exterior scene

VO: Voice over (off screen)

 

 

 

* * *

 

THURSDAY EVENING

Part One: Children of the Lenses

(a.k.a., A Tale of Two Sisters, or, I Know What You Did This Summer)

 

 

1. EXT: FOGGY EVENING, AN OLD CEMETERY IN LAWNDALE

 

Low mist clings to the ground in the graveyard, the headstones and monuments peeking above the fog in the evening light. Daria Morgendorffer, wearing a black, full-length robe, walks silently between the rows of graves. Her head is bowed, and her hands, clasped before her, hold a white rose. She slows to a stop before one large headstone, on which can be seen the following inscription: Jane Lane / Death be not proud, though some have called thee / Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so . . . / Requiescat in pace.

 

Daria drops to her knees on the ground before the marker, wiping her eyes with one hand. With infinite care, she sets the white rose upright against the gravestone, then lowers her head in prayer, eyes closed.

 

Moments later, just to her right side, a skeletal hand rises from the misty ground. It reaches for Daria’s right knee and suddenly clamps down on it. Daria sits still for a moment more, then absently reaches over with her right hand and pats the skeletal hand in a familiar way. After a moment, she belches loudly.

 

DARIA: [eyes still closed] Excuse me. That was the orange soda speaking.

 

JANE: [VO, nearby] Thanks loads, Carrie.

 

We pull back and see more of the cemetery—and Jane Lane, stepping back from a video camera on a tripod, about twenty feet from Daria.

 

DARIA: [surprised whisper] Jane? Is that you? What’s it like on the other side?

 

JANE: [turns off camera] It’s sort of like Omaha, only less exciting. I’ll have to edit out that burp.

 

DARIA: [opens eyes] Maybe you can turn it into a wild scream of insane terror.

 

JANE: Not with that ho-hum look on your face. I’ll just end with a freeze-frame of you holding hands with the dead me. That was good enough.

 

Daria removes the skeletal hand from her knee, gets up, and brushes her robes off. Jane walks over to Daria, reaches down, and pulls a stone-colored plastic covering from the gravestone in front of Daria, revealing an entirely different name and legend underneath on the real headstone. Daria reaches down and picks up the skeletal hand, attached to a motor mechanism with a battery.

 

DARIA: Instead of burping, I should have had you pick my nose. [raises skeleton’s hand to her face]

 

JANE: [quickly takes skeletal hand from Daria] I’d rather not explain the boogers to the costume rental shop, thank you very much. They were paranoid enough about loaning this to me. Don’t want to endanger my second job, no matter how much I hate it. I need all the money I can get right now.

 

DARIA: You think this multimedia thing is going to wow them into letting you get into BFAC early? I’ve never heard of anyone being let into college a semester early at this late a date.

 

JANE: [putting skeletal hand in a small carrying case] It can’t hurt. Maybe someone will change colleges or move to Australia or something, and I’ll be next in line. I sure don’t want to hang around Lawndale any longer than I have to, and I’d rather get into classes this fall than wait until next spring. [straightens up] Besides, I wouldn’t want you to get lonely in Boston with no one to annoy you on the weekends.

 

DARIA: [takes off the robes, wears her usual green jacket and black skirt underneath] I can always call Quinn and put her on speakerphone.

 

JANE: Yeah, but that lacks a personal touch. Plus, there’s the phone bill.

 

DARIA: She could call me instead.

 

JANE: Your parents would strangle her when the bill arrived.

 

DARIA: [deadpan] Okay, so your point is . . .?

 

JANE: [sighs] C’mon. I need to get the camera back to the rental shop before it closes, then get the tape developed and digitized. This had better work. If I can’t convert this film to a digital file, my project is massively screwed.

 

 

 

2. EXT: AT THIS MOMENT, SECLUDED SPOT NEAR OLD CEMETERY

 

As Daria and Jane leave the cemetery, Quinn Morgendorffer lowers a camera with a telephoto lens, watching them go. She stands about a hundred yards from the other girls. Quinn looks as she always does, though a pair of stylish sunglasses is pushed up over her forehead. Her quizzical expression also reflects a bit of revulsion.

 

QUINN: [to herself] Jane must be making a horror movie. Eeewwww. Wouldn’t get me to run around in a cemetery, especially not wearing those dork-alert graduation robes with no trim or belt or necklaces or anything. Gold would have been nice with her autumn complexion. Maybe copper with some jade. [sniffs] If anyone saw me wearing that nerdy get-up, they’d think I was . . . I was . . . [long pause] Huh.

 

Deep in thought, Quinn watches Daria and Jane walk out of sight.

 

QUINN: [to herself] If she was me, and I was her . . . what would Daria do? [pause, frowns] If one of us felt the other really deserved it.

 

A wicked grin crosses Quinn’s lips. She quickly puts her camera into its shoulder-strap carrying case and walks back to her car, the Morgendorffer’s SUV, parked nearby.

 

QUINN: [cheery] Quickie Photo, here I come.

 

 

 

* * *

 

FRIDAY MORNING

Part Two: Saving Private Morgendorffer

(a.k.a.: Looking for Mister Good-dad, or, Something Quinn Did This Way Comes)

 

 

3. INT: EARLY MORNING, KITCHEN, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

Jake and Helen Morgendorffer sit at the table, having breakfast before leaving for work. Jake reads his newspaper while Helen reads a thick legal brief. They are content in their separate worlds. Quinn (not a morning person, even in summer) walks into the kitchen in her bathrobe and bedclothes, a small packet in hand, and looks in the refrigerator.

 

JAKE: [brief look up from paper] ‘Morning, kiddo! TGIF! Get your nature photos developed from last night’s expedition?

 

QUINN: [head stuck in refrigerator] Landscaping photos, Daddy. My friends and I are discussing homes now, not so much actual people-fashions anymore. We have to open up new horizons and all that.

 

JAKE: [head in newspaper] Landscaping, good stuff. Garden gnomes, concrete deer, those wooden birds with the whirling wings that go in different directions—God knows how they managed to do that. Science! [shakes head at paper]

 

QUINN: Whatever. [exits refrigerator with several items in her arms, sets them on kitchen table] Is this the diet egg salad? Good. Anyway, I got pictures of something else. Something you won’t believe.

 

HELEN: [focused on legal brief] That’s wonderful, dear.

 

QUINN: [assembling her brunch] I saw Daria when I was out last night.

 

JAKE: [to newspaper] Um-hmm.

 

QUINN: She was in a graveyard.

 

HELEN: [underlines something in legal brief] That’s nice.

 

QUINN: She was wearing black robes and doing some kind of cult thing, I think. Sacrificing baby animals to demons or something. It was hard to tell.

 

JAKE: [turns page] Mmm-hmm.

 

QUINN: [opens packet, takes out several photos, tosses them on the table between her parents] There she is.

 

Quinn picks up her glass of milk and waits patiently. After a pause, Helen and Jake look up from their reading, eye the photos for a second, then go back to their reading with a smile. They do a panicked double take one-half second later. Both of them jump to their feet, banging into the table and upsetting their coffee and cereal, and they stare down at Quinn’s photos in undiluted horror. Quinn calmly puts her milk down on the table again.

 

BOTH HELEN AND JAKE: [shouting] Daria!

 

HELEN: Oh, my baby!

 

JAKE: Oh, my God!

 

With a bland look, Quinn spoons diet egg salad onto a slice of bread.

 

HELEN: [hysterical] This is all my fault! She’s probably cried out for help a thousand times, and I put her on call waiting!

 

JAKE: [looks up angrily, shakes fist at ceiling] This is all your fault, Dad! You robbed me of a happy childhood and destroyed my potential as a parent! I hope you’re happy, you rotten bastard!

 

QUINN: Hey, do we have any of those low-fat potato chips? You know, the ruffly ones?

 

JAKE: We have to do something before she starts mutilating horses and leaving little stick figures outside camping tents! But what, oh God, what?

 

HELEN: [hands pressed to the sides of her head] I should look in the phone book under “deprogrammers.” Maybe there’s one with weekend rates.

 

QUINN: [looks around kitchen] I was sure we had some low-fat chips around here. [gets up to look in cabinets]

 

JAKE: [looks down at newspaper he dropped on the table] Wait! Helen, look at this! A father-daughter togetherness seminar starts tonight at the Lawndale Plaza Hotel! The “Lawndale Princesses Weekend”! I still have a chance to bring Daria back into the light before she goes to college! Thank God! [shakes fist at ceiling] Screw you, old man! You’ll never ruin my kids the way you ruined me!

 

HELEN: [glancing at Quinn, loud whisper to Jake] Dear, maybe you should take Quinn, too, in case—

 

QUINN: [whirls, startled] No! Wait! Mom, Dad, I’m fine! Cemeteries are so yucky and gross, how could you think I’d go there? If Daria needs help, you should, like, focus your energies entirely on her, right?

 

JAKE: You’re right. Damn it! How could evil like this creep into our own home, right under our noses? What the hell’s the FBI doing all day, anyway? Where are my tax dollars going? Lousy federal government!

 

QUINN: [thoughtful] You know, of course, it will be like horribly lonely for me this weekend, with Daddy gone and Mom at work and Daria getting all that attention and everything, and probably dinners out, and like maybe souvenirs and clothes and magazines and—

 

HELEN: [hardly paying attention] Of course, dear. [reaches for pocketbook on the table]

 

JAKE: [still stunned] Certainly. [reaches into pocket for wallet]

 

QUINN: [voice quavering and faint] I just don’t want to feel like I’m second best and maybe have to go kill goats or wear black or whatever it is that depressed Satanists do to feel better, you know?

 

Helen and Jake blindly hand Quinn wads of cash. She takes it all and stuffs it in her bathrobe pockets.

 

QUINN: [joyful] Thank you! I knew you really cared! [goes back to looking in cabinets]

 

JAKE: [whispers] We’ll have to talk to Daria right away.

 

HELEN: [whispers] I think she’s still asleep!

 

JAKE: [louder] Or is she? She could be communing with infernal powers this very second! [shakes fist angrily at ceiling] You wouldn’t get me out of military school, but I’m pulling my daughter out of your dark academy of sin, Generalissimo Dad-zilla!

 

Helen and Jake rush from the kitchen. Alone, Quinn pulls a large sack of potato chips from the cabinet.

 

QUINN: Here we go. [reads lettering on bag closely] No-fat ruffly chips, with . . . ole . . . olestra. Yup. “No fat” is where it’s at.

 

Quinn returns to her seat and opens the bag.

 

QUINN: [pouring chips on her plate] This will settle accounts for the rude little tale that you wrote about me on the Internet. [takes bite of a chip, smiles in contentment] Dear sister of mine . . . you taught me so well.

 

 

4. INT: TWO MINUTES LATER, DARIA’S BEDROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

A long shape about the size of a teenage girl lies under a sheet in Daria’s bed. Her room looks much as shown in The Daria Diaries, only with more stuff: a computer at a small work station and large book shelves (jammed with books) on the wall by her door (with a Kafka poster), and other items named below. A VCR unit rests under a television set on a mobile cart.

 

A knock is heard from the door. The lump under the sheets doesn’t move. The knock repeats and gets louder. No movement. The doorknob twists, but it is locked. After a moment, the doorknob rattles, the lock in the knob pops out, and the door opens quietly. Helen peeks in, pocketing a bent-up paperclip.

 

HELEN: [softly] Daria? Are you awake?

 

DARIA: [under sheet, muffled] No. [low voice] Forgot the deadbolt again. Damn it.

 

HELEN: [enters room with Jake right behind her, sweetly] How are you doing this morning?

 

DARIA: [under the sheet, muffled] Mom, I promise to e-mail a complete report to you in a couple hours. Can I get back to my research now?

 

Helen turns and motions to Jake to go around Daria’s room. He nods quickly and starting looking around, obviously searching for something, picking up things and sometimes stepping on or tripping over them.

 

Aside from furniture and padded walls, Daria’s room currently contains: realistic replicas of human bones and skulls on the center carpet; a large wall poster of a partially unearthed human skeleton; another large wall poster showing the different levels of Dante’s Inferno, showing graphic depictions of the sufferings of the damned, with many small yellow sticky-pad notes stuck all over it on which are written the names of many currently famous people; a microscope on the floor with slides labeled “E. coli” and “E. coli mutations w/ radiation”; videos with titles like Horrifying Spectacular Disasters Caught Live on Video: Volume XXIV, Cannibal Rituals Revealed! and Alien Autopsy: The Director’s Cut; a print-out of a friendly e-mail sent to Daria by Rhonda, an axe-murderess (who appears to know Daria quite well), writing from a place called Kinsington Prison; an incomplete short story entitled, “Why I’m Not Sorry That I Made the Sun Go Nova”; books with titles like When Bad Things Happen to People Who Deserve It, Barbaric Practices Everyone Can Enjoy, and A Layman’s Guide to Soviet Thermonuclear Weapons; and plastic models of a human heart, a B-2 Stealth bomber, and a Visible Woman with most of its internal organs scattered around its feet. A small plastic rat sits in the Visible Woman’s empty abdomen, peering out.

 

Jake sees all of the above but ignores it, instead looking for something else.

 

HELEN: [turns back to Daria, sweetly] What research are you doing?

 

DARIA: [under the sheet, muffled] Controlled nightmare generation. Oddly, it seems to be working even when I’m awake. Like now, for instance.

 

HELEN: [distracted] That’s wonderful. We’re very proud of you. [looks around room] Listen, your father and I have to hurry out to work in a few moments, but we want to tell you about a special event that’s going on tonight. You’re going away this fall, and, you know, we’re all going to miss you, even Quinn, I’m sure, but your father . . . he, um—

 

Helen breaks off, seeing Jake gesture wildly at her. He’s picked up a paperback book he found on the floor under a pile of Daria’s used clothing: Stephen King’s Needful Things. A library’s Dewey decimal tag is taped to the spine, but it falls off as Jake’s fingers bump against it. Helen looks horrified to see the book.

 

DARIA: [under the sheet, muffled] What are you guys doing?

 

HELEN: [hands covering mouth, her worst fears confirmed] Uh, eh, ah—

 

Jake quickly gives the Stephen King book to Helen, who hurries out of the room with it, holding it gingerly between thumb and forefinger.

 

JAKE: [forced joviality] Kiddo, you’re in luck tonight! We’re going to a once-in-a-lifetime event, just you and me!

 

DARIA: [under the sheet, muffled] Dad, I have plans tonight. Jane needs my help on—

 

JAKE: But this is just the two of us, kiddo! You and me! Daria and her dad! We’re going to a really great seminar over at the Lawndale Plaza Hotel—

 

Daria pulls the sheet back from her face. She has no glasses on, and her hair is a mess.

 

DARIA: [squinting at Jake] Dad, you didn’t join Amway, did you?

 

JAKE: [nervous laugh] Ha! Always the kidder! That’s why you’re such a great kid, you always—

 

DARIA: [flops back on bed, stares at ceiling] Oh, damn it—you did join Amway.

 

JAKE: [still nervous] Oh, no, I didn’t, don’t worry about that. Your old man is signing us both up for a weekend away at a father-daughter seminar right here in Lawndale! It’s the “Lawndale Princesses Weekend”! You and me, kiddo! Morgendorffer and Morgendorffer! We’re going to renew our family bonds, be one with the Force, turn aside the powers of darkness and evil—[coughs]—and have a wild time doing it! Whaddya say?

 

DARIA: [covers eyes with an arm] I’m sorry, I guess Amway wasn’t so bad. Do I have to sell stuff, too?

 

JAKE: Ha, ha! Great! I’ll close the office early, and we’ll head out to the hotel at five. Jake and his Lawndale Princess! I can’t wait! [hurries out, closing door behind him]

 

DARIA: [pause, to self] I know I have sinned, and I do regret it, except maybe for the fun parts, and anything involving Quinn, so that’s, what, about ninety percent of my sins—but as divine punishments go for the other ten percent, this one is really way out of—

 

JAKE: [opens door again, pokes head inside] My oldest Lawndale Princess, of course. You, I mean. Quinn would be my youngest Lawndale Princess. I wasn’t implying—

 

DARIA: [deadpan] I have to shower and change, Dad.

 

JAKE: [panicked] Bye! [shuts door]

 

Daria lies still for a few moments, groans, then rolls over and pulls the sheet over her head again.

 

 

5. EXT: A SHORT WHILE LATER, BACK YARD, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

Helen and Jake have set up the barbecue grill by the back door, and Jack is pouring lighter fluid over the Stephen King book. Helen holds a book of matches.

 

JAKE: [very stressed] I bet this is what turned her soul to demon worship! Damn Stephen King! Let’s see how a paperback about Satan working in small-town retail holds up against the fires of righteousness! [stops pouring lighter fluid, to Helen] Do you think we should we hire an exorcist?

 

HELEN: No time! [lights match, throws it on book, which burns merrily] Back to Hell!

 

JAKE: [looks up, shakes fist at the sky with grim delight] I win, Dad! Her soul is free! Go pedal your perverted papers in some other suburb!

 

 

6. INT: SAME MOMENT, KITCHEN, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

Quinn looks out the window in disbelief, watching her mother and father burn a paperback book on the backyard grill. Helen and Jake jump up and down, arms raised, cheering as the book turns to ash.

 

QUINN: [low voice] I wish to God they’d never taken drugs in the Sixties.

 

With a sad sigh, she turns to go. Quinn is still in her bathrobe and nightclothes, and she holds the “No Fat” potato-chip bag she was eating from earlier. She shakes the bag, notices that it is empty, and drops it into the kitchen wastebasket. She then looks in the cabinet, gets another sack (sour cream and onion), and walks off elsewhere in the house.

 

 

7. INT: TWO HOURS LATER, DARIA’S BEDROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

On one side of a split screen, Daria sits on her bed, talking on the phone. She’s dressed in her usual clothing, glasses on, drying her damp hair with a towel. On the other side of the screen, Jane sits in her room, phone on her shoulder, flipping through the pages of a manual: Advanced Photo/Video Digitization for Idiots.

 

DARIA: On top of all that, I can’t find this Stephen King book that’s due back at the library today. I thought I left it in my room, but it’s gone. That caps off my Friday, and it’s barely even started yet.

 

JANE: [looks up from manual] Well, there are worse things than being taken to an all-expenses-paid father-daughter togetherness weekend at a posh hotel.

 

DARIA: Name one.

 

JANE: [slow intake of breath] Not being taken.

 

DARIA: [pause] Oh.

 

JANE: You know what I would give to—oh, forget it. Sorry I said it. Listen, just go and be thankful your dad gives a damn. Some don’t. Good thing I’m not bitter.

 

DARIA: Maybe Trent could take you.

 

JANE: Nah, he’d never let me gray his hair. And I have to do window dressings at Cashman’s tonight and tomorrow night. And we don’t have any money left anyway. On top of that, I’m still having trouble with this stupid project. [flips book shut] I do wish you were here to help. I don’t know squat about computers, except that they’re all evil.

 

DARIA: Mind if I call now and then?

 

JANE: Call me whenever you want, as often as you want, as long as you want. I’ll need the breaks, along with any computer advice you can spare.

 

DARIA: Done. Good luck.

 

JANE: Yeah. I could use that.

 

DARIA: Bye.

 

JANE: Bye.

 

They hang up. The split screen turns into a single screen, showing Jane sitting at her desk. She puts an elbow on the computer workstation next to her and covers her face with that hand, looking tired and a little depressed.

 

JANE: [to self, glum] Father-daughter weekend. [sigh] Daria, you are so damn lucky.

 

 

8. INT: A SHORT WHILE LATER, KITCHEN, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

Daria enters the kitchen to make breakfast for herself. She finds a note on the refrigerator: Daria—Do not eat the fat-free chips! There are only enough for me! Just eat the fat chips and other stuff. Thanks! Quinn.

 

DARIA: [deadpan] Always looking out for me.

 

Daria drops the note in the trashcan, then goes to the sink to get a glass of water. She looks out the window as she does, and frowns. She can see the grill out in the back yard, with a book-sized pile of black ash on it. She shrugs and looks in the refrigerator, pulling out the orange juice. The phone rings, and she picks it up while pouring herself a glass. The following conversation starts in three-way split-screen, between Daria in the kitchen, Quinn in her room upstairs (eating potato chips), and Helen at her legal office.

 

DARIA: Morgendorffers.

 

QUINN: I’ve got the phone! Hang up, Daria!

 

HELEN: Quinn, I called to talk to Daria. You hang up.

 

QUINN: Muuuh-ooom! I’m expecting a very important—

 

HELEN: Now.

 

QUINN: Oh, all right. Five minutes. [hangs up, disappears from split screen]

 

DARIA: [putting orange juice away] I think we’re alone now.

 

HELEN: Daria, listen. Your father’s picking you up at five tonight. You and he each have a small suitcase for the weekend, so pack light. No “Family Court” tonight, of course.

 

DARIA: [deadpan] Out of idle curiosity, am I being punished for something bad I did?

 

HELEN: [caught off guard] Ah, eh, no, dear, of course not. Whatever gave you that silly idea?

 

DARIA: You and Dad are sending me away without warning or explanation to a father-daughter bonding seminar designed to make me a better person—but Quinn’s not going with us.

 

HELEN: Oh, Daria, we’ve nothing to hide! We, uh, um, just thought it, uh, would be nice for you and your dad to, um, you know, get out and bond, and, uh, talk about, um, what you’ve been doing lately, where you’ve been, anything that you might want to tell us that could be important later in a legal, moral, or spiritual sense, before it gets into the newspapers and all over town, that sort of thing.

 

DARIA: I’m not having sex, Mom.

 

HELEN: [quickly] Oh, of course not! [laughs loudly in relief] What a ridiculous idea!

 

DARIA: [really stung] Thanks a lot. [pause until Helen stops laughing so hard] Spill it, Mom. What’s going on?

 

HELEN: [quickly] I’ll let Jake talk with you about that. It’s his weekend—his and yours, I mean. He can talk about it. I’m swamped here.

 

DARIA: Am I being sold to a child-labor factory in Asia? Or is Quinn being sold? I can handle it if it’s Quinn.

 

HELEN: [peeved] Daria, your sense of humor is almost demoni—[gasps]—I mean, it’s just awful. Behave yourself, do what you have to do to get ready for the weekend, and don’t, uh, do anything that, uh, the neighbors might take badly if they saw you do it in public.

 

DARIA: [looking out the window at the grill] Like animal sacrifices, you mean?

 

HELEN: [gasps] Daria! Please, no! Think of your family! Wait, I’ve got another call coming in.

 

Helen punches a button on her cell phone and vanishes from the split screen, leaving Daria only.

 

DARIA: Hey, before you go, have you seen my library book? It was Stephen King’s . . . hello? Mom?

 

With a sigh, Daria hangs up the phone.

 

DARIA: [to self] I’m going to write a book about this someday. Too bad that “Hell House” is already taken for a title.

 

 

9. INT: MID-AFTERNOON, JAKE’S CONSULTING BUSINESS OFFICE

 

Looking nervous, Jake uses his business phone at his desk. He holds the newspaper clipping about the father-daughter seminar. Beside him on the desk is a pad of paper and a pencil.

 

JAKE: [reading article aloud] “Every father should know the following things about his daughter. . . .” [anxious expression] I better get a professional opinion. [dials phone]

 

The phone call (to Jane) is shown in split screen. Jane is in her room at her family’s home, working on her desktop computer. The monitor shows a still frame from the video movie Jane shot of Daria the night before, with Daria kneeling on the grave in her black robes. The image, however, is reversed out like a photonegative. Jane still has the manual on her lap, with bookmarks stuck all through it.

 

JANE: [not looking away from the monitor] Trent? Trent! The phone! Oh, forget it.

 

She picks up the handset on the ringing phone beside her.

 

JANE: [to phone] Yo. Lanes.

 

JAKE: [shaky voice] Hi, Jake Morgendorffer. Is Jane Lane in, please?

 

JANE: [frowns at computer monitor, taps keys] Speaking. Hi, Mister Morgendorffer.

 

JAKE: Jane! Yeah, this is Daria’s dad. How’s it going?

 

JANE: [taps a few more keys] Okay, I guess. Computer troubles. What’s up?

 

JAKE: Great! Say, Jane, I’m taking Daria to a father-daughter seminar at the Lawndale Plaza Hotel this weekend, but not because there’s anything dreadfully wrong, you understand. It’s just that I want to talk with her about her life and the direction she’s going and the directions she should avoid, like turning to animal or human sacrifice or summoning demons or falling under the spell of unspeakable evil or—

 

JANE: [leans back in her seat, still looking at monitor] Everyone needs a hobby.

 

JAKE: A hobby? [panicked] Oh, my God! You’re saying she’s—oh! I get it! [forced laugh] Anyway, I was just thinking that it would be good to know a little more about her, and seeing as you’re Daria’s best friend, if not her only—

 

JANE: [looks away from monitor to random spot in her room] You know the rules. Maximum of three questions. No betrayals. Immunity from prosecution.

 

JAKE: Right! [pause] Eh, what—[consults list]—does your child—Daria, what does Daria think her strongest point is?

 

JANE: [frowns] Are you reading from something?

 

JAKE: [startled, drops list] What? Oh, no, of course not! Ha, ha! What a kidder! No, I—

 

JANE: What does she think her strongest point is? Her integrity.

 

JAKE: [confused] Her what? I thought it would be her intelligence. She’s smarter than I am! She can—

 

JANE: It wouldn’t mean anything without integrity. She really prides herself on that.

 

JAKE: [shrugs, writes this down on notepad] Her . . . do you spell that with an “e” or an “i” at the end?

 

JANE: I-n-t-e-g-r-i-t-y. Third question?

 

JAKE: Third? I’ve asked only one!

 

JANE: You also asked how to spell “integrity.”

 

JAKE: [panicked] I’ll pay! Jane, I swear! I need another question! Don’t make me beg!

 

JANE: Twenty bucks. I’ll be by this afternoon to collect.

 

JAKE: Done! Yes! Okay, now, uh—[bends down to read list on the floor]—what does y—Daria want to be when she grows up?

 

JANE: [incredulous] She IS grown up!

 

JAKE: I mean, when she gets out of college! What does she want to do when she gets out of college? That kind of grown up!

 

JANE: Mmm, that’s hard to say, but she loves to write. Whatever else she does, she’ll probably be a writer, too. She’s very good at it.

 

JAKE: Writer. [pause to write this down] Okay, great. I thought that might be it. We’re getting somewhere. Thank God. No more animal sacrifi—[coughs to cover up] Yes, uh, my last question is—

 

JANE: [startled, frowns] What did you say about animal—

 

JAKE: [interrupts loudly, stooping to read list on floor again] What is Daria’s most cherished dream?

 

JANE: [hesitates] Her most cherished dream. Huh. Lately, she’s talked a lot about restarting the Inquisition under a new set of guidelines, but I’d have to say—

 

JAKE: Inquisition. Inquis—damn it, I’ll have to look that up.

 

JANE: No, don’t bother. Listen, she and I talk about this a lot. Daria wants everyone to be honest. A lot of things bug her, but what bugs her most is when people aren’t honest with themselves or with others. That drives her crazy.

 

JAKE: [look of disbelief] Are you sure? Being honest? Well, I guess I can see that. It does sound sort of strange—well, not really strange, like summoning the undead, but—anyway, I mean—

 

JANE: Look, you remember a few months ago when she crawled in that refrigerator carton and wouldn’t come out until you told her about the fight you and your wife had when Daria was little? The fight about why Daria was so different from other kids?

 

JAKE: [stunned] She told you about that?

 

JANE: Well, of course she did! I’m her best friend. That’s why you’re calling me to find out what’s she’s like instead of asking her yourself.

 

JAKE: [pause, chastened] Um, oh. Yeah.

 

JANE: Once you were honest with her about what really happened, she was fine, right? That’s all you had to do. If you lie to her or deny something really happened, she goes ballistic. She wants people to be honest. She’s smart enough to know when people are lying or covering up. Lots of things annoy her, but nothing burns her like dishonesty. It goes with that integrity thing.

 

JAKE: [silent for a moment] Um, okay. That was three. I’ll have the twenty ready when—

 

JANE: Wait a sec. Mister Morgendorffer, I’ll be honest with you, too. When we started this three-questions thing, I fully expected you’d ask me something like, oh, what’s Daria weigh, or what’s her favorite food, or something like that. Don’t take this the wrong way, but what you asked was really different. It showed me that you really care about her. It goes against all my principals, but forget about the twenty. Keep it. Spend it on Daria instead at the seminar this weekend. Do that, and we’ll be even.

 

JAKE: [face brightens, relieved] Uh, okay. I will. Thanks, Jane! You’ve been a big help!

 

JANE: Great. Now, I have a question for you. What’s all this stuff you were saying about animal sacrifices and summoning the undead and unspeakable—

 

JAKE: [panicked] Gottacallontheotherlinebye! [hangs up fast, vanishes from split screen]

 

JANE: [stares at handset in confusion] What the hell . . .?

 

 

 

* * *

 

FRIDAY EVENING

Part Three: Night of the Living Dad

(a.k.a.: My Dinner with Angry, or, The Good, the Bad, and the Upchuck)

 

 

10. INT: EARLY EVENING, LOBBY OF LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria and Jake come into the lobby through the revolving doors in front. Jake pulls two small wheeled suitcases behind him.

 

JAKE: [stops, happily looks around lobby for main desk] Nice place! Hey, kiddo, there’s a long line at the desk, so have a seat and I’ll get the room keys. Got us a two-bedroom suite with a kitchenette, two bathrooms, a full refrigerator, and TVs in every room!

 

DARIA: [deadpan] Cable or satellite?

 

JAKE: Satellite! Six thousand channels! Nothing but the best for my Lawndale Princess!

 

DARIA: [faint smile] Houston, we’re go for launch. [smile fades] They still could’ve picked a better name for this outing than the Princesses thing. Lawndale Bloodthirsty Medusas, maybe, or Lawndale Crazed Psycho Chicks, or—

 

JAKE: [nervous, starts to leave] Ah, sure, great ideas, kiddo! I better get those keys!

 

DARIA: No problem. I brought some light reading.

 

JAKE: Great! [heads off] Just hope they didn’t screw anything up and put us in a broom closet. Man, I hate these overgrown impersonal bureaucracies!

 

DARIA: [watches him go, softly] Which, of course, is why you choose to work with them for a living.

 

Daria shrugs and looks around the lobby. She notices that the main dining room for the hotel is actually a large section of the lobby, surrounded by planters and potted trees and shrubs. Her attention is caught by a sign that reads, “Weekender Special! Need a special getaway place for someone special? Ask about our Friday-Monday Weekender Rates!” In small print is: “Renter and all guests must be 18 or older. No refunds.”

 

DARIA: [to self] A no-tell hotel. Do tell. Anything for a buck these days.

 

Seeing nothing else of interest, Daria then takes a seat on a bench behind a row of decorative bushes and small trees. She is completely blocked from view to anyone coming in the hotel’s main doors. She pulls a paperback book (Best Short Slasher Fiction of the Twentieth Century) from an inside pocket in her jacket and begins to read.

 

Behind her, Jodie Landon comes in through the main revolving door. A moment later, “Mack” MacKenzie hurries across the lobby to greet her, wearing his school jacket.

 

MACK: Hey! Glad you could make it! [reaches out to hug her]

 

JODIE: [backpedals, holds up hand, face tense] Mack, wait a minute.

 

Daria hears their voices and puts her book aside, preparing to stand up and greet her friends.

 

MACK: I got the room. Just the two of us in our secret love nest.

 

Eyes wide, Daria immediately sits down again, scrunching up behind the shrubbery to avoid being seen.

 

JODIE: [soft but firm voice] Mack, listen to me. I came down here only to talk to you, nothing else. I’m not very good at saying things like this, so just listen to me. Okay?

 

MACK: What? Something come up? The room’s good for the weekend, no refunds, and we’ve had this planned for—

 

JODIE: Mack, nothing’s come up that hasn’t come up a hundred times already since graduation.

 

MACK: Jodie, what are you talking about? Look, we can talk up in—

 

JODIE: No. I can’t stay.

 

MACK: What?

 

JODIE: It’s over, Mack.

 

Daria listens, frozen in place.

 

MACK: Jodie, honey, please—

 

JODIE: Listen to me! You and I are friends. We’ve always been friends.

 

MACK: What? [loud whisper] We’ve been a lot more than friends!

 

JODIE: Mack, please. We’ve shared so much, but we always knew we were heading in different directions. Let me say this, please!

 

MACK: What are you talking about? We’re not going to be that far apart, Jodie. Vance University’s only a day’s drive from Turner U! We can still—

 

JODIE: It’s not that! [deep breath] I want to be free. I’m so confused lately about what I want in life. When we graduated, I thought I knew where I was going with everything, but I need some breathing space. I’ve been thinking about the two of us for weeks now, and we—we aren’t going down the same road, Mack. We’re not. [pause] I want to see what else life has for me. We have to go our separate ways. It’s going to happen when we got to college, and we may as well face it now. We never were meant for each other for the rest of our lives. [pause] Mack, it’s over.

 

MACK: [gasps] Jodie!

 

JODIE: We’ve talked about this a hundred times! You knew we weren’t going to be together forever! That was high school. This is life!

 

MACK: [agonized] Jodie . . . I love you.

 

Daria closes her eyes and grimaces in sympathetic pain.

 

MACK: After everything we’ve been through, everything I’ve done for you, please—

 

JODIE: [upset, voice breaking] I have to go. I’m sorry, but it’s over, Mack. I’ll always be your friend, but that’s . . . I have to go.

 

MACK: But you said you were so lucky to have—wait! Jodie!

 

JODIE: [leaving, verge of tears] Goodbye!

 

Jodie leaves quickly through the revolving door, wiping her eyes as she goes. Mack stands in the lobby in shock. He takes a few steps toward the door, looks out after Jodie, then steps back. His face is blank with disbelief. His hands fall to his sides. Dazed, he slowly turns and walks back across the lobby and out of sight.

 

Daria opens her eyes and sighs heavily, looking sad. She picks up her paperback but cannot get interested in it.

 

Behind her, Brittany Taylor comes through the revolving door. She wears the same yellow-and-blue outfit as always. She looks around the lobby for someone. Moments later, Kevin Thompson (still wearing his Lawndale High School football uniform) hurries across the lobby to her.

 

KEVIN: Hey, babe! Glad you could make it!

 

BRITTANY: [anxious, low voice] Kevvy, I don’t know if this is really a good idea.

 

Hearing their voices, Daria gets a severely pained look on her face. She tries to focus on her book, scrunching down in her seat.

 

KEVIN: I got a room for the two of us, babe. It’ll be just like the old days.

 

BRITTANY: Wow, like, we never did it in a hotel. Under the bleachers, in your car, in the locker room, in the janitor’s room, in every closet in your house and every park in town, yeah, but never in a hotel. Not a nice hotel like this one, anyway. Probably no crawly things in the sheets here.

 

KEVIN: [wicked leer] Except for me, of course!

 

BRITTANY: Wait. Kevvy, listen to me.

 

KEVIN: We can talk later. Let’s let looove talk now. Let’s put Mister Gopher back inside his happy burrow!

 

Daria flinches and scrunches down in her seat even further, the paperback pressed right up to her face.

 

BRITTANY: [upset] Kevin, that’s just rude! Please listen to me! Something about this isn’t right. We have to think about our futures, you know?

 

KEVIN: Hey, I am thinking about our future. It’s on the fifth floor in room five thirteen.

 

BRITTANY: I mean our big futures! Like, you remember in class when they talked about that philosophy stuff, and it, like, made my head hurt so much I had to take my PMS pills? That kind of future, Kevvy.

 

KEVIN: Baby, look, it wasn’t my fault I didn’t graduate. It’s the stupid teachers. They’re jealous of me. They’re jealous of my athletic prow—prown—’cause I can throw a football, and they suck at it. They’re jealous because I’ve got you!

 

BRITTANY: But Kevvy, I’m going away to Great Prairie State in a couple months, and that’s a long way from here, even though on the map it isn’t that far, only four inches, maybe. We’ll be apart for weeks and weeks. [leans forward, low voice] Things can happen, you know?

 

KEVIN: [low, husky whisper] I’ve got four inches that’ll take you all the way to paradise, babe.

 

Daria instantly puts her book aside and clamps both hands tightly over her ears, eyes shut and teeth clenched.

 

BRITTANY: [looks around, whispers] Shhh! Not here, Kevvy!

 

KEVIN: Please, baby. Look, we can have dinner or something first and talk about it. They’ve got burgers and fries here on the kids’ menu.

 

BRITTANY: [groans, weakening] Any pizza?

 

KEVIN: [grins in triumph] Bitchin’ pizza. Cheese, I think.

 

BRITTANY: [sighs] Well, maybe a little pizza would be okay. So we can talk. We gotta talk, Kevvy.

 

KEVIN: [relieved] Great, baby! Then maybe for dessert we can have some of that great Brittany pie!

 

BRITTANY: Kevin! [smacks him on the arm]

 

Kevin and Brittany leave. After a few moments, Daria removes one hand, hears nothing more, and sits up again, opening her eyes and sighing deeply. She sits for a moment, appearing exhausted, then reaches over and picks up her book. She forces herself to read it, frowning hard.

 

Behind her, Andrea of the unknown last name (in her usual Goth outfit) comes through the revolving doors. Hurrying across the lobby, Charles Ruttheimer III (Upchuck) comes up to greet her, in his usual school outfit.

 

UPCHUCK: [in peak form, takes Andrea in his arms] Ah, my vampiric vixen, my queen of darkness, my Hoth-eyed beauty!

 

Daria jumps, startled to hear Upchuck right behind her. Upchuck and Andrea kiss passionately until Andrea pulls back.

 

ANDREA: [pointing to her eye makeup] Horus. This is the Eye of Horus.

 

UPCHUCK: Of course it is, my coal-haired queen of the night! Glad you could make it! A grand suite waits us, my divine angel, my perfect partner, my dark dominatrix! Oh, Andrea! Grrrrrr! [buries face in Andrea’s shoulder, kissing her neck with great passion]

 

Daria drops her book on the floor. She sags in her seat, head falling back, and stares at the lobby ceiling in disbelief.

 

ANDREA: [hugs him, but distracted] Charles, listen. I think we should—

 

UPCHUCK: [husky whisper, kissing Andrea’s neck, cheek, hair, and ear] I’ve waited endless eons for us to share this night of madness together. Everything is in readiness for our journey into the Stygian heart of passion, the silken touch of your mortal flesh against mine, together . . . as . . . one.

 

Daria shivers in revulsion and wraps her arms around her middle. She bends forward at the waist, head down between her spread knees, as if seconds from being violently ill.

 

ANDREA: Charles . . . we need to talk, okay?

 

UPCHUCK: Not now, my mistress of the sacred and profane arts! We have forever, the rest of our lives to talk. [lowers voice] Now is the time for mighty deeds, not weakling words. The scent of you has aroused me, and I must take you away from this mundane, lifeless world and lose myself in your glory and splendor, or else perish, fade into oblivion, and be no more. Grrrrrr! [buries his face in her neck again]

 

Still bent over, Daria grabs handfuls of her hair with both hands and pulls as hard as she can, unable to tune out the conversation.

 

ANDREA: [sighs, yields] Okay, okay. You win, Romeo. You’ve got me.

 

UPCHUCK: [husky whisper] No, my precious one, my midnight delight. You . . . have got . . . me!

 

Upchuck and Andrea leave, walking across the lobby together toward the elevators. Daria remains bent over, her hands gripping her hair.

 

DARIA: [very tense, low voice] If Tom comes in that door, so help me God, I swear I’m going to—

 

Behind her, Jake Morgendorffer comes back from the main desk with their suitcases, looking around anxiously.

 

JAKE: [turning in place] Daria?

 

DARIA: [jumps to her feet, turns, and yells, arms waving desperately] Dad!

 

JAKE: [extreme startle reaction] Aaaugh! [backs up and falls over his own suitcase]

 

 

11. INT: AN HOUR LATER, SEMINAR ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

A large crowd of fathers and daughters are present in a large meeting room in the hotel, seated and facing a speaker at a podium. Most daughters are considerably younger than Daria, who is probably the oldest daughter present; Daria notices all the elementary-school girls and sighs. Vases of pink roses and bright flowers are everywhere along the sides of the room. Some of the older girls’ faces in the room are familiar—Sandi, Stacy, Tiffany, etc. Certain faces are not present (Jane, Quinn, Andrea, Brittany, Jodie).

 

Sandi Griffin and her father sit immediately behind Daria and Jake, near the back of the room. (Stacy, Tiffany, and their fathers are close by.) Sandi leans forward and taps Daria on the shoulder.

 

SANDI: [whispers] Where’s Quinn?

 

DARIA: [looks back, whispers] Probably shopping.

 

SANDI: [irritated whisper] How’d SHE get out of this?

 

SANDI’S FATHER (TOM GRIFFIN): Shhh. He’s about to start, sweetie!

 

Sandi subsides with a dark look on her face, frowning at the speaker, a cheery bearded guy—the sort that’s probably a wonderful dad in the best Walt Disney mold.

 

SANDI: [mumbles under her breath] Lucky little bitch.

 

SPEAKER (BOB): Good evening, and welcome to, “Our Daughters, Our Future: The Lawndale Princesses Weekend”! I’m Bob Bobinnelong, and we’re here to celebrate the bond between father and daughter, to strength those ties that will propel the next generation of women into the vast gulf of tomorrow with a fearless, confident leap!

 

DARIA: [murmurs to self, deadpan] With or without the bungee cord?

 

SPEAKER (BOB): In your program packets, you will find a questionnaire designed to help you fathers learn just how good—or dreadful—a father you really are! A similar questionnaire for you daughters will help you determine just how badly your dad has screwed up your life! Ha, ha! [no one in the audience laughs, but the speaker doesn’t notice] Remember, there’s almost always room for improvement, and it’s almost never too late to make things better, or so we hope!

 

Jake, now looking quite anxious, goes through his program packet until he finds the questionnaires; he hands the one labeled “Daughters” to Daria. Daria glances at hers and puts it facedown in her lap. Jake, however, begins to carefully read through his questionnaire while the speaker drones on in the background about the importance of fathers in their children’s lives. Jake gets a pen out of his shirt pocket and begins to answer the questions, using the packet to support the questionnaire.

 

DARIA: [bored already, whispers] Dad, is there a schedule of events for this train wreck?

 

JAKE: [whispers] Just a minute, kiddo. [finds schedule sheet in packet, hands it to Daria] Here you go.

 

DARIA: [whispers] Thanks. I think.

 

Daria scans the sheet. On the schedule for Saturday morning, Daria sees, “The Wonderful Miracle of Your Mysterious and Beautiful Womanly Body” at 9 a.m., the first seminar of three for daughters only. Following that is lunch, then at two-hour intervals are, “Am I Really Going to Marry Someone Like My Dad, and If So, Should I Just End It All Now?” (1 p.m.) and “Just How the Hell Am I Supposed to Cope Once I Realize That I’ve Turned Into My Mother?” (3 p.m.).

 

DARIA: [tone of dread] Uh-oh.

 

Daria continues reading the schedule. Concluding on Saturday evening is “Don’t Worry, Your Life Will Probably Be Just Fine Despite Everything You Might Have Heard Here,” for both fathers and daughters, followed by dinner and a dance. A Sunday morning breakfast concludes the weekend, with an awards ceremony for an as-yet unidentified father-daughter team “to be chosen during the weekend.”

 

DARIA: [murmurs to self] I’m sorry now that I didn’t take up hard drinking in fourth grade, as I’d planned.

 

JAKE: [reading questionnaire, whispers] Daria?

 

DARIA: [whispers] Wait, I’ll get her. [pause] What?

 

JAKE: [whispers] A lot of these questions want to know if I’ve ever asked you about your weight, or tried to make you diet, or things like that. Was I supposed to do that?

 

DARIA: [whispers] No.

 

JAKE: Oh. [pause, whispers] Was that good or bad that I didn’t?

 

DARIA: [whispers] Good. Fathers aren’t supposed to do that.

 

JAKE: [relieved] Thank God. [fills in some answers, whispers] This one. I think I know the names of every one of your friends. [pause] That’s Jane, right?

 

DARIA: [whispers] Yes.

 

JAKE: [whispers] Okay. [fills in answer, peers at next one, to self] Oh, this is good. I do make dinner as often as Helen. You’re on a roll, Jakey!

 

Daria makes a face at the unpleasant memory of her father’s many failed attempts to make dinner, but says nothing.

 

JAKE: [whispers] Oh, and the next one’s good, too. I do tell you stories about my youth. [frowns, voice getting louder] All the miserable, rotten things that my no-good jerk of a father did to me, sending me off to military school at the age of—

 

SEVERAL PEOPLE NEARBY: [to Jake] Shhh!

 

JAKE: [winces] Oops! [looks at questionnaire, recovers, whispers to Daria] Do you and I share any physical or athletic activities together?

 

DARIA: [whispers] Television.

 

JAKE: [whispers] Yeah, that’s right. [writes this down] Do you or did you ever talk with your daughter about menst—[stops instantly, turns bright red with embarrassment]

 

DARIA: [pause, deadpan] Menstruation?

 

Jake looks mortified and begins to sweat.

 

DARIA: [whispers] You bought me that book on it. Put down yes.

 

Jake does so, still looking mortally embarrassed. He reads the next question silently—but when he does, he looks horrified beyond words. The question is: “Do you ever view pornographic materials?” Daria notices her father’s silence and glances over at his questionnaire.

 

DARIA: [loud whisper] Put no. Those videos that Mom gets for the two of you don’t count.

 

JAKE: [squeaks] Eeep!

 

Too ashamed to continue, Jake hides his face behind his questionnaire. Daria looks toward the front of the room—and smiles.

 

 

12. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, QUINN’S BEDROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

Fully dressed now in her usual outfit, Quinn lies face down on her made-up bed, kicking her legs slowly in the air. She appears to be waiting for someone to speak on her phone. Her upper body is propped up on her elbows. An open sack of barbecue-flavored fat-free chips rests on the floor beside her bed. Several open books on interior decorating lie on the bed next to her, with a large pad of graph paper and three pencils. Her room otherwise looks as it does in The Daria Diaries, with all her stuffed animals on her bed pillows, stacked up as if part of a circus human-pyramid act.

 

QUINN: [to phone, now animated] Oh, hi! My name’s Quinn Morgendorffer, and I want to get some ideas from your company about renovating an upstairs bedroom. It’s my sister’s room—I mean, it is now, but she’s going to college this fall, so then it’s free. Uh-huh. Yeah, I’ll miss her, sort of, but what I wanted to do was, like, convert her bedroom into a party room, so my friends and I can use it. We need to take down all the padding on the walls, get the bars out of the windows, all that. What? No, really. I’m not kidding. The family before us had some crazy person in there, and she—my sister—she took the room as it was. Uh-huh. Yeah, that was pretty crazy, too, but hey, she was happy, I guess. Uh-huh. Oh, I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter if she does, because she’ll be gone. Why ask? Uh-huh. Oh, my mom’s already thinking of things to do with it. She—

 

Quinn breaks off, rolling on her back to look up at her bed’s canopy. Her free hand reaches down to her bare midriff and presses lightly on her abdomen, just below her stomach. When she rolls on her back, she comes to rest almost on the edge of her bed.

 

QUINN: [to phone] Excuse me, I missed that. What? Oh, nothing, just a cramp. [short laugh] Yeah, probably. It’s gone now. What was I saying? [removes hand from abdomen to play with her hair] Oh, my mom. Yeah, my mom’s thinking about turning it into a guest bedroom, but that’s sooo common, you know? Like, I can’t come up with anything better than that, right. I’d ask my friends, but they’re all off at some dumb meeting. Uh-huh. Okay, what I need is, like, a list of things you can put into a party room, all the good stuff. Yeah, like that. Exactly. Our TVs are so small, they are just ridiculous.

 

Quinn’s free hand reaches down along the side of her bed, searching for the sack of barbecue-flavored chips. Finding nothing, she stretches harder in every direction to find it, scooting herself ever closer to the edge of the bed.

 

QUINN: [to phone] What? You’re kidding! Oh, yeah! That would be sooo cool! A kitchenette and wet bar! No alcohol, of course, but we could—oh, no, it’s not that, but yeah, I am too young, but it’s fattening, you know? Like I really need to bloat out like one of those fish with the pointy things all over it. Yeah, exactly!

 

Not paying attention to anything but the phone, Quinn makes a last effort to reach the chips, rolling halfway over toward the edge of the bed—on which she already rests.

 

QUINN: [to phone] Like, I should ruin my perfect body just for the sake of a—Waaaaahhh!

 

Quinn falls out of bed directly onto the sack of chips. The bed covering goes with her, dragging along all her books and papers and pencils, her pillows, all the stuffed animals, and the phone base and phone cord. The phone base makes a noise like cross between a bang and a ring when it hits her on the head, then hits the floor.

 

QUINN: [loudly] Ow! Damn it!

 

 

13. INT: AN HOUR LATER, WOMEN’S RESTROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria stands in a toilet stall, arranging her clothing, ready to leave. Outside her stall, Brittany storms into the restroom, her face red. She marches over to a sink and turns the faucet on, splashing water in her face. Someone knocks loudly on the restroom door.

 

BRITTANY: [shouts] Go away, Kevin!

 

As Daria reaches for the lock on her stall door, she hears the above and freezes in surprise. The door to the restroom opens quickly and Kevin barrels in, also red-faced.

 

BRITTANY: Kevin, get out! This is the girl’s room! People are peeing in here!

 

KEVIN: [oblivious] Babe, listen, you can’t be serious about—

 

BRITTANY: [flings water at him from her sink] Get out! I meant what I said! We’re through!

 

KEVIN: [shielding face] Brittany, baby, please! We can’t end like this!

 

Daria groans softly, leaning against one wall of her restroom stall with her eyes closed. She’s trapped and knows it. Brittany stops flinging water at Kevin.

 

BRITTANY: Kevin, we not only can end like this, but we can end like this! [pause] I mean, we just did end like this! All you brought me down here for was to go up to your room and bang me on the bed! You haven’t heard anything I’ve said all night! I’ve talked to you until I’m as blue as Lawndale’s school colors, the blue part, but you don’t get it!

 

KEVIN: Damn it, Brittany, this just isn’t right!

 

BRITTANY: What’s not right? That you didn’t graduate? That I did, and I’m out of this damn dumb-ass town come August? What part of “You don’t get it” are you not getting? [pause] I think I said that right.

 

KEVIN: [leans against a sink and wipes his face with one hand] Okay, hold on. Wait. [sighs, swallows] Okay, I’m sorry. I—I just lost it. I’m sorry I threw my soup. I’m sorry I jumped on the table. And I’m sorry about that lady’s damn little dog.

 

BRITTANY: [glowers at Kevin] That was mean.

 

KEVIN: They’ll find him eventually. He was an ugly little fur ball, but I’m sorry about it anyway. I’m sorry, okay?

 

BRITTANY: [wit’s end] Kevin, don’t you see at all what I’ve been saying? Don’t you get it? Please tell me you get it.

 

Kevin is silent for several moments.

 

KEVIN: [tired voice] I get it. [softer voice] I get it.

 

BRITTANY: Okay. [pause] What exactly do you get?

 

KEVIN: [low voice] We’re . . . over. We’re through.

 

BRITTANY: [nods in relief] You got it. Finally.

 

Kevin is silent again, but appears to be thinking hard.

 

KEVIN: Well, I tell you what. I’m staying over anyway. I can’t get a refund on the room, ‘cause it was a special deal, so I’ve got it until Monday morning. May as well stick around and play with the Nintendo. Refrigerator’s stocked, too. Nothing else to do.

 

BRITTANY: Okay. Well, I’m going home.

 

KEVIN: [quiet voice] I want to make it up to you.

 

BRITTANY: Make it up? How?

 

KEVIN: [hesitates] I want to show you I’m okay about it. That it’s okay, everything’s all right.

 

BRITTANY: How?

 

KEVIN: [sighs] Please have dinner with me tomorrow night. Here. That’s all I’m asking.

 

BRITTANY: [pause] All? Are you sure?

 

KEVIN: I swear, babe. Brittany, I mean—Brittany. Sorry.

 

BRITTANY: [pause] Dinner, and that’s all. You’re not going to lose it again, right?

 

KEVIN: I swear. I’ll be all right.

 

BRITTANY: [points finger at Kevin] Hands to yourself, too. No grabbing my butt anymore when I try to sit down.

 

KEVIN: No. None of that. Just dinner.

 

BRITTANY: [pause, softer voice] Okay. I’ll have the cheese pizza again. It was good. Diet soda, too, same as tonight. Maybe dessert, if you don’t jump on the table.

 

KEVIN: Okay. Done. Promise.

 

BRITTANY: Okay. Now, get out. I have to pee.

 

KEVIN: [nods] Right. [leaves for the door] I’ll be upstairs.

 

BRITTANY: I’m going home. [pause] See you tomorrow night, then.

 

KEVIN: Okay. [leaves]

 

Brittany grips the sides of the sink with both hands and leans on it, breathing heavily.

 

BRITTANY: [after a pause] Stupid jerk. I should’ve . . . [voice dies away]

 

Brittany sniffs, washes her face off, dries off with a paper towel, and walks into another stall, shutting the door. Relieved, Daria swiftly leaves her own stall, washes her hands in seconds, and hurries out of the restroom. She hesitates at the door in case she runs into Kevin outside, but Kevin—thankfully—is nowhere to be seen.

 

 

14. INT: EARLY EVENING, DINING ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria and her father sit together at a table for two with a lavish display of beautiful flowers on one side. The buffet line is in the distance behind them. A large, decorative potted bush sits immediately behind Daria’s chair, blocking her view of the table behind her. Jake has a huge steak with fries, and Daria has an artichoke focaccia, something that looks like an upscale pizza with colorful vegetables on it, plus a side order of cheese fries. She cuts into her pizza as Jake cuts into his steak.

 

JAKE: [happily] Steak, by God! Good old American steak! Give me a dead, bloody animal carcass on a plate with a barrel of ketchup any day! How’s your pizza?

 

On the verge of putting a forkful of pizza in her mouth, Daria winces and puts her food down again. She carefully avoids looking at her father’s dinner as he empties a bottle of ketchup over everything on his plate.

 

DARIA: [deadpan] Uh, I think I’ll just look at it for a little longer and savor the moment.

 

JAKE: This is living, kiddo. I tell you, I remember back when I was a kid, with that miserable, no-good, lousy father of mine trying to make me eat broccoli, and—

 

DARIA: Dad? Dad, listen. [waits until Jake looks at her] Dad, let’s not talk about Grandpa, okay? Please? [pause] This is our night out. You. Me. Us.

 

JAKE: [blinks, surprised] Well, sure. Okay. [pause] I was going to say—[glances anxiously at Daria]—that I used to have to eat all these vegetables, and now I’m an adult and I don’t have to, and that’s great!

 

DARIA: Ah. Well, I don’t like some vegetables, either, but they are good for you. You should eat them more often, especially considering your heart condition.

 

Jake is about to dig into his fries, but he stops dead when Daria says “heart condition.” Swallowing, he looks at his steak, then puts down his fork and knife.

 

JAKE: I, uh, think I’ll just, um, look at my food for a minute, too. Just a pause to reflect, of course. [coughs] You know, maybe I should get a replacement. That steak’s sort of tough, really, and the fries aren’t—

 

DARIA: [pushes her plate toward Jake] Try this. It’s a focaccia, sort of like a pizza. Even the vegetables are tasty, and the cheese is low fat—I asked.

 

JAKE: [hesitates, then picks up a fork and takes a small bite of her dish] Oh. [brightens] Hey, that’s good! [looks around] Know what? I’m gonna get one of those! Be right back!

 

Jake gets up and hurries back to the serving line. Daria looks at his steak and fries, looks back at her father, then quietly reaches over with her fork and eats most of his fries in a few seconds. She puts the rest in with her cheese fries and mixes them up. A waiter comes by, and Daria hands the ketchup-soaked steak to him to take away. As she hands off the steak, Daria hears someone talking on a cell phone nearby, hidden by the large potted bush behind her chair. The audience view shifts between Mack (on the cell phone, walking behind Daria to stop by the bush) and Daria (at her table, unseen).

 

MACK: [to cell phone] Are you sure? I just wanted to see if she’d talk with me for a few minutes. . . . Oh. Oh. I didn’t . . . I see. Yes, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know. . . . So, she doesn’t want to . . . oh, okay. No, that’s fine. I won’t call back. I’m sorry if I bothered you. Yes. No, that’s all right. Okay. Good night, Mrs. Landon.

 

Mack slowly closes his cell phone and stands in silence, still dazed from the unexpected turn of events. Daria, unseen, picks at her pizza, losing her appetite. After a moment, Mack lifts his cell phone, opens it, and thumbs a speed-dial number.

 

MACK: [tries to sound cheery, to phone] Hey, this is Mack. Is Rick there? Yeah, sure, thanks. . . . Rick, ‘sup? Yeah, nothing here. Listen, you want to get out for a while tonight? I’m down at the . . . oh. [short, embarrassed laugh] Okay. . . . Oh. Um, well, maybe next weekend, then. Sure. Hi to Sherry. Yeah. Later.

 

Mack shuts his cell phone and rubs his face, depressed and alone. He raises the phone and speed-dials one more number.

 

MACK: [waiting for phone pickup] C’mon, Jimmy. C’mon, pick it up. C’mon . . . [sighs, tries to sound cheery but fails] Yeah, hi, Jim, this is Mack. When you get in, if you want to get out for a while tonight, call me on my cell phone. I’m down at the Plaza Hotel. Nothing’s going on, and maybe we can hang out for a while. It’s Friday, nothing to do here. Call me. Thanks. Bye.

 

Mack shuts his phone and drops it into a pants pockets. He slowly moves off, hands thrust into his pockets, head down.

 

Daria stares at her pizza. After a few moments, she rouses herself and checks on her dad, who has gotten his own focaccia and is returning to their table. Daria forces herself to start eating again. Beaming, Jack starts to sit down, but he first looks around in confusion for his steak. He shrugs and sits down anyway. They talk as they eat.

 

JAKE: Heh. First time I’ve ever given up a steak. Must be getting old.

 

DARIA: Old in human years or dog years?

 

JAKE: Just old. Wait till you hit fifty. Everything hurts, everything’s running down. Not like when I was a kid, sent away to military school by that—[stops, glances anxiously at Daria]—um, where I had to do pushups all day. Boy! I ached all over, but I was in good condition. At least I had that. Best shape I was ever in.

 

DARIA: You should exercise more. Go power walking with Mom.

 

JAKE: Huh? [makes awful face] Oh, that looks so weird. People would drive up on the sidewalk to run over me if they saw me. Don’t think I could keep up with Helen now, anyway.

 

DARIA: You need to do something to improve your cardiovascular health.

 

JAKE: Cardio—[smiles]—you sound like my doctor. [pause] You always were a smart kid. Always knew your own mind. Still do.

 

DARIA: [looks as if she doesn’t exactly agree with that last statement] Mmm.

 

JAKE: [remembering] You were something. Reading the newspaper and looking at my business books, and that time in sixth grade when you helped me with the taxes. I couldn’t get that one part straight, about the withholding, but you sorted it out for me just in time. [recalls something] Oh, and your writing! That’s wonderful! I’ve always been proud of that.

 

DARIA: [looks up, mildly surprised] I thought that reading my writing made you nervous.

 

JAKE: [increasingly uncomfortable] Oh, no . . . just the parts about the, uh, tortures and vampires and things blowing up and, uh—oh, what’s this? [points to a vegetable on his pizza]

 

DARIA: Artichoke.

 

JAKE: Ah, of course. Didn’t recognize it.

 

DARIA: Yes, they look different from French fries.

 

Jake nods, missing her gentle sarcasm. They eat quietly for a few moments.

 

JAKE: [hesitant, nervous] Daria . . . do you think I know you?

 

Daria is taken aback. This was clearly not a question she imagined he would ask.

 

DARIA: Do you know me?

 

JAKE: Well, do you think I know you?

 

DARIA: Do I know if you know me, or do you know if I know that you know me?

 

JAKE: [confused] Let’s start over again. Um . . .

 

DARIA: [slight frown] I’m not sure if you do.

 

JAKE: [pained] Oh. I was reading that questionnaire and I got to thinking, there are times I know you, and times when, um, I’m not so sure. Maybe it’s part of having a teenager. Everything’s changing, you’re trying new things, nothing seems to go right, you want everyone to stay out of your closet where you hide your Playboys. [hesitates] I guess . . . I don’t want to be for you like my father was for me.

 

DARIA: [sighs] Dad, I think you’ve been spared that one humiliation. [pause] Although there were a few moments this morning after you woke me up that I—

 

JAKE: You think I know you, then?

 

DARIA: [pause as she thinks] Okay, why don’t you tell me who I am, and we’ll see.

 

JAKE: You’re Daria!

 

DARIA: [deadpan] Very good. You get a cookie. I meant, what kind of person I am.

 

JAKE: Oh. [sighs] Well, um . . . [long pause, half smile] Heh. I was thinking about that box.

 

DARIA: Box? What—oh.

 

JAKE: The refrigerator box you hid in, because—[looks embarrassed]—it brought back memories of your mother and I having that fight when you were small, back in Highland.

 

DARIA: [getting tense] We’re not going to have an instant replay of all that, are we?

 

JAKE: No, no. It’s just that, um, I was thinking about that box earlier today, and it, um, reminded me of what kind of person you are.

 

DARIA: [raises an eyebrow] I’m . . . the sort who hides in boxes?

 

JAKE: [misses joke] Not necessarily. I was actually thinking about what I saw in you, when you were little. [pause] Having you was a big responsibility. It was hard sometimes.

 

DARIA: [irked] What, Quinn was easier?

 

JAKE: Quinn’s different. Easier in some ways. Your intelligence made everything complicated. My God, your test scores. I told your mother that we were the parents of Supergirl. You understood so many things, you saw things others couldn’t see, and you had your own mind. If other kids didn’t treat you right, you didn’t see any need to get along with them. You had your principles. You knew right from wrong, except maybe where Quinn was involved. [remembers something] Integrity. I happened to look that up earlier today. You had integrity when you were six years old.

 

Startled, Daria stops eating and stares at her father. Jake looks down at the table as he talks, remembering.

 

JAKE: The integrity part, I liked a lot. I loved you because you stood up for yourself. You were the kind of kid I wished I’d been when I was small. But it’s been hard for you, too. I had it hard when I was a kid, but I gave in all the time. I couldn’t fight my dad. [raises hand to stop Daria’s protest] No, it’s okay. I won’t go on about it, but it’s true. I couldn’t fight him. I gave in. I didn’t have the willpower you have. I couldn’t stand life being so hard all the time. [pause] I can’t imagine how much crap you’ve put up with all these years, just to stay the kind of person you are now. [smiles faintly] You’re stubborn, like your mother. Comes in handy. Wins arguments, gets your way, but . . . it’s hard.

 

Jake puts his elbows on the table, hands in front of his face wringing together slowly.

 

JAKE: When I realized that you, at age six, knew exactly what you were doing, that you had the determination to not fit in, to be yourself, I knew then you were going to be just like you are now. I admired and loved you for it. I still do. It worries me that you never bend, but when I think about it . . . it cheers me up. It gets me through my day, knowing that you did me one better.

 

Daria looks stunned. She obviously never expected this.

 

JAKE: I wish you were happier, though. Quinn’s basically happy. Nothing much fazes her. You’re so different, the two of you.

 

DARIA: [looks down, low voice] Misery chick.

 

JAKE: What?

 

DARIA: [depressed and touchy] Nothing.

 

JAKE: I think it comes with the territory.

 

DARIA: [looks up, angry] What are you talking about?

 

JAKE: [tolerant smile] Did you think it was going to be easy to be you? To stick with your principles when so many other people don’t?

 

DARIA: I . . . [frowns]

 

JAKE: You’re smarter than anyone else in our entire family, your mother’s side or mine. You see things no one else does. You know when people are lying. Jane said tha—[coughs, realizes he said something he didn’t want to]

 

DARIA: [surprised] Jane said that?

 

JAKE: [gestures, acting casual] Sure. I talk to her sometimes, you know. Not much, but once in a while, when she’s around. [quickly] But it’s true, I think. You do know when people aren’t honest with you.

 

Daria says nothing, looking at her father reflectively.

 

JAKE: I’m . . . I’m not always honest when I should be. I learned to hide a lot of stuff when I was a kid. My father and all that. I shouldn’t do it anymore, but old habits . . . anyway, I’m sorry when I’m not honest with you. [smiles] And you’re not always . . . well, you are honest, but your sense of humor is sort of, um . . .

 

DARIA: [touchy] Sarcastic? Scornful? Mocking?

 

JAKE: Mmm—no, I’d say ironic.

 

DARIA: Is that the marketing talking, or you?

 

JAKE: Me. Just me. I can’t always tell when you’re having fun, messing with my head. I get too tense, don’t take time to think things out. Comes with being an adult. [grimaces]

 

Daria stares at her father, her expression unreadable.

 

DARIA: [slowly] Do you think I’m ever going to be happy?

 

JAKE: [pause to consider this] I don’t think that’s so important.

 

DARIA: [blinks, then leans forward] Why?

 

JAKE: [soft voice] All I care about is that you stay true to you. Sometimes it’s not the goal. It’s how you get there. Happy, sad, doesn’t matter. It’s how you get there.

 

DARIA: [stares at Jake, amazed] How is it that we never have talks like this at home?

 

JAKE: [pause, slowly] Um, my fault, I think. Get distracted. [looks sad] I’m sorry about that. I wish we had done more together. It’s too easy for me to lose track of things. Wish I’d done better.

 

Silence falls again. Soon, Jake picks up his fork.

 

JAKE: [coughs] This is pretty good stuff, this . . . whatever you called it, the pizza. You were right. Better for me than the steak. [softly] Damn it. [smiles anxiously at Daria]

 

Daria raises her glasses, rubs at her eyes, then picks at her pizza.

 

DARIA: [voice rough] Focaccia. [pause] It’s a little cold now.

 

JAKE: [taking a bite] Still pretty good.

 

They eat quietly and listen to the music in the background.

 

DARIA: [clears throat, gestures at ceiling] Mozart. That’s Mozart. Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. That’s the name of the music we’re hearing.

 

JAKE: Ah. I can’t tell those old piano guys apart. They all sound alike, sometimes. [pauses, readying self to ask the big question, fake nonchalance] Um, I wanted to ask you something, a little thing. [pause] Uh, what were you up to on, uh, Thursday night? When you were out?

 

DARIA: Oh. I was out with Jane. She was shooting a video for a project.

 

JAKE: [startled, stares at Daria] A video? Like, a movie?

 

DARIA: Yeah. It was weird, but fun. We shot it in a cemetery. Jane had me dress up in black robes, do some stuff.

 

JAKE: [the light dawning] Oh, then you were making a movie, and—

 

DARIA: It’s for her college admissions, to BFAC. Boston Fine Arts College, I mean. She’s trying to get them to let her in this fall instead of waiting for the start of the spring semester. She thinks the video might sway someone. It might work. Beats me.

 

It is Jake’s turn to look amazed. After a moment, he starts to laugh, shaking his head.

 

JAKE: That Quinn!

 

DARIA: [looks up] What?

 

JAKE: [smiling to himself, waves it off] Nothing. Forget it. Just you and me.

 

Daria nods, but something else is clearly on her mind.

 

DARIA: Dad, it’s my turn to ask you one little thing.

 

JAKE: Sure.

 

DARIA: Why did you really want me to come to this seminar with you? I mean, what sparked this?

 

JAKE: [hesitates, nervous] Well, with you going away this fall, I was already starting to miss you, and I got kind of anxious about it, and then I, uh, saw this article in the paper this morning about the seminar, and I thought, um, well, you’re going off and we haven’t really, you know, um—[drops the pretense]—oh, all right. You want honesty. [chuckles to himself, embarrassed] I thought I was saving you from signing a pact with the Devil.

 

Daria freezes, a forkful of her food halfway to her open mouth. Her gaze swivels slowly until she stares at her father with a thunderstruck expression.

 

JAKE: [shakes head, still smiling] Boy, was I way off. Too much work stress. [goes back to cutting pizza] I was a dumb old dad.

 

The look of astonishment on Daria’s face can hardly be described.

 

DARIA: [faintly] You thought what?

 

JAKE: Oh, it was silly. I thought you were out in that cemetery Thursday night doing some kind of demon worship. [puts forkful of food in mouth, shakes head in amusement]

 

DARIA: [drops her fork and knife] You saw me there?

 

JAKE: Hmm? Me? Oh, no. Quinn did.

 

DARIA: Quinn. [pause, then the light dawns over her face] Oooooohhh, Quinn saw me. [further realization sets in] Oooooohhh-kaaaaaaaay.

 

JAKE: [chews in an animated way] Yeah. [swallows] Your mother and I would never have believed all that stuff she said about you killing little animals for Satan, but she had the photographs. Kind of threw me to see you with that skeleton hand. [chuckles to self] It was fake, right? Thought so. Ha! Pretty funny, looking back at it now.

 

DARIA: [flat voice] Photographs. Yes, very funny. [pause] I was with Jane at the cemetery.

 

JAKE: Yeah, you told me. Was she doing something like The Night of the Living Dead, that kind of thing? I always wanted to make a horror movie when I was a kid. Getting into movies could be a great career for you. [frowns] As long as you can keep writing while you’re making the movies, of course. And if you can keep your integrity, too. You know, Hollywood’s not the best place to—

 

DARIA: [tense voice] Did Quinn’s photos show Jane with me?

 

JAKE: [shakes head, missing her tone] Nope. None of them did. Maybe Quinn couldn’t see her. Quinn was out shooting landscaping pictures for her friends, something like that. Must have spotted you and gotten the wrong idea. [cuts into his pizza]

 

DARIA: [dangerous tone in her voice] Jane was just a few feet away from me with a video camera.

 

JAKE: Hmmm. [shrugs] You can ask Quinn about it when you get home. Probably just a big mistake. Came out well, though. [looks at Daria and smiles warmly] Daria, I’m really glad I’m here with you. I wouldn’t miss this weekend for the world.

 

Daria looks at Jake, and her face softens. She smiles for real, though it’s a small smile.

 

DARIA: Thanks, Dad. [pause, looks down, very softly] I love you.

 

JAKE: [stares at Daria, clearly can’t believe he heard that, soft voice] I—I love you, too, kiddo.

 

Jake goes on eating, though his face quickly gets red and his eyes tear up. He dabs at his eyes with his napkin, pretending to wipe his mouth, then goes on with his meal, smiling in a goofy way, his eyes puffy and red.

 

Daria, however, is lost in thought. Her gaze drifts off into space. Her smile is gone.

 

DARIA: [softly, to self] I should make up a special dish for Quinn when I get home. [pause, very soft voice] Something that I can serve cold.

 

Jake nods absently, concentrating on his pizza with a happy look.

 

JAKE: Great music. Mozart, you say?

 

 

15. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, KITCHEN, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

The kitchen windows are dark. Quinn sits at the kitchen table with a meal she’s made for herself. A CD player and television set make noise in the living room, and most of the house lights appear to be on as well. In a trash can in the kitchen can be seen a number of large, empty potato-chip bags (regular flavor, barbecue, hot and spicy, sour cream and onion.). All of them are labeled “Fat Free!” or “No Fat!” At the table, Quinn picks up a note from her mother: Quinn, I will be home at 10, don’t wait dinner on me, love you, Mom. Quinn shrugs and contently eats her meal, bobbing her head to the CD player’s boy-band music. Her plate contains a lot of potato chips.

 

While she eats, Quinn suddenly gets a strange look on her face. She drops one hand to her stomach and presses into her abdomen slightly, wincing as she does. She’s having abdominal cramps. The cramps fade in a few moments, and she goes back to her dinner, though eating slowly now.

 

A few moments later, Quinn picks up the nearly empty bag of honey mustard-flavored potato chips on the table beside her, and she starts to read it out of boredom. She scans the front, then flips the bag over in her hand and reads the back. She holds the bag close to her face, as the print is so small. While she reads, she winces again, gritting her teeth. Her free hand goes to her abdomen once more, holding it.

 

Suddenly, Quinn frowns at the bag. She holds the bag right up to her eyes and squints at the tiny print, reading it aloud.

 

QUINN: [voice rising in horror] “Warning: Olestra may cause abdominal cramping, diarrhea, and loose—” Eeeewwwwwwww!!!

 

Quinn abruptly doubles over, in great distress. She’s clearly in agony.

 

QUINN: [gasping] Oh, shit!

 

Quinn manages to get out of her chair and stagger out of the kitchen. Even over the TV set and CD player, the slam of the bathroom door moments later can be heard, followed a few moments later by:

 

QUINN: [VO] EEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

16. INT: LATER THAT NIGHT, CORRIDOR FROM DINING AREA TO BACK PARKING LOT, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria and Jake have finished dinner and are exploring the lobby around the dining room. Jake looks to one side as they pass the entrance to a small bar in the hotel. He stops short.

 

JAKE: [pointing] Hey, a couple of clients of mine are there! Edgar and Ray! Wow, what are the chances of that?

 

DARIA: [tolerantly pats Jake on the back] Go have some fun, big guy.

 

JAKE: [hesitates] Is that okay with you? I mean, if I go have a beer or—

 

DARIA: [parental tone] Go for it. Be back in the room by midnight, though. I don’t want to have to run around looking for you.

 

JAKE: [puppy-like excitement] Sure thing! Thanks, kiddo!

 

DARIA: [smiles] No problem, Dad.

 

Jake rushes into the bar, waving a hand at two guys in business suits sitting near the back.

 

DARIA: [soft voice] Parents. What gets into them?

 

Daria then sees a sign with an arrow pointing further down the hall: Video Arcade Room. She reaches up and tugs on one pocket on her jacket, which makes a jingling noise from the change within it. Her smile broadens, and she sets off in that direction.

 

 

17. INT: MOMENTS LATER, VIDEO ARCADE ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

The hotel’s videogames room appears deserted; the windows to the outside reveal it is nighttime. However, someone is present and playing a game in a corner of the room, hidden by the other machines. The person sounds like he or she is chewing gum with an open mouth.

 

Visible through the room’s glass walls, Daria wanders up to the door, pushing it open to enter from the corridor. She glances toward the rear of the room where the gum-chewing gamer is playing, then shrugs, unconcerned. She looks around and eyes one machine in particular (“Nuclear Ninja Nightmare”), then drops two quarters in it, starting play with an expressionless face. In the game, a first-person shooter, she “holds” an oversized, futuristic Gatling gun. The game starts with her appearing to stand in front of a wooden door, as shown on the video monitor. Suddenly, the door seems to become real, and—

 

 

18. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: QUINN’S BEDROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

The door to Quinn’s bedroom is kicked open so hard that it is torn from its hinges, falling into the room with a tremendous crash. Quinn, on her bed and talking on the telephone, looks up in shock. Carrying a gigantic, futuristic Gatling gun under her right arm and bracing it with her left hand, Daria steps into the doorway.

 

QUINN: [to phone in normal voice] Sandi, can I put you on hold? Thanks. [drops phone, shrieks in terror] Daria!

 

DARIA: [pumping a charging mechanism on the gun with her left hand, like pumping a shotgun] Bad sisters check in, but they don’t check out.

 

QUINN: [screaming/pleading] It was a joke! I didn’t mean it! I ate a Twinkie, and I don’t know what came over me!

 

DARIA: [raises the Gatling gun] Tell it to Elvis.

 

Daria opens fire, the Gatling gun spitting flame and bullets from its many barrels in a fantastic crescendo of ear-shattering sound—but Angel Daria suddenly appears, standing in front of (and blocking most of) the scene of Daria’s violent revenge, which now looking like it’s taking place on a videogame screen behind the angel.

 

ANGEL DARIA: [waving arms, shrieking at viewer (Daria)] No! Stop it! You can’t do this, Daria!

 

Devil Daria walks on from one side and gives Angel Daria a shove.

 

DEVIL DARIA: Why not?

 

ANGEL DARIA: [off guard] Why? Because . . . um . . . wait, give me a minute. I’ll think of a reason. Uh—

 

DEVIL DARIA: So, Quinn wanted Dad and Mom to think you were into devil worship, eh? [thoroughly wicked grin] This is way too easy.

 

ANGEL DARIA: [recovering, holding up an index finger] Okay, first—if you want to go on to college, you can’t break any more than two or three laws, none of them a felony.

 

DEVIL DARIA: Screw the law. Nuke her till she glows, then find her in the dark and nuke her again.

 

ANGEL DARIA: [holds up another finger] Two, you have to consider the possibility that there’s an afterlife and a final judgment.

 

DEVIL DARIA: [disdainfully] For Quinn? Judgment Day’s here. What comes after that is her problem.

 

ANGEL DARIA: [another finger up] Okay, three: You might have to share a cell in prison with an insane axe murderess for the rest of your life.

 

DEVIL DARIA: Better that than sharing this planet with Quinn. Maybe the axe murderess will have some funny stories. Rhonda sure does.

 

ANGEL DARIA: [another finger] Four: You won’t be allowed to take any of your books to prison with you!

 

DEVIL DARIA: [hesitates, considering this, then stamps her foot] Damn it!

 

ANGEL DARIA: [equally unhappy] It sucks, I know.

 

DEVIL DARIA: [grumbles] You could still put blue dye in her body lotion, or shave her head while she’s asleep, or set her bed on fire. [grimaces] When she’s not in it, I mean.

 

ANGEL DARIA: [brightens, relieved] There you go! That’s the spirit!

 

 

19. INT: MOMENTS LATER, VIDEO ARCADE ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

About this point, the other gamer in the room stops playing and sighs loudly. While Daria plays (minus her spiritual advisors), soft footsteps are heard off-screen.

 

ANDREA: [VO] Do you have some extra quarters for a fist full of—

 

Andrea, chewing gum and in her usual Goth clothing, walks around the side of the video game Daria is playing. Completely surprised, Andrea and Daria stare at each other for a few seconds. Andrea holds two dollar bills in one hand (with the fishnet glove), and a perfect black rose in the other. Daria lets her game run out but doesn’t notice.

 

ANDREA: —Darias? [tucks gum in her cheek]

 

DARIA: [recovering] Um, yeah, I’ve got a bunch of change. No problem. [reaches in her pocket]

 

ANDREA: [also recovering] Thanks. [holds bills out to Daria, low voice] You here for that conference, the daughter thing?

 

DARIA: [nods, counts out eight quarters, they trade money] Yeah. Are you . . . here for that, too?

 

ANDREA: No. My dad’s out of town. [hesitates] I’m . . . here for something else.

 

DARIA: [looks at the black rose] That’s beautiful.

 

ANDREA: [looks at her rose] Yeah. It . . .

 

Two seconds pass. Andrea makes a decision.

 

ANDREA: [soft voice] Charles gave it to me.

 

DARIA: [nods, half expected this] As in, Charles Ruttheimer the Third.

 

ANDREA: [tense] Yeah. [hesitates] I thought you were going to call him Up—

 

DARIA: [quickly, shakes head] No.

 

ANDREA: [relieved, looks at rose] You must think I’m really weird.

 

DARIA: You haven’t seen my life yet.

 

ANDREA: [faint smile, looks at Daria] I . . . owe you an apology, you and Jane. That time you were over at PayDay, I wasn’t having the best day ever.

 

DARIA: [shrugs] It’s forgotten. If I worked retail, I’d be on death row by now.

 

ANDREA: The work’s not so bad. A little boring, maybe. The money’s okay.

 

DARIA: [looks around] Is uh—[stops herself from saying “Upchuck”]—Charles around?

 

ANDREA: No. He’s . . . [looks at rose, takes a deep breath] He’s back in our room. Asleep. [pause] We’re staying over for the weekend.

 

DARIA: [absorbs this, soft voice] I won’t tell anyone.

 

ANDREA: [relieved] Thanks. My parents would . . . [shakes head, shrug] I wouldn’t care if Jane knew. She’s okay. I know how you two are.

 

DARIA: [pause, impulsively asks] Are you happy?

 

Daria looks very surprised as the words leave her mouth, as if she cannot believe she asked that question.

 

ANDREA: [gives Daria a strange look] Am I happy? [nods, looks down at rose] You want to hear something really crazy? Yeah, I am. He’s so . . . [smiles] He makes me laugh. He’s so wild, and he can be so funny. And he treats me like I’m a queen or a goddess or something. No one ever—

 

Andrea breaks off and lifts the rose to her nose, sniffing it. When she looks at Daria again, her eyes are very bright.

 

ANDREA: I can’t believe it. This is all so crazy. He’s so nice to me. I never expected that . . . [voice fades out]

 

DARIA: Uh . . . go with it, then.

 

ANDREA: Yeah. I will. [pause] We are.

 

DARIA: It’s okay.

 

ANDREA: [looks at the quarters in her hand, puts them in a pocket] I’m going back up. I just needed to get out a little.

 

DARIA: I’ll be around all weekend, too, with my dad.

 

ANDREA: [nods, smiling] See you around, then.

 

DARIA: Sure.

 

Andrea leaves the game room, sniffing her black rose. Daria watches her go with a stunned expression.

 

DARIA: [low voice] I wonder if this is one of the signs of the Apocalypse.

 

 

 

* * *

 

SATURDAY MORNING

Part Four: Misery Chic

(a.k.a.: Goth Like Me, or, The Voyage of the Andrea-Daria)

 

 

20. INT: EARLY MORNING, UPSTAIRS HALLWAY OUTSIDE QUINN AND DARIA’S BATHROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

We look at the (closed) bathroom door for a few moments. The sound of gentle snoring comes from behind the door. Nothing stirs otherwise.

 

HELEN: [VO, downstairs] Quinn? Where are you? Quinn?

 

We now hear footsteps coming up the stairs, as well as the gentle snoring. After a moment, Helen Morgendorffer appears. She’s apparently been up for a while. She is dressed in her nightgown and wears fuzzy slippers on her feet.

 

HELEN: [walks past bathroom door, heading for Quinn’s bedroom] Quinn? You left food out last night on the kitchen table. I had to throw it out. Quinn? Where are you?

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom, very sleepy] Mom?

 

HELEN: [reappears, stops in front of bathroom door] Quinn? Are you in there?

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom, very sleepy] Yeah.

 

HELEN: You know you left the TV and your CD player on, and I turned them off when I got in last night. I’m sorry I was late. I got in at midnight. The meeting went on and on.

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom, very sleepy] Wah time zit?

 

HELEN: How long have you been in there?

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom, sleepy] Wah time zit now?

 

HELEN: Six-thirty in the morning.

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom, less sleepy] Uh . . . six . . . I was in the bathroom downstairs for, uh, ‘bout two hours, so that plus this, uh, oh, uh, I think ‘bout ten hours and twenty minutes, something like—

 

HELEN: [pause, startled, shouts] You’ve been in there ten hours?

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] Mom, don’t yell! I had to go and I don’t feel so good, okay?

 

HELEN: [still shouting] You’ve been in there all night? Are you sick?

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom, very cross] Muuuh-ooom, don’t yell! I can’t leave! When I don’t have to go, I have to shower, and then I have to go again, and then I have to shower, and I’m stuck here, okay?

 

HELEN: [firmly] Okay, Quinn, let me in there.

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] What? Mom, you don’t want to do that! No way!

 

HELEN: Quinn Morgendorffer, I said open the door and let me in!

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom, panicking] No! Mom, stay out!

 

HELEN: Quinn, stop that. If you’re sick, I want to come in there, right now.

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] Muuuh-ooom, go away!

 

HELEN: [firmly] That’s enough, young lady!

 

Helen reaches in a pocket of her nightgown and pulls out a paperclip, which she bends out of shape into a lockpicking tool.

 

HELEN: [working on knob lock] I’m coming in there, like any good mother would, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] Nooo!!!

 

The lock pops open. Helen opens the door—and almost instantly backs out again, waving one hand wildly in front of her face with the other hand covering her mouth and nose.

 

HELEN: [coughing] Oh . . . Quinn!

 

QUINN: [VO, scream] Muuuh-ooom!!!

 

Helen reaches into the bathroom once more, eyes shut and holding her breath, and turns on the ceiling fan. She shuts the door and quickly leaves, heading for the stairs down to the first floor.

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] Damn it, Mom!

 

HELEN: [VO, going downstairs, coughing hard] I’ll get . . . some air . . . air freshener . . . or something!

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] Mom? You still out there? [pause] Mom, can you get me something to read?

 

 

21. INT: ABOUT 8:15 A.M., JANE’S ROOM, LANE HOME

 

Jane sits cross-legged on the floor of her room, looking down at a small book. A portable phone handset is pressed between her right shoulder and ear. She points to a passage in the book with one finger, reading it. Behind her, Trent, Jesse, Nick, and Max (all the members of the Mystik Spiral band) are crowded around Jane’s computer on her desk. The monitor is turned away from the viewer, but it is visible to the sleepy-eyed band members. Sitting at the computer desk, pecking at the keys and frowning a lot, is Artie, the alien-obsessed pizza guy. He wears the outfit of a Pizza Forest employee.

 

JANE: [to phone] I dunno. The Book of Revelation is so hard to figure out. Upchuck could be a plague, or he could be one of the beasts. It still looks suspicious. I should pick a religion soon.

 

DARIA: [VO, on phone] Is that your Bible?

 

JANE: [lets book fall shut] No, it was Summer’s. She dated some born-again guy in high school. He dumped her for a biker chick and went to Vegas.

 

DARIA: [VO, on phone] I promised Andrea we’d keep this news about . . . Charles . . . just between you and me.

 

JANE: No problem here. I think some people saw them at Jodie’s party, but I won’t add to the problem. [turns around to look at crowd at her computer] My room’s as crowded as the bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise, but it’s an emergency. I had to call in a computer expert. Um, I think he’s a computer expert. Anyway, he and Trent and the guys are trying to help me recover that stupid video file.

 

DARIA: [VO, on phone] The one you shot of me? What happened?

 

JANE: Oh, I renamed it last night and now I can’t find it. I don’t have any copies, and I dumped the original movie. That was stupid. Wait a sec. [holds handset aside but uncovered, calls to Artie] Any luck?

 

ARTIE: [frown deepens] I’m getting an error message here, but it doesn’t make any sense. This computer’s not as advanced as the one I use at home to track alien abductions. When did you last run an error scan on the hard drive?

 

JANE: [blank look] Run what?

 

ARTIE: [sighs] Never mind. [taps keys, shakes head slowly] I don’t get this. Okay, let’s look at the directory here. [taps keys, pause, everyone crowds in closer to read the screen]

 

TRENT: [pointing to monitor screen] Would that be it?

 

ARTIE: [to Jane] Did you name the file “goth daria asterisk ay vee eye”?

 

JANE: [face brightens] Yeah! That’s it! Thanks! [to phone] Sorry. They found the file.

 

ARTIE: I don’t think you can use asterisks when you name files. Maybe that’s why you lost it.

 

TRENT: [to Artie] You gonna put a dot there instead of the little star?

 

JANE: [shrugs, continues talking to Daria] Well, keep me posted on that. I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of hope for the future of the situation you describe, if you get my drift.

 

 

22. INT: MOMENTS LATER, DARIA’S BEDROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria sits on her hotel bed, wearing a long green nightshirt with a picture of a bowler-hat-wearing businessman with a green apple for a face (from a René Margritte painting). Her hair is mussed, but her glasses are on. The nice but bland room décor is typical of upscale hotels. In the background, the oversized TV in her room shows an episode of “Sick, Sad World” (volume turned down) that appears to be making a connection between President Richard Nixon, the Martian death machines from the 1953 movie, The War of the Worlds, and the cartoon character Spongebob Squarepants.

 

DARIA: I know. I’m going to run into Upchuck sometime today, and he’s going to hit on me like he does every time he’s seen me before, like he does with other girl in the world, and then—

 

JANE: [VO, on phone] —you’re going to hit on him.

 

DARIA: He’ll be lucky if they can find organ donors fast enough.

 

JANE: [VO, on phone] You go, girl. Make me proud. If you think about it, leave a little piece for me to step on.

 

DARIA: If I have to do hard time, please bring some of my books when you visit. And bring Quinn’s head, too. Wait, never mind—I’ll take care of that myself.

 

JANE: [VO, on phone] Why? What happened now?

 

DARIA: Quinn was watching us when you took that video Thursday evening. She took some pictures of her own, and she showed them to Mom and Dad and told them that I was in league with Satan. I must have looked the part. That’s why Dad decided to take me to this seminar for the weekend, to save me from eternal damnation.

 

 

23. INT: MOMENTS LATER, JANE’S ROOM, LANE HOME

 

Same scene as earlier. Artie is typing very fast on the keyboard. The Mystik Spiral band members watch, intrigued.

 

JANE: [astonished look on her face] Oh, then that’s why . . . forget it. Never mind.

 

DARIA: [VO, on phone] I know. Dad called you to find out what I was like these days.

 

JANE: Well, yeah, but don’t get it wrong. He really sounded like he cared about you.

 

DARIA: [VO, on phone] I know. He does. That’s okay.

 

JANE: But this does explain why your dad thought you were into demon worship and animal sacrifice.

 

Artie and the Mystik Spiral band members look up from the computer monitor, staring at Jane after this last remark. They look at each other with puzzled expressions, then shrug and go back to looking at the monitor.

 

 

24. INT: MOMENTS LATER, DARIA’S BEDROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

On the TV in the background, a black-and-white still photo is shown that appears to be of President Nixon shaking hands with an alien that looks remarkably like Spongebob Squarepants. The volume is still down.

 

DARIA: [through clenched teeth] Yessss, only now I’m thinking of another kind of sacrifice. Perhaps a close family member. I can’t name names over an unscrambled phone line, you understand.

 

 

25. INT: MOMENTS LATER, JANE’S ROOM, LANE HOME

 

The guys at the computer are silent, intently watching something on the monitor. They ignore Jane.

 

JANE: Whatever you do, first make sure that you set aside all the books you want me to bring on visitation day, and any extra underwear. What kind of food do they serve in prison?

 

TRENT: [pointing to monitor] What’s it doing?

 

ARTIE: It’s supposed to be running the file as a . . . [voice dies, eyes bug out at monitor] Whoa.

 

All the guys watching the monitor look startled. Their mouths fall open.

 

TRENT: [staring at monitor, whispers] Ho-lee shit.

 

ARTIE: [hitting Control-Alt-Delete keys very fast, holding them down] Abort!

 

JANE: [turns around, apprehensive, to phone] Daria, hold on.

 

ARTIE: [banging C-A-D keys again and again] Abort, abort, abort!

 

Jane jumps up from the floor and runs to the computer, pushing her way in to see the screen. She holds the phone handset at her chest, but she doesn’t cover the mouthpiece.

 

JANE: [panicked] What the hell is that? [to Artie] What did you do?

 

ARTIE: [still banging keys] Malfunction in the hard drive!

 

TRENT: [in awe] Is that a virus? [recoils] Holy shit! Look—

 

JESSE: [staring wide-eyed at monitor] Oh, my God—it’s full of stars!

 

JANE: [shouts] What’s it doing to my file?

 

Everyone stares at the monitor screen (which is doing something new), but they back up slightly.

 

NICK: [first to recover, high and loud] Terminate, dudes!

 

TRENT: [shouts] Is this online? Are you online?

 

ARTIE: [bangs keys one last time] Negative! Abort system not responding!

 

JANE: [more panicked, hitting C-A-D keys—and more] Jesus, stop it!

 

JESSE: [backing away from the computer in fear] Oh, man, that’s just wrong!

 

TRENT: [to Max, who is closest to the power outlets] The plug! Pull the plug!

 

JANE: [near shriek] Something’s burning! I smell it!

 

ARTIE: [repeatedly hitting power button on computer] Controls not responding!

 

JANE: [shriek] Shut it down!

 

Blue flames burst from both the central processing unit and the back of the monitor. Everyone leaps away from the computer in fright.

 

ARTIE, JESSE, NICK, MAX AT THE SAME TIME: [chaotic yells, scrambling away] Fire! It’s on fire! Mayday! Mayday! Hull breech! Abandon ship!

 

TRENT: [to Max] Pull the goddamn plug!

 

JANE: [enraged scream] My file! You miserable son of a bitch computer, I’m going to—

 

At this moment, Max simultaneously pulls out both the plug to the computer and the phone jack to the portable phone base.

 

 

26. INT: MOMENTS LATER, DARIA’S BEDROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

On the TV in the background, a grainy home movie shows President Nixon boarding a gigantic Martian death machine on the White House lawn, immediately after his resignation from office in 1974.

 

DARIA: [eyes wide, small voice] Hello? Jane? Hello? Enterprise, come in, over.

 

After a moment, the phone handset clicks and a buzzing dial tone comes on. Daria slowly hangs up the phone and stares sadly into space.

 

DARIA: Poor Enterprise. I guess they shouldn’t have boldly gone there.

 

 

27. INT: ABOUT 8:40 A.M., DINING ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria and Jake sit at another table in the hotel dining room, having a fairly normal breakfast. Around them are other father-daughter groups. Most of the daughters are quite young and appear annoyed at having to get up so early on a Saturday. Jake is looking over the schedule of events as he eats.

 

JAKE: Should be an interesting day. You’ve got . . . [turns red] . . . a class at nine—

 

DARIA: [deadpan] On the alleged miracle of my womanly body.

 

JAKE: [coughs, embarrassed] And I’ve a seminar on why I’m here!

 

DARIA: You’ve forgotten already?

 

JAKE: [puts schedule aside] Ha! No, of course not. We had that . . . misunderstanding about . . . you know.

 

DARIA: [deadpan] Dad, trust me on this one point. I would never bring Satanism into our home. I want to keep my religious life and family life separate.

 

JAKE: [relieved] Great, that’s what I—[does double take, gasps]—Daria!

 

DARIA: [stares at him, annoyed] Daaad.

 

JAKE: [pause, then chuckles anxiously] Oh, right! Ha, ha! Always the kidder! I love that about you! [chuckle ends in nervous cough]

 

DARIA: Look, when Mom was showing me how to drive a year ago, I almost ran over a dog. He was okay, but I felt horrible about it. No matter what you think is going on with me, I would never hurt anyone. Ever.

 

JAKE: That’s great!

 

DARIA: Knowingly.

 

JAKE: Wonderful.

 

DARIA: [becoming reflective] If they didn’t really deserve it.

 

JAKE: [looking anxious] Good.

 

DARIA: And if there were a reasonable chance I’d be caught.

 

JAKE: [very anxious, points to his plate] Say, kiddo, want to try this breakfast burrito? It’s got low-fat cheese, low-fat bacon, low-fat eggs, low-fat—

 

DARIA: And the victim wasn’t on my short list of targets of opportunity.

 

JAKE: [extremely anxious] Maybe I should get another one. [gets up from chair]

 

DARIA: And I wasn’t going to splatter my outfit with his—

 

Daria stops. Jake has run off.

 

DARIA: [glum, to self] I shouldn’t have done that. He didn’t deserve it. I’m a bitch. And for once I’m sorry about it. [pause] I’m glad no one heard me say that.

 

Jake reappears, holding an extra plate with a fresh “breakfast burrito.”

 

JAKE: [forced cheeriness] Here you go, kiddo! Try this! You’ll like it!

 

DARIA: Thanks, Dad. [pause] Um, sorry about being a little too open there.

 

JAKE: Ha, ha! No problem-o. We all make mistakes.

 

DARIA: [nods, tries burrito, shrugs] There was something else I wanted to ask you. [sees anxious look on Jake’s face] Not about hurting anyone, I mean.

 

JAKE: [relieved] Oh! Sure, go ahead and shoot!

 

DARIA: Yesterday morning, I was looking for a library book that was due before six last night. It was Needful Things, by Stephen Ki—Dad? Are you all right?

 

Jake chokes for a moment on a mouthful of his burrito.

 

JAKE: [gasps] Fine! I’m fine!

 

DARIA: [pats Jake on the back] Okay, there you go. All better.

 

JAKE: [clears throat, gets control of self, squeaky voice] A library book?

 

DARIA: Yeah. Stephen King. I finished it, but it’s gone missing, and now it’s overdue on my card. If you remember seeing it, let me know so I can take it back.

 

JAKE: [waves a hand as if waving the problem away] Sure, I’ll, uh, take care of it. If I see the book, that is. Not to worry, kiddo.

 

DARIA: Okay. Thanks, Dad.

 

JAKE: Hey, anything for my Lawndale Princess!

 

DARIA: [groans, soft voice] There has to be a better name for this seminar. Lawndale Hell Queens. Lawndale Badass Bitches. Lawndale—

 

JAKE: [quickly checks watch] Whoa! We’d best get underway, kiddo! Those seminars won’t wait for us!

 

 

28. INT: 9:00 A.M., CORRIDOR OUTSIDE SEMINAR ROOMS, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria holds her schedule of events for the weekend, looking from it to the room number of the nearest seminar room. Nodding (having found the room where her first seminar is to be held), she walks to the open doors of the room and looks inside. What she sees stops her dead. The room is filled with adolescent, elementary-school-age girls, giggling and talking nervously as they swing their feet from their chair seats. A smiling woman in a pink dress with a microphone waits at the front of the room, checking her watch and preparing to start her lecture. A huge poster on an oversized easel rests beside the speaker, announcing the seminar as: “The Wonderful Miracle of Your Mysterious and Beautiful Womanly Body.” A movie screen is set up behind the speaker. Flowers in vases line the wall behind the speaker and movie screen.

 

SPEAKER (MISS ROSS): [holds up microphone] Are we ready to begin? Good! My name is Miss Ross, and this morning we’re going to talk about an extra-wonderful and exciting part of your body where miracles take place! You know what it is? [no one answers] Yes, it’s your vagina!

 

Daria stares at the scene for one second longer, then slowly folds up her schedule of events. Betraying no expression, she turns and wanders off down the hall the way she came. She does not look back.

 

 

29. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, INSIDE ANOTHER SEMINAR ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Jake Morgendorffer sits near the front of a room filled with very bored or very annoyed fathers. The speaker—the cheerful, bearded guy from the seminar introduction—checks his microphone and begins.

 

SPEAKER (BOB): Hello! Welcome to your first seminar for fathers, which we call, “What the Hell Am I Doing Here, Anyway?” I’m Bob Bobinnelong, and we’re going to answer that question in some detail. First, though, I want to hear from those of you in the audience. What brought you here to this father-daughter weekend?

 

The men in the audience look uncomfortable. Finally, one guy in the front row sighs.

 

FIRST FATHER (STACY ROWE’S DAD): My wife made me come here.

 

Many men in the audience nod in grumpy agreement.

 

SPEAKER (BOB): Okay, how about someone else?

 

A brief pause, then:

 

SECOND FATHER: My daughter’s parole officer recommended it.

 

SPEAKER (BOB): Good, good. Anyone else? Anyone have any other reason for being here?

 

THIRD FATHER (TIFFANY BLUM-DECKLER’S DAD): Golf course was closed.

 

SPEAKER (BOB): What course? Lawndale Country Club?

 

THIRD FATHER (TIFFANY BLUM-DECKLER’S DAD): Yeah.

 

SPEAKER (BOB): Wasn’t the Carter County course open?

 

THIRD SPEAKER (TIFFANY BLUM-DECKLER’S DAD): [sigh] My wife’s there.

 

SPEAKER (BOB): [shakes head in sympathy] Tough break. Anyone else?

 

Jake, shyly, raises his hand.

 

SPEAKER (BOB): [pointing to Jake] You, sir?

 

JAKE: [looks embarrassed and self-conscious] Well, the whole thing started for me when I thought my daughter was into animal sacrifice and Satan worship after reading a Stephen King book, so I signed us up to save her immortal soul. [chuckles]

 

One can hear a molecule drop in the silence that follows this announcement. Everyone stares at Jake with looks ranging from nervous disbelief to pure horror.

 

JAKE: [shakes head, still smiling to himself] After all that, it turned out she went to the graveyard wearing black robes and holding with those human arm bones for something entirely different. [laughs] Just call me stupid.

 

The shocked silence grows deeper

 

SPEAKER (BOB): [visibly shaken] You, uh, you, uh, you’re the, your daughter is the—

 

JAKE: Daria Morgendorffer. Brown hair, glasses, green jacket.

 

FOURTH FATHER (TOM GRIFFIN): [behind him] Quinn’s sister?

 

JAKE: Yep. [sighs happily] Great kids. They love their mischief, but they’re both great.

 

Silence for a few seconds more.

 

SPEAKER (BOB): [unable to tear eyes from Jake] Uh, okay, we’ll, uh, get back to that a little later. Uh, I was, uh, going to talk a little bit about, uh, why we’re here. [looks around the room, anxiously] Does anyone else know why we’re here? I think that was my question. Was that my question, or was it something else?

 

 

30. INT: MID-MORNING, UPSTAIRS HALLWAY OUTSIDE QUINN AND DARIA’S BATHROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

We look at the (closed) door to the bathroom, with boy-band music playing on the other side from a boom box, almost drowning out the sound of the ceiling fan. The sound of footsteps coming upstairs is now heard, with Helen’s voice growing louder, talking on her cell phone.

 

HELEN: [VO, on stairs, angry, to phone] Okay, get me your supervisor, then. I want to talk with someone about your damn potato chips!

 

Helen appears and walks over to the bathroom door. She wears a jogging sweatshirt and sweat pants, with fuzzy slippers still on her feet. She has her cell phone in her right hand, and about a dozen girl-teen, fashion, and interior-design magazines in her left hand. As she talks, she crouches down by the bathroom door and begins stuffing the magazines, one at a time, under the bathroom door.

 

HELEN: [crouching, giving Quinn some magazines] Hello? To whom am I speaking? This is Helen Morgendorffer, an attorney and a very dissatisfied customer, and I have a bone to pick with you about your potato chips, the fat-free ones with olestra. What makes you think you can get away with putting the warning labels on your chip bags in such tiny print, and on the back, no less? Shouldn’t the warning be on the front in red, inch-high, boldfaced letters? And shouldn’t you have some kind of warning about how many chips maximum you’re supposed to eat to avoid the, the, the, you know, the goddamn aftereffects? [stops shoving magazines under the door] No, it’s not me. My daughter ate five bags of your chips yesterday, and she’s locked herself in her bathroom for almost half a day now! She’s been on the toilet so long that her butt’s gone numb!

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] Muuuh-ooom! Don’t tell them that!

 

HELEN: [to phone] How long is this supposed to last? [pause] Five bags. I told you that already. [pause, then shouts] What? How long? [pause] You’re kidding me!

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] How long?

 

HELEN: [enraged, to phone] Has anyone ever sued you before about this?

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] Mom? What’d they say? [boy-band music stops] How long?

 

HELEN: [enraged, to phone] The government? The government said it was okay? What the hell do they know? What did you pay them to say that?

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] Muuuh-ooom! How long am I going to be in here?

 

HELEN: [stands up, furious, to phone] Oh, really? You don’t say! Well, buster, it’s my daughter, and I’m looking out for her, and maybe I feel differently!

 

Helen stamps off, leaving most of the stack of Quinn’s magazines outside her bathroom door. As Helen continues her argument by cell phone, she heads downstairs.

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] Come back! Muuuh-ooom! Where are you going?

 

HELEN: [VO, going downstairs, to phone] You wait one minute while I pull a few case files that you might not have heard of, seeing as how you’ve been too busy swimming around in your gold-plated swimming pool that your dirty olestra dollars have bought you, or maybe . . . [voice fades out]

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom, really yells] Muuuh-ooom! [pause, no response] Shit! [pause, deadpan] Oh, that was funny, Quinn. Right. Good one.

 

After a few moments, the boy-band music is turned back on at a lower volume, and we hear the sound of magazine pages rustling.

 

 

31. INT: ABOUT 9:20 A.M., SATURDAY MORNING, BOOK AND GIFT SHOP, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Cutting her seminars for the day, Daria browses a gift shop in the Lawndale Plaza Hotel. Passing a display of personalized coffee mugs stacked on a series of shelves, she pauses before the mugs labeled “Tom.” After a moment, she reaches over and carefully turns the foremost mug around so that the name faces away from her, and the blank side of the mug faces out. She moves on, stopping occasionally before other personalized-item displays to hide those items with Tom’s name, or otherwise adjust them so that the name cannot be seen. Daria does this without any particular facial expression, as if it were part of her regular job.

 

Reaching the paperback and magazine section of the shop, she scans book covers until she spots a section devoted to paperback copies of J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter books. Daria stops before this section and sighs, face impassive.

 

DARIA: [thinking aloud, whispers] Hurry up and write than damn fifth book, okay? It’s been a year now, and it’s killing me. Jeez, call me and I’ll write it. Half of one percent of the take, that’s all I ask. Is that too much?

 

ANDREA: [VO, behind Daria] Sounds fair to me. You actually read Harry Potter?

 

Daria turns, eyebrows raised. Andrea, looking much as she did yesterday, walked into the shop while Daria was browsing. Andrea’s t-shirt has “Doom” printed across the front in silvery Gothic letters, advertising the computer game.

 

DARIA: [colors slightly] A secret vice. It’s like popcorn for your brain. You doing okay?

 

ANDREA: Yeah. [low voice] Charles had to run some errands for his dad. Called him on his cell phone this morning. [snorts gently, face colors, looks down] Parents have no sense of timing. What’s up with you?

 

DARIA: Nothing. It was either this or go to a seminar to discover the miracle of my vagina.

 

ANDREA: [shivers] Ugh. So . . . [hesitates] . . . are you free for a while?

 

DARIA: More or less all day. I have a late seminar and dinner with my dad this evening.

 

ANDREA: [still hesitant] Go for a walk? Can you leave the hotel?

 

DARIA: Uh, sure. [looks around the store] Anywhere’s fine with me.

 

ANDREA: Let’s get some air.

 

 

32. EXT: MOMENTS LATER, SIDEWALK OUTSIDE LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria and Andrea walk outside the hotel and stroll down the street through one of Lawndale’s shopping districts. The weather is pleasant and sunny.

 

DARIA: I think, in the two and a half years I’ve been in Lawndale, you and I haven’t traded enough words to make up the Gettysburg Address.

 

ANDREA: Yeah. [pause] I didn’t talk much for a long time. People used to piss me off pretty bad. I had some troubles.

 

DARIA: I haven’t really tried to get you to talk, either.

 

ANDREA: [hesitates] Until lately, I doubt it would’ve done much good. To tell the truth, I was sort of afraid you would say something to me. I dunno. I kinda looked forward to it, but I kinda dreaded it. Mostly dreaded it.

 

Daria turns to look directly at Andrea as they walk.

 

ANDREA: [still hesitant] You’re perceptive, you know. Sorry, I had to say that, but it’s true. You see stuff. I wasn’t too sure I wanted to hear what you saw in me. I get enough of . . . never mind. Sorry.

 

DARIA: [shrugs] I wasn’t too sure I wanted to hear what you saw in me, either. [pause] I liked your poem, though. The one you read at the café, about the sack of rotting flesh, or something like that, in tenth grade.

 

ANDREA: [smiles] Yeah. I liked that one. I wrote it because I was so pissed off. Everyone seemed so fake to me, empty shells, meat puppets. I wrote a lot of crap like that for a while.

 

DARIA: You did the little cartoons in the senior yearbook, right?

 

ANDREA: Yeah. Ted DeWitt-Clinton was after me to do them ever since he saw me scribbling in my notebook in some class. I’ve tried doing comics, but most of what I do looks stupid. Grew out of it, I guess. Some of it.

 

DARIA: I burned some of my poems and stories once. They pissed me off, too.

 

ANDREA: [looks at Daria with a touch of understanding] You gotta do that. Burn the deadwood.

 

DARIA: What haven’t you burned?

 

ANDREA: [looks away] Not much. I burned out last year, burned myself out. I wasn’t interested in much. I’m still not.

 

They walk in silence for a bit.

 

ANDREA: So, where’s Tom these days?

 

DARIA: Dunno. We broke up. I broke us up.

 

ANDREA: Oh. Sorry.

 

DARIA: I’m not. It wasn’t there. Burn the deadwood.

 

ANDREA: [snorts, suppressing a laugh] Well, at least you know something about me that almost no one else does. [struggles to hide anxiety] You could milk a lot of cash out of me for that. My parents would blow like Mount St. Helens if they knew about Charles.

 

DARIA: Wouldn’t they like him?

 

ANDREA: [pained look] It’s not that. It’s the sex thing. They’d go nuclear. Maybe throw me out. [pause] Might not be so bad. It’s gonna happen anyway, come August.

 

DARIA: Where are you going?

 

ANDREA: I wanted Southern Cal, but I got Denver. Graphic arts. Not so bad, I guess. It’s supposed to be good there. You?

 

DARIA: Boston, Raft College. [pause] And Charles?

 

Andrea’s face works briefly, then she shrugs.

 

ANDREA: So, like, I hear you write a lot. What’ve you been writing lately?

 

DARIA: Um . . . I’m trying some spy fiction.

 

ANDREA: Melody Powers. Loved your reading at the café, too. That was good stuff. Better than anything of mine.

 

DARIA: You write stuff besides poetry?

 

ANDREA: [hesitates] Sort of. I try to draw now and then. I like the comic form. It’s hard to come up with plots of my own. I throw a lot of it out. Some, though, I . . . [voice fades out, shrugs again]

 

Daria gives Andrea a peculiar, thoughtful look.

 

ANDREA: What else have you written? Really. I want to hear about it.

 

DARIA: Uh . . . [rubs her face] I, uh . . .

 

ANDREA: Erotica.

 

DARIA: No, not really.

 

ANDREA: Not really? [looks at Daria] How can it “not really” be erotica?

 

DARIA: [shrugs, looks away] Forget it.

 

ANDREA: [looks at Daria closely, smiles hesitantly] You’re turning red. You’re blocking. You’re writing something like erotica but not erotica? Maybe the instruction booklets for condom packages?

 

DARIA: It’s not—I don’t do that.

 

ANDREA: [smile getting broader] You’re writing for the CIA? How to make love to enemy agents?

 

DARIA: [groans] No.

 

ANDREA: Rap lyrics. You work with Snoop Doggie Dog.

 

DARIA: No.

 

ANDREA: Oh! I get it! You do political speeches. Are you George Bush’s speechwriter, or Al Gore’s?

 

DARIA: [looks offended] Hey!

 

ANDREA: I’m going to keep guessing until you come clean. You write for “The Simpsons”?

 

DARIA: [gives up] Okay, okay. All right. [pause, low whisper] I write fanfic.

 

Andrea stops dead in the street, mouth open, staring at Daria. Daria takes two more steps, then stops and looks back.

 

DARIA: What?

 

ANDREA: Oh, man.

 

DARIA: Hey, it’s not like I killed someone, okay?

 

ANDREA: [holds up both hands] Wait. Don’t tell me what kind of fanfic you write, because I know you’re going to say, “Kirk-Spock” or “Starsky and Hutch,” and I am going to scream and scream and scream.

 

DARIA: [incredulous look] Oh, jeez! No! Do I look like I write slash fanfic?

 

ANDREA: [walks with Daria again] Well, you never know. Beth, my oldest stepsister, she writes that crap. [shivers] God, you can’t imagine. [pause] Okay, so tell me.

 

DARIA: What?

 

ANDREA: You write fanfic. Spill it. What fanfic?

 

DARIA: [takes deep breath, lets it out] SSU.

 

ANDREA: [stops again, amazed look on her face] SSU? You mean, SSU dot net? “Sick Sad Universe Online”?

 

DARIA: [also stops, tone of dread] You know about that?

 

ANDREA: [stares at Daria, raises a finger, remembering] Oh, no. [points at Daria] You! You’re . . . you’re “Darker Morning!” Morgendorffer, Darker Morning—that’s you! [grins broadly] Holy shit!

 

Daria’s tense, wary expression is exactly that of a superhero who has been suddenly unmasked. Andrea closes in on Daria, her face alive with excitement.

 

ANDREA: Tell me I’m right! You’re Darker Morning!

 

Daria tries to suppress a painful smile, but fails.

 

ANDREA: [ecstatic] Yes! I knew it! You write the greatest stuff SSU ever had! You do—[bursts into brief, hysterical laughter]—you do “Kim and Dim”! The two-headed girl! You do her! Oh, my God!

 

DARIA: [looks around anxiously, low voice] Andrea, don’t tell the whole damn city, okay?

 

ANDREA: Does anyone else know? Anyone from school?

 

DARIA: [low voice] Keep it down! No, no one knows. Jane doesn’t even know.

 

ANDREA: [pointing at Daria again] Kim and Dim—that’s you and your sister, isn’t it? You and Quinn?

 

DARIA: [tense] Damn it, hush up! Look, okay, let’s go somewhere and talk. Keep your voice down. I really don’t want everyone to know this. I’m sorry I even said it.

 

ANDREA: [nodding, can’t stop smiling] Sure! Sure thing! [to self, whispering] Kim and Dim! Oh, my God! Do you know how many people on Earth read those stories?

 

DARIA: Please don’t tell anyone. I’ll never live it down. If my parents or Quinn read those, they’d have me killed, and then they’d do something really bad to me.

 

ANDREA: No wonder, with all the sex and violence you pack in. My God! That chapter about their first double date, with the Cuban porn star and the Hell’s Angel, I read that and I just about—

 

Daria puts a gentle but firm hand over Andrea’s mouth.

 

DARIA: That restaurant there. [nods ahead of them] There’s a booth in back where we can talk.

 

 

33. INT: LATER, ISOLATED BOOTH IN RESTAURANT, LAWNDALE

 

Daria and Andrea are almost the only customers in the restaurant. They share a booth set well in the back of the place, talking while eating an order of cheese fries and soft drinks. We enter in the midst of their conversation, half the cheese fries gone.

 

DARIA: . . . and the feedback’s generally been good, except for the ones who tell me I’m going to Hell. I love those. Anyway, I couldn’t keep up the pace with schoolwork, but I get a story in every three or four weeks. That’s why I have to keep them short.

 

ANDREA: You gotta tell me something. Why did you even tell me? About SSU?

 

DARIA: [pause, looks glum for a moment] A sense of balance, I guess. Knowing about you and Charles. And you’re pretty relentless. You’re as bad as Jane.

 

ANDREA: But I told you about Charles myself, willingly. You didn’t have to—

 

DARIA: [deep sigh] No. I found out by accident. Friday afternoon, I was sitting behind some plants in the hotel lobby, reading, when you and Charles . . . when you came in and met him, and—

 

ANDREA: [upset, suddenly covers her face with a hand] Oh, no. I knew that was going to happen. Damn it.

 

DARIA: Don’t worry about it. It was just me.

 

ANDREA: [still covering face] It could’ve been my parents, though, or one of my sisters. They would crucify me. I’ve really got to watch that.

 

DARIA: Not to change the subject, but I wanted to ask a favor of you.

 

ANDREA: [drops her hand] What?

 

DARIA: Stop burning your stuff.

 

ANDREA: My stuff? My comics crap?

 

DARIA: You’re on SSU, too, aren’t you? [Andrea doesn’t answer] You do “In/Out/Down,” right?

 

Andrea’s manner changes dramatically. She flinches, then looks down, clearly upset, and covers her eyes again with one hand.

 

ANDREA: That’s all crap. I stopped doing it several weeks ago.

 

DARIA: What? You stopped?

 

ANDREA: How did you know it was me?

 

DARIA: Your art style’s the same for the yearbook drawings as it is for “In/Out/Down.”

 

ANDREA: I don’t draw—

 

DARIA: It’s the same. Jane showed me. She figured it out first, then told me.

 

ANDREA: [groans] Who else knows?

 

DARIA: Just Jane and me. That’s all.

 

ANDREA: [lowers her hand again] If you think you’d be in trouble if your folks read “Kim and Dim,” you don’t have a clue about the trouble I’d be in for “In/Out/Down.”

 

DARIA: [picking up another cheese fry] I bet I can guess.

 

A long pause ensures as they eat and drink.

 

DARIA: I started writing “Kim and Dim” because I read “In/Out/Down.”

 

Andrea looks up, clearly doubtful.

 

DARIA: I’m not kidding.

 

ANDREA: [looks depressed] You don’t have to be nice about it.

 

DARIA: [frowns] What is it with you? That’s the rawest stuff on SSU. I’ve been reading that strip for two years. Jane says you’re a genius. We almost built a shrine to that comic. “Sick, Sad World” should hire you to do a spin-off. It would be a killer.

 

ANDREA: I’m not a genius, and it was stupid. I shouldn’t have started it.

 

DARIA: You shouldn’t have STOPPED doing it.

 

ANDREA: [after a long pause] It’s worse than “Starsky and Hutch” slash fic. [pause] It hurt too much to do it. It just bled me out.

 

DARIA: Isn’t that the idea, though? What they say about writing? You sit down at the keyboard and open up a vein. [long pause as an unpleasant thought dawns] Um, that strip wasn’t . . . it wasn’t from real—

 

ANDREA: [low, dull voice] Yes. [covers her eyes again with a hand]

 

Daria is stunned. She stares at Andrea in horror.

 

DARIA: Oh, no.

 

ANDREA: It wasn’t me, mostly. A lot of that happened to my stepsisters and half-sisters. Things were really messed up.

 

Another long pause. Andrea looks intensely uncomfortable. She drops her hand.

 

ANDREA: It’s like this, okay? My mom and dad were both married before and had kids. I’ve got five older step- and half-sisters, two by my dad and three my mom. At home with Mom and Dad are me and Lynn, who’s the youngest. She’s three. Mom and Dad . . . well, here it is. Mom and Dad were married to other people when they met, okay? The custody battles were like World War Three. Then I came along. [takes ragged breath] This can’t be interesting to you.

 

DARIA: [stunned look] No, it’s okay. Go on.

 

ANDREA: My mom, she used to drink a lot. She’s sober now, but when she drank, she was . . . well, that’s why I showed up. [pause] I don’t know who my biological father is. I probably don’t want to know. Mom was already pregnant with me when she met Dad. They moved in together, but Dad wasn’t too happy about having this unexpected kid who wasn’t his. He sorta got over it, but it still eats at him. I can tell. I’ve heard about his real feelings from everyone, all my sisters. They hated me, and I think they still do. They’re all gone now, moved away and all that. I never hear from them. Lynn’s the only one who talks to me. Mom and Dad are all over her. She’s their baby, their only real baby.

 

Andrea pauses, looking down at her hands, which rest on the table before her, fingers interlocked. Daria looks down as well and notices that the gray bracelet on Andrea’s left wrist has slipped back a bit. Beneath the two-inch-wide bracelet are five or six long, healed-over scars running straight across her wrist. Andrea notices her bracelet and quickly moves it back into place, hiding the scars. She does not look up at Daria.

 

ANDREA: I don’t know what I am. I guess I’m here so my folks can yell at me and not have to worry about anything else. I’m twenty pounds overweight, and I smoke, or I did until Charles made me quit, and now I chew gum so much my jaw feels like it’s going to crack. And I overeat ‘cause I can’t smoke, and my nerves are bad. But at least I’m not going to get lung cancer. I guess I can thank Charles for that. [pause] Plus, he’s great in bed. [smiles to herself] I want to tell you, you really missed something there. And he doesn’t care what I look like. He acts like I make a difference to someone on this rotten planet. [pause, smile fades away] I couldn’t stand being alone anymore. It hurt too much.

 

DARIA: [pause] So . . . what do you do for fun?

 

ANDREA: [laughs a little, looks up] What do I do for fun? Have sex. This. [gestures at outfit] I picked up Goth about four years ago. I finally stopped listening to everyone, and I just did what I wanted. I let Mom and Dad yell at me all they wanted, because I had my own life and they couldn’t touch it. I have my own music, my own friends—but not in Lawndale, they’re in other cities around here—and I have some space to call my own, where no one’s yelling at me. I’m probably one of only five Goths for twenty miles around, though. Not many of us in these parts.

 

Andrea leans back in her seat, looking at the cheese fries with a depressed face.

 

ANDREA: I have to stop eating those. I could eat a ton more of them, but I have to stop. I’m going to be fat all my life, I know it. It could be a lot worse, but it won’t get much better. I’m never going to get away from reality, so I may as well face it and minimize the damage.

 

DARIA: [pause] Jett Blak said that in “In/Out/Down.”

 

ANDREA: Yeah. I forgot about that. Not everything in there is about me, though. Most of the bad stuff happened to my sisters. Bad guys they knew, bad things that happened. They’d never tell me about it, of course, but I used to hear them talking in the house when I was small. I learned to hide in closets and listen in on their conversations. They didn’t catch me very often. I was pretty good at hiding. Air ducts—you can learn a lot if you sit in the basement next to an open air duct.

 

DARIA: [clears throat] I learned a lot from reading “In/Out/Down.” It was part of the reason I broke up with Tom.

 

ANDREA: [looks up, surprised] No way.

 

DARIA: It was. It was that thing going on between Jett Blak and River that never seemed to go anywhere. They had so much trouble letting go and just getting on with their lives. I looked at that, and I looked at Tom and me, and I thought, “That’s it. Next bus out, I’m on it.”

 

ANDREA: [covers face with both hands] Oh, God. My idol, the goddess who does “Kim and Dim,” dumps her boyfriend because of me. I’m ruined.

 

DARIA: I’ll forgive you if you autograph an original picture of Jett Blak for me.

 

ANDREA: [drops hands] I’ll do that if you . . . I wanna draw a picture of Kim and Dim, and have you sign it.

 

DARIA: Done. But I want an original picture of Kim and Dim from you, signed by you.

 

ANDREA: [mulls this over] I don’t know which of us just came out ahead.

 

DARIA: I did. [looks at remaining cheese fries] Am I going to finish these by myself?

 

ANDREA: I’ll have one more, but the rest are yours. I have to stop.

 

DARIA: Let’s just leave them, and go walk.

 

ANDREA: Let’s.

 

DARIA: But we can’t talk about . . . well, I guess we should, but we can’t talk too loudly.

 

ANDREA: I have a degree in telepathy.

 

DARIA: I knew you were going to say that.

 

Both laugh, appearing relieved.

 

ANDREA: You know what we are?

 

DARIA: What?

 

ANDREA: Misery chicks.

 

DARIA: [smile fades] Why do you say that?

 

ANDREA: I’m your biggest fan. You’re my biggest fan. [pause] Get it?

 

DARIA: [shakes head no] I don’t—[gets it]—oh! [groans, but smiles] Oh, you mean—

 

ANDREA: Stephen King. Misery.

 

DARIA: Oh, no. I was thinking of something else entirely.

 

ANDREA: [wicked grin] Just keep writing “Kim and Dim,” and everything will be fine.

 

Daria hesitates, looking at Andrea. Both their smiles fade.

 

DARIA: [soft voice] You should keep drawing “In/Out/Down.” That is the best webcomic in existence.

 

ANDREA: [swallows, looks down] I’ll think about it. I had to stop. I was getting too depressed, even for a Goth.

 

DARIA: You’re afraid it wouldn’t be the same now?

 

ANDREA: [brief laugh] School’s out. I’m leaving home. Nothing’s the same now. [gets out of seat] Fresh air.

 

 

34. EXT: MOMENTS LATER, SIDEWALK OUTSIDE RESTAURANT, LAWNDALE

 

Daria and Andrea walk outside the restaurant.

 

DARIA: Jane’s going to want her own autographed picture of Jett Blak, you know.

 

ANDREA: How much are you hoping to get for them on e-Bay?

 

DARIA: Those pictures will go on e-Bay only after someone pries them from our cold, dead fingers.

 

ANDREA: Ah-ha! I knew it. They’re going on e-Bay.

 

DARIA: I want to call Jane. I have to call her and tell her she was right. I need to find a phone.

 

ANDREA: Let me talk to her, so I can tell her about “Kim and Dim.”

 

DARIA: [involuntary shout] NO! [drops voice] Sorry! No, please don’t. Let me do that. Later. A lot later.

 

ANDREA: She’s your best friend, right?

 

DARIA: [pained look] You don’t understand. It’s . . . no, I don’t want to talk about this.

 

ANDREA: [peering at Daria] Jane’s in “Kim and Dim,” right?

 

DARIA: Don’t go there.

 

ANDREA: And she doesn’t know it, right?

 

DARIA: Warning. Danger.

 

ANDREA: What—[sudden look of surprise and horror]—oh!

 

DARIA: They’ll never find your body.

 

ANDREA: No, tell me that’s not her! Tell me she’s not—

 

Stopping in her tracks, Daria quickly puts a hand over Andrea’s mouth again.

 

DARIA: I’ll pull that pretty little stud out of your nose and stick it somewhere else if you ever even breathe a word of that.

 

Daria removes her hand. Andrea’s face is still lit with childlike glee.

 

ANDREA: That is the worst pun I ever heard in my life. What you call her.

 

DARIA: I even know the graveyard where I’ll bury you. The very spot. Six feet down.

 

ANDREA: That is her.

 

DARIA: I swear. Not a word, or tonight you’ll sleep with the moles.

 

ANDREA: I won’t talk.

 

DARIA: Neither of us can talk.

 

ANDREA: Mutually assured destruction.

 

DARIA: It wasn’t such a bad way to run the Cold War after all. It worked.

 

ANDREA: [pause, looks into Daria’s face] No war between you and me. Never.

 

DARIA: Never. [pause] I’m sorry I won’t see you much after this summer. I’m really sorry now.

 

ANDREA: [sad] Me, too. [pause] Thank God for the Internet and telephones.

 

DARIA: Yeah. And jet planes.

 

 

35. EXT: LATER, SIDEWALK PAYPHONE, DOWNTOWN LAWNDALE

 

Daria dials a number on the payphone and waits for someone to pick up the other end. Andrea is looking in a clothing store window nearby.

 

 

36. INT: MOMENTS LATER, LIVING ROOM, LANE HOME

 

The telephone in the living room rings. A thin haze of smoke fills the air. Trent, looking distracted and worried, wanders over and picks the phone up. Muffled noises can be heard in the background, like thumping and yelling.

 

TRENT: Hello?

 

DARIA: Oh, hi, Trent. Jane there?

 

TRENT: [looks out a nearby window to the front yard] Yeah, she’s here, Daria, but . . .

 

We look out the window. Jane is in the front yard, hitting the burnt remains of her computer with a baseball bat. The monitor is smashed in, and she’s working on the CPU section. She is yelling, but we cannot hear exactly what she is saying. Pieces of the computer fly everywhere as she lays blow after blow into the ruins. Neighbors up and down the street watch from their windows, too.

 

TRENT: Can she call you back? She’s . . . sorta busy right now.

 

DARIA: Working on her computer?

 

TRENT: Uh . . . yeah, I guess so. Yeah.

 

DARIA: So, she managed to fix it?

 

TRENT: Uh, yeah, she fixed it pretty good.

 

DARIA: Does she have any questions about the computer?

 

TRENT: [pause as he watches Jane through the window] I . . . don’t think so. No.

 

DARIA: Great. Tell her I called.

 

TRENT: Yeah. [peers out window again] She might be done in an hour or so.

 

DARIA: Thanks. Bye, Trent.

 

TRENT: See ya.

 

Trent slowly hangs up the phone. He turns. The rest of Mystik Spiral and Artie (still in his Pizza Forest uniform) are also in the living room, anxiously watching Jane from other windows. The front door is locked, with an overstuffed chair pushed in front of it.

 

JESSE: [looks through window, to Trent] When do you think it’ll be safe to go out?

 

ARTIE: [very nervous] I gotta get to work, and she’s scaring me more than the aliens who kidnapped me did!

 

TRENT: [frowns, tries to calm things down] Janie’s just a little wound up. We’d better give her some space. [pause] Let’s go out the back. We’ll cut through the Andrews’ yard to the road from there.

 

Everyone in the room nods and begins migrating toward the back door of the house, with occasional worried glances out the front windows.

 

 

37. EXT: MOMENTS LATER, AT A SIDEWALK PAYPHONE, DOWNTOWN LAWNDALE

 

Daria hangs up the phone, and she and Andrea go window-shopping.

 

DARIA: Jane’s on her computer again. She fixed it. I’ll try back later.

 

ANDREA: I think you’re lucky, you know. Having Quinn for a sister.

 

DARIA: [looks at Andrea with raised eyebrow] Lucky isn’t the word I usually have in mind.

 

ANDREA: Well, she doesn’t give you the trouble that my sisters gave me. I remember Morgan, from my dad’s first family, the time she . . . [voice fades out in Daria’s mind]

 

As Andrea talks, Daria’s gaze drifts toward the big front window of a toy store. Filling the window is a large model railroad layout. A small freight train pulled by an old-fashioned locomotive passes by. Daria stops, starting down at the toy train.

 

 

38. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: MOVIE REVIEWS ROOM

 

We look at what appears to be a small, light-colored room with a large movie screen on the far wall. Two chairs are in the foreground, occupied by Angel Daria and Devil Daria. Each has a sack of popcorn and a soft drink, and each faces the viewer (Daria).

 

ANGEL DARIA: We’re back again with another episode of, “At the Moodies.” We’re in a moderately bad mood right now—

 

DEVIL DARIA: Thanks, Quinn. And thanks, Andrea, for bringing it back up. Way to go.

 

ANGEL DARIA: —though getting closer to Dad has had a predictably softening emotional effect. And Andrea’s really been a great surprise. I’m glad you found each other.

 

DEVIL DARIA: We’re all nice and squishy inside.

 

ANGEL DARIA: Okay, let’s roll the first of our stream-of-consciousness sibling-revenge fantasies and see what’s showing “At the Moodies.”

 

The two spiritual advisors turn in their seats to face the screen, food at the ready. The room goes dark, and a movie starts on the screen.

 

 

39. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

EXT: RAILROAD TRACK IN COUNTRYSIDE

 

Quinn (screaming) is tied to a railroad track. A freight train thunders toward her. Seconds before the old-fashioned steam locomotive reaches Quinn, we—

 

 

40. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: MOVIE REVIEWS ROOM

 

Angel Daria and Devil Daria turn in their seats to face the viewer (Daria).

 

ANGEL DARIA: [makes a thumb-down gesture] Yes, it does bring a smile on a gloomy day, but it’s a grossly overused scenario. It’s trite, superficial, predictable, and shows no imagination. You’ll probably get life in prison without parole, though there is a chance of a book or movie contract.

 

DEVIL DARIA: [frowns, makes thumb-down gesture] Plus, it’ll be over with much too quickly for her.

 

ANGEL DARIA: We’ll be right back after this break in consciousness.

 

 

41. EXT: MOMENTS LATER, SIDEWALK, DOWNTOWN LAWNDALE

 

Daria blinks, coming back to reality. Andrea looks at Daria with a blank expression.

 

ANDREA: What, you like toy trains?

 

DARIA: Uh, no. They’re . . . trite and predictable. [starts to walk again; Andrea goes with her]

 

ANDREA: I think they’re supposed to be. Anyway, you see why I wish I had a sister like Quinn.

 

DARIA: [knows she missed part of what Andrea said] Um, yeah. You got me there.

 

ANDREA: [stopping in front of a travel agency, points] There. Japan. That would be fun to do. I’d love to run around there for a few weeks.

 

Daria’s gaze falls on the poster Andrea points out, showing the famous volcano, Mt. Fuji.

 

 

42. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

EXT: ACTIVE LAVA-FILLED VOLCANO CRATER

 

All tied up, Quinn (screaming) hangs upside down from a steel cable dangling from a giant construction crane. She is being slowly lowered into a sea of bubbling molten lava inside the crater of an active volcano. Daria stands on the lip of the volcano crater, throwing all of Quinn’s new clothing and fashion accessories into the lava sea, making Quinn scream all the more.

 

 

43. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: MOVIE REVIEWS ROOM

 

Back in their little movie studio, Angel Daria and Devil Daria (still holding soft drinks) again turn in their chairs to face the viewer (Daria). Their popcorn sacks rest on the floor, with bits of popcorn spilled all around.

 

ANGEL DARIA: [shakes head with regret, makes thumb-down gesture] This shows potential worthy of Peckinpah and Kubrick, but once again there’s the element of predictability. Moreover, the scenario is way overblown, too far over the top, and you’ll still get life in prison. On the good side, your chances for multiple book and movie contracts are strong.

 

DEVIL DARIA: [glum, makes thumb-down gesture] Forget it. There aren’t any active volcanoes within two days’ drive of here.

 

ANGEL DARIA: [to Devil Daria] Hawaii has one.

 

DEVIL DARIA: [glum] The airfare would kill you, plus you’d have to rent a crane and get it up the slope.

 

ANGEL DARIA: Uh, not to play devil’s advocate, but you’ve got a credit card.

 

DEVIL DARIA: [glum] With a five-hundred-dollar limit. Because of Quinn’s screwing up Dad’s platinum card that time she was at Cashman’s with—

 

ANGEL DARIA: [pained expression] Okay, okay, I forgot. Sorry. [looks at viewer (Daria)] We’ll have more in a moment. I hope.

 

 

44. EXT: MOMENTS LATER, SIDEWALK, DOWNTOWN LAWNDALE

 

Andrea and Daria are still in front of the travel agency window, looking at the posters. Daria’s gaze now falls on a colorful nightlife shot of the Las Vegas strip.

 

 

45. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: SMALL WEDDING CHAPEL

 

Quinn, once again, is screaming, but a gag muffles her screams. She wears a white wedding dress and is tied to a chair at the altar of a small chapel done up in the best (worst?) Las Vegas style. The minister wears a red-velvet tuxedo and has all the charm of an oily cockroach. Standing next to Quinn is Upchuck, wearing a groom’s black tuxedo. However, Upchuck is ignoring the proceedings and is passionately kissing Andrea, who is dressed in a solid-black Goth wedding gown. Seated in the pews are a wino drinking from a bottle in a paper sack, and former President Bill Clinton, looking very solemn, his lower lip sticking out.

 

MINISTER: [overplayed] Dearly beloved, we are gathered here this day to unite this wretched young girl, Quinn, and this morally depraved young man, Upchu—I mean, Charles—in holy—

 

ANGEL DARIA: [standing up in front of the movie screen, waving arms at projectionist in a dispirited way] Okay, cut! Just cut it. Stop the film. This isn’t working.

 

 

46. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: MOVIE REVIEWS ROOM

 

The movie stops, the lights go on. The floor is littered with popcorn and soft-drink spills, plus an empty pizza box. Devil Daria’s chair is empty, her soft-drink cup on the seat.

 

DEVIL DARIA [VO, sounds like she’s talking from behind a door] Call me when you get a good one. [sound of toilet flushing]

 

Angel Daria glances at the viewer (Daria) and waves in a glum, half-hearted way.

 

ANGEL DARIA: Later.

 

 

47. EXT: MOMENTS LATER, SIDEWALK, DOWNTOWN LAWNDALE

 

Daria shakes her head, as if waking up.

 

DARIA: [to Andrea] Let’s walk some more. The pizza must be getting to me.

 

ANDREA: Sure. [they walk on] You seem to be spacing out a bit.

 

DARIA: I’m probably not spacing out enough. [pause] I have to ask something. You don’t have to answer it.

 

ANDREA: I’m not into Satan.

 

DARIA: [groans, smacks her forehead] No, no, no, not that. It was about Charles.

 

ANDREA: [pause, looks away] Oh.

 

DARIA: [hesitates, unable to frame the question] Has he said anything . . . about, you know, after the summer . . . [angry with self] I’m sorry, that was really stupid.

 

ANDREA: [low voice] It’s okay. I don’t know what we’re gonna do. He’s got his life, I’ve got mine, I guess. He’s a wild guy, but I don’t think he’s seeing anyone else. I hope not, anyway. [pause] Wouldn’t be any of my business if he was. [pause] I don’t know where he’s going after the summer. He hasn’t said. [pause, takes a ragged breath] Well, at least it was fun while it lasted.

 

DARIA: [soft voice] While it lasted?

 

ANDREA: [low voice] It won’t go on forever. Nothing does. Everything dies or goes away. That’s life.

 

They walk in silence for a bit.

 

ANDREA: I wish . . . I wanted to talk with him when I got in yesterday. I wanted to ask about what’s going to happen, where we’re going, process out all that crap like everybody else always does, but I couldn’t do it. I don’t want to know. I just want to have some fun and feel like someone likes me for a little bit. That’s all. I can live with everything else if I have that.

 

Daria makes no reply, but she swallows and looks down as they go.

 

 

48. INT: ABOUT 11:20 A.M., CORRIDOR OUTSIDE SEMINAR ROOMS, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Just out of his first seminar, Jake is speaking on a pay phone in the corridor outside his seminar room.

 

JAKE: [cheery] Helen! Hi, sweetie. How’s it . . . um, what? When? [pause, surprise] From eating potato chips? What potato chips? How long is this . . . oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! [pause, angry] Damn the federal government anyway! What the hell am I paying my taxes for? What do they think they . . . you did call them? Oh, that figures. Big, bloated corporate bureaucracies! Sucking the life out of us every day, that’s what they’re . . . uh-huh. [concerned] How is she doing? Damn. That really stinks! [pause, surprise] No, wait, Helen, I wasn’t trying to be . . . no, it’s just a saying. Really. I know. I feel bad about it, too. I wasn’t making fun of . . . no. I swear, Helen, please . . . Okay, I understand. No, really. I won’t, ever again. No. No. [swallows, pause] Oh, we’re fine here. Daria’s gone off to lunch with some of the other daughters, I think, and I’m getting a sandwich and a beer with the guys here. Lot of really nice people around. Everyone wants to know about Daria. I didn’t think she was that popular, you know, but they’re asking all sorts of things about her—what’s she wear, does she carry knives, is she—oh, that reminds me, uh, you know that book, the, uh—[drops his voice to a whisper]—Stephen King book? Yeah. Uh, I think it was a library book. We might have to, uh, return it. [pause, winces] I know, I know. I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry. You keep on making those potato-chip barons pay through the butt. [winces again] No, no, I’m not making a joke about that! I’m not, Helen! Never again, I promise you. I swear to you. Look, Helen, it’s just a saying, you know—people say, “That stinks!” or “He’s gonna pay through the butt!” and that just means that . . . Hello? Helen? Hello?

 

 

49. EXT: A WHILE LATER, ON SIDEWALK, DOWNTOWN LAWNDALE

 

Daria and Andrea are engaged in an intense, animated conversation as they walk. The downbeat tone from earlier is gone.

 

ANDREA: Why won’t you try it?

 

DARIA: Because I don’t need to.

 

ANDREA: But try it! Didn’t you ever wonder what it would be like?

 

DARIA: This is as bad as Quinn trying to give me a makeover, I swear. And you’re the anti-Quinn.

 

ANDREA: Look at me. No, look at me.

 

Daria stops and looks at Andrea, who holds out her arms, showing how she’s dressed.

 

ANDREA: Your favorite color is . . .

 

DARIA: [reluctantly] Black.

 

ANDREA: [triumphant] The shop’s right down the street here, four doors away. “Damnation Alley.”

 

DARIA: At least they’ve got good taste in store names.

 

ANDREA: The owner is pretty weird, but he’s great. I don’t remember his name. He’s got an incredible sense of—

 

DARIA: [stops, looks down the street on the other side] Uh-oh.

 

ANDREA: [also stops, looks] What?

 

Daria points to a distant figure wearing a blue-and-yellow Lawndale Lions football outfit.

 

ANDREA: Who’s that? I can’t . . . oh, no.

 

DARIA: Why does Kevin dress like that? [rolls eyes] Why do I ask questions like that?

 

ANDREA: Must be shopping. We should get in the store before he talks to us.

 

DARIA: Well, it’s not like he’s—[again stops herself from saying “Upchuck”]—the Angel of Death or something.

 

ANDREA: [snorts] He’s a moron. I feel bad for Brittany. She’s got no sense, but she deserves better anyway. Here’s the shop.

 

As Daria and Andrea open the door and hurry into the little shop (“Damnation Alley”), Kevin walks up the street on the other side. Kevin never notices Daria and Andrea; he goes into a small “Quickie Photo” shop across the street from “Damnation Alley. He stops at a cash register by the door, gives over some money, and gets a large manila envelope in return. He takes this, leaves the shop, and heads in the direction of the hotel.

 

 

50. INT: AT THIS MOMENT, “DAMNATION ALLEY” SHOP, LAWNDALE

 

Daria and Andrea watch Kevin from the shop’s front-door window.

 

ANDREA: What’s that all about? Is he into photography now?

 

DARIA: Maybe he’s gotten more photos of himself to hang in his room.

 

ANDREA: I should buy one from him for my dartboard.

 

Kevin now out of sight, the two turn and look around. The dark shop is impressive, jammed from floor to ceiling with every article of strange, unusual, bizarre, and offbeat clothing imaginable, some of them period costumes. Accessories of every sort hang from hooks and racks. In plastic and glass cases, and on shelves, are unusual items, things that look like crowns, metal gauntlets, metal boots, animal-hide belts, and so on.

 

At the far end of the room, sitting behind a wooden countertop, is a very tall, gangly individual, a longhaired albino man who appears to be about thirty, though possibly older. His face is almost handsome in its ugliness; his features are sharp, and his eyes are sunken. He rises from his seat and raises a hand in greeting to Andrea. His voice is deep, with an oddly rough quality.

 

SHOPKEEPER: Good to see you again, my dear.

 

ANDREA: Yeah, hey.

 

SHOPKEEPER: [looks at Daria] You’ve brought a new friend.

 

ANDREA: This is Daria. She’s cool.

 

The shopkeeper nods, looking at Daria’s face in a detached way.

 

DARIA: [to shopkeeper] Daria Morgendorffer.

 

SHOPKEEPER: I’m pleased to meet a friend of Andrea’s. This is your first time here.

 

DARIA: [looks around] Yeah. Andrea wanted me to come in and look around.

 

SHOPKEEPER: [nods slowly, gestures to the shop] Be my guest.

 

Unable to think of anything new to say, Daria and Andrea begin looking through some of the clothes in the store. After a brief period, Daria stops and just looks around, taking in the range of items in the store.

 

ANDREA: [to shopkeeper, still standing at the counter] Uh, could you help us with something?

 

SHOPKEEPER: Of course. [walks slowly around the counter toward the two]

 

ANDREA: [points to Daria] Um, Daria and I were talking, and she was curious to—

 

DARIA: [low voice] YOU were curious.

 

ANDREA: —to see how she looked in something Gothic.

 

DARIA: [mildly anxious, to shopkeeper] You’re not going to measure me, are you?

 

SHOPKEEPER: [looks down at Daria without expression] What are you interested in seeing?

 

DARIA: [sighs] Oh, well, something like what Andrea has. Something Goth. Just to see what it’s like. That’s all.

 

ANDREA: [whispers to Daria] What are your dress measurements?

 

DARIA: [a little touchy] They’re not for public consumption. That’s the problem. I don’t have a figure such as this civilization thinks a figure should be. I’ve been through this already with all sorts of people, starting with the disaster-dress I wore to my cousin’s wedding. [to shopkeeper] Do you have anything in black, like a Hefty bag?

 

The shopkeeper ignores her remark and looks her over. His gaze is penetrating but cold, with nothing in the least sexual about it.

 

SHOPKEEPER: [speaks slowly and quietly, to Daria] You are Autumn.

 

DARIA: [disappointed frown] Yeah, I hear this from my sister. I’m an autumn. Browns and reds and greens, match my green eyes, blah blah. Burlap’s brown, that’s okay with me, too. Make it a large sack.

 

SHOPKEEPER: [unperturbed, speaks slowly and deliberately as he surveys Daria] I meant autumn as in the season, not the fashion. [pause] Autumn is the time of transition. The colors of life, the brightness of summer, all are ending. The green leaves are dying. The trees grow naked and cold. Winter—[he glances at Andrea]—is approaching. It’s the time when fear gnaws at the hearts of lonely people. They cower in their homes by the fading embers. They sense their mortality. The wind whispers in their ears, in the empty hours of darkness, and they hear—[whispers]—”Remember, you are mortal. Winter is coming.”

 

Daria stands perfectly still, listening. Several times during the above, she is on the verge of saying something sarcastic, but she never does. She and Andrea appear equally surprised at what they hear.

 

SHOPKEEPER: [slow, deliberate voice] Autumn is the herald of winter. It is the harbinger, the final trumpet before the end is upon us. When the winter comes, death descends. The change is complete. All are destroyed. But it is the autumn that the people fear most, when they see the dying all around them, the dying inside them, and they cannot stop it. It is the autumn that people fear most, before the sword of winter plunges through their bodies. It is the anticipation that wrings them dry, as they scream in your pitiless hands. [stops in front of Daria, stares down at her with an impassive face] You are Autumn.

 

Breathless, Daria stares up at the shopkeeper. Her face is flushed with self-consciousness.

 

DARIA: [unsteady voice] So, you think there’s something I could wear? Goth, I mean? Something Goth?

 

The shopkeeper’s lips almost twist upward into a smile.

 

SHOPKEEPER: You already are Goth.

 

The shopkeeper’s long, pale fingers reach for Daria’s jacket lapels. He gently lifts one, feels the material in his fingers.

 

SHOPKEEPER: You’ve worn this outfit many times. The edges are almost threadbare. I’ve no doubt your closet is filled with duplicates of this jacket, that t-shirt, the skirt, and even your shoes. Every day you go out, you look the same as you did the day before. Such disregard for custom is almost unheard of. It is a pretense, an affectation, but the rarest one. You wear the same outfit so many times, your normality is a slap in the face of the normal. [pause] You aren’t lazy. You know exactly what you are doing. You hate being normal. You despise it. You view normality with the worst contempt.

 

The shopkeeper releases Daria’s jacket lapel and steps to one side, looking at her face in profile.

 

SHOPKEEPER: You’ve known enough angst, I would guess, to fill several normal lives. Andrea would know more, but compared to the range of the normal, you both fall into the extremes. You don’t fit in. You are preoccupied with death and violence, but your visible lives are moderate and even quiet. You are angry and depressed in alternation. You are intellectual, but moody. You keep yourselves as islands, and your bridges to other islands are few and far between. You care, but you wish that you didn’t. Life would be so much easier if you didn’t care.

 

DARIA: [unsteady, dry mouth, low voice] I’m supposed to be like that. I’m a teenager.

 

SHOPKEEPER: You are more than that. [pause] You are Autumn, just as she—[glances at Andrea]—is Winter. You are an invisible Goth, but a Goth nonetheless.

 

Silence fills the room. Daria looks up into the face of the shopkeeper, who looks coolly down at her.

 

DARIA: [low voice] H-how much would it cost to try something? Goth, something black. I mean, if—

 

SHOPKEEPER: For you—[glances at Andrea]—just as for you—nothing. For the moment, trying on a new persona appears to be the thing you need.

 

DARIA: I just want an outfit, not a new persona.

 

SHOPKEEPER: The persona comes with it. It always happens the first time someone tries on a new set of clothes from my shop, a new expression of identity. It won’t last long. Enjoy it while you have it.

 

DARIA: And this is free? I can try it out for free?

 

SHOPKEEPER: [smiles crookedly] The pleasure is all mine.

 

With a final gaze at Daria, the shopkeeper walks over to a rack of clothing and sorts through it with spidery fingers.

 

ANDREA: [leans close to Daria, with big eyes, whispers] What did I tell you?

 

DARIA: [blushing, catching her breath at last] I think I need to lie down. That was too much.

 

ANDREA: You look like you could use a cigarette. So could I. Damn Charles anyway.

 

DARIA: [fanning her face with a hand] A cold shower would help.

 

SHOPKEEPER: [pulling something from a rack, his back to Daria and Andrea] Let us see how you would look in . . . this.

 

The shopkeeper turns around, holding a full-length dress in his arms. The dress is one from a dark fairy tale: ash gray highlighted with diamond-like sparkles and vibrant patches of orange and red, like dying fireplace embers. The dress is not particularly elaborate, but it has a remarkably clean, almost regal, look—something that a queen of autumn from a fantasy universe might wear. Daria sees the dress and gasps. Andrea gasps as well.

 

SHOPKEEPER: [to Daria, in a quiet voice] Your Majesty.

 

 

51. EXT: A SHORT WHILE LATER, OUTSIDE “DAMNATION ALLEY” SHOP, LAWNDALE

 

Sandi, Stacy, and Tiffany are outside the costume/clothing shop, trying to peer in through the windows. They have their hands cupped around their eyes to block out external glare.

 

SANDI: I can’t see a darn thing that isn’t pressed right up to the glass. The window must be tinted. Or the lights are out inside.

 

STACY: Why are we even looking at this stuff? It’s so gross!

 

SANDI: [sighs as if Stacy has missed the obvious] We have to examine and experience the dark side to appreciate the light, Stacy. Duh.

 

STACY: [looking at Sandi with awe] My gosh! Where’d you hear that?

 

SANDI: Star Wars, I think. I forget. My dad was watching it, and he wouldn’t turn the volume down.

 

STACY: [looks inside again] So . . . [lowers voice to a whisper] . . . do you believe what your dad said about Daria?

 

SANDI: [frowns] Eeewwww. If her own father thinks she’s burying people alive so she can dig them up later and consume them for hors d’oeuvres, I guess it MUST be true.

 

TIFFANY: [makes a terrible face] That is sooo groooss! Eeewwwww!

 

STACY: [same awful expression] Barf city!

 

SANDI: She’s probably incarcerated this very second. Poor Quinn. The humiliation must be terrible.

 

TIFFANY: Sooo, you think anyooone’s in here?

 

SANDI: If there is, they’re welcome to stay in there forever and keep the rest of the city pristine and fresh.

 

The door to the shop silently opens. Only Stacy notices this. While Tiffany and Sandi continue to peer through the shop window, Stacy sees who comes out of the shop: Daria, in her Autumn Queen gown. Daria’s face has been highlighted with makeup, but only a small amount around her eyes and cheeks; her glasses are gone. She sees the ex-Fashion Club members, particularly Stacy (the nearest), and she smiles grimly down at them as she descends to the sidewalk. Stacy’s eyes grow to the size of moons, the white visible all around her irises. The color runs from her face and lips, she stops breathing (much too frightened even to hyperventilate), and she appears only seconds from fainting. She steps back, almost bumping Sandi.

 

At this moment, Andrea quietly comes out from the shop as well. She’s changed clothes and now wears what looks like a black Goth gown of highest fashion (for the 17th century), highlighted with stripes of red. The effect is like that of rivers of fresh blood running down her dress. Stacy begins to shake violently.

 

SANDI: [still looking in the shop] I can’t believe anyone would want this stuff. Only dead people would shop here.

 

TIFFANY: [still looking in the shop] Reeeally? Deaaad people? Like in the mooovies?

 

Tiffany turns to Sandi, but unfortunately she now faces Daria, who is on the other side of Sandi. Tiffany’s eyes snap open, and her jaw drops. She inhales sharply and deeply, filling her lungs for a really incredible scream.

 

SANDI: [turning from shop window to Tiffany] Tiffany? What’s wrong? [turns around and sees Daria and Andrea right next to her]

 

Tiffany screams first, with Sandi and Stacy joining in to create a horrific, heart-stopping, ear-shattering shriek that echoes up and down the street for blocks, stopping pedestrian traffic cold. The sound is like no other. Even Daria and Andrea flinch when they hear it. In the next instant, all three girls flee down the street at the fastest possible speed, screaming like the damned. They are gone from sight in mere seconds.

 

Andrea and Daria stand outside the shop for a few moments longer, looking in the direction the ex-Fashion Club ran away. The street noise slowly returns to normal.

 

DARIA: [soft voice] Hmmm. That went well.

 

ANDREA: [soft voice] Know what? I feel . . . beautiful.

 

DARIA: [savors the moment, then turns to go back into the shop] My work here is done. No point in going for the anticlimax.

 

ANDREA: [follows Daria] Not good to get too much of a good thing. Except maybe sex.

 

DARIA: Thanks. Go ahead and rub it in, whydoncha.

 

They reenter the shop.

 

 

52. INT: EARLY AFTERNOON, UPSTAIRS HALLWAY OUTSIDE QUINN AND DARIA’S BATHROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

We once again look at the (closed) bathroom door. From under the door snakes an extension cord that runs down the hall to a wall socket. From behind the door, the music from a boy band plays, coming from boom-box speakers. The ceiling fan adds more to the sound level. In addition, Quinn hums to herself, adding non-words like “bop bop” and “lah-dah-dah” to the music. After a few seconds of this, we hear the boy-band music stop, then the electronic pop of a TV set being turned on by remote control.

 

TV SET: [VO, in bathroom] Can lesbianism be transmitted by kissing? These four high-school girlfriends say yes, and the older sister of one says that even watching lesbians kiss causes lesbianism! What does this mean for the future of the Republican Party? We have the shocking answers! “The Really, Truly, No-Kidding-This-Time Gay Virus”—tonight on “Sick, Sad World”!

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] Eeewwww.

 

The TV makes channel-changing noises.

 

TV SET: [VO, in bathroom] Tonight, a CBS News special report: Erotic Eyewear! Does what you put on your face actually make you better in bed? Or have the optometry industry’s marketing tactics gotten out of control? Tune in for our shocking investigation, “Who Makes Passes at Nerds Who Wear Glasses?” with our special guest, former President Bill Clinton.

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] Eww.

 

The TV makes channel-changing noises.

 

TV SET: [VO, in bathroom] —the shocking story of how a young girl’s obsession with fashion led to her taking a high-paying job as a phone-sex operator.

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] Yeah, I could see that.

 

TV SET {VO, in bathroom] You and your loved ones must see this special report, “A Passion for Fashion,” on ABC News tonight, with our special guest, former President Bill Clinton.

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] Eww.

 

The TV makes channel-changing noises.

 

TV SET: [VO, in bathroom]

[Man’s voice] —and welcome to the Jerry Spaniel Show. Let’s introduce our first guest, who—well, I think you can explain it better than I can.

[Young woman’s voice with West Virginia accent] Well, see, my family moved to this new town and I met this girl who became my best and only friend, and then I had an affair with her older brother until he turned gay with my girlfriend’s boyfriend who was in the same rock band as him, so then I had an affair with my girlfriend until she dumped me for this evil guy who then dumped her and had an affair with me, and then I dumped him and had another affair with my girlfriend, but then she got bored and killed herself, or my sister did, I’m not sure which, and I was put in this nut house and while I was there my dead girlfriend’s brother became a male prostitute and had an affair with my mom, who was having an affair with her boss, who I think turned out to be my real father but not the father of my long-lost wealthy brother or maybe half-brother who was really the son of my mother and the guy I thought was my father, though maybe he was my father, but my mother and the guy I thought was my father got divorced right before he fell off a water tower and had a heart attack after he learned my dead girlfriend had come back from the dead and wanted to marry me, the night after I went through the back of my dead girlfriend’s brother’s closet and went to an alternate universe where we was all Democrats.

[Audience catcalls and boos]

[Man’s voice] Okay, and why are you here today?

[Young woman’s voice with West Virginia accent] Well, see, my current boyfriend, he’s what you call a computer geek—

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] Eww!!!

 

The TV makes channel-changing noises.

 

TV SET: [VO, in bathroom] —and stay tuned to Cartoon Network for our feature-length special, “Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn,” starring everyone’s favorite blue canine, Huckleberry Hound! Be a joiner and join in the fun, right after this commercial break!

 

QUINN: [VO, in bathroom] All right! Trent told me about this.

 

As we listen to a TV commercial for a breakfast cereal (“Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs”) that involves a small boy screaming his head off while he’s being chased by a tiger, we hear the boy-band music come on again at low volume. Quinn resumes humming—and “bop bopping”—along with the song, waiting for the movie to start.

 

 

53. INT: EARLY AFTERNOON, LIVING ROOM, LANE HOME

 

The living room looks much as earlier in the day, but the smoky haze has cleared away. The phone rings three times before Jane (looking worn out and depressed) appears and picks up the handset. We now see a split screen, with Jane on one side and Daria (at a secluded hotel lobby payphone) on the other. Andrea is not with Daria during this conversation. Daria is back in her normal outfit, makeup removed. A paper shopping bag is slung over one arm.

 

JANE: Yo. Lanes.

 

DARIA: Jane! How’s it going?

 

JANE: Hey. Trent said you called earlier.

 

DARIA: Yeah. He said you were working on the computer. I didn’t want to bother you.

 

JANE: [sits in a nearby chair] Just as well. The computer burned up, and I lost my temper.

 

DARIA: Burned up? You mean, completely burned up, or—

 

JANE: Daria, let’s go into this later. I’m in a really lousy mood right now. I apologize, but my project’s ruined, and I’m really out of it.

 

DARIA: Oh. [pause] You think you need to get out?

 

JANE: I need to get out by myself right now, but later on I might drop by, if you’ve got some free time.

 

DARIA: Um, sure, I think that will work. There’s a seminar I have to attend with Dad, and a dinner, but Dad and I both want to cut the dance part. Do what you have to, then come on by. Leave a message at my room. You still have the hotel number?

 

JANE: Yeah, it’s around here somewhere. Anything funny you can tell me?

 

DARIA: Actually, yeah. You know what you suspected about “In/Out/Down”? Who does it?

 

JANE: Andrea?

 

DARIA: You were right. She told me about it today. It’s her.

 

JANE: That’s pretty wild. You tell her about “Kim and Dim”?

 

DARIA: Yeah. [shout] What?

 

JANE: “Kim and Dim.” You tell her about—

 

DARIA: [aghast] How did you know?

 

JANE: [smiles] Oh, come on, Daria. Kim talks just like you do, and Dim talks just like Quinn. Actually, I’ve had my suspicions for the last few months, but bless your heart, you just confirmed them.

 

DARIA: [pause] Oooh, I hate you.

 

JANE: Did you tell her that I’m in there, too?

 

DARIA: [gasps] Augh! Oh, no! No, no, no, no!

 

JANE: [chuckles] I like that part. It’s sort of like The Vagina Monologues. I’m Virginia, Kim and Dim’s “Answering Cervix,” right?

 

Her face scarlet red, Daria drops the payphone handset, too embarrassed to go on. She walks off, leaving the handset swinging below the payphone.

 

JANE: That’s such a really terrible pun, but it makes me love it all the more. Sort of . . . hello? Daria? Hello?

 

After a pause, Jane slowly hangs up the phone and leans back in her chair. We go back to a single screen.

 

JANE: [smiles to self] Well, that was therapeutic. [pause] I ought to do something on SSU, too. I really should.

 

Jane rests for a moment more, thinking, then reluctantly gets out of the chair.

 

JANE: But first . . . finish what you start.

 

Looking more at peace, Jane reaches down, picks up a (scarred and chipped) baseball bat from the floor, and walks out of view. We hear the front door of the Lane home open, then shut. Silence reigns.

 

 

54. INT: LATER THAT AFTERNOON, CORRIDOR BESIDE THE GIFT SHOPS, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria and Andrea are talking and window-shopping again. Daria still has her shopping bag, which seems to have something heavy in the bottom.

 

ANDREA: I’ve still got a couple hours until Charles comes back. With any luck, we’ll have the rest of the weekend to ourselves. I may go up and take a nap before he gets in. The walk was good, but I always sucked at phys-ed. No stamina.

 

DARIA: I suppose it depends on the, uh, activity.

 

ANDREA: [gets it, smiles] Oh, yeah. Well, if it involves a bed and Mister Ultrasuave, I’m good to go.

 

DARIA: [shakes her head] It’s funny, but I was just thinking about that tall guy at “Damnation Alley.” What he said about trying on new personas.

 

ANDREA: Oh, that. Yeah, he said that to me, the first time I went there a year ago.

 

DARIA: I thought he was being . . . really pretentious. People don’t say things like that in clothing stores, even weird clothing stores. [pause] His delivery was good, though.

 

ANDREA: Well, maybe he’s got a point. When you put on a different outfit, you put on a different way of thinking, sometimes. Different persona.

 

DARIA: [pained look] That’s sort of lame. I can’t believe that. I sure don’t feel any different.

 

ANDREA: [shrugs] It happened to me once, first time I went there. I tried on a dress, a real bitch-Goth thing, super-dominatrix, and man, did I get an attitude later on. [shivers] Told off my oldest stepsister, Beth. It was cold. [pause] She stopped picking on me, though. Hasn’t talked to me since. Probably just as well.

 

DARIA: And this. [raises the shopping bag she has in one hand]

 

ANDREA: Yeah, I was sort of wondering about that, too—why you got it.

 

DARIA: [looking in the sack] It came off a suit of armor, I think. It was cool. I wanted to take it home and look at it, maybe try it on.

 

ANDREA: His rental fees for stuff are pretty reasonable. I go there sometimes when I really want to get fixed up.

 

DARIA: [looks in sack] I don’t think I could wear this on a date.

 

ANDREA: Mmmm, well, you could, but—

 

DARIA: I wouldn’t have many dates.

 

ANDREA: True.

 

DARIA: Not that my social calendar is jam-packed with male companionship as it is.

 

ANDREA: If you notice any aftereffects, you know, new personas or anything, you let me know.

 

DARIA: Sure thing, but don’t hold your . . .

 

Daria’s voice fades out as she and Andrea walk past a cookware shop. Daria’s gaze immediately falls upon a set of professional-quality steak knives in the window.

 

 

55. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

EXT: MIDNIGHT, OUTSIDE INSANE ASYLUM

 

A huge, forbidding structure is briefly seen, illuminated in the darkness by prolonged flashes of lightning from an electrical storm overhead. Thunder crashes and rolls. In the immediate foreground, also illuminated by lightning, is a sign that reads: Lawndale State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

 

 

56. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: DARK CELL IN ASYLUM

 

A slightly built human being is tied up in a vertical position, in a straightjacket and white hospital pants. The figure has a strange sort of wire mask or muzzle over the lower part of its face. Lightning flashes from a window in the tiny room reveal that the tied-up person is Daria; her hair, glasses, and eyes are visible. She glances at the stormy window, then looks down. We see her arms working under the jacket. Suddenly, a knife blade slices through her straightjacket from the inside out, guided by a hand that she’s managed to work free of the jacket sleeves.

 

 

57. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

EXT: SHORTLY THEREAFTER, OUTSIDE INSANE ASYLUM

 

Police cars and ambulances are everywhere on the asylum grounds, sirens screaming. Heavily armed SWAT officers are searching the grounds in panic. Cries of “Where is she?” and “Where did she go?” and “Call the FBI!” fill the storm-tossed night.

 

 

58. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: SHORTLY THEREAFTER, QUINN’S BEDROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

Quinn, dressed in a long pink nightshirt with a teddy bear on it, is reading an issue of Waif magazine. The phone rings beside her, and she picks it up by reflex.

 

QUINN: [still reading Waif] Hello, Fashion Basics Indoctrination. Miss Morgendorffer speaking.

 

DARIA: [VO, on phone—in a pleasant but eerily familiar tone] Hello, Clarice.

 

QUINN: [still reading Waif] Sorry, wrong number. You want the other FBI.

 

DARIA: [VO, on phone] No, I was calling for you. Come downstairs. I’d like to have you for dinner.

 

QUINN: [still reading Waif] Got any fat-free potato chips?

 

DARIA: [VO, on phone] Let me check. [pause] Certainly. In any flavor you want.

 

QUINN: [tosses magazine aside] Be right there. [hangs up, hurries out of bedroom]

 

 

59. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: KITCHEN, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

Quinn hurries into the kitchen to find the kitchen table set with elegant and expensive dishes and silverware—but no food is present and only one person has a place setting, with a filled wineglass. No one else seems to be present in the room. The walls and edges of the room are shrouded in darkness.

 

QUINN: [annoyed, fists on hips, looking down at table] Hey! I don’t drink wine! And where are those chips?

 

Behind Quinn, we become aware of a figure walking silently out of the darkness. It’s Daria, eyeing Quinn in a dreamy, crazy sort of way. Daria smiles broadly to reveal sharp teeth, her canines especially pointed and long like vampire fangs. Quinn, oblivious, frowns downward at the table as Daria comes up behind her, mouth opening wide, clawed hands spread to grab her sister, and—

 

—we hear a loud shriek, then hacking and coughing. Someone’s hands wave madly in front of the screen, blocking out what comes next.

 

 

60. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: MOVIE REVIEWS ROOM

 

Angel Daria, standing up with her arms in the air in front of the (now dark) movie screen, is coughing and choking on something, probably after inhaling her popcorn. She’s also spilled a dark-colored soft drink all down the front of her outfit. Devil Daria jumps up and down in ecstasy, pumping her fist and screaming; she has lost her usual deadpan affect. The floor is littered with popcorn bits, empty soft-drink cups, and pizza boxes.

 

DEVIL DARIA: [screams, delirious] Yessss!!! Yessss!!! You did it!!! [suddenly beats her chest and gives a very loud, perfect Tarzan yell]

 

Still choking, Angel Daria pushes past Devil Daria toward the viewer (Daria). She weakly waves her arms in warning at the viewer, rapidly shaking her head no, but she turns blue and falls facedown on the floor, out of the picture. An arm enters the picture from one side, handing the crazed Devil Daria a huge gold Oscar.

 

DEVIL DARIA: [clutches her Oscar, half-crying, half-laughing, wiping her eyes] I want to thank the members of the Academy; my father, for believing in me; my new friend Andrea—oh! And the Prince of Darkness, of course! And—

 

 

61. INT: MOMENTS LATER, OUTSIDE COOKWARE GIFT SHOP, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria stares at the steak knives without expression. Andrea leans close to Daria, peering at her face in puzzlement. Daria does not respond, so Andrea waves a hand in front of Daria’s face.

 

ANDREA: Ground control to Major Morgendorffer.

 

DARIA: [blinks, looks at Andrea] Oh. Sorry. [pause, then blurts] Are you really hungry?

 

 

62. INT: A SHORT WHILE LATER, DINING ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria and Andrea share a booth in the hotel dining room. A waiter is at their table, setting their orders before them. Andrea has a small focaccia, almost exactly like the one Daria ordered for dinner on the previous evening. Daria, however, has a petite-cut steak with French fries. As the waiter leaves, Daria picks up a ketchup bottle and proceeds to dump its contents over her food. Andrea looks on with a mixture of disbelief, anxiety, and gastric revulsion.

 

ANDREA: [looks from Daria to her meal, low voice] You’re not pregnant, are you?

 

DARIA: [unperturbed] Huh? No. [cuts into her steak]

 

As Andrea watches, Daria takes a bite of her steak, then closes her eyes and sighs, savoring the taste. Andrea shrugs and begins eating, though keeping a close eye on Daria.

 

ANDREA: [with a touch of concern] Remember to tell me about aftereffects and new personas.

 

DARIA: [mouth full] Mmm-hmmm. [swallows] Say, did that guy at the shop ever tell you how he got into the clothing business?

 

ANDREA: Not really. He said he just enjoys selling or renting needful things.

 

Daria nods absently, her mind elsewhere.

 

DARIA: [chewing] This steak is pretty good. Really rare. How’s your focaccia?

 

 

63. INT: A SHORT WHILE LATER, BOOK AND GIFT SHOP, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Looking bored and depressed, Mack browses one of the hotel’s gift shops, the one Daria was in earlier in the day. Passing a display of personalized coffee mugs stacked on a series of shelves, Mack pauses to turn around a mug that apparently has no name on it. The reverse side of the mug, however, shows the name “Tom.” He shrugs and puts the item back—the name again reversed. As he looks at other personalized-item displays, he finds more hidden or reversed items with the name “Tom” on them. He frowns, puzzled, but he leaves the rest of these items alone. He hesitates when he finds a key chain with the name “Jodie” on it, and he holds this in his hand, looking at it sadly.

 

Behind him, Brittany comes through the door of the gift shop. She appears cheery, one finger curling up the end of her right-side ponytail. After glancing around the shop, she spots Mack in surprise.

 

BRITTANY: Hey, Mack?

 

MACK: [turns, also surprised] Brittany? [quickly puts “Jodie” key chain back on rack]

 

BRITTANY: [walking over] Hey, big guy! What are you doing here?

 

MACK: [uncomfortable] Uh, looking around. Nothing up. What’s with you?

 

BRITTANY: Lemme tell you, that’s a weird story, but it’s a good one, you know? Is Jodie around? I can tell her, too.

 

MACK: [hesitates, strained voice] No, she’s, uh, not here right now.

 

BRITTANY: [looking closely at Mack] You have a fight?

 

MACK: [looks down, depressed] We . . . Jodie said that she . . .

 

BRITTANY: [eyes widening] You broke up?

 

MACK: [rolls eyes, very quiet voice] Yeah. I . . . she said that—

 

BRITTANY: [shocked] Oh, Mack, I’m so sorry! You know, she’s a smart girl. She’ll come around. Give her some time.

 

MACK: [looks down, very depressed] I don’t think that’s going to happen. She said we weren’t, um, heading in the same direction. Guess I didn’t fit into her plans. [pause] It’s really over.

 

BRITTANY: [pained look, really sorry] Oh, Mack.

 

MACK: [clears throat, looks around the store] So, where’s Kevin?

 

BRITTANY: [cheery again] Hey, that’s my good news! We broke up! I’m single again, just like you!

 

MACK: [stares at Brittany in disbelief] You broke up?

 

BRITTANY: Yeah! Isn’t that great? We were eating dinner here last night, and I explained to him that he and I weren’t heading in . . . [hesitates, looks at Mack and realizes what she’s saying] . . . in, um . . . the same . . . [gives up, embarrassed] . . . you know.

 

Mack nods yes, looking down and saying nothing.

 

BRITTANY: [tries to recover] So, listen, Kevin and I are having a last dinner together, later tonight. We’re sort of saying goodbye to each other, you know, before I head off to Great Prairie State, and he . . . well, sticks around here. Wanna come sit with us? He should be here in a couple hours. I’m just shopping.

 

MACK: [shakes head no] Nah. I’d be in the way. [gestures vaguely to one side] I was gonna . . . go and—

 

BRITTANY: Hey, walk around with me, okay? We can shop for a while. I’m trying to find something for my stepmom’s birthday. You’ve met Ashley-Amber, right?

 

MACK: Uh, yeah, after the final game. She and your dad—

 

BRITTANY: Great! You know what’s she’s like. Help me pick something out, and you can tell me what’s up with Jodie, okay? Or not, whatever, you know?

 

Mack nods in reluctant agreement. Brittany takes Mack by the arm and leads him out of the gift shop.

 

BRITTANY: Let’s go over there to that lingerie place first. I need a man’s opinion on a really cool nightgown, you know, something kinda hot but really cool, you know what I mean?

 

MACK: Uh, Brittany, that’s—

 

BRITTANY: Then we’ll go over to . . .

 

The conversation fades out as they walk off together down the hotel corridor.

 

 

 

* * *

 

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

Part Five: The Devil Daria Rides Out

(a.k.a.: Creep’s Show, or, Is It Autumn Yet?)

 

 

64. INT: MID-AFTERNOON, UPSTAIRS HALLWAY OUTSIDE QUINN AND DARIA’S BATHROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

As before, we see the look at the (closed) bathroom door. Five extension cords and a phone line run from under the door to a jammed surge protector, which runs to a wall socket down the hall, with another phone wire to a phone jack that’s off screen. From behind the bathroom door, we hear the ceiling fan, boy-band music from a boom box, and low unintelligible conversation, punctuated with moans, from a TV set with the volume turned down. Quinn is singing along in a soft voice with the boom box, but her words cannot be made out clearly. Magazine pages rustle now and then. After a few moments, we hear a female voice (computer synthesized) speak.

 

COMPUTER: [VO] You have e-mail!

 

QUINN: [VO, multitasking] Probably Jeffy. Yep.

 

The sound on the TV suddenly drops even lower. We hear the sounds of a touchtone phone being dialed.

 

QUINN: [VO, lively] Hello, Commodes Are Us? Yes, I found your website, and it is just the most wonderful thing. I love the little dancing make-up mirror! Uh-huh. Yes, what I want to do is get an estimate for remodeling an upstairs bathroom. Yes. Well, I was looking at it today and thinking that it looks sort of, um, boring, you know, kinda drab, nothing interesting there, and I want to do something just a little bit different with it. Tweak it here and there, perk it up. Um-hmm. Well, for starters, I was thinking about maybe putting in a larger tub with a Jacuzzi, a separate shower stall, maybe a sauna, a bigger outside window with stained glass, a skylight, marble countertops, gold faucets and handles—not real gold, but something that looks just like real gold—yeah, exactly, and mirror lights, lots more mirror lights, and I was reading your website about these odorless toilets. Oh, you do? Really? Do you have any with a particular fragrance? Oh, that’s great! Just send me the whole list.

 

COMPUTER: [VO] You have e-mail!

 

QUINN: [VO] Oh, and more cabinet space. Lots more cabinet space. Anything you have that would help me out there. I’d also like a wall-mounted TV, something you can see from the bathtub, but far enough away so it won’t fall in the tub, you know, and electroshock you. I’d like color, at least thirty-six inch, cable—no, make that satellite, voice control, and . . . [disappointed] Oh, really? Darn. Well, maybe I can order it from somewhere else, and you can build the place where we’d put it. Right. Mmm-hmm. Right, exactly. My family intents to do this right after my sister leaves for college this fall, and we need to get started now on the planning. Oh, and ceiling fans—I need a quieter ceiling fan, one that doesn’t rattle all the time. It does get on your nerves.

 

COMPUTER: [VO] You have e-mail and photos!

 

QUINN: [VO] Tile floors, I also want to know what you have in tile floors, maybe with some fluffy carpets to throw down on it. That’s it exactly! You’re reading my mind! And most importantly, everything has to match my eyes. Blue, but it’s a special kind of blue. I’m a Spring, and my eyes aren’t the usual kind of blue that Spring redheads—yes, exactly. Exactly! Oh, that’s wonderful! Does this come with a video? Yes! I knew this was the right place to call! Okay, I need everything sent to the following address: Quinn Morgendorffer, at—oh, Quinn, Q-U-I-N-N, Morgendorffer, just like it’s pronounced, but with two f’s, at eleven eleven, that’s one one one one, Glen Oaks Lane, Lawndale. Express mail, please. Right. Well, thank you! I’ll be looking forward to it! You bet! Bye! [beep as portable phone is turned off] Okay, that’s four now. Two more proposals, and I can call it quits.

 

HELEN: [VO, downstairs, shouting upstairs] Quinn? Quinn, are you out yet?

 

QUINN: [VO, whisper] Damn it! [shouts] No, mom, not yet! [hasty movement as a videotape pops out of a VCR, and TV channel is changed to a sitcom, laughter faintly audible]

 

HELEN: [VO, downstairs, shouting upstairs] Have you seen my laptop? I need it for work! I have to go in and finish a case!

 

QUINN: [VO, shouts] Mom, I need it! I’m working on something! I thought you’d already left!

 

HELEN: [VO, coming upstairs, shouting] Quinn! You can’t use a computer in the bathroom! Those things cost thousands of dollars, and if you get it wet, it’s ruined! And what if you get electrocuted?

 

QUINN: [VO, shouts] Mom, I really need to use the computer right now! Please let me use it!

 

HELEN: [now in view, wearing her usual lawyer outfit] No, Quinn, I need it. Besides, I’ll only be gone for an hour or two. You can use it when I get . . . [looks down, notices power cables] Quinn, what are all these cords? What do you have in there?

 

QUINN: [VO, shouts] Muuuh-ooom! I need this all stuff!

 

COMPUTER: [VO] You have e-mail and photos!

 

HELEN: [shouts] Quinn, log off and give me that computer!

 

QUINN: [VO, shouts] I can’t even get out of here to make my own dinner!

 

HELEN: [shouts] You can get out of there long enough to steal my laptop! Is the door unlocked? [tries doorknob] Unlock this right now, before I get a paperclip!

 

QUINN: [VO, shouts] Muuuh-ooom! Wait! [pause, doorknob lock pops, thump as someone sits down on toilet again]

 

Helen tries the doorknob and goes into the bathroom, almost closing the door behind her. We can hear sounds in the bathroom more clearly.

 

HELEN: [VO] Quinn! What is all this? What have you done? Damn it, this has to go! Everything has to go! For starters, put that back in the closet!

 

QUINN: [VO] No, Mom! Please, my feet are cold!

 

HELEN: [VO] Well, wear slippers! The heating pad isn’t for that! [boy-band music shuts off] Where’s the remote for the TV? Why are these lamps in here?

 

QUINN: [VO] Please, Mom! I’m really bored in here! There’s nothing to do except go to the bathroom all the time! And the lamps are here ‘cause it’s so dark! It’s like a cave!

 

HELEN: [VO] You’ve got almost a dozen things plugged! This’ll blow out a fuse!

 

QUINN: [VO] Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I can unplug some things, but please leave everything in here! And please let me use the computer! Please?

 

HELEN: No! Get yourself cleaned up, and go downstairs and get something to eat. We have plenty of lasagna in the freezer. You can get out long enough to use a microwave if you can get out long enough to grab all this!

 

QUINN: [VO, shouting] Are you kidding? I have to go every five minutes! I feel like I’m totally empty, and I’m still going!

 

HELEN: [VO] Is that the VCR? What are you doing with the VCR in here? What tapes are those?

 

QUINN: [VO, panicked] Nothing, Mom! They’re from Daria’s room! No, don’t—

 

HELEN: [VO, gasps, shouts] Quinn! Oh, my God! Where did you find these?

 

QUINN: [VO] Mom, no! Mom!

 

HELEN: [VO] These were in my closet! You’re not to watch these, you’re underage! These are for adults only, to help Ja—they’re none of your business! You’re not to ever—[aghast]—oh, my God! These were rewound when—Quinn! You watched all of them! Did you see them all? Oh, God, no!

 

COMPUTER: [VO] You have e-mail!

 

QUINN: [VO] Oh, Muuuh-ooom!

 

 

65. INT: MID-AFTERNOON, FIRST-FLOOR ELEVATORS NEAR HOTEL LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria (still carrying the sack and its mysterious contents from “Damnation Alley”) talks to Andrea by the elevators. Andrea pushes the “up” button.

 

ANDREA: That was fun. Thanks for running around with me. I’m gonna crash until Charles gets back from helping his dad. That focaccia is about to put me to sleep.

 

DARIA: I’m going to roam, kill some time. [gaze wanders toward the lobby] And maybe some other things.

 

ANDREA: You’re seeing your dad later?

 

DARIA: Hmmm? [looks back at Andrea] Yeah. He gets out of his last all-male-bonding seminar an hour and a half from now, then we go to a meeting at five for one last hour of regimented father-daughter quality time. I plan to fall asleep during the lecture. After that’s dinner, then . . . we skip the dance. I’ll probably go to the room and watch the late rerun of “Sick, Sad World,” while Dad hangs out in the bar with his buddies.

 

ANDREA: [wistful smile] Family togetherness.

 

DARIA: Dysfunctional families can stand only so much quality time.

 

ANDREA: [snickers] You’ve got that right. [pushes elevator button] If you see Charles, send him on up.

 

DARIA: Will do.

 

Andrea gets into the next elevator up and waves goodbye with a smile. Daria raises a hand in farewell.

 

DARIA: [low voice, to herself, after elevator door closes] If I see Charles and he makes a pass at me, I certainly will send him on up—the very second my right boot connects with his butt.

 

Our point of view suddenly closes in on Daria’s green right eye, her face rapidly filling the screen. We seem to fly through Daria’s glasses, into her dark pupil, and then—

 

 

66. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: BRIDGE OF THE U.S.S. ENTERPRISE

 

We see what appears to be the bridge of the starship U.S.S. Enterprise, from the original 1960s TV show, “Star Trek.” Sitting in the captain’s chair is Devil Daria, in a gold-and-black commander’s uniform. To one side are four angels, dressed as emergency medical technicians, crowded around a winged figure lying on the floor: Angel Daria. The angelic EMTs work very fast, shouting to each other as they try to revive Angel Daria, who does not respond to treatment. Odd equipment sits next to the EMTs. No one else is present.

 

ANGEL EMT #1: Her phlogiston count is falling! One point six million over point seven million!

 

ANGEL EMT #2: Cardionuclear activity down to five point one three billion electron volts!

 

DEVIL DARIA: [frowning at EMTs from captain’s chair] Let’s keep the noise down, shall we? Some of us are trying to work.

 

A loud beeping whine comes from some equipment the EMTs are using. One angel holds two silver paddles aloft, with wires running from the paddles to the whining equipment.

 

ANGEL EMT #3: [shouts] CLEAR!

 

The other angels pull back, and the third EMT plants the paddles on Angel Daria’s chest. There is a loud bang and Angel Daria jerks, but remains still. Devil Daria rolls her eyes and tries to ignore the EMTs.

 

ANGEL EMT #2: She’s not responding! No telepathic carrier wave!

 

DEVIL DARIA: Okay, enough frivolity. [punches button on arm of chair] Navigation, set course for . . . oh, hell, anywhere. Let’s go joyriding at warp factor one.

 

ANGEL EMT #4: [puts hand over mouthpiece of golden cell phone, shaky whisper] I’ve got Gabriel on the hot line, and is he ever pissed!

 

This scene suddenly recedes from us, and we fly out—

 

 

67. INT: AT THIS MOMENT, FIRST-FLOOR ELEVATORS NEAR HOTEL LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

—from Daria’s right eye. Daria drops her hand and walks off toward the main lobby and its shops. She passes a Lackluster video rental store, which at this very moment is showing a scene from a classic “Star Trek” episode, “Mirror, Mirror.” The bearded Mr. Spock from the evil alternate universe is speaking to someone, but we cannot hear what he says. Daria walks past him without a single look, carrying her shopping sack.

 

 

68. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, KEVIN THOMPSON’S HOTEL ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Kevin lies on his queen-size bed, watching a movie on the TV’s Forecast Channel (“The World’s Worse Hurricane Parties”). He’s changed back into his Lawndale football outfit, minus the shoulder pads, and is eating from a bag of barbecue-flavor potato chips (not the fat-free kind). When the movie breaks for a commercial, he glances at the bedside clock and swings his stocking feet off the bed.

 

KEVIN: [to self] Better get ready for little bitch Brittany. [pause, thinks] Little Bitchany. [nods] Yeah, Little Miss Too-Good-For-You Bitchany. Yeah. See how that act goes over after she sees these.

 

Kevin reaches down by his bedside and picks up a large manila envelope stamped with the words, “Quickie Photo: We’ll Print Anything! Just Ask Us!” He pulls out a set of 8-by-10-inch color glossy photos and begins looking at them, lying back on the bed. We cannot see the photos very well, but what we do see indicates they are all of Brittany Taylor—nude. Kevin sighs in contentment. As he looks through the photos, a packet with the negatives falls out. He absently drops the packet back into the manila envelope, then stuffs the photos back in and puts the envelope down by his bed again.

 

KEVIN: [to self, watching TV again] She’ll come around. Either that, or these hit the world-wide net. [pause] Interweb. [pause] Whatever. [pause] Share the joy.

 

 

69. INT: A SHORT WHILE LATER, OUTSIDE A SEMINAR ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Jake Morgendorffer stands at a wall phone, down the hall from a seminar room in the Lawndale Plaza Hotel. In his hands, he fumbles with a miniature tape recorder, trying to get a miniature tape to load. He has the telephone handset pressed to one ear, held up by a shoulder. A ringing noise can be faintly heard from the phone.

 

JAKE: [low voice, grumbles at little tape recorder] Damn it! Come on, fit in there! Damn cheap-ass overseas knock-offs! Why the hell—[flips tape recorder over, reads label]—oh, great! Damn cheap-ass domestic knock-offs! Why the hell can’t anyone make something that works the first time? All I want to do is record the damn meeting so I can improve my role as a father! Is that too much to ask? No wonder this country’s on a downward spiral into hell! We—oh, ah, yes, hello, this is, um, Jake Morgendorffer. My daughter Daria checked a book out from your library about a week or so ago, I think, and the book is overdue. Daria, D-A-R-I-A. Morgendorffer, just as it sounds, but with two f’s. [pause] Right, that’s her. She checked out a copy of Stephen King’s Needful Things, and wouldn’t you know it, the silly book’s gone missing. Well, no, I don’t think it will be. See, um, it was, uh, damaged in a fire. Yes, it was awful. Sort of ironic, given that it was by Stephen King. Right. Thank you, I appreciate that. Anyway, the book’s gone to book heaven, and I want to pay for it. Can I use a credit card? American Master-Visa Club? Great. How much was the book? It was a paperback. [winces] Oh, okay, sure, I’ll pay for the overdue fee, too. [surprised] Nine dollars? Isn’t that a little much to ask for a paperback? Oh. Well, I guess you’re the library, you can charge what you want, suck out my blood, whatever. [makes a rude face at the phone] Okay, here’s my card number. [pause] Damn, can’t I just give you the number . . . oh, all right. I’ll be down there Monday morning and pay for it there. It’s time out of my job, but sure. [hangs up] Nazis. [examines tape recorder, pushes buttons]

 

TAPE PLAYER: [playing back clear recording of Jake’s voice] Damn it! Come on, fit in there! Damn cheap-ass overseas knock-offs! Why the—

 

Jake clicks another button, and the tape player shuts off.

 

JAKE: [smiles in relief] Finally! Maybe America’s got a chance on the world market after all! [walks off to seminar]

 

 

70. INT: A SHORT WHILE LATER, UPCHUCK AND ANDREA’S HOTEL ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

The room is dark and empty. Clothes (from Upchuck and Andrea) are strewn about on the unmade bed, floor, and furniture. Several dozen black roses are scattered around the room, and many black rose petals litter the bed. The door clicks, and Andrea walks in; the door shuts behind her automatically. She pockets her plastic door key.

 

ANDREA: [looking around] Charles? Charles?

 

She sits down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, then leans over and unstraps her pointed-toe boots, kicking them off. She wears black socks, of course. She then gets up, humming a tuneless song, and takes off her two necklaces, carefully laying them on the small dresser by the bed. The dresser top also holds a digital clock, lamp, a photograph of her (taken at school), some chewing-gum wrappers, and numerous condom packages, some unwrapped and empty. Andrea sniffs, swallows, reaches behind her to scratch under her bra strap, and wanders toward the bathroom. On the way there, her stocking feet become entangled in a pair of Upchuck’s slacks, and she reaches down to pick them up. As she does, the crackle of paper is heard. Andrea examines the pants and finds a piece of folded paper sticking partway out of one pocket. Andrea hesitates, glances around the room, then walks over and looks in the bathroom (where she turns on the light). Certain that she is alone, Andrea unfolds the piece of paper and reads it, standing near the bathroom light. The paper reads:

 

                   Saturday a.m.—Jenny to call (cell phone) when ready, must

                   pretend to be Dad, 3-4 hrs out & back to Oakwood + 1 hour?

 

Andrea blinks as she reads the note, going over it several times and checking the (blank) back. Her free hand comes up to grip the note and hold it still. Her breathing becomes quick, irregular, and shallow, and her lips part. After a few seconds, she wobbles on her feet, and one hand reaches out to steady herself against the bathroom doorway. She swallows, her expression anguished. She looks around dully at the dark room, reads the note again several more times, then leans with a thump against the doorframe to the bathroom. Finally, her left hand (holding the note) lowers to her side, and she stares at the floor. Her breathing is so low as to be undetectable. Her face is blank, devoid of even life.

 

 

71. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, VIDEO ARCADE ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria is in the hotel’s videogames room again. The windows to the outside reveal it is mid-afternoon; a clock in the room shows it is 4:30 pm. Original recordings of 1960s and 1970s rock songs play from overhead speakers. She stands before an advanced game console labeled: “Aliens vs. Predator: The Final Smackdown!” The sack from “Damnation Alley” is on the floor beside her. After fishing in a jacket pocket for change, she picks out two quarters, drops them in, and readies herself to play. Just before play begins, the speakers overhead go silent, then softly play the eerie opening cords to the Rolling Stones’ hit, “Gimme Shelter.” Daria’s eyes become glazed as she selects armor and weaponry for her Colonial Marine character, who oddly enough has the smirking face of Devil Daria.

 

Something else happens, too. Unconsciously, as she works the game machine, Daria begins to move to the Rolling Stones music. She starts by gently tapping a foot and bobbing her head slightly as she clicks the game controls. Then she begins to bounce slightly up and down on one foot in time with the music, hips shifting, shoulders moving, head nodding, as the opening chords reach their crescendo. She begins game play at the moment the crescendo is hit, her whole body moving in perfect time to the music but not so much as to disturb her play. Her hands fly at the controls; light flashes and explosions boom out from the machine as her character plunges into battle, her face betraying no expression except intense excitement.

 

The door opens behind Daria as a tall, teenage male walks in, wearing a tank top and pants so baggy that the upper three inches of his butt crack can be seen. As he walks past Daria, he drops one hand and brushes against her posterior, almost like an accident except that he gooses her at the last moment. Daria jumps, but doesn’t lose her place in her game. The newcomer then takes the videogame next to Daria, which is positioned so Daria actually stands two feet behind the newcomer. Though she gets red in the face, Daria barely looks at him as he grins at her, shrugs, and begins playing “Nuclear Ninja Nightmare.”

 

Once the newcomer is absorbed in his game, however, Daria glances at him several times, studying him from top to bottom. She notices the top of a tool or implement can be seen in one of his pants’ back pockets, next to his wallet. Shifting her stance to come closer to the newcomer, Daria suddenly crouches, leans in close and reaches for his back pocket. Her fingers deftly catch the item and pull it from his pocket. It’s a long-handled switchblade knife. Daria quickly drops it into an inner pocket of her jacket. He never notices this, as his pants are so loose. Daria gives him a second glance, notes how intent he is on his game, and leans over a second time. This time, she pockets the newcomer’s wallet, coolly going back to her game.

 

Finishing his own game, the newcomer saunters past Daria, who carefully moves out of reach (dancing again) as he again reaches down to grab her rear end. He snickers and walks out, leaving Daria alone. Moments later, Daria looks back, sees that he’s gone, and stops playing her game. She checks the newcomer’s wallet, pockets a wad of cash and a plastic hotel door key, and stuffs the wallet inside a soft-drink cup with a lid, which she pulls from a trashcan. She quickly throws the cup back into the trashcan alongside other garbage, and she continues play on her game, as if nothing at all had happened.

 

 

72. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Brittany and Mack walk in through the revolving door in the hotel lobby. Mack carries two shopping bags and has a hat box under one arm. Brittany has one shopping bag and chats away as they enter.

 

BRITTANY: Last stop, I promise, then we put everything in my car.

 

MACK: [tired voice] Man, I never knew you could power shop like that.

 

BRITTANY: [laughs] Oh, you can keep up with me. You’re a big, strong man. You just don’t have shopping in your DKNY.

 

MACK: [mild frown] I think you mean DNA.

 

BRITTANY: What?

 

MACK: [sighs] Never mind. Where are we going now?

 

BRITTANY: I decided to get Ashley-Amber that red nightgown, the one you liked. This will only take a minute. My car’s in the back lot anyway, so we have to walk through the lobby to get there.

 

Mack shakes his head and smiles, following Brittany into lingerie shop again.

 

 

73. INT: MOMENTS LATER, LINGERIE SHOP, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Brittany and Mack enter, Mack trailing. He stands near the entryway, eyeing the displays but appearing lost, as many men typically do in lingerie shops. Brittany goes to the counter and signals to the clerk.

 

BRITTANY: Miss? Yes, I’ve decided to get that nightgown over there. That one, yes.

 

CLERK: All righty. [takes nightgown down, begins to wrap it]

 

BRITTANY: [turns to Mack, indicates nightgown] So, you like this one? Gets your blood going? Good, it’ll be perfect for her. I always say it pays to have a man’s opinion on certain things.

 

Mack glances from Brittany to the sales clerk, looking embarrassed. The clerk smiles as she folds the nightgown and boxes it.

 

CLERK: [to Brittany] Cash or charge?

 

BRITTANY: Charge. [pulls credit card out] Here you go. [turns back to Mack] You know what? While we were out shopping, I was thinking about all the times you’ve helped me through big problems in my life.

 

MACK: What times?

 

BRITTANY: Oh, you know. That time last winter when Kevin was being such a jerk, mooning after that Italian exchange student, and I went looking for Jodie but I found you and told you all about it, and you told me that Kevin just needs to appreciate how much good I bring into his life? You remember that?

 

MACK: Oh, yeah. That—

 

BRITTANY: And when I fell down during cheerleading practice that one time because I got a charley horse, and I was yelling and screaming because it hurt so bad, and you helped me work that cramp out? I was in such agony, but you came over and it felt so good when you rubbed my leg and got that knot worked out of my calf. [pause, distant look, smiles] Wow, I remember I couldn’t believe how big your hands were.

 

The store clerk suddenly coughs, trying to hide the smile on her face.

 

MACK: [mortified] Brittany, that’s okay. We don’t have to go through—

 

BRITTANY: I mean, really, they are. You have huge hands. Here, give me your hand.

 

MACK: Brittany—

 

BRITTANY: [takes Mack’s hand, still holding a shopping bag, and puts her hand next to it by comparison] See this? Huge. I never told you this, but—[laughs]—when you were massaging my leg, I felt like I was a little lump of bread dough, like that little round Pillsbury guy, and you were this gigantic baker, you know, and man, did that feel good! [shivers] I never did tell Kevin about that. He would’ve been jealous. He was always that kind of guy.

 

Mack, embarrassed, cannot think of anything to say. He shrugs and looks away—facing by accident into a lacy push-up bra display only inches from his nose.

 

BRITTANY: [pulls gently on Mack’s arm and turns him around again] Oh, don’t be embarrassed about it. We’re friends. [pause, looks at Mack] You’ve been a great friend to me, Mack. I don’t know much, but I do know that, and I’m really glad for it. Just walking around with me today got me to feeling better. I did the right thing, breaking up with Kevin. [shakes head] Can’t say that Jodie did the right thing in breaking up with you, though. She’s a great friend, but I think she goofed up bad there. [shrugs] Her loss, someone else’s gain. Man, are the girls going to be all over you at Vance. You’re going to Vance, right?

 

MACK: Yeah. Thanks.

 

BRITTANY: Sure. Vance. How far is that from Great Prairie State, do you know?

 

MACK: Uh, they’re not really that far from each other, but it’s still—

 

Brittany turns, signs the charge slip, and picks up the new shopping bag with the nightgown in it.

 

BRITTANY: Follow me for a minute. [leaves store]

 

MACK: [hopefully] Are you going to the car? [follows her]

 

Brittany heads for the gift shop in which she met Mack earlier in the day.

 

 

74. INT: MOMENTS LATER, BOOK AND GIFT SHOP, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Brittany enters the book and gift shop, heading for a rack holding various maps. She pulls out a map of the United States and unfolds it, just as Mack comes in behind her, trying not to bump into various displays with the assortment of shopping bags and boxes he carries.

 

BRITTANY: [points to unfolded map] Here you go! Right there! Vance is just . . . what is that, half an inch? Look. Vance is there, and Great Prairie State is there.

 

MACK: [sighs, looks at map] That’s about a half-day’s drive. Three or four hours.

 

BRITTANY: Hey, great! At least someone I know will be nearby. [puts map back on rack] We should double date or something. Maybe you can show me around Vance, and I can show you Great Prairie. We’ll be each other’s tour guide.

 

MACK: Great. And now . . . the car?

 

BRITTANY: Oh, sure! If I don’t see anything else . . . [wanders toward exit]

 

Mack follows Brittany with a tired but tolerant smile.

 

 

75. INT: MOMENTS LATER, CORRIDOR LEADING TO VIDEO ARCADE ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Brittany and Mack walk along the corridor together. From overhead speakers comes the last part of the Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter.”

 

BRITTANY: You know what would be fun sometime? If you would explain some of that Shakespeare we did in Mr. O’Neill’s class. Wasn’t that a weird name, Shakespeare? Remember when we did “Othello and Juliet”?

 

MACK: [sighs] We did Romeo and Juliet, and we also did Othello. You meant one of those two?

 

BRITTANY: Yeah. They’re so much alike, aren’t they? I mean, everyone falls in love and dies right afterward, poisoning each other and stabbing themselves and getting strangled—it was so romantic!

 

Mack gives Brittany the eye, not sure he heard her correctly.

 

BRITTANY: But there was a lot of stuff I didn’t understand about Shakespeare, what he was saying, you know? He talked so funny, not like we do. I wanted Kevin to read it to me so I could figure it out, but he didn’t like that. [turns to Mack] Would you read some of that Shakespeare to me? This summer?

 

MACK: [taken off guard] Uh, sure. Yeah, that would be okay. We can rent a video of one of them, too. There are some good editions out. Hamlet was pretty good.

 

BRITTANY: [stops and looks at Mack] Hamlet? Oh, you’re kidding! I love him! Did Shakespeare make him, too? I thought the WB Network did that! Did they get the idea from Shakespeare?

 

MACK: [totally confused] Hamlet?

 

BRITTANY: That little pig! I think he’s Porky Pig’s cousin or maybe his little boy or something.

 

MACK: [laughs and groans at the same time] Oh! No, not the pig! I meant . . . [voice dies off]

 

Brittany turns and notices that Mack has stopped. He stares through a large set of windows into the hotel’s video arcade room. Mack looks as surprised as a human being can get. Brittany looks into the arcade room as well. Standing at a videogame, her back to the windows, is Daria. She plays a videogame with great intensity, the screen flashing wildly and explosions booming out even through the windows. This is nothing new. Daria, however, is dancing in place as she plays, her body swinging in perfect rhythm to the Rolling Stones song. Stunned, Brittany and Mack watch Daria play for a few seconds more. Mack finally recovers and begins walking down the corridor again, throwing looks back over his shoulders as he goes. Brittany does the same until Daria is out of sight.

 

 

76. EXT: MOMENTS LATER, REAR PARKING LOT, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Mack and Brittany leave the hotel, occasionally looking over their shoulders to see if Daria has come outside as well (but she doesn’t). They walk to Brittany’s car.

 

MACK: [looks back briefly] That . . . that was weird.

 

BRITTANY: Well, maybe she just has hidden talents, you know? I mean, everyone does. I think. Dancing, maybe she likes to dance, and we just never noticed.

 

MACK: I dunno. [looks around the lot] I kinda thought I knew her. I just . . . [shrugs] Whatever. Where’s your car?

 

BRITTANY: There, the little red Mazda right over there. It’s Ashley-Amber’s. She lets me use it sometimes.

 

They walk to the car and Brittany pushes a button on her key chain. The car’s lights flash as the doors unlock. Brittany opens the trunk with a key, and she and Mack carefully set her purchases inside.

 

BRITTANY: [putting bags and boxes in trunk] Here, put that over there. I can fit this one in . . . like that. There.

 

MACK: [checks everything, then shuts the trunk] There you go. Do you have time to take all this stuff home before you meet Kevin for dinner?

 

BRITTANY: I should, shouldn’t I? Don’t want it to be out here for anyone to steal. [drops keys in pants pocket, grins up at Mack] Thanks, Mack. You’re the best.

 

Brittany steps up to Mack and gives him a wraparound hug. Her arms go inside his school jacket, around his waist, and she presses against him, eyes closed, smiling softly. Mack hesitates, then puts his arms around Brittany, pulling her closer. Because of their height difference, Mack’s mouth is even with the top of Brittany’s head. He lowers his head, pressing his face to her hair. Brittany sighs and turns her face into Mack’s chest, her face hidden inside his open jacket, inhaling through her nose.

 

BRITTANY: [muffled] You smell good. What is that? What cologne?

 

MACK: Just me. Nothing else.

 

BRITTANY: [muffled] You don’t wear cologne?

 

MACK: Not right now. [pause] Sometimes I do.

 

BRITTANY: [muffled] God, you smell good.

 

Mack slowly inhales, his nose against Brittany’s hair. Brittany’s arms are now completely inside his jacket.

 

MACK: You smell good, too. [pause] You smell like . . .

 

BRITTANY: What?

 

MACK: It’s a flower. I can’t think of its name.

 

BRITTANY: S’perfume. [pause] Forgot which one it was.

 

MACK: It’s a good one. [smells hair] It’s beaut—it’s wonderful.

 

They stand quietly for a few moments in the late evening sunlight, holding each other, breathing softly.

 

BRITTANY: [moves head to speak more clearly, soft voice] Mack, you remember when we were in seventh grade, when you asked me to dance with you? At that spring dance, in junior high school?

 

MACK: [pause, soft but sad voice] I remember.

 

BRITTANY: [pause, low voice] I’m sorry I said no.

 

MACK: [soft voice] It’s okay.

 

BRITTANY: [low voice] No. S’not okay. I’m sorry. [pause] I wanted to. [pause] I liked you then, but I was chicken. I wanted to dance with you.

 

MACK: It’s okay. That was a long time ago.

 

BRITTANY: [presses face into Mack’s chest, voice strained] I was afraid of what the other kids would say. [pause] I’m really ashamed of myself. I’m sorry, Mack. It’s bothered me for years, and I—

 

On impulse, Mack raises a hand and gently presses Brittany’s head close to him, then he kisses the top of her head. The kiss draws out over several seconds, during which Brittany stops breathing.

 

MACK: [very soft] It’s gone now. It’s okay.

 

Another long pause. They are so close, there is no space between them. A moment later, both suddenly become aware of this.

 

MACK: [reluctantly pulls head back from hers, hands releasing her] You should get all your stuff—

 

BRITTANY: [arms slowly releasing Mack] I should go home and put my stuff away.

 

The two pull away from each other and stand apart. They look as if they’ve awakened from a deep sleep, moving uncertainly, looking at unfamiliar surroundings. They avoid looking at each other.

 

MACK: Dinner tonight with . . . [voice trails off]

 

BRITTANY: Yeah. [shakes head, blinks] Yeah, I should . . . I should get ready.

 

Mack nods.

 

BRITTANY: [brief glance at Mack] Sure you won’t join us?

 

MACK: I’d . . . be in the way. I’m going to, um, go to dinner later. By myself.

 

BRITTANY: You’ll be in your room?

 

MACK: [nods] Yeah. May as well enjoy having satellite TV.

 

BRITTANY: When do your folks get back from their cruise?

 

MACK: Ah, Tuesday. Tuesday afternoon. I get them at the airport.

 

BRITTANY: [nods] Okay. [looks up at Mack] Thanks, Mack.

 

MACK: [looks at Brittany] You, too. Drive carefully.

 

BRITTANY: Yeah.

 

They stare at each other, on the edge of saying more.

 

BRITTANY: [swallows] Um, bye. [half waves hand]

 

MACK: [nods, raises hand to wave back] Drive carefully.

 

BRITTANY: Okay. You, too.

 

MACK: [smiles] I’m not driving anywhere tonight.

 

BRITTANY: Oh. [smiles] Oh, right. Yeah. [looks down, fishes car keys out of pocket, looks up smiling] Bye.

 

MACK: [smiles] Bye, Brittany.

 

Brittany turns, opens her car door, and gets in. She sits for a moment, unsure of what to do next, then waves again at Mack and shuts the door. She starts the car, turns on the air conditioning, and waves again through the window. Mack waves back. Brittany drives away, and Mack watches as her red car leaves the lot and disappears. He stands in the parking lot, his smile fading, and looks after her with a strange mixture of joy, sadness, and pain on his face. Finally, he turns and walks back to the hotel, his head down.

 

 

77. INT: LATER THAT AFTERNOON, KITCHEN, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

The kitchen appears deserted, all lights off. It is late afternoon, and shadows are long. The sound of shuffling feet is heard, and Quinn appears in the kitchen entryway from the living room. She wears a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, and she clutches a large stuffed animal (smiling green Triceratops with felt sunglasses). Her face is very pale, and dark circles are visible under her eyes. Her hair is shower-wet and uncombed. She walks stiffly and with obvious discomfort. Putting the stuffed animal sitting upright on the kitchen table, Quinn shuffles over to the kitchen radio and turns it on, setting it to a pop-music station at medium volume. She then goes to the refrigerator and looks inside. After a moment, she pulls out a clear pitcher of grape juice and takes it to the table with an empty glass. She starts to sit down, grimaces, and pushes her chair aside, standing at her usual place instead to pour a glass of juice.

 

The phone rings, and Quinn puts down the juice to answer it.

 

QUINN: [flat, cheerless voice] Morgendorffers. [voice perks up] Oh, hi, Stacy! How’s the, um, whatzit, the father thing? Yeah? No, I never did get out to shop. I, uh, decided to catch up on some ideas I had for remodeling the upstairs, after Daria leaves in August. I didn’t get out to . . . What? What are you talking about? Daria? Oh, wait a minute, wait. Stacy, that’s all a joke. No, seriously, listen to me. That’s not true. I know because I . . . Stacy, wait a minute. She . . . she did what? Daria? Are you kidding me? Stacy, that just can’t be. Listen, I . . . what? Stacy, calm down. No, wait. Calm down. Hold your breath. Now. Hold it . . . hold it . . . okay let it out, now hold it again . . . that’s right. Slow down. Let it out. Now, once more . . . wait, what are you saying? Andrea was with her? Stacy, that just can’t be right. I’m trying to explain what happened. Stacy, hold your breath again. Stacy! Stacy, you’re going to . . . Stacy? Hello? Stacy, are you still there? Hello? Sandi, is that you? Sandi, what’s going on over there? She did? Did you catch her before she did? Oh, is she okay? Oh, damn.

 

Quinn picks up her glass of juice, but she doesn’t drink from it yet. She listens to the phone intently, facing away from the living room, her back also to the radio speakers.

 

QUINN: Okay, now wait a minute. Sandi, this is getting out of control. I was the one who got all this started. Daria is not a vampire. No. No, I don’t care what you saw, she’s not. I took . . . Dad didn’t say that! No way! He . . . well, okay, that he might have said, but I set it up that way! It was a joke, Sandi! No, listen to me. Just listen to me, damn it!

 

Unseen by Quinn, Helen Morgendorffer quietly walks up to the kitchen entryway from the living room, apparently home from work. The loud radio covers the sounds of her approach. She stops, listening to Quinn’s conversation.

 

QUINN: Sandi, I took some pictures of Daria in a graveyard, but she was with Jane. They were making a video movie. It was all a joke, you understand? I showed the pictures to Mom and Dad, and they thought Daria was sacrificing animals or something to the Devil, you know? It was all a joke. Dad took Daria there to that father-daughter thing, and that’s how it all happened, okay? She’s not really possessed by the Devil.

 

Helen’s eyes narrow and her expression turns grim when she hears this. She crosses her arms and leans against the entryway, still listening.

 

QUINN: Sandi, what are you talking about? What do you mean, she . . . oh, Sandi, she’s just messing with you. I would know. I’m her sister. She’s just messing with you. Andrea must be messing with you, too. Don’t worry about it. Daria’s not a vampire. She sucks sometimes, but she’s not a vampire. Get it? [raises glass to her mouth to drink]

 

HELEN: [smoldering voice] I get it.

 

Quinn jumps as if touched by a live cattle prod, coughing grape juice all over the place. She spins around and sees Helen, who looks back at her with a stony gaze.

 

QUINN: [trembling voice, to phone] Sandi? I-I have to go. I-I don’t know when. Yeah. Okay. Bye.

 

Quinn, hands shaking and face white, carefully hangs up the phone, facing her mother all the while.

 

QUINN: [swallows] You’re home early. [smiles anxiously] Want some juice?

 

 

78. INT: LATE AFTERNOON, INSIDE A SEMINAR ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Jake and all the other fathers sit in a seminar room, looking toward the front where Bob, the speaker from earlier scenes, is speaking—very nervously. To one side of the speaker is an easel with a huge sheet of paper tacked to it. On the paper is written, “Saturday 3 p.m.: Respecting Your Daughter’s Privacy.” Some of the following fathers appeared in scene #29, earlier this day, and are identified as such. A wall clock shows it is now about 4:30 p.m.

 

SPEAKER (BOB): [anxiously answering someone in the audience] I understand what you’re saying, sir, but you really can’t bring drug-sniffing dogs into your daughter’s bedroom twice a week and expect her to thank you for it.

 

SECOND FATHER: [standing, angry] Then she can move out and live on the street with the rest of her no-good, dope-fiend friends! My house is my castle, damn it!

 

Numerous other fathers call in their agreement with the Second Father. Jake Morgendorffer listens to the arguing in disbelief, turning to see who is speaking.

 

SPEAKER (BOB): [horrified] You can’t be serious!

 

SECOND FATHER: [standing] Hell, yes, I’m serious! If my daughter wants to get high, I can take her out to the airport and tie her to a jet! [sits down to scattered applause and laughter]

 

SPEAKER (BOB): But in order to gain your daughter’s trust, you must trust her first!

 

FIRST FATHER (STACY ROWE’S DAD): Ronald Reagan had it right: Trust, but verify!

 

SECOND FATHER (AND OTHERS): Damn right! Yeah!

 

FIRST FATHER (STACY ROWE’S DAD): I trust my daughter, but I read her diary every week! I know what’s really going on in her life, no matter what she tells me!

 

SPEAKER (BOB): [clearly frustrated] Unless your daughter shows clear signs that she’s absolutely not trustworthy, you have to—

 

THIRD FATHER (TIFFANY BLUM-DECKLER’S DAD): [stands up] My daughter’s not the brightest bulb in the refrigerator, if you get my drift, and if my wife and I didn’t search her room every single damn day, we wouldn’t know what the hell was going on with her! We’ll just damn lucky she’s not smart enough to fool us! [sits down]

 

FOURTH FATHER (TOM GRIFFIN): [shouts] Hide a webcam in her room! My wife put two webcams in Sandi’s room, and she can monitor everything that kid does, twenty-four seven, right from her office at work!

 

FIFTH FATHER: Hey, can dogs sniff out boyfriends? Or anything that a guy who might be a boyfriend has touched? Can they tell if some boy’s touched my daughter?

 

SIXTH FATHER: Can dogs find diaries and read them?

 

SEVENTH FATHER: Can they sniff out beer? Hell, I’d love a dog that could do that!

 

There is general laughter and agreement with the Seventh Father, among other fathers present. Jake raises his hand, looking upset and desperate.

 

SPEAKER (BOB): [in despair, pointing to Jake] Yes?

 

JAKE: [stands up, extremely nervous] Now, wait a minute! Maybe I’m not the best father in the world, but I trust my two daughters!

 

FOURTH FATHER (TOM GRIFFIN): Didn’t you just say your oldest daughter Daria was a Satanist?

 

JAKE: No, she’s not! She isn’t! I thought she was, but all I had to do was talk to her! I had it all wrong!

 

SECOND FATHER: You said you’ve got photos of her out in graveyards, eating dead people, and you TRUST her? Did I hear you right?

 

JAKE: Yes, I do! It was all a mistake! I swear it!

 

OTHER FATHERS: You idiot! All a mistake? Bull! You’re crazy!

 

JAKE: It WAS a mistake! She was shooting a movie with a friend! The bones were all props!

 

FOURTH FATHER (TOM GRIFFIN): Have you ever gone through your kids’ rooms and looked for drugs, guns, all that illegal stuff, just checked them even once to find out if your girls were on the level with you? My wife does that all the time!

 

JAKE: [hesitates, turns red, comes clean] Yes, I did! I searched Daria’s room yesterday, and I regret it now! I was being as bad to Daria as my father was to me! He didn’t trust me, and it drove me crazy! I’m not screwing up my daughters’ lives the way my father screwed up mine!

 

FOURTH FATHER (TOM GRIFFIN): Do you know your daughter Daria is out running around Lawndale right this moment, dressed like a witch and scaring the living Bejesus out of my Sandi and her friends?

 

JAKE: [suddenly angry] That’s a lie! How dare you!

 

THIRD FATHER (TIFFANY BLUM-DECKLER’S DAD): Jake Morgendorffer, I swear I thought I’d never say this, but you’ve got your head six feet up your ass!

 

SPEAKER (BOB): [panicking] Gentlemen, please!

 

JAKE: [really pissed] I’m not the one with my head up my ass! I don’t spy on my girls like some kind of degenerate Nazi pervert!

 

Huge outcry as many outraged fathers rise to their feet to shout insults at Jake.

 

OTHER FATHERS: [shouting] You moron! Get a clue! Idiot! How’d you like your face flattened? You’re stupid, Morgendorffer!

 

JAKE: [furious, to crowd] You wouldn’t know a clue if you found it stuck to your shorts!

 

SPEAKER (BOB): [panicked] Please, listen to me!

 

JAKE: [furious, to crowd] My kids are the greatest, and I trust them! [throws down his seminar paperwork] To hell with this! And to hell with you! [walks out of room]

 

OTHER FATHERS: [as Jake leaves] Loser! Dumb ass! Beat it!

 

SPEAKER (BOB): [yelling, completely ignored by all] Just shut the hell up, everyone! Time out! Time out!

 

 

79. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, LACKLUSTER VIDEO RENTAL SHOP, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria has wandered out of the games room and into the Lackluster video store. She scans the rows of videotapes, while overhead a TV set shows a scene from The Exorcist, where the possessed girl’s head spins around. Moments after starting down one aisle, Daria looks up to see that Kevin Thompson is there, too, looking at a selection of adult videos with mild interest. Kevin looks up, surprised, and sees Daria; as he does, he starts to put away the video box he’s holding (“Two-Timing Hillbilly Love Slaves”). He then stops himself and shakes his head, going back to reading the back of the box.

 

KEVIN: So, what brings you to the Plaza?

 

DARIA: [deadpan] Drug deal fell through. Just killing time, now.

 

Kevin looks up for a moment at Daria with some concern, then uneasily shrugs it off.

 

KEVIN: [holds up video cover to show Daria] You should expand your world. Check this one out.

 

DARIA: [deadpan] You could expand your world by crawling out of the cesspool and evolving your own brain.

 

Kevin looks at Daria, his eyes hardening. He puts the video box back on the rack, looking away.

 

KEVIN: You always had a big mouth. Got anything else to say?

 

DARIA: [eyes glitter] In fact, I do.

 

Kevin looks at Daria. He’s clearly not in a joking mood.

 

KEVIN: So, let’s hear it. What’s the brain got to say?

 

DARIA: [pause, meaningful tone] Winter is coming.

 

Kevin hesitates, then laughs, shaking his head. He saunters out of the video store, still laughing.

 

KEVIN: Jeez, I don’t have to ask how your meeting with the brain suckers went, do I?

 

Daria watches his back with narrow eyes, then goes back to exploring the video selections.

 

 

80. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, GIFT SHOP, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

We first see Andrea’s face, staring at something. She is in one of the assorted gift shops by the Lawndale Plaza Hotel lobby. Her expression is shell-shocked, non-reactive. We then see that she is looking at a display of personal-use items for forgetful travelers, such as toothpaste, toothbrushes, combs, etc. The section that Andrea stares at is for shaving items—in particular, cheap plastic safety razors.

 

 

81. ### ANDREA’S MEMORY ###

INT: MESSY BATHROOM

 

In black and white, we see through Andrea’s eyes. Her two hands, without rings or bracelets, use a pair of pliers to tear away the plastic around the razor portion of a disposable safety razor. She uses the closed lid of a toilet for her workspace.

 

 

82. INT: AT THIS MOMENT, GIFT SHOP, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

In color in the present, we again briefly see Andrea’s face, closer than before, still without expression. We then see the display of safety razors, also closer than before.

 

 

83. ### ANDREA’S MEMORY ###

INT: MESSY BATHROOM

 

In black and white, we again see through Andrea’s eyes. Andrea’s right hand empties two-dozen pills from a bottle into her left hand. The hand with the pills rises to what would be the viewer’s mouth, reaching next (without pills) for a nearby glass of water, which also rises to the viewer’s mouth. The hand puts down the glass (most of the water now gone) and reaches again for the pill bottle.

 

 

84. INT: AT THIS MOMENT, GIFT SHOP, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

In color in the present, we see Andrea’s face, very close, looking into her unblinking eyes. A small package of safety razors appears next, hanging from its rack.

 

 

85. ### ANDREA’S MEMORY ###

INT: MESSY BATHROOM

 

In black and white, we again see through Andrea’s eyes into her past. She gets into a bathtub. Water pours from the faucet, and steam rises from the bath water. The damaged safety razor rests on the side of the tub. The viewer kneels, her hands resting briefly on the bottom of the tub until she sits back. The viewer looks at the water pouring into the tub, which is over half full, then looks down at the damaged safety razor. The viewer’s right hand reaches down and picks up the safety razor, examining it. The viewer’s left hand comes up, palm (and wrist) turned up. The right hand presses the safety razor’s blade to the left wrist, pressing it in to leave a long impression once the blade is removed. The viewer’s right hand grasps the head of the safety razor firmly and makes a slight cutting motion against the fleshy part of the left hand, at the base of the thumb. This leaves a pale scar from which a thin line of blood wells up. The viewer’s perspective changes slightly, as if a deep breath was taken. The viewer’s right hand again grasps the head of the safety razor firmly and presses it against the left wrist. The muscles in both hands tense visibly, and the right hand makes a sudden downward slashing motion, from which we cut to—

 

 

86. INT: AT THIS MOMENT, GIFT SHOP, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

In color in the present, we look directly into Andrea’s eyes. She flinches, blinks, and shakes her head. Her right hand comes up to rub her face, brushing her dark bangs from her eyes. She blinks and shakes her head again, looking very sad, then looks down at her left hand. Her hand is turned palm up. She can see a couple of grotesque long scars across her wrist, peeking from under one edge of the gray bracelet. After a moment, she shakes her left hand so the gray bracelet covers the scars again. Andrea looks up once to the razors on display, then slowly shakes her head, swallows, and walks off. She almost passes the counter on the way out of the store, but stops and looks past the counter clerk to the cigarette display on the wall behind.

 

ANDREA: [points to cigarette display, depressed voice] Pack of Femlites.

 

Andrea reaches into a pocket in her skirt, pulls out her driver’s license, and shows it to the clerk. The clerk gets a pack of cigarettes for her, she drops a bill on the counter, she gets her change from the clerk, and she leaves, head down, wandering aimlessly.

 

 

87. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, UPCHUCK AND ANDREA’S HOTEL ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

The room is dark and empty. Clothes (from Upchuck and Andrea) are strewn about on the unmade bed, floor, and furniture. The door clicks, and Upchuck walks in; the door shuts behind him automatically. Upchuck has something stuffed into one pants pocket, making the pocket bulge out a bit. He looks around the room, but he sees no one.

 

UPCHUCK: Andrea, my feisty queen of mystery and delight? Goddess of the erotic arts? [walks to bathroom] Andrea? [looks around] Andrea?

 

Upchuck shrugs and walks back into the main room. He spots the picture of Andrea on the bedside dresser, and he picks it up.

 

UPCHUCK: [kisses picture with passion] Rrr-rowr-rrr! You are hot!

 

Upchuck puts the picture down and reaches into his pants pocket, pulling out a small black box. He opens the box a fraction, peeking in, then puts it back in his pocket. He holds still for a second, thinking, then turns to the bed, as if addressing Andrea there.

 

UPCHUCK: [acting suave, overplayed] Ah, my dear, no doubt you’ve wondered what trivial business I had earlier today, called away from the burning throes of passion to drive to the distant micro-metropolis of Oakwood and serve the mind-destroying forces of the mundane. Ah-ha! Such was not the case! You see—[reaches into pocket again, casually pulls out box]—among my many relatives in this area is a magnificent aunt on my father’s side, a goldsmith of no small repute, and she . . . [drops suave tone, thinks aloud] No, that’s not right. Um—[suave tone] I was called away by someone pretending to be my father, none other than my aunt—[drops suave tone] No, no. Um . . . [puts box back into pocket, kneels and faces bed] Andrea, glory of my existence, dark angel, my love, would you please—[stops to pull box from pocket, drops it, groans, gets up] Damn, Mister Ultrasuave can’t screw this up. It has to be right. I have to do this exactly right.

 

Upchuck stands and thinks, but frowns and puts the box back into his pants pocket.

 

UPCHUCK: I hope I don’t scare her off. This is going to be tricky.

 

Upchuck sighs and thinks. He shrugs, then walks back to the door and goes out, the door shutting behind him.

 

 

88. INT: LATE AFTERNOON, KITCHEN, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

Helen sits at the kitchen table, still dressed in her lawyer outfit but with her vest unbuttoned. Her arms are folded on the table before her; she appears to be waiting for someone, her fingers twiddling a bit. The distant sound of a toilet flushing goes through the house, followed by a door opening, soft footsteps, and Quinn’s reappearance in the kitchen. She gingerly sits down in a chair across the table from her mother.

 

HELEN: [clears throat] Well, thank you for being honest with me for a change. I suppose the only thing I have left to ask is, why did you do it?

 

QUINN: [sullen, hesitant] She made fun of me.

 

HELEN: Oh, for goodness sake, Quinn, you’re practically a grown woman, and you tell me that Daria made fun of you? That’s why you started this whole mess with the graveyard photos? Give me a break.

 

Quinn starts to say something, but she thinks better of it. She frowns down at the table instead.

 

QUINN: She just insulted me. [mumbles] Dim, the stup—[stops herself, exhales heavily] Never mind.

 

HELEN: [shrugs] Fine, it doesn’t matter much what started this anyway, I suppose. The deed is done. I don’t know what your father’s going to say about this when he finds out, but I know what I’m going to say. [pause, stares at Quinn] Rather, I did, but the situation has taken care of most of the punishments I could conceive of. You ate all those olestra chips and grounded yourself quite effectively until next Tuesday or Wednesday, which is when those side effects start to wear off.

 

QUINN: [looks up in horror] Tuesday or Wednesday? No!

 

HELEN: [calm] That’s what the chip company told me. I’d sue them if I could, but it wouldn’t fly. They’re covered. Anyway, it could take a week after that for your system to straighten out again. [pause] I wouldn’t wear anything expensive, if I were you. I’ll get you some cheap cotton panties. I definitely wouldn’t go more than thirty feet from a bathroom, in any event.

 

QUINN: [red faced] Damn it!

 

HELEN: So, the grounding’s taken care of. I also seem to recall handing you a large amount of money, and I think you should—

 

QUINN: [looks up, angry] Muuuh-ooom!

 

HELEN: Don’t you raise your voice to me, young lady! I want it back, every dollar of it, and everything your father gave you as well!

 

QUINN: [verge of tears] Muuuh-ooom! No!

 

HELEN: What did you expect me to do, reward you? [pause, thinks] Although, actually, I wonder if I should.

 

QUINN: [confused, less angry] What are you talking about?

 

HELEN: [shakes her head, smiling] When I spoke with Jake earlier, he was so pleased to be there with Daria, he was about to burst. It sounds like the mess you created has worked out extremely well for your sister and your father.

 

 

89. INT: AT THIS MOMENT, MORGENDORFFERS’ HOTEL ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

The central living room for Jake and Daria’s suite is shown. One table light is on. An open suitcase (Jake’s) sits on the couch. The TV set is on (to a commercial), but the sound is low. The door clicks, then opens. Daria enters, still carrying that sack, and pockets her cardlike plastic door key. The door closes slowly behind her as she surveys the room, sets the sack down, and walks to the TV. Before she can locate the remote, she hears a noise from her father’s bedroom; the door to it is almost shut.

 

JAKE: [VO, from bedroom] Bastards. Who do they think they are? Little tin gods.

 

The hotel room door shuts with a thump.

 

JAKE: [VO, from bedroom, startled] Daria? That you? I’ll be out in a little while.

 

Daria looks toward Jake’s bedroom, frowning. It is clearly dark in that bedroom.

 

DARIA: Dad, you ready for the last seminar? Or should we cut it and watch the tube?

 

JAKE: [VO, cheerless, from bedroom] Ah, just a minute. I’ll be right out.

 

Daria hesitates, then walks toward Jake’s bedroom door and pushes it open. The room lights are out. Jake sits on his bed, looking downcast. He sees Daria and slowly gets up, appearing at loose ends. His face is red, and after the initial glance at Daria he avoids looking at her.

 

JAKE: [low voice] Hi, kiddo. [more nervous] Ah, about the last seminar, um . . .

 

DARIA: [frowns] Is something wrong?

 

JAKE: [flustered] No, nothing. I . . . [swallows] I was just tired, and—

 

DARIA: Don’t lie to me, Dad. I hate it when you lie to me.

 

Jake glances at Daria again, looking ashamed.

 

JAKE: [nods, dispirited tone] I, uh, had a misunderstanding with some . . . some other . . . buttheads . . . fathers, I mean, but they were buttheads, in my last meeting. [shrugs in defeat] I’m sorry, kiddo, but Jakey didn’t do very well this afternoon. I . . . don’t think I can go down for the last seminar. Not a good idea. Didn’t make a lot of friends.

 

DARIA: [frowns] You got into a fight?

 

JAKE: Uh, sort of. [tense] Would have liked to put my fist right into . . . [shoulders sag, looks away] I walked out. I walked out and came up here. [swallows] Not a very good dad after all. I’m sorry.

 

DARIA: What are you talking about?

 

JAKE: [becoming agitated] Some people . . . some people don’t seem to like us. I don’t know what their problem is. Screw this stupid seminar thing. I told ‘em off. I stood up for yo—for us. Stood up for us. Jerks. [pause, rubs face with both hands] I’m sorry, Daria, but I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I just want to be by myself for a while. Maybe later, if you want, we can order something, eat in the room, watch some TV. Just you and me. Morgendorffer and Morgendorffer. If you want. [pause, drops hands, looks at Daria] You’re my Lawndale prin—[grimaces]—you’re my kid. I’m proud of you. I always will be. [tense again, low voice] Screw those bastards. [pause, calmer] Excuse me.

 

Jake slowly walks off into his bathroom and shuts the door. Daria stares at the door in the silence that follows. Her expression changes as if she has comprehended something, but the knowledge upsets her. She looks around the bedroom, her attention focusing on her father’s bed, where she sees a small tape recorder. Daria walks over to the tape recorder, picks it up, and walks out of the bedroom for a moment. She puts the tape recorder on a table near the TV, behind a flower vase, then walks back to her father’s bedroom.

 

DARIA: [calling to Jake, in bathroom] We’ll eat in the room tonight, but I want you to take a hot shower first. Relax.

 

JAKE: [VO, in bathroom] What?

 

DARIA: [loud] Take a hot shower, or better yet a bath. Maybe have a nap. Then we get room service and watch some TV. Okay?

 

JAKE: [VO, in bathroom, depressed] Okay.

 

DARIA: [loud] I’m going out for a while. You get some rest.

 

JAKE: [VO, in bathroom] Okay. [pause, depressed] I’m really sorry about all this. I shouldn’t have lost my temper with those idiot rat bastards. [voice lowers] The nerve of them. Where do they get off telling me . . . oh, forget it. I’m the idiot.

 

Daria stands in the bedroom doorway a few moments longer, then leaves. She gets the tape recorder on her way across the central TV area, heading for her room. The TV is showing a scene from the movie Dr. Strangelove. The insane U.S. Air Force general, Jack D. Ripper, is speaking to the British officer Mandrake by phone.

 

TV: [Ripper] Very well, now, listen to me carefully. The base is being put on Condition Red. I want this flashed to all sections immediately.

[Mandrake] Condition Red, sir. Yes. Jolly good idea, keeps the men on their toes.

[Ripper] Group Captain, I’m afraid this is not an exercise.

[Mandrake] Not an exercise, sir?

 

Daria closes her door to her own bedroom, shutting out the TV noise. She holds up the tape recorder and reads the buttons and dials. She then thumbs the button marked “Rewind,” waits for a short while until the recorder clicks, then presses “Play.”

 

 

90. INT: LATE AFTERNOON, DINING ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Mack sits in a small booth by himself in the hotel dining room. He appears distracted and isn’t eating, though he has a plate of cheese nachos on the table before him with a tall glass of soda. A young waiter, as old as Mack, walks over and stops by his side.

 

WAITER: Can I get you anything, sir?

 

MACK: [comes out of his reverie] Uh—nah. Thanks. Just waiting on my steak.

 

WAITER: I’ll check on it for you. [leaves]

 

Mack sighs. He picks up his cola and takes a drink, sets it down, then starts to wipe his hand off (covered with moisture from the outside of the iced glass). He stops, then uses the moisture on his fingers to write on the tabletop. He first writes J-O-D . . . but doesn’t finish it. He wipes the word out. After a pause, he then writes, B-R-I-T . . . then wipes that out as well, rolling his eyes with a sigh.

 

MACK: [whispers to self, amused grin] Get hold of yourself. Damn, son.

 

He starts to reach for a nacho when he hears voices coming from behind him. Kevin and Brittany enter the dining area and take a table behind Mack. The walls of his booth block Mack’s view of the couple, and they likewise cannot see him—but he can hear them and knows they are there. Kevin holds a manila envelope under one arm.

 

WAITER: [puts two menus on table] Here you go. I’ll be right back for your drink selection. [leaves]

 

KEVIN: [pulls chair out for Brittany] There you are, Miss Taylor.

 

BRITTANY: [sits happily] Oh, Kevvy, thank you! You’re so sweet! Are you going to tell me what’s in the envelope?

 

KEVIN: [sits, puts envelope against chair leg] Of course! Dinner first, though. Just pick out anything you want, and it’s yours.

 

BRITTANY: Anything? [looks at menu eagerly]

 

KEVIN: Yep.

 

BRITTANY: Anything at all?

 

KEVIN: [nervous] Uh, yeah. Anyth—

 

BRITTANY: Personal cheese pizza, then, and a cola. [puts menu down]

 

KEVIN: [relieved] Good choice. I’ll get a burger.

 

BRITTANY: I love this place! It’s so exciting! People come here from all over the world, even from places around here! You wouldn’t believe who I met . . . [voice trails off, shakes head, perky again] Anyway, it’s just so cool to eat in a hotel! Gives me a thrill.

 

KEVIN: A thrill sounds good, babe.

 

Brittany eyes Kevin, some of her joy fading. Kevin catches on a moment later.

 

KEVIN: Jeez, sorry. Brittany, I meant, you know, not “babe.”

 

BRITTANY: Oh, that’s okay. You are very sweet. All forgiven!

 

Kevin nods absently, looking in the distance for someone.

 

KEVIN: [confident] Let’s see if we can get that waiter back and get on with the evening.

 

 

91. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, MORGENDORFFERS’ HOTEL ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

The door to Daria’s room opens. She walks out with a look of pure, white-hot rage on her face. She grips the miniature tape recorder in her left hand so hard that the device makes creaking and popping noises. On the TV set, the volume very low, is a scene from Dr. Strangelove. The B-52 pilot Major Kong is putting on his cowboy hat as he and his crew prepare to attack their assigned targets in the Soviet Union.

 

TV: [Major Kong speaking to B-52 crew] Well, boys, I reckon this is it. Nuclear combat, toe-to-toe with the Rooskies.

 

Daria turns the TV off. Her face churning with emotion, she looks into her father’s darkened bedroom. She can hear the sound of a bathtub filling from the bathroom across the room. Her face softens momentarily, and she pulls the door shut without making a sound. The intense rage then returns to her face, then changes into a cold, tight-lipped fury. Daria now moves with resolve and purpose. She walks toward the door of the room, picks up her “Damnation Alley” sack, and leaves silently.

 

 

92. INT: A SHORT WHILE LATER, LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Appearing to be searching for someone, Daria walks through the hotel lobby past the shops and boutiques, carrying her “Damnation Alley” sack. At one point she passes by the windows of the Lackluster video-rental shop, where a TV set plays a videotape of the 1956 sci-fi classic, Forbidden Planet. The scene showing at the moment is that of the “monster of the id” attacking the crew of the saucer-shaped United Planets spacecraft. A crewman screams as the monster kills him. Daria stops briefly near the TV, not looking at it, before she walks on, eyes still searching.

 

Daria stops to look at the newspaper headlines outside a newsstand/novelties shop, then looks into the store itself. She stops in surprise. Upchuck is inside at the magazine rack in back, standing before the adult magazine section. He appears to be reading one of the men’s magazines, turning the magazine sideways at one point to see the centerfold. Even at a distance, Daria can hear Upchuck’s growling as he admires the centerfold’s subject. Daria’s expression changes once more to a look of white-faced fury, her teeth showing for a moment before her deadpan look takes over again.

 

 

93. INT: MOMENTS LATER, LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria walks into the store, slowly and quietly. A young male cashier—the only other person in the store—watches “The Simpsons” on a miniature color TV by the cash register, paying no attention to anyone or anything around him. Upchuck is hidden from the cashier’s view by various racks of books and merchandise. As Daria passes a rack holding various dull-edged (but full-sized and solid steel) replica swords for sale, her right hand grasps a sword hilt and she pulls the replica weapon free of the rack. She advances on Upchuck from behind.

 

Upchuck’s appreciation of unclothed feminine pulchritude is interrupted when Daria’s long sword is thrust between his legs from behind, immediately below to his crotch. The sword point jams deep into the magazine rack, running through the head of a laughing man on the cover of a news magazine. (The man, holding a martini and wearing an expensive smoking jacket, illustrates the cover story: “Is the Playboy Era Dead?”) Upchuck jumps, startled, then looks down. Daria presses herself close to Upchuck’s left side at the same moment, her right hand gripping the sword hilt and her left hand reaching across her chest to hold Upchuck’s left bicep, so he cannot escape. Daria has set her “Damnation Alley” sack on the floor beside her.

 

UPCHUCK: [sees the sword next to his crotch, high squeaky voice] Eeep!

 

DARIA: [soft deadpan from here on] Hello, Upchuck. Library closed today?

 

Upchuck makes a few high-pitched squeaks and squeals while trying to breathe, rising up on tiptoe to bring his crotch away from the sword edge. His face goes white.

 

UPCHUCK: [squeaky whisper] Miss D-d-d-daria Morgendorffer, what a pleasure! Lovely to s-s-see you!

 

DARIA: Wish I could say the same, Upchuck. How’ve you been?

 

UPCHUCK: F-f-f-f-f-fine, j-just f-f-f-fine. [swallows] And you?

 

DARIA: [frowns absently] I was doing pretty well, Upchuck, pretty well, until this weekend. I saw Andrea here. I hear rumors that you two are seeing each other.

 

UPCHUCK: Uh-uh-uh, yeah, in fact, yeah, w-w-we are, uh, uh, s-s-s-seeing each uh-other, k-k-kind of in s-s-secret. Hush-hush, you know. The parents. Th-they never seem to understand. [tries to calm self] If you were l-l-looking for a date, I m-m-might know—

 

DARIA: No, no, Upchuck. I’m not looking for a date. [pause] Not with you.

 

UPCHUCK: [weak smile] Th-th-that’s marvelous, see, b-b-because Andrea, I mean, I—

 

Daria lifts the hilt of the sword, causing Upchuck to rise up higher on tiptoes, the blade lightly pressing into his groin.

 

DARIA: Why don’t I come to the point?

 

UPCHUCK: [sweating, looks down at the sword point jammed into the news magazines] Uh-uh-uh-uh—

 

DARIA: Upchuck, I like Andrea. She’s a good person. One of the best. You agree?

 

UPCHUCK: Y-y-y-y-yes, she is, definitely. So strange you should ask, b-b-because I, we’re—

 

DARIA: And if anything bad happened to Andrea, if someone were to hurt her, some miserable rotten low-down bottom-feeding jerk, if this scum-sucking worthless cretin were to hurt her in any way . . . [voice drops almost to a whisper] I would feel bad.

 

UPCHUCK: Oh, yes, absolutely! I would feel b-b-b—

 

DARIA: [cold whisper] And if I felt bad, I might . . . dooo . . . something bad.

 

Daria pulls up harder on the sword hilt. Upchuck emits a nearly supersonic squeal, dropping his girlie magazine and grabbing the magazine rack in front of him to pull himself up farther. His face is etched with panic. The slack-jawed cashier, watching “The Simpsons,” notices nothing.

 

DARIA: [whispers] That would be bad . . . wouldn’t it, Upchuck?

 

Upchuck nods his head violently in agreement.

 

DARIA: Then, let’s you and I make an agreement. Nothing bad of that sort is going to happen to Andrea, is it, Upchuck?

 

UPCHUCK: [shakes head violently] N-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n—

 

DARIA: That’s good. It’s rare that you and I ever agree on anything. That’s . . . strange, but good.

 

Upchuck again nods his head violently in agreement.

 

DARIA: Good. [pats Upchuck on the left shoulder with her left hand] Okay, Upchuck. Reach down and grab hold of my friend here—[wags sword slightly]—very carefully.

 

Upchuck slowly reaches down to grab the sword blade—with great care—with his hands.

 

DARIA: Very good. I’m going to leave now. You wait until I’m gone before you do anything, okay? [Upchuck nods] And you and Andrea have a great weekend here, okay? [Upchuck nods] Oh—let’s keep this little meeting to ourselves. It’s our little secret. You okay with that?

 

Once more, Upchuck nods his head violently in agreement.

 

DARIA: Good. See you around. [pause] On the other hand, I hope I don’t.

 

Daria releases the sword hilt and pats Upchuck on the back in a friendly way.

 

DARIA: Oh, and Andrea said she’ll be in the room, taking a nap. Tell her I said hi.

 

Upchuck appears puzzled but wisely nods his appreciation for the news. Daria then picks up her “Damnation Alley” sack and walks out of the store without looking back. Upchuck looks up and sees in a store security mirror that he is alone again. Then he sags, sweat running down his face, and he tries to pull the sword from the magazines into which it is stuck. The magazines won’t come off, so he carefully sets the sword upright beside the rack, straightens his clothing, and walks out of the store as casually as possible. He stops and nervously looks in every direction as he does, however, searching for Daria—who has disappeared. After a moment, a strange smile comes over Upchuck’s face as he shakes his head in wonder.

 

UPCHUCK: [with relief and admiration] Wow! I always knew she was feisty, but not that feisty! Grrrrrr!

 

Upchuck starts to leave the shop, but he sees a rack of items he hadn’t noticed before, with the label “Costumes” over it. He thinks, then walks over quickly—with one last look behind to see if Daria is nearby. Glad to be alone, he begins looking through the rack with great eagerness—finding one box he likes especially well.

 

UPCHUCK: [clutching box] Perfect! Yes!

 

 

94. INT: LATE SATURDAY AFTERNOON, DINING ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Depressed, Andrea enters the dining room, screened from view behind a large crowd of newcomers. She doesn’t wait for the waiter to seat her, instead walking over to sit by herself at a dark, secluded table by a pillar. She rests her head on her hand, elbow on the table, and stares at nothing. Finally, she reaches behind her for a hidden pocket in her Goth outfit, and she pulls out the pack of cigarettes she purchased earlier. She unwraps the package and looks around the dining room. To her surprise, she spots Kevin and Brittany sitting barely thirty feet away. They face each other across a small, well-lit table, sitting so that Andrea sees Kevin’s right side and Brittany’s left. The two have finished dinner (pizza for Brittany, hamburger for Kevin) and are talking in low tones. Andrea watches them sadly and picks up their conversation.

 

KEVIN: That was a great dinner. They make the best hamburgers in the state.

 

Andrea gently snorts but says nothing. She looks down at her tabletop, trying to appear nonchalant as she pulls a cigarette from her pack of Femlites and puts the pack away.

 

BRITTANY: Kevin, that is such a relief. You have no idea. I was really afraid of how this would come out, you know? You scared me a little last night when you—

 

KEVIN: [waves the issue away] I know, I know. That was stupid. I don’t want to do anything stupid anymore. I’m gonna do smart stuff from now on.

 

BRITTANY: [blushes] Thanks, Kevvy. That means a lot to me, you know. You’ll always be special to me.

 

KEVIN: [spread arms grandly] Hey, I’m the QB! ‘Course I’m special! [drops arms] But you’ll always be my high-school cheerleader, the only one who mattered.

 

BRITTANY: Oh, Kevvy. [pause, anxious look at Kevin] You’re not going to ruin this by asking me to go up to your room, are you?

 

KEVIN: Time for your surprise! [picks up manila envelope from floor, hands it to Brittany] I had some pictures made especially for you.

 

Andrea produces a butane lighter, but she hesitates before lighting her cigarette. She frowns at Kevin, watching him closely. On the other side of Kevin and Brittany’s table, sitting in his high-walled booth by himself with a half-eaten steak dinner before him, Mack also frowns, listening. Neither Kevin, Brittany, nor Andrea can see him.

 

BRITTANY: [takes envelope, smiles shyly] Thank you, Kevvy. [opens envelope] This is really—[voice dies instantly as she sees what’s in the envelope]

 

Brittany’s face immediately colors. She appears frozen in shock, peering down at a photo inside the envelope.

 

KEVIN: [leans toward her, whispers] Either we go back to my room, one more time, or these hit the world-wide interweb. The netzone. You know what I mean. I’ve got the connections to do it. Everyone alive will see the Brittany that I’ve seen.

 

Brittany remains frozen, though her fingers gently begin to leaf through the large color photos inside the envelope. Her expression becomes deeply appalled as she sees a few of the pictures, and she swallows in fear and dismay.

 

BRITTANY: [soft whisper] I don’t remember . . . you taking . . .

 

KEVIN: [nasty grin] Too much to drink at the time, probably.

 

BRITTANY: [pause, very soft whisper, voice fading] Probably.

 

Overwhelmed, Brittany flips a last picture—and sees something stuck behind that last photo. She stares at it, blinks, and takes a deep, ragged breath.

 

BRITTANY: [whispers, not looking up] Do you have copies of these?

 

KEVIN: Nope, those are the only ones. Wanted you to see them first. I’ve got the negatives, though, so—[stops, realizes something]—oh, shit.

 

Moving like lightning, Brittany jumps from her seat, clutching the manila folder, and she makes a break for the exit from dining area. She catches one foot on a chair leg, however, and stumbles, arms flailing wildly. Kevin, moving with the quarterback speed that made him famous, is on Brittany in seconds, and he grabs her upper right arm.

 

KEVIN: [tries to grab manila envelope back] Give me that!

 

BRITTANY: [kicks at him viciously, holding envelope away from Kevin with free hand] No!!! Let go of me!!!

 

Kevin tries to slap Brittany back—but, at this moment, Andrea lunges into the fray. She grabs Kevin’s free hand with both her hands and twists it around violently in a direction it wasn’t meant to go. Kevin howls and lets go of Brittany, who flees with the manila envelope for the hotel’s front desk. Breaking free of Andrea, Kevin grabs Andrea by her black t-shirt with both hands and shoves her backward as hard as he can. As Kevin towers over Andrea and is far stronger, Andrea flies into the chairs behind her, crashing over them to fall to the floor fifteen feet away. Kevin starts to take off after Brittany again, but a dark brown left hand clamps onto his right wrist, pulling him back. Kevin swiftly turns and sees who grabbed him.

 

KEVIN: [startled] Mack Daddy, Jeez!

 

MACK: [holds Kevin’s arm, shouts] What the hell’s gotten into you, Kevin? Are you insane?

 

KEVIN: [shakes off Mack’s grip] Oh, blow me, Mack! This is none of your damn—

 

MACK: You calm down, or I’ll calm you down!

 

Kevin lunges for Mack, swinging at his face. Mack dodges and strikes back, his right fist nailing Kevin in the center of his jaw. Clumsy positioning hampers the blow, but it is enough to send Lawndale’s star quarterback crashing backward over the upset table. Other patrons in the dining room get up to watch the fight, but no one interferes. Several rush over to the fallen Andrea, who struggles to get up. She bleeds from her nose and a split lip. Two waiters shout for help from hotel security. Kevin gets up, recovering, as Mack shoves the fallen table out of the way and advances on him.

 

KEVIN: [to Mack, low voice] You’re a dead man.

 

Kevin grabs a fallen chair and flings it at Mack. The chair hits Mack, staggering him but failing to knock him down. Mack starts to charge Kevin—but he stops and looks over Kevin’s right shoulder with great surprise, his eyes wide.

 

KEVIN: [advances, smiles] You’re not gonna get me with that shi—

 

A figure clothed in black slams into Kevin from behind. Off-balance, Kevin falls forward and hits the floor, the figure on his back. The black-clad figure wraps a left arm around Kevin’s throat in a choke hold, and grabs at Kevin’s face with his right, pulling Kevin’s face to the right to stare into the attacker’s own face. Kevin sees a snarling, dead-white face, eyes with blood-red irises, slicked-back flame-red hair, flaring eyebrows—and fanged teeth. That the figure’s face resembles Upchuck does not occur to him at all.

 

Terrified, Kevin shrieks incoherently and struggles to get up. The attacker tightens his arm hold across Kevin’s throat and tries to bite him on the side of his face. The two roll on the floor, Kevin trying to dislodge the vampiric figure on his back. The attacker manages to get his teeth into Kevin’s right ear, which redoubles Kevin’s wild struggles and panicked/agonized yells.

 

Kevin manages to ram an elbow into his attacker’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. With all his remaining strength, Kevin shoves the attacker away and grabs for his right ear, which is bleeding in several places. He rises up on his knees and tries to get to his feet, looking around for the attacker. He sees Mack charging for him. Kevin dodges, kicking at Mack, and barely escapes being pounded as Mack falls, one foot knocked out from under him. Kevin scrambles to his feet and runs for an exit.

 

Standing off to the side of the exit is Daria. She has both hands in her “Damnation Alley” shopping bag, working on something furiously. Kevin runs toward her, meaning to get past her and escape from the hotel. Seconds before he reaches her, she rises to her feet, dropping the bag, her right arm hidden behind her. Her body twists around, eyes locked on Kevin with great intensity. As Kevin reaches her, Daria whirls in place, her right arm coming from behind her back in a dead-on punch. Her right arm up to the elbow is encased in a massive steel gauntlet, the kind worn by armored knights in the Late Middle Ages. With great precision, she intercepts Kevin and drives her iron fist into Kevin’s groin. The impact knocks Daria almost completely around in place, but she keeps her footing at the last second.

 

The wind is instantly knocked from Kevin’s lungs by the blow, and he staggers, bent over, for a dozen more feet before he comes to a stop. Gasping horribly, he steps forward, trying to get up to speed again. By this time, Daria has come up behind him at a half-run. She times her movements like a field-goal kicker striving for the game-winning score. With all her strength, she kicks Kevin from behind—once again in the groin—with her heavy-soled, metal-reinforced-toe boots. With a last, horrid wheeze, Kevin falls forward on his face and curls into a fetal position, his face turning gray with shock. Daria looks down at him as several hotel security guards rush up.

 

DARIA: [voice filled with venom] Winter is here.

 

The security guards grab for Kevin, nightsticks drawn, but he offers no resistance. With no trace of emotion, Daria turns and walks back toward the dining room. She picks up her shopping bag, takes off her armored gauntlet, drops it in the bag, and walks away with bag in hand. People rush past her, and in moments she is lost to view.

 

 

 

* * *

 

SATURDAY EVENING

Part Six: Panic in the Year Daria

(a.k.a., Damnation’s Ally, or, A Canticle for Morgendorffer)

 

 

95. EXT: ABOUT 5:20 P.M., SIDEWALK NEAR LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria Morgendorffer walks down the sidewalk, heading away from the Lawndale Plaza Hotel, which is visible against the evening sky behind her. She appears calm after her run-in with Kevin Thompson, only a few minutes earlier. She still carries the sack from “Damnation Alley” with the steel gauntlet inside it.

 

DARIA: [talks in quiet deadpan to herself as she walks] I suppose I’ve accomplished something now. I’ve made a difference. All I had to do was to reach out and . . . touch someone. [winces] I wish I hadn’t said that. [pause, deadpan look] I should be careful, though. I could get addicted to this. I’m violating the Prime Directive, interfering with a primitive culture. But if Kirk could do it, then . . . [stops walking] The problem is, I keep thinking I should feel bad about what I’ve done, even though I don’t. I finally do something that I’ve secretly wanted to do, and I should be happy, or at least satisfied enough not to argue with myself over it. [frown] Well, enough of that. I have my principles and my integrity. Deeds speak louder than words. For the injustices that my father has suffered, I am free to seek redress in any lawful and reasonable manner I see fit. However, I . . . I . . . [voice trails off, she stares at something across the street]

 

Across the street is a well-lit store with many banners in the windows. The store, called Military Mart, has advertisements in the windows proclaiming, “Army Ranger Surplus Sale!” “Marine MP Madness: 75% off!” “Lawndale’s Finest in Nonlethal Defensive Weaponry!” “Paintball Spoken Here!” “Must Be 18 to Purchase Tear Gas,” and “Ask About Our Dye-Bomb Booby Traps!”

 

DARIA: [continues, quiet deadpan] . . . I am the dread Daria Morgendorffer, and there will be no survivors.

 

She crosses the street, checking for traffic, and enters the store, sack in hand.

 

 

96. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, JAKE MORGENDORFFER’S BEDROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

The bathroom door opens, and Jake walks out, wearing a white bathrobe and maroon pajama bottoms. The sounds of the bathtub draining can be heard behind him. Still looking tired and depressed, Jake wanders over to the TV set in his bedroom and picks up the remote. He looks out into the central room of the suite that he and Daria share, but he sees no one present. Daria’s bedroom door is open, but it is dark there. Jake looks downcast and walks back into his bedroom, sitting against the headboard of his bed. He points the remote at his room TV, turning the set on.

 

JAKE: [sad and bitter] Can’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to be with a loser dad like me, either. Damn it! I can’t do anything right!

 

Jake surfs channels for a few seconds, finally coming to a black-and-white movie. The scene, from Dr. Strangelove, shows the emergency meeting between President Muffley and General Turgidson, in the American War Room. General Turgidson is explaining the dire situation to the President.

 

TV: [General Turgidson] Mr. President, about thirty-five minutes ago, General Jack Ripper, the commanding general of Burpleson Air Force Base, issued an order to the thirty-four B-52s of his wing, which were airborne at the time as part of a special exercise we were holding called Operation Dropkick. Now, it appears that the order called for the planes to attack their targets inside Russia. . . .

 

JAKE: [face relaxes, talks to self over part of the TV dialogue] Ah, I love this movie! Never fails to cheer me up. George C. Scott. Now, there was a great general. [pause] Actor, I mean. [yawns] Something . . . whatever.

 

TV: [picking up again from General Turgidson’s speech] The aircraft will begin penetrating Russian radar cover within twenty-five minutes.

 

Jake yawns loudly. After a few moments, his eyes blink, then close, and he falls asleep, head down, snoring softly, propped up against the bed’s headboard.

 

As he snores, the scene on the TV screen changes from the War Room to the lone B-52 named “Leper Colony.” Curiously, what we see on the screen next is not exactly what was in the original movie. We see the B-52 flying toward its target, then . . .

 

 

97. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: COCKPIT OF USAF B-52 “MISERY CHICK”

 

The following scenes are in black and white, like the original Dr. Strangelove movie. Wearing a USAF B-52 flight suit, Devil Daria (her helmet allowing her devil horns to poke through) sits at the controls of the B-52. Her oxygen mask is undone and hangs from one side of her helmet, allowing her to speak normally. Her helmet has the legend, “MISERY CHICK” printed across the front in stenciled letters, below the USAF logo. She is concentrating on flying her aircraft when the radio crackles aloud.

 

RADIO: [powerful voice] Daria Morgendorffer, come in, over.

 

Devil Daria barely glances at the radio, continuing the fly the plane.

 

RADIO: Damn it, I know you’re in there! Talk to me! You know who this is?

 

DEVIL DARIA: Sorry, Gabe, having trouble hearing you. Too much static. [picks up a pitchfork on one side and begins banging on the aircraft ceiling] Can’t make out what you’re saying.

 

RADIO: Devil Daria, you are being recalled! Abort your current mission! Return to your room at once!

 

DEVIL DARIA: [still banging on ceiling with pitchfork] What? You want me to continue the mission? Thank you for your support.

 

RADIO: Damn it, listen up! This is Archgeneral Gabriel! This attack is unauthorized!

 

DEVIL DARIA: [throws aside pitchfork, cold voice] They attacked my father. THAT was unauthorized.

 

RADIO: He stood up for you! He restrained himself and avoided foolish violence!

 

DEVIL DARIA: [deadpan] Perhaps I should have restrained myself, too, and let Kevin Thompson waltz by me after what he tried to do to Brittany. [snorts gently] Life would be a lot simpler if I didn’t care, wouldn’t it?

 

RADIO: Life would be a lot simpler if you’d return to your room until we can get Angel Daria resuscitated!

 

DEVIL DARIA: Life is a lot simpler now without her interference.

 

RADIO: What the hell do you think you’re going to accomplish by doing this?

 

DEVIL DARIA: [frowns] I want to show the world that I care, Gabe. I care about what they did to my dad. I care so much, it’s going to hurt.

 

RADIO: There are appropriate ways to handle that!

 

DEVIL DARIA: Correct. I believe the term is, “an eye for an eye.” You’ve heard that one before, I believe.

 

RADIO: Damn it, Devil Daria, you have no intention of taking just one eye!

 

Devil Daria looks amused. She glances back over her right shoulder.

 

 

98. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: BOMB BAY OF USAF B-52 “MISERY CHICK”

 

Behind Devil Daria on the aircraft are two enormous black hydrogen bombs suspended from the bomb-bay ceiling, just as the two bombs appeared in the movie Dr. Strangelove. However, the bombs have new names crudely painted on them in white: “Nuclear Winter Is Here!” and “Intellectualize This!”

 

 

99. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: COCKPIT OF USAF B-52 “MISERY CHICK”

 

Devil Daria looks back out the front windows of the cockpit.

 

DEVIL DARIA: [smirks with satisfaction] Darn. You have me there, Gabe.

 

RADIO: Abort your mission, Devil Daria! Don’t make me have to go Upstairs on this one! Get out of that military-surplus store this instant!

 

DEVIL DARIA: If you’re feeling stressed, perhaps you should take a hot bath.

 

RADIO: Aaaugh! Turn around at once and return to your hotel room!

 

DEVIL DARIA: [sighs, to herself] This is getting old.

 

Devil Daria picks up a cassette tape by her side, peers at it, then inserts it in the cockpit control panel before her. After a moment, we hear the crashing opening guitar cords to AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell.” Devil Daria begins to bob her head to the music.

 

RADIO: [overlapping and drowning out AC/DC lyrics] Don’t you try to shut me out! You can hear every word that I’m saying! I’m right, and you know I am! You’re going to cause so much trouble for your family, you won’t believe it! Do you have even the slightest clue of what these stupid actions of yours could do to this time-line? When I get my hands on you, so help me, I’m going to bend that pitchfork of yours around your pointed little head like a steel sweatband! I’ll hang you by your tail from Pluto’s moon! You’ll regret you ever smelled brimstone, you miserable little imp!

 

DEVIL DARIA: [bobbing head, sings to first chorus of song in slightly off-key voice] “I’m on the hiiigh-waaay to hell! On the hiiigh-waaay to hell! Hiiigh-waaay to hell! I’m on the hiiigh-waaay to helllllll!”

 

We pull back as Devil Daria sings, seeing now that she’s being viewed on a giant-screen TV perhaps twenty feet high and thirty feet wide. The picture is still in black and white.

 

 

100. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: CELESTIAL WAR ROOM

 

In black and white, we now see a huge room remarkably like the War Room in Dr. Strangelove. Seated in the center chair below the overhead “big screen” (on which Devil Daria sings away) is an archangel with white robes and huge white wings. His skin has a metallic sheen. Five stars in a pentagram rest on each shoulder. The archangel looks to be intensely frustrated as he hangs up a telephone. Other angelic figures surround him.

 

GABRIEL: [heavy sigh] What’s the situation with Angel Daria?

 

FIRST ANGEL: Still not responding to emergency treatment. This has all the earmarks of the Adversary.

 

SECOND ANGEL: [interrupts] We’ve had reason for several years to believe an agent of the Adversary is in Lawndale. We’ve not yet been able to disrupt the agent’s activities. [coughs] Budget cuts. [cough]

 

GABRIEL: [tense] Don’t talk to me about—oh, forget it. You think if we could disrupt the agent, we could get Angel Daria back on line?

 

FIRST ANGEL: No question about it. We’ve seen this kind of temporary superego suppression before, but not to this extent. We believe it’s an experiment of some kind, a trial run of a new device for temptation.

 

GABRIEL: [groans] Great. Just what we need. And this is Daria Morgendorffer we’re talking about, too. [rubs face] You can’t imagine what’s at stake here.

 

THIRD ANGEL: We’ve tried to warn of Daria Morgendorffer’s condition using sympathetic television retransmissions in her immediate vicinity, but no one is intellectually or emotionally sensitive to the broadcast messages. They don’t have a clue.

 

GABRIEL: [weary] They never do.

 

SECOND ANGEL: [leans forward] There’s still hope, however. We have one card left to play. It’s an outside shot, but I believe this person will serve as a catalyst to keep other people on track to fight the problem and perhaps keep Daria from her worst excesses.

 

GABRIEL: [looks up with hopeful expression] Really? Who are we talking about?

 

 

101. INT: AT THIS MOMENT, JANE’S ROOM, LANE HOME

 

Looking depressed and angry, Jane Lane lies on her bed, propped up with pillows, watching her TV. A badly chipped and scarred baseball bat leans against the side of the bed. She wears red shorts, a black t-shirt, and white sneakers with droopy athletic socks.

 

TV: What do sick, twisted megalomaniacs do when they need a break from trying to destroy the Earth?

 

JANE: [talks to TV, glum] Go to art school.

 

TV: They go to Wally World! See how these wacky, fun-loving psychopaths loosen up after a hard day of spreading strife and destruction. Don’t miss, “Party Like There’s No Tomorrow!” tonight on Sick, Sad World!

 

JANE: [talking to TV, glum] That’s what I should do. Go to Wally World and throw myself off of the—

 

TV: [commercial, woman’s soothing voice] Looking for a quiet evening away from troubles at home? Come to the Lawndale Plaza Hotel! We offer courteous service, a friendly dining atmosphere, and a swimming pool staffed with lifeguards twenty-four hours a day!

 

JANE: [talks to TV, glum] But no cheese fries.

 

TV: And, tonight only, free cheese fries for all!

 

JANE: [perks up] What? That can’t be—

 

TV: You heard right! Free cheese fries!

 

JANE: Oh, they’ll run out before I can—

 

TV: We’re stocked with cheese fries for the next twenty years! Every kind of cheese in the universe! We even have a forklift service on call, twenty-four seven, to help you back to your car!

 

JANE: [gets up from bed] That does it. I should go see—

 

TV: Visit your best friend, eat cheese fries, and enjoy nonstop satellite television in the comfort of your own room! Six thousand channels! And all the free cheese fries you can possibly—

 

JANE: All right, all right! [shuts TV off with remote] Damn, it’s like they’re reading your mind. [picks up wallet and car keys, leaves bedroom]

 

 

102. INT: ABOUT 5:45 P.M., DINING ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Things have returned to normal in the dining room following the fight with Kevin Thompson and his subsequent arrest. Tables have been put aright, people are dining, and all seems calm once again. The only anomaly is to one side, where several teenagers sit around a table, talking somberly with a police officer. Mack and Brittany sit together, as do Andrea and Upchuck. Mack has a sad, troubled expression, one of his arms around Brittany’s shoulders. Brittany wears Mack’s school jacket, and she leans on him in silence, staring blankly at the tabletop. Andrea, holding a wad of tissues to her nose (which she’s pinched shut), sits with Upchuck, who is wearing his vampire costume. Upchuck’s face is covered with white makeup, his red hair slicked back with gel. An open contact-lens case on the table has two red-tinted lenses in it. Distracted, Upchuck plays with a set of plastic vampire teeth. The Lawndale police officer finishes his report and puts away his pen.

 

POLICEMAN: Okay, that’s all I have for now. I might call in the next couple days if I have any other questions, but I believe we’ve got everything covered.

 

MACK: Okay.

 

POLICEMAN: [glances at Upchuck with a smile] Little early for Halloween, isn’t it?

 

UPCHUCK: [clears throat, not up to his usual speed] Costume party. Never really got underway, I’m afraid. [stuffs plastic teeth and contact-lens container into pants pocket under costume robes]

 

POLICEMAN: [nods, gets up] Okay. You have a, uh, quieter evening. I hope.

 

Mack reaches forward and shakes the officer’s hand, as does Upchuck.

 

MACK: Thanks. I hope so, too.

 

POLICEMEN: No problem. [leaves after shaking Upchuck’s hand]

 

Andrea pulls the bloodstained tissue from her nose, looking at it.

 

ANDREA: I can’t tell if I’m still bleeding.

 

UPCHUCK: [looking close] It’s stopped. Your nose pin probably poked the inside of your nose when you fell. [pause] Your lip’s only slightly swollen now. I’d say you’ve pulled through the chaos in magnificent shape.

 

Andrea snorts gently, not looking at Upchuck. She doesn’t smile.

 

MACK: [looks at Andrea and Upchuck] What brought you here?

 

Upchuck starts to reply, but Andrea interrupts.

 

ANDREA: Nothing. Just passing through.

 

Upchuck subsides with a concerned look at Andrea. Mack looks at Upchuck.

 

MACK: Um, I hate to ask, but why . . . [points to his own face, then to Upchuck’s]

 

UPCHUCK: Ah. [pause, glances at Andrea] A masquerade party, upstairs somewhere. I’m afraid I’ve missed my entrance by now. Have to try again another time.

 

Mack look at Andrea, then at Upchuck, then shrugs. No one says anything else for a bit.

 

BRITTANY: [dull voice] They let me use their document shredder in the main office. Everything’s gone. All ground up.

 

Everyone sighs or reacts in other mild ways to this comment.

 

MACK: Good. I can’t believe he tried to do that. What an ass.

 

UPCHUCK: [low voice] Do you think our former football star was, shall we say, partaking of illegal substances?

 

MACK: [shakes head] No. I think he . . . [breaks off, glancing at Brittany] . . . was nuts.

 

UPCHUCK: [smirks] After Miss Morgendorffer finished him off, I would imagine that “nuts” is precisely his primary concern.

 

MACK: [groans] Oh, man. That’s awful. True, though.

 

UPCHUCK: You can’t get a rapier wit like that overnight.

 

MACK: [smiles] Good job, by the way, jumping on him like that. He would’ve got me.

 

UPCHUCK: [winces, touching his chest] It seemed like a marvelous idea at the time, but when I wake up with cracked ribs tomorrow morning, I might feel differently. [looks at Andrea with concern] Well, not really. It was worth it. I wish I had gotten here a minute sooner. I’d like to have prevented the damage he caused.

 

ANDREA: [dabbing at nose, flat voice] Must have been a long way back from Oakwood.

 

UPCHUCK: [hesitates] My timing was bad. I should have picked another day for my endeavors.

 

ANDREA: [not looking at Upchuck] You mean, your father should have picked another day.

 

UPCHUCK: [anxious look at Andrea] Ah, yes, that was exactly what I meant. Of course.

 

ANDREA: [pause] Of course. [face tightens]

 

Silence fills the air.

 

BRITTANY: [rousing herself, pulls away from Mack] I should . . . I should go home, I think.

 

MACK: Sure.

 

Mack and Brittany get up from the table. Upchuck and Andrea remain seated, nodding or waving goodbye as the other couple leaves the area. Andrea continues to dab at her nose, then tosses the bloodstained tissue wad into an empty butter plate on the table.

 

ANDREA: I should go, too. Go home.

 

UPCHUCK: [taken aback] What—but why? Come back upstairs with me.

 

ANDREA: No. I’d better go home. Sorry about the weekend. Some other time, maybe.

 

UPCHUCK: Let’s not let the common rabble like Kevin ruin our plans. We still have all weekend, my sweet. Let’s—

 

ANDREA: Can it. [rests head on hand, pressed to her forehead with elbow on knee] Just stop it.

 

UPCHUCK: [anxious] Andrea, if there’s anything I can do, please, just tell me.

 

ANDREA: [single, brief, unhappy laugh] There was. Forget it.

 

UPCHUCK: [completely confused] Was it my leaving today? I’m sorry about that. I had no idea that—

 

ANDREA: [waving free hand at Upchuck to cut him off] Oh, please. Give me some credit. Not that I deserve it.

 

Upchuck is at a rare loss for words. Andrea gets up, gingerly touching her nose. Upchuck gets up as well, his white-painted face full of worry. Andrea digs into a pocket and pulls out a slip of paper, looking at it.

 

ANDREA: Here. [hands paper to Upchuck] It wasn’t any of my business, but it was in the room.

 

Andrea looks as if she is about to say more, but she shakes her head and walks away. Upchuck takes the paper and reads it. It’s the scrap that Andrea found in scene 70.

 

UPCHUCK: Oh! [looks up at Andrea, hurries to catch up with her] Andrea! This is my Aunt Jennifer!

 

ANDREA: [not looking at him, still walking] Right.

 

UPCHUCK: Andrea, I swear! She’s my father’s sister! She lives in Oakwood! She and I worked this out!

 

ANDREA: [getting pissed] Just save it, okay? God, you could talk the bark off a tree.

 

UPCHUCK: [desperate] Andrea! [slows, pulls up vampire-costume robes to get into pants pocket] Wait, look at this! Here’s proof!

 

Upchuck pulls out the small black box (from scene 87) from his pocket, then hurries to catch up with Andrea. He gathers many strange looks from passers-by, but he ignores them. He catches up with Andrea by the front revolving door of the hotel lobby.

 

 

103. INT: MOMENTS LATER, LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Upchuck hurries in front of Andrea before she can get out the revolving door, blocking her path. She tries to go left, then right, but he won’t let her go, standing in her way.

 

UPCHUCK: [holding small box out in front of her, the box bottom toward her face] Just look at this, for pity’s sake! Please! Look at it!

 

Andrea stares hard at Upchuck, then angrily snatches the box out of his hands. She reads the bottom.

 

 

JENNY’S JEWELRY

Jennifer Ruttheimer

900 West Crescent Parkway

Near the Heart of Oakwood

“Gems, Jewels, & Joy from Jenny”

 

 

Frowning, Andrea stares at the inscription. She glances up at Upchuck, then turns the box over in her fingers.

 

ANDREA: [suspicious] What is this, some kind of joke?

 

UPCHUCK: Andrea, sweet, for the love of all that’s sacred, this is not a joke!

 

ANDREA: What’s in it? [snaps box open] What kind of— [voices dies instantly]

 

Inside the box is a thin gold ring. On top of the ring is an elaborately carved golden rose, in the center of which is a perfect black pearl. Small diamonds are visible around the base of the golden rose. In gold script, on the black velvet just below the ring, is the single word, “Andrea.”

 

Andrea stares without breathing at the gold ring in the little black box. She seems to pull back into herself, as if she suddenly became smaller. Some onlookers see the ring and gasp, understanding in an instant what is happening.

 

UPCHUCK: [lowers voice, glances at onlookers watching them] Andrea, dear heart, can we go outside for a moment, just the two of us, and talk?

 

Overcome, Andrea looks from the ring in the box to Upchuck, staring at him as if seeing him entirely anew. Her expression is filled with horror, fear, sorrow, and shame.

 

UPCHUCK: [gestures toward door, soft voice] Just for a few moments? Please?

 

After a pause, Andrea wordlessly hands the box back to Upchuck. As he takes it, she bolts past him for the revolving door and is through it before he can fully react. She breaks into a run outside and is gone.

 

UPCHUCK: Andrea! [hurries after her, but gets his vampire robes caught in the revolving door and gets stuck in it] Andrea! [bangs on the glass doors] Andrea, come back! Andrea!

 

 

104. EXT: ABOUT THIS TIME, REAR PARKING LOT, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

A protective arm around her, Mack walks Brittany back to her red Mazda, across the dark parking lot. She still wears his school jacket. They do not speak until they reach the car.

 

MACK: [lets go of Brittany] Drive carefully. I’ll call and check on you tomorrow.

 

BRITTANY: [faint voice] Okay. Thank you, Mack.

 

MACK: It’s okay. [looks at her carefully] Are you all right?

 

BRITTANY: [pause, looks back at hotel] He was going to hurt me.

 

MACK: He’s not going to hurt anyone now. Not ever again.

 

Brittany stares at the hotel.

 

BRITTANY: [dull voice] He was going to put all those pictures of me on the Internet. He said he was going—

 

MACK: It didn’t happen. [reaches up and gently takes Brittany by the shoulders] Will you be okay?

 

Brittany looks down at Mack’s feet, and after a pause she nods yes. Mack pulls Brittany to him for a hug, and his arms encircle her. Her arms go around him, and she buries her face in his shirt. After a moment, she begins to cry. Mack bends down and kisses her hair, one hand rising to cradle her head and hold her close to him. She cries for only a brief time, shoulders shaking, until she regains her composure.

 

MACK: [whispers as he kisses her hair] Things will be all right now. You’re safe now. I’ll call you tomorrow. You’re going to be all right. You’re safe.

 

Brittany sniffs and nods.

 

BRITTANY: [choked voice] Thank you, Mack.

 

MACK: [lets Brittany pull back from him] Go home and get some sleep.

 

BRITTANY: [nods, choked voice] I will. [fishes a tissue from her pants pocket, wipes her nose]

 

MACK: I’ll call you tomorrow.

 

BRITTANY: [sniffs, getting control of herself] Okay.

 

MACK: Little better?

 

BRITTANY: [nods] M’okay. [puts tissue in her pants pocket]

 

MACK: [releases Brittany] Talk to your folks. They’ll help out.

 

BRITTANY: [brief laugh with coughing] No one’s home. Brian’s at camp for all of next week, and Dad took Ashley-Amber with him to a marketing conference in Minneapolis until Monday night.

 

MACK: Are you going to be okay there?

 

BRITTANY: [nods, sniffs] I’ll be okay.

 

MACK: Call some of the girls on the squad.

 

BRITTANY: No, that’s okay. [sniffs] I’ll be okay.

 

MACK: Okay.

 

BRITTANY: [looks up at Mack, eyes shining] Thank you, Mack.

 

MACK: [gently] Get some sleep.

 

BRITTANY: [faint smile] Okay.

 

Still moving like a zombie, Brittany gets in her car, starts it up, and waves to Mack. He waves back as she drives away. With a deep sigh, Mack walks back to the hotel. Partway there, he looks up to see a Lawndale police car pull up to the rear entrance, to pick up Kevin Thompson.

 

MACK: [watching as he heads for the front entrance, soft voice] Kevin, as soon as you get out again, I’m going to beat you flatter than a Kansas highway.

 

 

105. INT: ABOUT 6 P.M., QUINN’S BEDROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

Quinn lies on her stomach in bed, wearing her pajamas. She surfs TV channels with her remote, but nothing is of interest. She clicks through a variety of shows, including the movie Dr. Strangelove (which provokes a yuk face from Quinn), and finally just shuts the TV off. The remote drops from her hand, and she lies face down, not moving. Scattered around on her bed and on the floor are all of her interior decorating books and freehand designs for Daria’s bedroom and their shared bathroom. From the hallway outside her room comes the sound of footsteps.

 

HELEN: [VO, outside bedroom] Quinn, can I come in? [pause] Quinn? Are you in there?

 

QUINN: [muffled, annoyed] Yes.

 

HELEN: Can you get the door? My hands are full.

 

Quinn groans and gets off the bed, walking to the door. She opens it to see her mother on the other side, carrying a tray with a large glass of orange juice and a yogurt container on it. Helen (now in casual clothing) walks in and sets the tray on Quinn’s bed.

 

HELEN: How are you feeling, sweetie?

 

QUINN: [sullen] Same. Tired.

 

HELEN: I brought you a little early dinner. If you’re up to more, I’ll heat up some lasagna.

 

QUINN: No, this is fine. [pause, low voice] Thanks.

 

HELEN: [kisses Quinn on the forehead] You have to stay hydrated. Drink as much water and juice and milk as you possibly can for the next week. You’re getting circles under your eyes.

 

QUINN: [irritated] I know. I’m ugly.

 

HELEN: No, you’re sick. I believe that’s the right word, even if you don’t have a disease as such.

 

QUINN: Whatever. [stares down at tray, picks up large juice glass and drinks]

 

HELEN: What have you been doing in here? [stoops down and picks up a drawing from the floor]

 

QUINN: [stops drinking for a second] Nothing.

 

HELEN: [examining drawing] What’s this?

 

QUINN: [stops drinking for two seconds] Nothing. It’s stupid.

 

HELEN: Is this Daria’s room? What’s this? A wet bar?

 

QUINN: [puts down juice glass, now completely empty] Oh, mom, throw that out. Do we have any more juice?

 

HELEN: [smiles] Are you planning to take over Daria’s room after she leaves?

 

Quinn grabs the paper from Helen’s hand, wads it up, and throws it in the direction of the room’s small, decorative garbage can.

 

QUINN: It’s stupid! All of this is stupid! [begins picking up papers, crumpling them]

 

HELEN: Quinn, now wait! Let me see one of those!

 

QUINN: No! They’re stupid!

 

HELEN: [sharply] Stop it! [takes papers away from Quinn and sits on Quinn’s bed with them] I was thinking about doing something with Daria’s room myself. I don’t have any good ideas for it, though.

 

Quinn stops arguing. She stands still, fidgeting and glaring at her mother.

 

HELEN: [flipping through Quinn’s drawings and room plans] Well, we’re in complete agreement about the padded walls and the bars in the windows. Those have to go. [pause, holds up one drawing] A family theater? You mean, with one of those giant-screen TVs?

 

QUINN: [still sulky, but points to drawing] And all-around sound. You and Dad can use it for your secret videos.

 

HELEN: [gasps] Quinn!

 

QUINN: [irked] Oh, Mom, get over it. Look, you know how Dad complains lately he can’t see all the action in his sports games? This would fix it. Seriously, look. Plus, it would double as a party room, so I could have friends over, and we can use it as a guest bedroom. That’s why I put a pullout sofa there. We hardly ever have visitors, so we don’t need a real bed there. Daria’s bed is pretty old, anyway, so we can dump it.

 

HELEN: [recovers, stares at drawing, then picks out another] Oh, what’s . . . is this your bathroom?

 

QUINN: [frowns] That was an early one. [goes through papers Helen holds, pulls sheet out] Here. This was one I sort of liked.

 

HELEN: [eyes grow wide] Well . . . a Jacuzzi would be nice, yes, but . . . what’s this?

 

QUINN: Closet space. Even with Daria gone, we’ve got way too many extra towels and sheets. Unless we store them in her bedroom closet—remodeled, of course—we have nowhere else to put them.

 

HELEN: [peers at paper] A skylight? [looks at Quinn] Really, now!

 

QUINN: Well, at least look at the new lighting we could put in. [points to paper] Here, here, and here.

 

HELEN: Oh, you don’t need all that light!

 

QUINN: [frowns, reaches for mother’s hand] I want to show you something, Mom. C’mon. You want to see what a cave looks like?

 

HELEN: I know what your bathroom looks like!

 

QUINN: Not like I know it. I’ve been living in there for a day now. Come with me, Mom. Come on!

 

Helen reluctantly gets up and allows herself to be led out of the room by Quinn.

 

QUINN: This is the perfect time to find out how well you can read a fashion magazine with just the bathroom light on. [mutters under breath] Can’t believe I don’t have glasses bigger than Daria’s right now. I should be blind as a bat. [exits room with Helen]

 

HELEN: [VO, hallway outside bedroom] But Daria never complains!

 

QUINN: [VO, hallway outside bedroom] Daria will put up with anything!

 

 

106. EXT: ABOUT 6:10 P.M., SIDEWALK NEAR LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Andrea walks alone down a sidewalk several blocks from the Lawndale Plaza Hotel. Her hands are hidden in pockets in her long black skirt. She pulls out a bloodstained tissue from her pocket and dabs at her nose now and then, as it still bleeds. As she goes, Daria—walking in the other direction on the sidewalk—sees her and slows down. Daria carries her “Damnation Alley” sack in one hand. The pockets of her green jacket bulge with items that she did not have before she went into “Military Mart.”

 

DARIA: Andrea?

 

Andrea looks up, startled, then nods at Daria. They stop, facing each other, next to a drugstore window.

 

ANDREA: Where’d you go? Everyone said you ran off after you punched Kevin in the family jewels.

 

DARIA: [evil smirk] Guilty as charged, but I walked off. Wanted to take the victory lap by myself.

 

ANDREA: Well, thank you, from me, girl. [dabs at nose] Seeing Kevin get his was the best part of this whole lousy weekend.

 

DARIA: [frowns, stares at Andrea] Did something else go wrong?

 

ANDREA: [hesitates, nods, looks down, low voice] More or less.

 

DARIA: [pause, darker tone] Did Charles do something to you?

 

ANDREA: [glances up at Daria, shakes head] No. No, I did something stupid to myself. [pause, sad tone] And to him, too.

 

DARIA: [frowns] What?

 

ANDREA: [sighs, looks behind her at the Lawndale Plaza Hotel] Look, I don’t want to talk about it. Everything’s screwed up so damn bad now, I give up.

 

DARIA: [frowns] So, you’re running away from it?

 

ANDREA: [sharp look at Daria, hesitates] Yeah. If there was ever a good time to run from things, this is it.

 

DARIA: [frowns] Jett Blak wouldn’t run.

 

ANDREA: [angry] Well, I’m not Jett Blak! I’m Andrea, and I need some space!

 

DARIA: [pause] I’m going back. I have some issues to take care of.

 

ANDREA: [presses tissue to nose] Issues? About your dad?

 

DARIA: [grim look] About my dad.

 

ANDREA: You have a fight with him, too?

 

DARIA: [shakes head] No. We’ve gotten along better than we ever have. [glances toward hotel] I just need to do some troubleshooting. [voice lowers] And just as soon as I can find the trouble, I’m going to shoot it.

 

ANDREA: [pause, stares at Daria’s face with concern] Are you feeling all right?

 

DARIA: [looks sharply at Andrea, too quickly] I’m fine. I’ve never felt better in my life.

 

ANDREA: You . . . you just remind me of me, a year ago. [pause] When I first went to that costume store, “Damnation Alley.” I came out of it feeling really—

 

DARIA: I’m not having a personality change! That’s absurd. You don’t change deep-seated behaviors just from wearing different clothes.

 

ANDREA: [glances down at “Damnation Alley” sack] You still have that gauntlet?

 

DARIA: [anger fades, looks down] Yeah. I might need it later. [pause, unconvincing lie] To show my dad. It might cheer him up.

 

ANDREA: [slowly, still looking at sack and thinking] I can take that back tonight, if you want. The store’s open all night. The owner lives in—

 

DARIA: [pulls sack back slightly] No. I . . . would like to look at it a while longer.

 

ANDREA: [humorous tone that rapidly fades] You’re not going back to punch anyone else out . . . are . . . you? [voice fades out]

 

Daria’s face works, her lips pressing tightly together in a flat line, her eyes narrowing. Her rage surfaces unmistakably.

 

DARIA: [cold voice] I’m never going to get away from reality, so I may as well face it and minimize the damage. That sound familiar?

 

Andrea stares at Daria, sensing the change in her.

 

DARIA: Well, I’m going back to face reality. [face tightens, off on a tangent rather like her father] And the people who hurt my father are going to face reality, too, and I’m going to serve it to them, ice cold. But I’m not going to minimize the damage. Oh, no.

 

ANDREA: [shocked] Who hurt your father?

 

DARIA: [grim] I know them. [looks at hotel in distance] Wonder if their fashionable daughters know what their trusting fathers are up to. [thinks] Hmmm.

 

ANDREA: [anxious] Is your dad okay?

 

DARIA: [blinks, looks at Andrea blankly] He will be avenged. [pause] Never run. Never.

 

This said, Daria sets off at a quick pace, brushing past Andrea to head for the hotel. Andrea watches her go, her face reflecting confusion and rising fear.

 

ANDREA: [whispers] You have changed. Oh, my God. [looks around, begins to follow Daria back to the hotel] I have a really bad feeling about this.

 

 

107. INT: ABOUT 6:15 P.M., LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Jane Lane walks through the revolving front door of the hotel and stands for a moment, looking around. Almost immediately, she sees Upchuck, who sees her. Upchuck hurries over at once, despite Jane’s annoyed look at him. Upchuck has cleaned almost all of the white vampire makeup from his face and is dressed in normal clothing.

 

UPCHUCK: [anxious look] Ah, the unflappable Miss Lane, most excellent!

 

JANE: [irritated] Upchuck, I don’t have time for this, okay? Pick on someone your own species.

 

UPCHUCK: [unfazed] But I’m trying to find Andrea. Have you seen her?

 

JANE: [hesitates, frowns] Andrea? No, I haven’t seen her. I was looking for Daria.

 

UPCHUCK: Ah. Miss Morgendorffer lost herself in the crowd after she sacked our unlamented quarterback. I haven’t a clue where she’s gone.

 

JANE: [stares at Upchuck] What are you talking about? This a joke?

 

UPCHUCK: [shakes head, looks around the lobby] Alas, Miss Lane, it is not. [looks at Jane] You haven’t heard, then.

 

JANE: [pause] Heard what?

 

UPCHUCK: About the fight. The battle royal. The world-class smackdown. Kevin. Brittany. Mack. Daria. Yours truly. The hotel guards and the Lawndale police. [smiles uneasily] You’ve missed the hotel’s hottest unpaid event in ages. Perhaps I could enlighten you, if you have a moment.

 

JANE: [suspicious] This isn’t a prelude to making a pass at me, is it?

 

UPCHUCK: [stares at Jane, draws himself up with dignified air] Miss Lane, the only woman I love is Andrea. I don’t care who knows it now. She is my world and my life.

 

Jane appears astonished at this admission. Upchuck looks around sadly.

 

UPCHUCK: She fled here less than an hour ago, and I haven’t a clue where she’s gone. I’ve no intention of making a pass at you or anyone else but her, now or at any later time. [looks at Jane] Although I might compliment you once in a while on your attractive appearance or your artwork. Chivalry isn’t entirely dead, you know.

 

JANE: [frowns] Let’s stick to Daria. Is she okay?

 

UPCHUCK: [low laugh] When last seen, she was in excellent health. Her victim was not, however. [shakes head] Kevin should look into cloning. It might be his only hope for successful reproduction.

 

JANE: You’re kidding me. She really kicked Kevin?

 

UPCHUCK: [grins] Right where it matters most to any man. [painful grin] Twice.

 

JANE: [eyes widen] Daria? You’ve got to be . . . she’d never . . . no way.

 

UPCHUCK: Way. Miss Morgendorffer does not seem to be herself. [pause] I should have guessed that when she pulled the sword on me in the gift shop.

 

JANE: [stares at Upchuck] Now you are kidding me.

 

UPCHUCK: I wish very much that I were. She’s achieved an unprecedented degree of feistiness, though perhaps that is not the correct term for her condition. [recognizes someone coming] Ah, our good man Mack will enlighten you further.

 

Mack walks over, having come into the hotel from the back parking lot. He nods at Jane as he walks up.

 

MACK: Hey. It’s like we’re having our first high-school reunion already.

 

JANE: Upchuck was telling me about Daria . . . [voice fades in reaction to Mack’s upset expression]

 

MACK: [grimaces, looks around] Yeah. Man, I don’t know what’s gotten into her. I thought it was weird when she was dancing in the video arcade earlier, but—

 

JANE: [blinks] Stop it. You’re both putting me on.

 

UPCHUCK: [crooked smile] Ah, Miss Lane, you shouldn’t leave yourself open for unwanted comebacks like that.

 

MACK: [to Upchuck] Knock it off. [to Jane] Have you seen Daria?

 

JANE: Uh, no, I just got here.

 

MACK: Man. [looks around] I’m worried about her. She’s really . . . something’s going on with her.

 

UPCHUCK: And I don’t think it’s entirely about me.

 

MACK: [shakes head] No, man. It’s not you. It’s her. When she got medieval on Kevin’s ass, I swear, my jaw just about hit—

 

JANE: [shocked, waves hands] Wait! Stop! [both Upchuck and Mack look at her] Start at the beginning. Tell me everything. I want the whole enchilada.

 

UPCHUCK: [raises an eyebrow at Jane and sighs] You’re doing it again.

 

MACK: [mild glare at Upchuck] Let’s go find some chairs, and I’ll fill you in.

 

Upchuck looks at Mack, sighs again, and rolls his eyes, trying not to smile. The trio walks off to a nearby bench and sits down, Jane between Upchuck and Mack. We leave them as Mack begins to tell Jane what’s happened.

 

 

108. EXT: AT THIS MOMENT, BACK PARKING LOT AND REAR ENTRANCE, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria arrives at the back door of the hotel, unlocking it with the plastic door key she stole earlier in the day from the obnoxious teenager in scene 71. As she stops at the glass door to use her door key, she looks at the reflection and sees Andrea some distance behind her, obviously following her. Daria betrays no hint that she’s seen Andrea, instead entering the hotel swiftly with her shopping sack. We see Andrea hurry to reach the back door, pulling out her own plastic door key. She unlocks the door and enters quickly.

 

 

109. INT: AT THIS MOMENT, JAKE MORGENDORFFER’S BEDROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Jake snores away, heedless of the world. The TV shows a scene aboard the B-52 “Leper Colony” as the crew realizes an antiaircraft missile is tracking them. The DSO (Defensive Systems Operator) does most of the talking.

 

TV: [B-52 DSO] DSO to Captain, I have an unidentified radar blip. Distance: 60 miles. Approximate speed: mach three. Looks like a missile tracking us! Confirmed, definite missile track. Commence evasive action right. Missile still closing range; distance: 50 miles. Continue evasive action.

[B-52’s Copilot] OF Lock ECM to target intercept mode.

[B-52’s DSO] ECM locked to target intercept mode. Missile still tracking and closing distance. Range, forty miles. Continue evasive action. Electronic guidance scrambler to blue grid. Missile still tracking steady and closing distance. Range, thirty miles. Missile still closing true and steady. Continue evasive action. Range, twenty miles. Missile still closing distance and tracking steady.

 

 

110. INT: MOMENTS LATER, CORRIDOR FROM BACK PARKING LOT TO LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

We follow Andrea as she enters the hotel, looking for Daria—but Daria has disappeared. Andrea, looking tense and worried, hurries along the corridor toward the main lobby, but there is no sign of Daria anywhere. Andrea looks in the videogame room but sees no one.

 

Once Andrea has passed the area, a maintenance door opens a crack. Daria peers out, then quietly steps out of the small, dark room. She heads in the opposite direction, leaving the hotel again with her sack.

 

 

111. INT: MOMENTS LATER, LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Andrea walks cautiously out into the main lobby of the hotel. She does not see Daria, but in the distance, she sees Mack, Upchuck, and Jane talking together near the front revolving door. Nervously eyeing Upchuck, Andrea quickly turns and walks into a small hotel bar, hiding herself in the cigarette smoke, darkness, and noise before she is seen.

 

 

112. INT: AT THIS MOMENT, JAKE MORGENDORFFER’S BEDROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Jake still snores away. The TV continues the scene aboard the B-52 “Leper Colony” as the crew fights to escape the antiaircraft missile.

 

TV: [DSO] Missile still deflecting; range, four miles. Range, two miles; missile still deflecting. Range, one mile—missile detonated! [distorted voices and noises as bomb flash engulfs radar screen and TV screen, huge explosion as shock wave hits the B-52]

 

 

113. EXT: AT THIS MOMENT, REAR ENTRANCE, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria exits the rear door of the hotel again—and finds herself facing the obnoxious, tall teenager who goosed her in scene 71. He is heading from the parking lot for the back door Daria just left. He sees her at the same time she sees him. They slow to a stop dead about twenty feet from each other, tense with recognition.

 

TEENAGE MALE: [jabs finger at Daria] I know you. You were in the game room with me. You know what happened to my wallet?

 

DARIA: [glares, venomous tone] Didn’t your mother teach you to keep your hands to

yourself, monkey-boy?

 

TEENAGE MALE: [advancing on Daria slowly] If you took my wallet, I’ll teach you a thing or two, you four-eyed—

 

Daria drops her “Damnation Alley” sack, which makes a loud, metallic clank. One hand fishes in an inside pocket of her green jacket, coming out with the switchblade she stole from him earlier.

 

DARIA: [holds up switchblade, unopened, deadpan] Can you forgive me?

 

TEENAGE MALE: [startled] Hey! That’s mine! Give it here!

 

DARIA: [deadly smile] Unforgiven, then.

 

The following events occur very quickly. Daria drops her arm, then flings the closed switchblade straight up into the air between them, as high as she can throw it. The teenage male cries “Hey!” and immediately moves to catch the switchblade before it hits the ground. Daria’s hands dart into her outside jacket pockets, each hand pulling out a small, black can labeled “Hotter’N’Hellfire-Brand Pepper Spray.” Daria runs toward the teenager as he catches the switchblade, both her arms raised and holding the black cans aimed at him at a range of about six feet. The moment his attention returns to Daria, her index fingers press down on the tops of the cans. Two narrow jets of spray leap from her hands, going directly into the young man’s face. The teenager flinches for an instant, then screams and grabs for his eyes, dropping the switchblade. He collapses on the ground, his face and hands turning brilliant red. Daria immediately retreats, throwing the two cans into her “Damnation Alley” sack and folding the top over to seal it. Snatching the sack up, she flees the area, rounding the side of the hotel and heading for the front entrance.

 

 

114. EXT: MOMENTS LATER, FRONT ENTRANCE, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria rounds the side of the hotel and heads quickly for the front doors, the teenager’s screams echoing behind her. A security guard stands in front of the hotel, looking with concern for the source of the screams. He is walking toward the side of the hotel (toward Daria) when Daria sees him. After a moment’s hesitation, Daria hurries toward him, waving her free hand.

 

DARIA: [shouts] Sir? Sir!

 

GUARD: What?

 

DARIA: [rushed, appears panicked] Some guy attacked a lady in the back parking lot! She sprayed him with something! Be careful—the guy’s got a knife!

 

GUARD: Thanks! [runs off, pulls a cell phone from his belt and thumbs a button on it] Central, this is Steve. We’ve got trouble again.

 

Daria doesn’t stay to watch. She bypasses the entrance to the hotel and hurries up the street toward other stores, leaving the scene. Less than a block away, she looks in the window of a department store, then goes inside and is lost to view.

 

 

115. INT: ABOUT 6:30 P.M., CORRIDOR FROM BACK PARKING LOT TO LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

A crowd of hotel guests and others jamming the corridor from the lobby to the back parking lot is breaking up. Hotel security guards attempt to move everyone out of the corridor and send them on their way. Among the onlookers are Jane, Mack, and Upchuck, who cannot see through the crowd. All look puzzled and tense.

 

UPCHUCK: Well, the screaming’s stopped. [looks at Jane] I’ve no more news, Miss Lane. [anxious look] Perhaps all will be well in the morning.

 

MACK: I’m going back up, too. Nothing else we can do.

 

JANE: Thanks, guys. I’ll do what I can to see what’s up with Daria.

 

MACK: Great. It’s probably nothing, but—[looks uneasy]—she never struck me as the kind of person who’d get physical like that.

 

UPCHUCK: True. One never knows what smoldering passions lie beneath the—[sees Jane’s glare, flinches]—oops! See you later! [quickly leaves for elevators]

 

MACK: Good night, Jane. [hesitates] I hope Daria’s all right. [shrugs] This has been such a crazy night.

 

JANE: I’ll call her room in a minute. Have a good night. [waves as Mack waves back and leaves for elevators]

 

Jane rubs her nose and starts toward the front desk in the lobby.

 

ANDREA: [comes out of small hotel bar, near Jane] Jane?

 

JANE: [turns, startled] Andrea? Hi, I was just looking—

 

ANDREA: [tense] I need to talk to you. Right now.

 

JANE: I—

 

ANDREA: It’s about Daria.

 

JANE: [hesitates, then nods quickly] Uh, sure. Where, here?

 

ANDREA: [looks around] Anywhere. [points] Over there, behind that statue.

 

JANE: Isn’t this hide-and-seek a little much? I already know about Kevin and—

 

ANDREA: This isn’t about that. [swallows] I think this is bad.

 

JANE: [frowns] How could things get any worse than they are now?

 

ANDREA: [stares into Jane’s face] You have no idea. I saw her less than half an hour ago. Something bad happened. Someone hurt her dad.

 

JANE: [eyes widen] Jake? No way!

 

ANDREA: [motions toward winged female statue on side of lobby] Let me start at the beginning.

 

The two walk off to the statue (of Nike, a Greek goddess), and Andrea begins talking animatedly as Jane crosses her arms and listens.

 

 

116. INT: ABOUT 6:40 P.M., JAKE MORGENDORFFER’S BEDROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Jake snores away. On the TV, we see the B-52 “Leper Colony,” trailing smoke, still driving deep into the Soviet Union—but at extremely low altitude, almost treetop level.

 

TV: [Major Kong] Well, boys, we got three engines out, we got more holes in us than a horse trader’s mule, the radio’s gone, and we’re leaking fuel, and if we was flying any lower, why, we’d need sleigh bells on this thing. But we got one little bulge on them Rooskies: At this height, why, they might harpoon us, but they dang sure ain’t gonna spot us on no radar screen!

 

 

117. EXT: AT THIS MOMENT, SHOPPING AREA NEAR LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria walks out of the department store near the hotel, the one in which she hid about a half-hour earlier. She now wears khaki pants with numerous pockets, a beige long-sleeved shirt, an open khaki vest that also has many pockets, sneakers, clip-on sunglasses over regular glasses, and a brim-down outdoor hat similar to those worn by fishermen, under which her long hair is tucked. She has two shopping bags, both full of rolled-up clothing; one sack also contains her boots. Her vest and pants pockets bulge with hidden items. She walks calmly toward the hotel and enters through the revolving door, just as a Lawndale police car pulls around the side of the hotel. In the back seat of the police car, his eyes shut and face bright red, is the tall teenager who goosed Daria, handcuffed and trying to rub his face on the seat in front of him.

 

 

118. INT: MOMENTS LATER, FRONT DOORS TO LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria, disguised as in scene 117, enters the hotel through the revolving door. She misses a beat as she looks around the lobby and spots Jane and Andrea, talking together on the far side of the lobby near a winged female statue. Daria quickly recovers and turns left, walking around the perimeter of the lobby toward a cluster of pay phones. A family walking by in the other direction helps to screen her from view. When she reaches the first pay phone, Daria turns her back to Jane and Andrea, then carefully pulls out her folded-up schedule of events for the father-daughter seminar. She opens and reads it.

 

DARIA: [whispers to self] They’ve probably had dinner already. The dance is next, so the girls would be changing now, and they’d probably be in . . .

 

Daria folds up the event schedule and puts it in a pocket. She then picks the handset off the pay phone.

 

DARIA: [whispers to self] My name is Daria Morgendorffer. Your fathers hurt my father. Prepare to cry.

 

Daria drops coins in the pay phone, dials the number for the hotel front desk, and waits.

 

DARIA: [listens] Please get me the room for Sandi Griffin. That’s Sandi with an “i” on the end. [pause] Yes, Tom Griffin’s her father. Thank you.

 

 

119: AT THIS MOMENT, SANDI GRIFFIN’S BEDROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Sandi Griffin, Stacy Rowe, and Tiffany Blum-Deckler sit on Sandi’s queen-size hotel bed, drinking diet sodas and watching a dog show on the room’s television. Tiffany speaks with her typical, inflectionless drawl.

 

STACY: I can’t believe this is live, all the way from Tokyo! What time is it there?

 

SANDI: I saw someone yawn, so it must be early. [points to TV] Oh, how could anyone ever get a dog like that? That is just disgusting. Look at that tongue. I bet it could fill up a swimming pool with drool.

 

TIFFANY: [frowns] Eeewwww. [pause] Cuuute, thooough.

 

SANDI: It’s revolting. It reminds me of that guy in tenth grade, Robbie someone. That unkempt hair and that awful, slobbering tongue. [shivers] He is so vile. I hope he transfers schools this summer.

 

The phone rings. Sandi, the closest, reaches over and picks up the phone.

 

SANDI: [brightly] Sandi Griffin. [pause] No, my dad’s not in right now. He’s probably down in the bar. [pause] Just leave it at the front desk. Room six seventeen. Sure, I’ll let him know when he gets back. [hangs up] Someone has a seminar message for dad. [pause] Maybe he and I are getting the big trophy for the best father-daughter team. Well, I could certainly understand that. [glances at other girls] I mean, if it were to happen.

 

STACY: Should you really have told him what room we were in?

 

SANDI: [shrugs] Doesn’t matter. The seminar people have the room list. [pause] Hmm, of course, they could have looked it up. [sniffs] Lazy. No one gets good help these days.

 

 

120. A FEW MINUTES LATER, OUTSIDE THE GRIFFINS’ HOTEL ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria, in disguise, walks up to the Griffins’ hotel-room door. She looks up and down the hallway, then pulls two miniature tape recorders from her vest pockets. She pulls the tape from one—her father’s tape recorder—and inserts the tape in another, a new recorder with the price tag still on it. She puts this outside the door, then pulls a note from her pocket and puts it next to the recorder. With a last look up and down the corridor, she knocks hard on the door, then hurries off and rounds a corner, heading in the direction that signs say leads to the elevators. A few seconds pass, then the door opens. Sandi Griffin looks out, puzzled, then sees the tape recorder and note on the ground by the door. She picks these up and goes back inside the room. The door shuts behind her.

 

 

121. MOMENTS LATER, SANDI GRIFFIN’S BEDROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Sandi walks back into her bedroom. Stacy and Tiffany eye her curiously, distracted from the dog show. Sandi puts the recorder on the bed, then reads the note aloud.

 

SANDI: [reading] “I think you should know what our fathers were talking about during their last seminar session. You may keep the tape recorder, though it will not make up for the knowledge you will gain.” [lowers note, stares at tape recorder] I found these outside the door. I didn’t see anyone around. Must be a sophomoric prank.

 

STACY: Well, it can’t hurt to listen, can it?

 

SANDI: [eyes recorder with suspicion] It might have obscenities on it.

 

STACY: Oh. [short pause] Well, can we play it anyway?

 

SANDI: [glances at Tiffany, who is unperturbed] Certainly. It’s not like we have virgin eardrums. After all, we have cable and the Internet. [picks up tape recorder, examines it, turns it on]

 

The following text comes out of the recorder; it is a playback of a segment of Jake’s meeting in scene 78. As it plays, the girls react to what is said with gasps and startled or horrified looks.

 

TAPE RECORDER: [Speaker] But in order to gain your daughter’s trust, you absolutely must trust her first!

[Stacy Rowe’s Dad] Ronald Reagan had it right: Trust, but verify!

[Other Fathers] Damn right! Yeah!

[Stacy Rowe’s Dad] I trust my daughter, but I read her diary every week! I know what’s really going on in her life, no matter what she tells me!

[Speaker] Unless your daughter shows clear signs that she’s absolutely not trustworthy, you have to—

[Tiffany Blum-Deckler’s Dad] My daughter’s not the brightest bulb in the refrigerator, if you get my drift, and if my wife and I didn’t search her room every single damn day, we wouldn’t know what the hell was going on with her! We’ll just damn lucky she’s not smart enough to fool us!

[Tom Griffin] Hide a webcam in her room! My wife put two webcams in Sandi’s room, and she can monitor everything that kid does, twenty-four seven, right from her office at work!

[Fifth Father]: Hey, can dogs sniff out boyfriends? Or anything that a guy who might be a boyfriend has touched? Can they tell if some boy’s touched my daughter?

[Sixth Father]: Can dogs find diaries and read them?

 

Her nerve gone, Sandi snaps the recorder off. She stares down at it as if she realized she was holding a live tarantula. Tiffany’s face is blank with shock. Stacy’s colorless face reveals the effect of the staggering blow she has just taken. Her eyes fill with tears, and after a moment, she gets off the bed, walks quickly to the bathroom, and shuts the door. Even through the door, Tiffany and Sandi can hear Stacy begin to sob.

 

After a few moments more, Sandi glances at Tiffany and swallows.

 

SANDI: [shaky voice] With your permission, I believe we should listen to this one more time, to . . . verify . . . what we heard.

 

TIFFANY: [pale] Oooh-kaaay.

 

Sandi nods, her face white. She presses “Rewind,” then once more presses “Play.”

 

 

122. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, ELEVATOR, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria stands in the elevator as the door closes, finger hovering over the buttons. Her face has grim satisfaction written over it.

 

DARIA: [whispers to self] Stage one accomplished. Let’s see what boils over. [looks down at her two sacks] Maybe Dad’s still asleep. Wouldn’t hurt to check.

 

She pushes a button and steps back from the door, waiting to reach her hotel-room floor.

 

 

123. INT: MOMENTS LATER, LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Jane, arms folded and leaning against a wall by the statue of Nike, stares at Andrea in absolute amazement. Andrea brushes her dark bangs from her eyes, staring back.

 

ANDREA: I swear that’s what’s happening. She’s possessed or something. It’s that shop we visited. I should never have taken her with me when I went back there.

 

JANE: [after a pause] If I weren’t such a die-hard fan of “In/Out/Down,” I’d walk off right now and never look back.

 

ANDREA: Jane, you have to help me find her!

 

JANE: [pushes away from wall] That, I’ll do. I still think she put you up to this. This has got to be one big joke.

 

ANDREA: [angry] When did Daria ever pull a joke like this one? Is this her kind of humor?

 

JANE: [sighs] You’re right. Okay, we can split up and—

 

ANDREA: No. We should go together. We might need to have both of us there.

 

JANE: [frowns] Why? You think we’ll have to wrestle her to the floor?

 

Andrea doesn’t answer, looking up at Jane with a frightened expression.

 

JANE: [frown fades, looks anxious now] You are thinking that. [looks around] Damn. Let’s find her, then. I can’t imagine how this day is possibly going to get any worse.

 

 

124: EXT: ABOUT THIS TIME, REAR PARKING LOT, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

In the back parking lot of the hotel, a sedan pulls in, drives to the street side of the lot close to the hotel, and stops. At the steering wheel is an overweight, balding man wearing a loose, gray jogging suit. Getting out of the passenger side of the front is Kevin Thompson, moving slower than usual and wincing. He wears a gray sweat suit, too, and constantly adjusts his sweat pants in the crotch, looking very uncomfortable. He checks inside a nearby car (his own) and walks back to talk with the driver, his father Doug.

 

DOUG THOMPSON: [angry] You still haven’t told me why you got a hotel room here for the weekend! This didn’t have anything to do with that tramp Brittany, did it?

 

KEVIN: [angry] I was going to have the gang over, Dad! Everyone cancelled out on me! I’ve already gone through this at the police station, okay?

 

DOUG: Well, just clean out your hotel room and bring your car home. And stay out of trouble, for God’s sake. I don’t have another two hundred dollars in bail money!

 

KEVIN: [angry] This wasn’t my fault, Dad! I’ve told you, I was set up! Get the lawyer to work on it! We’ll sue ‘em all! They screwed me over! All that stuff you heard was a lie! I wasn’t doing anything to anyone!

 

DOUG: [nods grimly] Damn right I’ll get the lawyer going. No one’s going to pull a trick like this on my son! Listen, you be careful, okay? You sure you don’t want me to help?

 

KEVIN: No! No, sorry. Just let me do it. I’m big enough to handle this.

 

DOUG: [looks at Kevin with pride] You’re my boy! Get home as soon as you can. I want to get the lawyer filled in on the details tonight. And your mom’ll be worried sick.

 

KEVIN: [sighs] Right, Dad. See ya. [waves]

 

Kevin’s father waves back and drives out of the parking lot. Kevin watches him go, then pulls a set of car keys from his pockets. He unlocks his own car, looks around the lot, then gets in his car, adjusting his crotch constantly. He leaves the windows rolled down, but turns the radio on. Slouching down in the driver’s seat, Kevin focuses on the back door of the hotel. From his car’s position on the edge of the parking lot, he can also see people coming and going from the hotel’s front door. He listens to music and waits.

 

 

125. INT: ABOUT 7 P.M., MORGENDORFFERS’ HOTEL ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

The door to the Morgendorffers’ hotel room opens softly. Daria enters, pocketing her plastic door key. She hears snoring from Jake’s bedroom and, after setting down her two shopping bags, walks over to peer around his bedroom door. Jake has fallen over in bed, sound asleep. The TV is still going, showing Dr. Strangelove. Daria’s face softens as she looks at her father, and she walks soundlessly into his room to stand by his bed and look down at him. Jake looks very peaceful, snoring away as he always does. After a moment, Daria leaves his bedroom and takes her two sacks back to her own room. She reappears moments later carrying just the “Damnation Alley” sack. She peeks in once more on her father, then starts to leave the hotel room. She stops, looks over at the room’s telephone, walks over to it, and takes the receiver off the hook. She then leaves the hotel room and closes the door quietly behind her.

 

On the TV in Jake’s bedroom, we see the War Room again. The recall signal has successfully gone out to the attacking B-52s, and General Turgidson is offering a prayer of thanksgiving.

 

TV: [General Turgidson, standing on a chair] Lord, we have heard the wings of the angel of death fluttering over our heads from the valley of fear. You have seen fit to deliver us from the forces of evil—

[Presidential assistant Stains, interrupting] Excuse me, sir. Premier Kissov’s calling again, and he’s hopping mad.

 

The scene shifts to the B-52 “Leper Colony,” the cause of the Soviet premier’s rage. Though damaged, it continues on it way to attack the Soviet Union.

 

 

126. INT: ABOUT 7:20 P.M., KITCHEN, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

Helen and Quinn sit at the kitchen table, looking at Helen’s open laptop. The laptop is plugged into a phone line and into a wall socket.

 

QUINN: [points to screen] That’s how it would look if you don’t do the skylight. Click here, and that’s with the skylight. I love this website.

 

HELEN: This is amazing. [sighs] You’ve given me a lot to think about. The family theater idea is, um, rather appealing. [clears throat, turns red]

 

Quinn glances at her mother and smirks.

 

HELEN: [sad] I’m just sorry that the only thing your sister’s leaving for college means to you is a chance to take her room and fix up the bathroom. [looks at Quinn seriously] Aren’t you going to miss her?

 

QUINN: [pause, looks at computer] Yeah, I’ll miss her. She can really get under my skin sometimes—[deep breath]—but I’ll miss her. She’s been okay most of the time. [pause] You think she’s having a good time with Dad?

 

HELEN: I’m sure she is, dear—[dark look at Quinn]—despite the manner in which they got there. [expression clears] I should call and see how they’re doing.

 

Helen picks up her cell phone from the kitchen table, thumbs in a speed-dial number, and waits while Quinn types on the laptop computer.

 

HELEN: [snaps phone shut] Hmmm, the phone’s busy. I wonder if they’re going out later. Oh, that’s right! There’s a dance tonight. I’ll bet that’s where they’re going.

 

QUINN: [pained] Mom, Daria doesn’t dance.

 

HELEN: [frowns] Well, Jake does. [pause] Sort of.

 

QUINN: [raises eyebrow] Mom . . .

 

HELEN: He would do better if he had more lessons.

 

QUINN: Mom, are we talking about the same family here? They’re probably watching a war movie on TV right now, eating pizza from room service.

 

HELEN: [looks at Quinn, thoughtful] You know, maybe you should have gone to this father-daughter weekend with Jake, too.

 

QUINN: Oh, Muuuh-ooom! Dad and I get along fine!

 

HELEN: Well, all your friends went, didn’t they? Don’t you think this weekend will be one they’ll remember for a long time?

 

 

127: INT: ABOUT 7:45 P.M., SANDI GRIFFIN’S BEDROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

The girls have nearly finished changing clothes in Sandi’s hotel room. Each wears an immaculate formal gown with a corsage for the dance. Sandi’s gown is red, Stacy’s is green, and Tiffany’s is light blue. Sandi and Stacy, however, have flushed faces and tense looks. Only Tiffany is calm, though her expression is sad.

 

SANDI: [mutters as she looks in mirror, fixing her hair] Can’t believe I bought this dress for this. Wasted all that money. Could’ve had four pair of shoes and a new purse, but no, had to buy this damn dress. For him. Should’ve worn my jeans and a t-shirt for all the—

 

STACY: [to Sandi] Can you get me zipped up in back?

 

SANDI: [turns angrily to Stacy] Hold still. [zips dress up fast, looks back in mirror] Face is all puffy now, too. Damn it.

 

TIFFANY: [usual drawl] Haaave yooou seen my shoooes?

 

STACY: [distracted] Look in the closet. My corsage is coming loose. I can’t get it to stay on right. Sandi, can you help me?

 

SANDI: [losing temper] Stacy, I’m having my own troubles right now, if you don’t mind.

 

STACY: [eyes Sandi fearfully] Tiffany, can you help me?

 

TIFFANY: Oooh-kaaay. [stops looking in closet, works on Stacy’s corsage]

 

SANDI: [suddenly turns from mirror, commanding voice] Girls. Attention.

 

Stacy and Tiffany stop what they’re doing and look at Sandi.

 

SANDI: [closes eyes, takes deep breath, opens eyes] Okay, in a little while, we’re going to go downstairs with our fathers, and we are going to have a nice, polite, fun dance, and we aren’t going to say a thing about what we heard that they said, you understand?

 

For several moments, no one speaks.

 

STACY: [voice shaky] All right.

 

TIFFANY: [nods] Oooh-kaaay.

 

SANDI: No matter how much that information disturbs us, no matter how we wish to respond, we will respect our fathers and enjoy our time with them, even if it feels like we’ve swallowed drain cleaner. That is all there is to it. They are our fathers, and we are their daughters, and we will conduct ourselves in a civilized and respectful manner and say nothing about the tape recorder or the jerk who left it for us so we could find out about our fathers spying on us as if we were the worst, most hardened criminals. Period.

 

After a pause, Stacy and Tiffany nod in silent agreement.

 

SANDI: Okay, then. [looks back in mirror, fiddles with hair in frustration] Crap.

 

Stacy sniffs, struggling to control her emotions. Tiffany looks from Sandi’s face in the mirror to Stacy’s face. Tiffany’s expression is sad—but perhaps she is sad for her friends, and not so much for herself. She shakes her head, appearing resigned to the situation.

 

 

 

* * *

 

SATURDAY NIGHT

Part Seven: A Clear and Present Daria

(a.k.a., Ill Will Hunting, or, Shocked Treatment)

 

 

128. INT: ABOUT 8:10 P.M., LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Jane and Andrea stand near the payphones in the lobby. Jane listens to one phone, but frowns and hangs up.

 

JANE: The phone in their room is still busy. We can go up and knock again.

 

ANDREA: It was busy when we went up and knocked forty minutes ago. Maybe they’re asleep.

 

JANE: [looking toward dining area] I could use a soda or something. You thirsty?

 

ANDREA: [looks at dining area, spots someone] Hey, there’s the Fashion Club. [pause, face clears with surprise] Oh! I remember now!

 

Jane looks across the lobby, past the dining area. Sandi, Stacy, and Tiffany have met their fathers near the front desk of the hotel, and all are walking to the elevators. The fathers are in nice suits and appear to have come out of the hotel’s small bar. The girls look stone-faced and stiff, ill at ease.

 

JANE: You remember what?

 

ANDREA: Daria said that the people who hurt her father, their daughters were, um, fashion creeps, something like that! Where are they going?

 

JANE: When did she say that?

 

ANDREA: When I last saw her, outside the hotel. She was heading back here, but she disappeared.

 

JANE: [heads off for the Fashion Club girls and their fathers] Okay, then, let’s pretend we’re in the Philippines, and Tagalog.

 

Andrea starts after Jane, then does a double take and looks at Jane with a very pained expression. Jane looks back and notices this. They argue good-naturedly as they go.

 

JANE: What?

 

ANDREA: Ouch!

 

JANE: You didn’t like it?

 

ANDREA: That sucked!

 

JANE: Yeah, like you could come up with a literate joke like that.

 

ANDREA: Did you get that off a cereal box, or what?

 

 

129. INT: ABOUT 8:12 P.M., REAR PARKING LOT, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Kevin still sits in his car in the parking lot, watching the front and rear entrances to the hotel. He appears completely focused on the human traffic in and out of the hotel. The radio plays on beside him in the gathering darkness. Suddenly, he sits up, focused on one person getting out of a car at the front entrance to the hotel. It’s a teenage girl with blonde hair put up in two unbraided pigtails, wearing a Lawndale High School athletic jacket. From a distance, she appears to be Brittany. Kevin quickly unlocks his car and gets out; he pulls a duckbill cap out, puts it on, and pulls it down over his eyes. He quickly heads for the front entrance to the hotel, watching the teenage girl as she walks into the hotel through the revolving door.

 

 

130. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, MEZZANINE, OUTSIDE THE MAIN BALLROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Andrea and Jane come out of a stairwell on the hotel mezzanine, following a large crowd of well-dressed fathers and daughters (most daughters being of elementary school age). Jane and Andrea stand off to one side, allowing the crowd to go past them. They spot a sign and read it (“Lawndale Princesses Dance: 8-10 P.M.”). Behind Jane and Andrea, we see large, dark hotel windows looking out over neon-lit downtown Lawndale. It is difficult to tell, but a dark figure stands at the windows, looking out at the city. Jane and Andrea fail to see this person.

 

JANE: [reading sign] So much for that.

 

ANDREA: She was dancing earlier. [notices Jane staring at her] You heard Mack. He saw her. Maybe she’s in there with her dad.

 

JANE: [looks at crowd, begins to sing the opening chords to the “Twilight Zone” TV show] Da da da da, da da da da . . . You know, I don’t know what to do now. I feel like an idiot. We’ve been chasing all over on this snipe hunt for the last hour, and Daria’s probably overdosed on pizza and snoozing in her room in front of the TV set. Maybe she just had a PMS kind of day. [frowns] Though she never . . . had one like this before.

 

ANDREA: [looking at crowd entering ballroom] Maybe you’re right. It’s just that she was acting so weird earlier, it scared me. It was like, you know . . . [pause]

 

DARIA: [VO, faint deadpan behind Jane and Andrea] Jekyll and Hyde.

 

Startled, Jane and Andrea turn around, see the hotel windows showing the night over Lawndale—and notice the slight figure looking out the window, about twenty feet behind them. An open sack sits by the figure’s feet. Jane and Andrea stare for several seconds in dawning recognition. The corridor is empty at this point except for the three of them.

 

JANE: [uncertain] Daria?

 

The figure slowly turns. The figure wears the fisherman’s hat, clip-on sunglasses, and khaki/beige outfit described earlier. The figure reaches up and carefully flips up the clip-on sunglasses. Seeing Jane and Andrea, the figure grins broadly and wickedly—a look much unlike the deadpan expression Daria normally has.

 

DARIA: [eerily familiar tone] Hello, Clarice.

 

JANE AND ANDREA: [stare, simultaneously whisper] Oh, shit.

 

 

131. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, MAIN BALLROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Tiffany Blum-Deckler and her father appear for the dance. Tiffany wears her full-length, light-blue gown with a white corsage, and her father wears a well-tailored suit and tie. Mr. Blum-Deckler appears relaxed. Tiffany has her usual quiet, vacant expression, though, as before, her eyes appear sad. A waiter waves them over to a small table by the dance floor, not far from where Sandi Griffin and her father, and Stacy Rowe and her father are seated at their own private tables. Sandi looks grim; Stacy looks scared. Each table has a vase full of pink roses on it. Tiffany and her father are given dessert menus by a hurried waiter, who rushes off without a word to attend to the flood of father-daughter pairs now entering the ballroom.

 

TIFFANY’S FATHER: [opens dessert menu] Ah, let’s see what we have to cap off the evening. [scans options] I could go for some ice cream. How about you, Tiff?

 

Tiffany looks at her closed menu for a few moments, then lays it on the table and stares at it with a blank expression, chewing the inside of her lower lip.

 

TIFFANY’S FATHER: What looks good to you, Tiff? [long pause, glances at Tiffany] Honey?

 

Tiffany sighs deeply, obviously thinking about something.

 

TIFFANY’S FATHER: Penny for your thoughts. [pause, jesting tone] That’s all they’re worth, right?

 

Tiffany nods absently, not looking up.

 

TIFFANY’S FATHER: Tiffany?

 

Tiffany looks at her father. Her face has a strange, intense quality to it. NOTE: To make the following conversation more legible, Tiffany’s words are not written in stretched-out form, imitating her usual drawl, though she continues to speak in that manner.

 

TIFFANY’S FATHER: [repeats] Tiffany?

 

TIFFANY: [calmly, almost curiously] Daddy . . . do you think I’m stupid?

 

After a shocked moment, Mr. Blum-Deckler’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He blinks, completely taken aback.

 

TIFFANY: [calmly] You do, don’t you? Both you and Mom?

 

TIFFANY’S FATHER: What . . . what brought this up? [shakes head, clears throat, looks at his dessert menu] This is a pretty stupid topic, Tiff.

 

TIFFANY: [stares at father, continues] You tell other people that I’m stupid.

 

TIFFANY’S FATHER: [looks up, irritated but now anxious] Who told you that? I mean, where’d this crazy idea come from?

 

TIFFANY: [earnest if slow] You always make jokes about me being stupid, Daddy. You say that all the—

 

TIFFANY’S FATHER: [interrupts, irritated] They’re just jokes, Tiffany! I mean, really, don’t be thin-skinned about it! I don’t really mean it.

 

TIFFANY: [pause] I was just— [distracted by noise at nearby table]

 

Tiffany and her father turn to the source of the noise. Sandi leans toward her father at a nearby table, her expression just short of snarling, her voice low but loud enough to carry.

 

SANDI: [to father] I said, have you seen any interesting webcasts lately?

 

SANDI’S FATHER: [confused but becoming defensive] Webcasts? You mean like television over the—

 

SANDI: —over the Internet, yes, exactly like that. Precisely.

 

SANDI’S FATHER: [looks at dessert menu, mumbles] No time for it. I don’t know anything about it.

 

SANDI: So, it’s just mom who watches live webcasts on her computer? [pause] From work? When I’m in my room?

 

Mr. Griffin lowers his menu and looks at his daughter with sudden guilt and fear. He looks every bit as if he had just been caught doing something shameful. He glances around the room, aware that others are listening to this, and leans close to his daughter.

 

SANDI’S FATHER: [distressed, whispers] This isn’t really the time to talk about this.

 

SANDI: [voice getting louder] No? When would be a good time? Tomorrow after I’m in my room and the cameras are rolling?

 

SANDI’S FATHER: [glances around again, hisses] Sandi! Everyone’s looking at us! Please, let it drop!

 

SANDI: [smoldering voice] You and mom getting good pictures of me?

 

SANDI’S FATHER: [shocked] Now, wait a minute, young lady! This was your mother’s idea, not mine! I swear to God that I don’t—

 

SANDI: I’m just asking, is the reception good from my room? Just like television? Getting to see all you want to see?

 

SANDI’S FATHER: [near panic] Young lady, you’re going too—

 

SANDI: You want me to attempt some extra-special performances for you both? Swallow some goldfish? Do some nude yoga? Have the football team over to lick frosting off me?

 

SANDI’S FATHER: [horrified, gets up from table quickly, not looking around, low voice] I had no part of that. I don’t have to listen to this. [walks out of ballroom]

 

SANDI: [gets up, follows father, loud enraged voice] That’s because the webcams in my room don’t have microphones on them, right? [louder] Or do they? [shouts] Answer me!

 

When Sandi and her father go, Tiffany and her father look at each other again. A dreadful knowledge crosses her father’s face; he is extremely anxious about what’s happening. Before either can say a thing, a new outburst comes from another part of the ballroom. Stacy’s voice carries clearly in the sudden silence after the departure of the Griffins.

 

STACY: [abnormally high and pressured voice] What they’re fighting about, Dad, is that someone tape-recorded your meeting this afternoon, in which a lot of dads said they use webcams to watch their kids’ rooms or use dogs to sniff out stuff they don’t like, or break into their daughters’ diaries and read everything in there, because they don’t trust their kids. Isn’t that terrible, Dad? How some people will do that, like read their kids’ diaries?

 

STACY’S FATHER: [near panic] Stacy—

 

STACY: [voice rising, pressured speech, edge of tears] I said, isn’t that terrible, Dad? You wouldn’t break into my diary and read it, would you? You wouldn’t do that to me, would you? [shouts] Would you, Dad?

 

STACY’S FATHER: [looks like he’s been harpooned] Stacy, for the love of—

 

STACY: [screaming] Would you, Dad? [bursts into tears, flees ballroom, hands pressed to her red face]

 

Stacy’s father looks around, mortally embarrassed and completely unprepared for this. He finally gets up and hurries after his daughter, his face pale.

 

STACY’S FATHER: [leaving quickly] Stacy! For God’s sake, Stacy!

 

ANOTHER TEENAGE GIRL: [standing up at her table, shouting at her father (“Second Father”)] You told everyone about bringing those drug-sniffing dogs into my bedroom? Thanks a lot! [leaves immediately, her father protesting and following her, too]

 

The ballroom fills with shouts, arguing, crying, yelling, and hard words as many daughters and fathers begin arguing over what they’ve just heard. Accusations of spying and angry denials (or self-righteous confessions) are heard everywhere—except at the Blum-Decklers’ table. Tiffany passively observes the rising madness. After a few moments, however, she sighs, looks down, and picks up her menu. Mr. Blum-Deckler stares at her with dismayed anticipation, his face pale and sweating.

 

TIFFANY: [lays menu down again and stares at it, soft slow voice] I’ll have the no-fat rainbow sherbet, please, with the cherry. [pause] No nuts. Too fattening.

 

TIFFANY’S FATHER: [very stressed, soft voice] Tiffany . . .

 

TIFFANY: [doesn’t look up, takes deep breath, slow voice] I’m not really stupid, Dad. You and Mom have been hunting for bad things in my room since I was eleven. I know that. You always clean up when you do. That’s how I know. You straighten the pictures and dust things. [looks at father] I like that. [pause, nods] Thank you.

 

Mr. Blum-Deckler, stunned and pale, gapes at his daughter.

 

TIFFANY: [quiet, slow voice] There’s nothing bad in my room. I wouldn’t put anything bad in there, where you and Mom would find it. I know better. I know that I’m not good at math, or science, or lots of other things, but I’m not stupid. You and Mom can keep looking for bad things in my room, if you want. It’s okay. I’ll never put anything that would upset you . . . there. [on the verge of saying more, but shrugs, topic changing] I do like it when you clean up and straighten my pictures.

 

A long pause develops. All around the Blum-Decklers’ table, noisy, shouting chaos reigns as fathers and daughters fight over family privacy issues.

 

TIFFANY: [glances at menu again, slow voice] I’d like a glass of ice water with my sherbet, please. [pause, vacant look at father] What are you having?

 

 

132. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, MEZZANINE OUTSIDE THE MAIN BALLROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Andrea, Jane, and Daria watch as Sandi, Stacy, and several other girls leave the ballroom in anger or tears, following their frustrated fathers or being trailed by them. The corridor empties out again in moments, leaving the three teenagers alone once more.

 

DARIA: [checks time on illuminated wristwatch, deadpan] That took longer than I’d expected.

 

JANE: [looks at Daria, faint voice] What did you do, Daria?

 

DARIA: I offered a suggestion for after-dinner conversation.

 

Daria pulls her father’s miniature tape recorder from a vest pocket, thumbs the volume control down, then turns the tape on. We listen to a repeat of Stacy, Sandi, and Tiffany’s fathers telling how their daughters are spied upon. Once this is through, Daria snaps off the tape recorder and pockets it again. Jane and Andrea stare at her with open mouths.

 

DARIA: [deadpan] So, were you both looking for me?

 

JANE: [unconvincing smile] I’ve been hearing stories that you’ve sort of gone over to the dark side. Until now, I didn’t really believe them.

 

DARIA: [faint smile] If this is the dark side, it’s strange that I can see so well. [pause] Dad said I could see things no one else could see.

 

JANE: [faint voice] What else have you been up to?

 

DARIA: Oh, I’ve kept busy. Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop. I had a little run-in with Kevin. You might have heard about that. [sees Jane and Andrea nod] Earlier, I met a guy who wanted to cop a free feel from me, but it cost him more than he wanted to pay.

 

JANE: [confused, becoming frightened] What?

 

DARIA: I pepper-sprayed him in the back parking lot. I think the police got him afterward. Hope so, anyway.

 

JANE: [realizes what Daria’s talking about] Oh, my God. That was what happened. [pause] Andrea said that you said your father was hurt.

 

DARIA: Not physically. Some of the other fathers objected to his philosophy on being a good dad, and he got upset and went back to the room. I got him calmed down. [look of rage creeps over Daria’s face] Maybe my dad isn’t Ward Cleaver, but he’s better than some around this little burg. I was lucky that Dad decided to record what went on in that damn meeting, or I’d never have figured it out—or found a way to pay them all back. [enraged look fades, nods in direction that arguing fathers and daughters went, downstairs or to elevators] Looks like the payback missile was dead on target. Wonder where Tiffany is, though. [shrugs] Two out of three’s not bad.

 

JANE: [unnerved] Daria . . . why don’t you and I go for a walk? You can show me what’s going on around tonight.

 

DARIA: Nothing’s going on around here. Nothing but me.

 

JANE: Um, okay, but I’d love the company, if that’s okay with you. [looks down at Daria’s sack] You can show me what you bought. More new clothes?

 

DARIA: [frowning, steps closer to sack] It’s sort of a surprise for—

 

ANDREA: [gathers courage, steps forward] Daria?

 

Daria and Jane stare at Andrea, surprised that she spoke up.

 

ANDREA: [quickly] I know you’re going to be busy tonight, and you probably don’t want to be slowed down, right? [no response from Daria] Okay, listen, let me take the gauntlet back to the shop for you, okay? I’m going home anyway. Is that it, in the sack by your feet? [continues before Daria can respond] It’s just going to slow you down. You probably don’t need it. Let me take care of it. [stops on the verge of saying more]

 

Daria stares at Andrea, blinking. She frowns for a moment, then her face clears.

 

DARIA: Okay. [slowly reaches down for sack, picks it up, holds it out]

 

Andrea walks over to Daria, appearing nervous, but takes the sack.

 

ANDREA: Thank you.

 

DARIA: [frowns] Why are you thanking me?

 

ANDREA: [swallows] You let me be your friend.

 

Daria opens her mouth, hesitates, then suddenly relaxes, her face clearing again.

 

ANDREA: [backing up] I’ll take it right over to the shop now. Thank you, Daria.

 

Andrea glances back at Jane, then hurries off with increasing speed for the door to the staircase. She gives a last, anxious glance back at Daria and Jane, then she is gone, her feet pounding down the steps.

 

 

133. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Kevin, hat brim still pulled down, sees a familiar figure emerge from the lobby’s women’s room. He watches her from across the lobby, peering through a maze of decorative shrubbery. The blonde teenage girl with pigtails is partially screened by other people in the lobby, but she walks toward an open staircase leading downstairs. The moment she is out of sight, Kevin leaves his position and quickly walks across the lobby toward the staircase leading down. At the top of the stairs, he hears the sound of someone putting money in a pay phone. He starts down the stairs, moving quietly.

 

 

134. INT: MOMENTS LATER, LOWER LEVEL, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Kevin reaches the bottom of the stairs without making a sound. The lower level is an open area, partially lit, with a hallway running off to the lower-level’s elevator doors and various closed doors leading to conference and maintenance rooms. The teenager who appears to be Brittany stands alone at a bank of three pay phones, her back to Kevin. She has one hand on a hip, the other holding the phone handset, waiting for her call to go through. Kevin moves up behind the girl, looking behind and around to ensure they are alone. Just as he reaches her, she turns around and looks up. At the same moment, he attempts to clamp a hand around her mouth and drag her to him. But—

 

—the girl is NOT Brittany. She drops the phone handset and draws in her breath very fast, about to scream, but Kevin’s hand covers her mouth and shoves her backward. Kevin is extremely surprised that the girl isn’t who he thought she was.

 

KEVIN: Wait—

 

The girl bites into the palm of Kevin’s hand. A second later, she thrusts her right knee up fast and hard, striking Kevin dead in the groin. Kevin gasps, then cries out as the girl bites harder into his hand instead of releasing it. He swings at her face with his left hand, but her right arm shoots up, knocks the blow aside, then lashes out again a moment later at the middle of Kevin’s face. The base of her palm breaks his nose and knocks his cap off. The girl stops biting Kevin’s hand, but then lunges at him with a desperate cry. Kevin reels backward, his uninjured left hand clutching his face. The girl savagely punches Kevin in his solar plexus with her right fist, her knuckles out. What little air was left in his lungs bursts out in a spray of saliva. She then kicks down hard at his left kneecap with her right foot, and Kevin hits the floor like a sack of wet cement. The girl immediately flees, running up the stairs three at a time, shrieking at the top of her lungs.

 

TEENAGE GIRL: [screams] Help me! Please, someone help me!

 

KEVIN: [rises to feet in terrific pain, gasping for air, limping badly, bleeding from nose] Augh! Jeethuth Chrith!

 

Kevin hears the teenage girl screaming upstairs for help. He sees the sign pointing to the lower-level elevators, and he staggers/limps in that direction as quickly as he can.

 

KEVIN: [in agony] Ow! Ow, goddabbid! Goddabbid do ell!

 

 

135. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, MEZZANINE, OUTSIDE THE MAIN BALLROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

We pick up immediately from scene 132. Jane swallows, watching Andrea go, then looks back at the solemn Daria.

 

JANE: [voice a bit high] Funny, I was sure she was going to hang around a while. Well, mind a little company, amiga?

 

DARIA: If you don’t mind being around me.

 

JANE: [touch of uncertainty in her voice] You’re my best friend, Daria. You’re my only friend.

 

DARIA: [shrugs] Where to?

 

JANE: [clears throat, thinking fast] I have some time before I have to go to Cashman’s and fix their window displays. How about some cheese fries? I heard the hotel’s giving them away by the truckload.

 

DARIA: [frowns] You’re kidding, right?

 

JANE: No, really. I saw it on TV, some commercial earlier this evening. We can go down to the main desk and ask about it. I could use some dinner. [swallows] I could use your company after the day I’ve had.

 

DARIA: Okay. [stoops to pick up sack by feet, then realizes the sack is gone] Oh. [blinks, looks confused for a moment, then straightens up] Never mind. Let’s go. Um—mind if I check on my dad first? We’re on the sixth floor.

 

JANE: [still adjusting to the new Daria] No, of course not. That’s great.

 

DARIA: He was sleeping when I saw him last. Hope he’s still out. Bad day for him, too. [look of rage begins to surface]

 

JANE: [sees Daria’s expression change, quickly] Your father’s very lucky to have you.

 

Daria looks at Jane, her face working—then calms down, taking on her usual deadpan look. She makes no reply, and the two of them (Jane appearing nervous) walk to the elevators. Daria pushes the “up” button, and almost immediately, one elevator’s “up” light pings and lights up. The girls walk over to it.

 

JANE: [voice almost normal again] Now, that’s service.

 

DARIA: [looks at Jane] What happened with your computer? Is it okay to ask about it?

 

JANE: Uh, yeah, I guess. I had Artie come over to recover the file I lost, and everything was going great until—

 

The elevator doors open. Jane stops talking, staring wide-eyed into the elevator, as does Daria. Kevin leans against the back wall of the elevator, his broken nose bleeding profusely. He wears the sweat suit from earlier, his cap missing. For less than a second, everyone is too surprised to move. Kevin then lunges forward to push the “Close Door” button in the elevator. Daria, startled but reacting, suddenly body-shoves Jane to one side so that Daria alone stands in the elevator door. Her right hand darts into the inside of her khaki vest, unzipping a large, deep, left-side pocket. Kevin shoves Daria hard away from the elevator door, and Daria falls and lands on her back. Jane, who kept her footing, sees this and lunges into the elevator, after Kevin.

 

JANE: [enraged, hitting wildly at Kevin with fists] You son of a bitch!

 

Daria gets up from the floor just in time to see the elevator doors close. Her last view inside is of Jane and Kevin struggling together. Daria runs for the elevator buttons and pushes “UP,” but she cannot get that elevator to reopen.

 

DARIA: [furious] Damn it! [stops, panting, then looks up] Room . . . damn it, which room did you say you were . . . [closes eyes, calms self, thinks] . . . five . . . thirteen!

 

Daria turns and runs for the stairwell door, pushing through it in a second, her feet pounding upstairs a moment later.

 

 

136. EXT: ABOUT THIS TIME, DOWN THE STREET FROM THE LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Andrea runs, panting heavily, down the sidewalk away from the hotel. She heads in the direction of the “Damnation Alley” shop. She clearly is unused to this much exertion. Daria’s shopping bag swings heavily in her right hand.

 

 

137. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, JAKE MORGENDORFFER’S BEDROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Now lying on his side on his bed, Jake shifts about but remains asleep. He smiles at a pleasant dream. The TV drones on, showing a scene from the B-52 “Leper Colony.”

 

TV: [Navigator] Navigator to Captain, approaching target. Distance, one zero miles. Switch from green grid to target orange.

[Major Kong] Roger. Ready for final bomb run check. Take over, Ace.

[Copilot] Roger.

[DSO] DSO ready.

 

 

138. INT: MOMENTS LATER, FIFTH-FLOOR CORRIDOR, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

The stairwell door opens slowly, and Daria—panting heavily but quietly—peers out. Seeing no one, she leans out, looks left and right, then emerges fully into the corridor. She has her right hand hidden inside her open khaki vest, hiding something. Eyeing the door numbers, she heads down the corridor, back pressed to the wall, looking for room 513. She spots it in moments—and stops dead. The door to the room is taped over with plastic yellow ribbon that reads: “Lawndale Police Department — Crime Scene — Do Not Enter.” Daria stares at this, huffing quietly, and looks lost for a moment. She pushes away from the wall, looks up and down both ways in the hall—then stops, focusing on a sign not far from room 513. The sign, by an open doorway, reads: “Refreshment Center / Free Ice.” Daria softly walks to this doorway, slowly peering around the corner, right hand still hidden inside her vest’s inner left pocket.

 

Daria sees a large ice machine, set against a wall away from the open doorway. The room opens up to the right of the ice machine. Daria listens and hears the sound of heavy breathing—from two different people. She slowly steps into the doorway, her right hand emerging from her vest. She grips the handle of a black gunlike device, banded with yellow stripes. White letters on the muzzle of the device read, “Thunderbolt Taser.” Daria quietly steps up to the corner where the room jogs to the right, the pistol supported in both her hands and aimed down, and gets ready to turn the corner. She moves as if she’d paid attention to how SWAT team members do it in the movies.

 

 

139. EXT: ABOUT THIS TIME, OUTSIDE “DAMNATION ALLEY” SHOP, LAWNDALE

 

Andrea reaches the “Damnation Alley” store, completely winded. The store windows appear dark, but not completely so, as if they were polarized and light was being shed behind them. She leans against the store window next to the door for a few moments, breathing heavily. She regains her composure, then grabs the doorknob and opens the door. It creaks as it swings inward.

 

 

140. INT: MOMENTS LATER, INSIDE “DAMNATION ALLEY” SHOP, LAWNDALE

 

Andrea steps up into the store. It is dark inside, but a faint light shines from the area around the cash register and desk. Andrea closes the door behind her, looking across the room past the rows of old and peculiar clothing. The Shopkeeper, looking as he did earlier in the day, sits on a stool behind the counter, looking at his cash register. Oddly, his cash register emits light, like a TV set. He rouses himself and looks up at Andrea.

 

SHOPKEEPER: [deadpan] Andrea.

 

ANDREA: [nods, still winded, takes a deep breath] I’ve brought back . . . Daria’s gauntlet.

 

SHOPKEEPER: [calm] That was kind of you.

 

ANDREA: [walks forward uncertainly] Listen, uh, there’s a problem. [Shopkeeper doesn’t reply] It’s Daria. She’s sort of crazy. . . . You said there was . . . some kind of persona change, personality change, something like that. . . . She’s really gone overboard. If there’s anything . . . you can do to stop it . . . you have to do something.

 

The Shopkeeper looks blandly at Andrea, considering her words.

 

SHOPKEEPER: The change is out of my control at this point. It has to play itself out—I believe that’s the expression. By morning, she will be her old self again.

 

ANDREA: [still huffing] No, we can’t . . . do that. We have to do something . . . now, because . . . I’m afraid she’s going to hurt someone.

 

 

141. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, REFRESHMENT CENTER ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria darts around the corner, her black taser pistol swinging up and out with both hands. She finds that she’s pointing the weapon directly at Jane, fifteen feet away, who is being used as a human shield by Kevin, who is unarmed. Kevin has Jane in a chokehold with one arm, and he holds one of her arms behind her back. It is clear that Jane and Kevin have had a brutal fight, as both are scratched and bruised. The left side of Jane’s face is red and bruised, as if she’s been struck there, and Kevin looks like he’s getting a black eye to go with his other problems. Jane and Kevin both see the gun, and both gasp and try to get back from it—not possible, as Kevin’s back is pressed against a wall space between two soda machines.

 

DARIA: [momentary smile] Dinsdale?

 

JANE: [eyes on Daria’s gun, frightened but staying calm] Daria, be careful, please.

 

DARIA: [deadpan] You just don’t get it, do you, Kevin?

 

KEVIN: [panicked] Keep the hell away from me!

 

DARIA: [deadpan] I’m amazed you can walk, Kevin. You should barely be able to crawl. Do you have armor plate in your groin?

 

KEVIN: What the hell are you after me for? What do you want?

 

DARIA: [advances one step into room, stops] I want to help you find the light, Kevin. [pause] The light at the end of that long, dark tunnel.

 

Terrified, Kevin and Jane stare at the weapon Daria holds.

 

JANE: [throat dry, whispers] Am I going to see that light too, Daria?

 

Daria looks at Jane, as if Jane’s words brought her out of a reverie. Daria appears confused for a moment, as if things were not going according to plan.

 

 

142. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, INSIDE “DAMNATION ALLEY” SHOP, LAWNDALE

 

This scene picks up immediately from scene 140.

 

SHOPKEEPER: Your concern is admirable, but there is nothing I can do about it.

 

ANDREA: [getting angry] Well, you said that trying on clothing here causes a personality change, so you should be able to do something about it!

 

SHOPKEEPER: [sighs] Not so, Andrea. We must let the fever run its course, as it did in you. You recovered, is that not true?

 

ANDREA: What are you talking about? I’m talking about Daria!

 

SHOPKEEPER: You remember when you had your fever, a year ago. It passed without incident.

 

ANDREA: No, it didn’t! I yelled at my oldest stepsister, and she never talked to me again!

 

SHOPKEEPER: [tilts head] Is that such a bad thing, though? Beth didn’t treat you well.

 

ANDREA: That’s not . . . [stops, huffs, looks at Shopkeeper intently, long pause] I never told you my stepsister’s name.

 

The Shopkeeper makes no response, instead eyeing Andrea more carefully.

 

ANDREA: How did you know her name? How do you know anything about how Beth treated me?

 

SHOPKEEPER: [takes deep breath, slowly stands up behind counter, illuminated by light from cash register] I know a great deal about this town, Andrea. I hear a lot, I see a lot, I remember it all.

 

ANDREA: [low voice, becoming anxious] I don’t think that’s it.

 

SHOPKEEPER: [faint smile] No? Then what do you think . . . it . . . is?

 

 

143. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, REFRESHMENT CENTER ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

The impasse continues, with Kevin holding Jane as his human shield against Daria.

 

KEVIN: You’re crazy, Daria! You need a shrink!

 

DARIA: [deadpan] You’re the one who needs therapy, Kevin. I’ve got it right here in my hands. Fifty thousand volts will cure all your troubles.

 

KEVIN: Shit! [to Jane] Say something to her! Make her stop!

 

JANE: [eyes gun fearfully] Is that a stun gun?

 

DARIA: [nods] They had a sale on nonlethal weaponry at Military Mart. It was half off.

 

Jane stares at the gun, then at Daria, and makes a decision. She takes a deep breath.

 

JANE: If that’s a stun gun, then shoot! I don’t care if you hit me! You’ll get him t—

 

KEVIN: [tightens chokehold on Jane] You’re not helping, damn it!

 

DARIA: [deadpan] Let her go, Kevin. Play with me. Don’t fear the reaper.

 

KEVIN: [losing it] Stop it! I’m freaking out! This is all your fault!

 

DARIA: [deadpan] You’re making me cry. I hate it when I cry.

 

JANE: [high voice] Damn it, Daria, go ahead and shoot!

 

DARIA: [frowns, eyeing Kevin] Keep out of this, Jane.

 

JANE: [voice rises to a shout] Keep out of it? Keep out of it? What the hell are you talking about? Look at me!

 

KEVIN: [to Daria, almost hysterical] What did I ever do to you, Daria?

 

DARIA: You pissed me off, Kevin. You pissed me off pretty bad.

 

KEVIN: Well, I’m sorry!

 

DARIA: Did you tell Brittany that you were sorry? Or Andrea? Or Mack or Upchuck? I didn’t hear that part.

 

KEVIN: [shouts] I’m sorry about everything! I’m sorry, God damn it!

 

DARIA: [deadpan] That’s funny. [lifts gun and sights right at Kevin’s face, right next to Jane’s face, finger curls around trigger] I’m sorry, too.

 

KEVIN: [hiding behind Jane] Shit!

 

JANE: [shuts eyes, terrified] Do it, Daria! I forgive you! Just shoot!

 

Daria hesitates. Even as she aims, something happens inside her head. The gun wavers. We look into Daria’s eyes, close in on them, and see . . .

 

 

144. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

EXT: FOGGY EVENING, OLD CEMETERY IN LAWNDALE

 

We look through Daria’s eyes as she is kneeling on the misty grass before the fake tombstone for Jane Lane, seen in scene 1. A white rose rests against the stone, on which can be seen the following inscription: Jane Lane / Death be not proud, though some have called thee / Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so . . . / Requiescat in pace.

 

 

145. INT: AT THIS MOMENT, REFRESHMENT CENTER ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria blinks, her face trembling and turning pale. Her expression changes and becomes frightened. Jane and Kevin still wait for her to shoot, their eyes squeezed shut. After a moment, Jane’s eyes open slightly and she sees Daria, who looks increasingly stricken. The taser barrel trembles.

 

DARIA: [licks lips, swallows, whispers to Jane] I . . . can’t . . . shoot . . . you.

 

 

146. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, INSIDE “DAMNATION ALLEY” SHOP, LAWNDALE

 

We pick up immediately from scene 142. Andrea, facing the Shopkeeper, becomes increasing frightened but stands her ground, holding on to her courage.

 

ANDREA: [low voice, almost a whisper] I think you’re evil.

 

SHOPKEEPER: [twisted smile] Where’s that cultural relativity when you need it? [slowly walks around counter, stops] I’m just a businessman, Andrea, trying to make ends meet.

 

ANDREA: [whispers, voice fierce] You’re evil. You’re hurting my friend.

 

SHOPKEEPER: Your friend. [twisted smile grows] No one is hurting your friend. Your friend is acting on her natural impulses, just as you did. She’s solving her problems, just as you did. By dawn, she will have all her problems ironed out. [gestures toward Andrea’s sack] Let’s have her gauntlet back, and you can be on your way.

 

Andrea looks down at the sack, looks at Shopkeeper, then reaches into the bag.

 

SHOPKEEPER: If you are thinking of using that metal glove in an aggressive manner, you should wait another ten minutes until you are less winded. Otherwise, you will accomplish nothing.

 

Andrea hesitates. Her face falls. She knows he’s right. She has almost no strength left after her run to the store. She sets the sack on the ground and pulls out the gauntlet. As she does, we look into the sack with her and see a small, black aerosol can fall out of the gauntlet, where it accidentally became lodged as the sack was jostled around. A second can falls out right after the first one. Andrea reaches down—and sniffs, catching a faint whiff of the pepper spray. She flinches and pulls back—then realizes what the cans are.

 

SHOPKEEPER: [frowns, looks at Andrea] Is there a problem?

 

Andrea looks up very quickly, then reaches into the sack with both hands and grabs the cans. She pulls them out, stepping back, then charges the Shopkeeper, kicking aside the sack with the gauntlet in it.

 

ANDREA: [shouts] Winter’s here!

 

The startled Shopkeeper tries to get back from Andrea, but she fires both cans. One spray stream goes wide, covering a rack of clothing with pepper spray. The other stream goes right into the Shopkeeper’s face. Grabbing violently for his eyes, the Shopkeeper roars in a monstrous, nonhuman way, so loudly the entire shop vibrates. Frightened, Andrea shrieks and drops the cans, stepping back clumsily. The Shopkeeper blindly charges for her, but she dodges out of his way, heading for the counter. She gets around the counter to escape him—then sees the cash register. It is not a real cash register. The front appears to be some kind of television or computer monitor, and a solarized picture of Daria holding a handgun appears on it.

 

ANDREA: [seeing picture] Daria, no!

 

The Shopkeeper rushes for Andrea again, roaring like a monster, his long arms out and his fingers turned to claws. Andrea lunges at the cash register and shoves it. It falls from the counter and smashes into the hardwood floor, where it explodes—but the explosion is all darkness. Everything is swallowed into black.

 

 

147. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: COCKPIT OF USAF B-52 “MISERY CHICK”

 

In the cockpit of the B-52 “Misery Chick,” we see Devil Daria, sitting in the pilot’s seat without her helmet, her hands covering her face. She takes a ragged breath, as if she’s been crying. A moment later, Angel Daria—alive and alert—quickly pushes her way into the cockpit, leans over the controls in front of Devil Daria, and hits some switches. She punches a button and picks up a hand microphone.

 

ANGEL DARIA: [fast deadpan] Mission aborted. Out.

 

Angel Daria puts the microphone away, then leans forward heavily on the control panel, looking weary. She sighs and looks back at Devil Daria, who still covers her face, upset and in shock. Angel Daria moves over and sits down in the copilot’s seat, pushing more buttons and switches before she takes the steering controls and puts the B-52 into a long 180-degree turn. As she does, she hums the tune to “You Are My Special Angel.” Devil Daria never looks up.

 

 

148. INT: AT THIS TIME, REFRESHMENT CENTER ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria shakes violently all over. When she recovers, she stares at Jane, then at her stun gun. She steps back and lowers the gun, looking at it as if she can’t believe it’s actually in her hand. Daria then looks around, confused and afraid.

 

DARIA: [aghast, soft voice, to Jane] What am I doing? I almost shot you.

 

Daria looks down at her stun gun, then presses a button on one side. A black battery pack ejects from the handle of the gun and hits the tile floor, bouncing. Daria lowers the pistol, then puts it away in the left inside pocket of her vest. Her face is white and sweating.

 

DARIA: [to Kevin, who now peeks at her over Jane’s shoulder, weak voice] Let her go, Kevin. I swear that I won’t bother you. You can run off and escape, and I’ll let you go. I swear it. I never break my word. Just let her go, then get out of here.

 

Kevin looks down at the floor, where the taser battery is. He looks at Daria, then shoves Jane away from him. Jane stumbles but Daria reaches out and catches Jane by the arm, steadying her.

 

DARIA: [stunned whisper to Jane] I am so sorry, Jane.

 

JANE: [glares back at Kevin, who leans against the wall] It’s okay. Let’s get out of here.

 

DARIA: [nods, out of it] I am so sorry.

 

As Kevin watches, exhausted from the stress and the fighting, Daria and Jane walk out of the refreshment room and leave him alone.

 

 

149. INT: MOMENTS LATER, CORRIDOR OUTSIDE THE FIFTH-FLOOR REFRESHMENT ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Jane leads the way out of the short entry hall to the refreshment room. Daria holds Jane by one arm, steadying her (and perhaps steadying Daria as well). Jane walks in the direction of the elevators to take them away from this floor.

 

As Jane enters the main corridor, however, Daria suddenly lets go of Jane’s arm. Daria reaches up into an inside right pocket of her vest with her left hand, pulls a zipper very quickly, and pulls out a second taser pistol. Jane turns to see what Daria is doing and gasps in shock, pulling back. Without warning, Daria turns, runs back into the refreshment room, rounds the corner, stops, raises the pistol with both hands, and fires—all within two seconds. The pistol makes a semi-loud, compressed-air BANG! followed almost immediately by an electric SNAP! and a brief cry from a human throat. A moment later, something large falls flat on the tile floor. Daria looks down, steadily aiming her pistol at something on the floor in front of her. After a moment, she lowers the weapon and disconnects the taser wires and their pack from the pistol, dropping them on the floor. She puts the taser gun back into her vest with trembling hands, picks up the battery to the first taser gun, puts it in a vest pocket, then walks out of the room into the corridor, her face dead white. She looks like she is about to be sick, and she shivers as if she has chills. Jane reaches out and catches her friend in her arms, and they hug for a long moment.

 

DARIA: [pause, muffled voice] They had a two-for-one sale, actually.

 

JANE: [gentle, quavering tone] You maniac.

 

 

150. ### DARIA’S DAYDREAM ###

INT: COCKPIT OF USAF B-52 “MISERY CHICK”

 

We see a slim finger jammed down on an instrument-panel button labeled “Bomb Release.” Red lights are lit up all over the instrument panel. We pull back to find that the slim finger belongs to . . . Angel Daria. Devil Daria stares in shock at Angel Daria.

 

DEVIL DARIA: [tone of wonder] You broke your word to him.

 

ANGEL DARIA: Yeah. [pause] I’m gonna catch hell for it, aren’t I?

 

The two spiritual advisors look at each other, then smile. Devil Daria puts out a hand, Angel Daria slaps it with her own hand, and they pilot their aircraft away into the clouds.

 

 

151. INT: ABOUT THIS TIME, INSIDE “DAMNATION ALLEY” SHOP, LAWNDALE

 

Andrea comes to. She finds herself lying on the dusty floor of the almost lightless “Damnation Alley” shop. She gets up—and discovers that the store is completely deserted. No article of clothing remains; it is as if the store was abandoned years ago. No trace of the false cash register, store inventory, or Shopkeeper is visible. She staggers toward the shop door, opens it, and steps outside into the night air. She looks back into the shop once more, stunned, then slowly walks back to the hotel.

 

 

152. INT: ABOUT 9:00 P.M., LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Jane, Daria, and Andrea stand together, talking in low tones to two Lawndale police officers. We cannot hear their conversation. One officer finally nods, says goodbye, and she and her partner leave the lobby for a police car parked outside the lobby doors. Kevin is slumped in the back seat. Two other officers stand by the police car, watching him. The three teenagers walk to the dining area and sit down in a booth, looking exhausted.

 

JANE: [gently rubs injured cheek] I can’t believe the police let you keep those tasers.

 

DARIA: I should take them back Monday. They weren’t cheap, even at half off.

 

ANDREA: What I can’t believe is that you had all that other crap stuck in your vest, and the police let you keep that, too. Did you think you were Melody Powers or something?

 

DARIA: [looks downcast] I don’t know what came over me. Something happened this afternoon, I don’t know what it was—

 

ANDREA: I do.

 

Jane rolls her eyes. Daria frowns.

 

ANDREA: [shrugs] So, don’t believe me. I was there. It happened to me, too. [looks uneasy] I hope he doesn’t come back.

 

DARIA: Kevin?

 

ANDREA: [shakes head] The shopkeeper. But Kevin, too, yeah.

 

JANE: I’ll tell you what I can’t believe. [Andrea and Daria look at her] No cheese fries. There was a commercial on TV this evening about free cheese fries to all comers here, and I haven’t seen a one of them. No one at the front desk knows anything about it. I got the living crap knocked out of me, and not a single cheese fry for it.

 

DARIA: [checks watch, to Jane] What time do you have to get to Cashman’s?

 

JANE: I should go soon. If I get there early, I might pick up some extra work. [long pause] Sorry I won’t be in Boston with you this fall.

 

DARIA: Oh. Well, I’ll have the pizza places staked out by the time you get there.

 

JANE: Good. [to Andrea] Where are you off to?

 

ANDREA: [looks down, exhales] Denver.

 

JANE: I meant tonight.

 

ANDREA: [rubs face, pause] I need to . . . sort things out. With Charles.

 

DARIA: [low voice] I hope it works out.

 

ANDREA: I don’t know. I ran off on him when he gave me the ring.

 

Daria and Jane stare at Andrea, taken aback.

 

DARIA: [stunned] I’m searching for a comeback for that. No, I don’t think I have one.

 

JANE: [stunned] I’m fresh out, too. A ring, you say. The big ring.

 

ANDREA: [looks up and nods, sad smile] I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t slam the door on me. [looks down, rouses self] I should go.

 

JANE: [nods, still looking at Andrea] Yeah, me, too.

 

The three of them get up from the table just as a waiter arrives.

 

WAITER: Can I get you ladies anything?

 

DARIA: Therapy.

 

JANE: The last week of time that I spent on my damn art project before it blew up, and a cold pack for my face.

 

ANDREA: No.

 

WAITER: Uh, okay. [leaves quickly]

 

DARIA: I better go see Dad. If he’ll have me back.

 

JANE: Why wouldn’t he? He know anything about this evening’s events?

 

DARIA: I hope not. It would be difficult to explain all that without him thinking I was possessed after all.

 

ANDREA: [significant look at Daria] Well . . .

 

DARIA: [tense] Don’t go there. [looks sad again] I feel like I’ve abandoned him this evening. I hope he’s not angry.

 

JANE: I’m off, amiga. [hugs Daria] Thanks for not shooting me, even if I asked you to.

 

DARIA: [low voice] Anytime.

 

Jane looks at Andrea and hugs her, too.

 

JANE: Thanks for “In/Out/Down.” And blowing up the Devil. I’ll have to go by there on the way to Cashman’s and check it out.

 

ANDREA: [worried look] Just don’t go in.

 

JANE: [nonchalant] Sure, whatever.

 

Andrea and Daria hug briefly.

 

DARIA: Keep in touch.

 

ANDREA: You, too.

 

DARIA: Good luck tonight with . . . Charles.

 

ANDREA: Thanks.

 

Andrea waves as Daria heads for the elevators, and Jane walks toward the front parking lot. Alone at last, Andrea looks around the lobby, then looks at the elevators, too.

 

ANDREA: [soft voice, to herself] May as well get it over with. [walks after Daria for the elevators]

 

 

153. INT: ABOUT 9:15 P.M., MORGENDORFFERS’ HOTEL ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

The hotel room door opens softly, and Daria walks in, still wearing her khaki vest and pants, all pockets stuffed with items unimaginable. Seeing no one in the main room, she hurries to her room, empties her pockets into a drawer in the dresser by her bed, then walks back out. She is just in time to see her father walk out of his bedroom, in belted bathrobe, pajamas, and slippers yawning.

 

JAKE: [surprised, still waking up] Hey, kiddo. Nice outfit!

 

DARIA: [forced deadpan] Uh, yeah. I was in a, um, sort of outback mood.

 

JAKE: Looks great! [face falls, looks very uncomfortable] Listen, kiddo, I . . . I kinda screwed things up today, and I don’t blame you for not wanting to be with me for—

 

DARIA: Whoa. It’s okay, Dad. I do want to be with you. I just went out for a bit while you were catching some z’s. That’s all that happened. [anxious look] No matter what anyone says. [pause, serious again, gets his tape recorder from vest pocket and hands it to him] I, um, listened to the tape. I know what happened.

 

JAKE: [anxious] What? Oh. [takes recorder, sits down on sofa] I’m really sorry about that, kiddo. Coming here was so important for the two of us, and I lost my head, and—

 

DARIA: [sits beside Jake, interrupts] Dad, you stood up for me. You showed everyone that you had integrity and you cared about your family. You have nothing to be ashamed of. [pause] I confess that . . . knowing what I do . . . I’m . . . proud of you.

 

JAKE: [very surprised] I . . . I thought you were angry with me for screwing things up.

 

DARIA: After listening to that tape, I couldn’t possibly be. You said all the things a father is supposed to say. Those other people didn’t. [pause, looks uncomfortable herself] Although, to be honest, they had a point. I did sort of accidentally scare a few people downtown earlier today. [pause] And I was dressed up a little strangely, maybe, and there was a problem in the hotel, too, later on. [pause] And in the back parking lot. It’s kind of a long story, and if you really want to hear the whole thing, I, um—

 

JAKE: [looks happy] Ah, don’t worry about it! You’re a teenager, you’re supposed to sow some wild oats! It’s normal! [gives Daria a brief hug; Daria looks annoyed but lets him do it] Say, let’s do one of those special father-daughter activities and watch some TV! Morgendorffer and Morgendorffer! Whaddya say?

 

DARIA: [face lightens] That would be . . . almost perfect.

 

JAKE: [looks anxious] Almost?

 

DARIA: [reaches for loose telephone handset, puts it back on cradle, then picks it up again] We need pizza. Focaccia, I mean. [low voice] And I could use some cheese fries, now that Jane’s got that idea stuck in my head.

 

JAKE: [bright and cheery] You bet! Let me call it in!

 

DARIA: [pulls wad of bills from vest pocket—the money she stole from the teenager who goosed her] Um, let me do it. This one’s on me. I, uh . . . [anxious guilty look, tries to shrug it off] . . . called in a debt. [mutters to self] I can’t believe I actually did that. I must’ve been crazy. [frowns] But, on the other hand, that jerk shouldn’t have—

 

JAKE: [misses her remarks, interrupts] Is there anything else I can get for you, Daria? Anything you want?

 

DARIA: [looks up from bills] I still feel a need to serve Quinn a cold dish when we get home, but . . . Dad, anything I could possibly need, I think I already have. [faint smile] Thanks for sticking up for me. [anxious look at bills, low voice] Even if I’m not always sure I deserve it.

 

JAKE: [gets teary eyed again, but tries to hide it] You bet! I’ll see what’s on the tube, you get dinner, and let’s rock this joint! [puts tape recorder aside, picks up TV remote, surfs channels as Daria dials room service] Oh, look! The Dirty Dozen! I love that movie!

 

DARIA: [smiles, deadpan] Lock and load, Dad. [to phone] Hello, room service?

 

 

154. INT: ABOUT 9:15 P.M., UPCHUCK AND ANDREA’S HOTEL ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

The bedroom is cleaned up since we last saw it, the bed again made. Three vases full of fresh-cut black roses sit on tables around the room. Upchuck, looking downcast, is carefully folding a few pieces of Andrea’s discarded clothing and putting them away in a drawer in the room. The TV is off, and only one room light is on. Upchuck straightens just as there is a knock on the door. He walks over, peeks out the peephole, and quickly opens the door. Standing before him, swallowing and nervous, is Andrea.

 

UPCHUCK: [surprised] Hi.

 

ANDREA: [takes deep breath] Don’t even ask me what I’ve been doing or where I’ve been since earlier. It’s too crazy even to talk about. Just . . . [another deep breath] Look, I came back to say I’m sorry. [pause] I’m really sorry.

 

UPCHUCK: [nods acceptance] I’m sorry, too. [gestures for Andrea to enter, which she reluctantly does]

 

ANDREA: [low voice] You don’t have anything to be sorry for.

 

UPCHUCK: [lets door shut] The little deception I worked out with Aunt Jenny wasn’t very smart. I’m sorry that it caused so much trouble.

 

ANDREA: [restless, avoids eye contact] It was okay. I caused all the trouble, not you.

 

UPCHUCK: [pause, pained look] Andrea . . . I would never cheat on you.

 

ANDREA: [sighs, looks upset] Yeah, I know. I mean, you always flirt, you always talk to women, I know, but it never goes anywhere. [rubs face] It’s just how you are, Upchuck—[flinches, turns red, really upset]—oh, damn it! I’m sorry I called you that! [kicks bed savagely] God damn it!

 

UPCHUCK: [not offended, chuckles] You’d like Aunt Jenny. She calls me Chucky, after that hideous little doll in the Child’s Play movies. [humorous frown] Not from any physical resemblance, of course. [smiles] She says it’s because I’m persistent.

 

Andrea sits down on an edge of the bed, facing Upchuck. Her head is down, and her hands wring together.

 

UPCHUCK: [smile gone, low voice] I was afraid I’d scared you off for good.

 

ANDREA: [pause, nods] You almost did. [pause] Not your fault. I messed up bad.

 

UPCHUCK: [pause, struggles, soft voice] If . . . if that, um, if the ring isn’t, um, you know, I can take it back to—

 

ANDREA: [shakes head, holds up hands] Wait. I don’t want to talk about that. Just . . . just wait a minute. [sighs] I have to talk to you. [long pause] I . . . I don’t know if you were going to ask me what I think you were, but—

 

UPCHUCK: I—

 

ANDREA: [holds up a hand, stopping Upchuck] Wait. [pause] I was saying, I don’t know what you were going to ask me, but I have to be honest with you, for a change, because I’ve not been very honest with you. [takes deep breath] I really like you, Charles. I’ve had more fun together with you in the last few weeks since I can possibly remember. I’m serious. This has been the most fun I’ve ever had in my life. Period.

 

More silence as Andrea composes herself. Upchuck leans back against the TV cabinet, steeling himself for what Andrea is about to say.

 

ANDREA: When I thought you were out with . . . with someone else—wait, I know, you weren’t, just let me talk—when I thought that, the bottom just fell out of my life. I told myself it didn’t matter really if you were seeing anyone else, I was just in it for the fun, but it did matter to me. It mattered a lot. I really didn’t want . . . I wanted us to just have some fun. There just isn’t any fun left around here, and I wanted us to be together and have fun, just the two of us, and keep on having fun, and I wasn’t thinking about real life.

 

UPCHUCK: [puzzled] Real life? If this isn’t it, dear heart, then where is it?

 

ANDREA: Real life, like, you know, people break up. People go away. Everything falls apart, everything dies, nothing stays the same, and I didn’t want that to happen to us. It does anyway, no matter what you want, you know. We’re no different. We’re here today, we’re gone tomorrow, and why I should get attached to it is beyond me. [looks up] I don’t mean anything against you, Charles, but, really, why try? Why?

 

UPCHUCK: [pause, straight voice] Because I love you, Andrea.

 

Andrea stares at Upchuck with a look just short of fear.

 

ANDREA: [anxious] Oooh—

 

UPCHUCK: I love you. It’s the truth.

 

ANDREA: [gets red in the face again] But why? Why can’t we just screw and have fun and not worry about falling . . . not have to deal with all that? It just makes . . . [fighting tears] Love is such a bunch of goddamn baloney, I can’t believe you even said that to me like you were serious. We were doing great just having sex and fooling around, and then you go and . . . [gestures, looks down]

 

Upchuck slowly kneels on the floor in front of Andrea, who sniffs and fumbles in a side pocket for a tissue. She avoids looking at him.

 

ANDREA: [angry, pressured speech] You tell me you love me, but come August, bang, I’m out of here, you know? I’m going to Denver, damn it! You know it! I’m not coming back here, and I don’t even know where the hell you’re going, and you tell me you love me? What the hell kind of love is that? Why couldn’t we have just, you know, just—

 

UPCHUCK: [interrupts] Andrea, I’m going to Denver, too.

 

ANDREA: —have a good time and then— [stops, stares at Upchuck] What?

 

UPCHUCK: [carefully] I’m taking a year or two off before college, assuming I ever go to college. My dad has a business partner who runs offices out of Aurora. It’s a suburb of Denver, on the east side. I’m going to be an intern there. Step and fetch, message boy, whatever amusements they have in mind.

 

Andrea stares at Upchuck, speechless.

 

UPCHUCK: [serious] The truth is, dear Andrea, I’m not really that excited about college, because—well, we’ve talked about this—I want to go into entertainment, and no one gives comedy degrees. I’ve been to Denver before with my dad, and there are some great stand-up comedy clubs there. The intern part would be my day job. [shrugs] Not that I really need it, but the extra moolah wouldn’t hurt.

 

ANDREA: [incredulous] You think you’re going to Denver, and you don’t even think you need money? Are you crazy?

 

UPCHUCK: [embarrassed look] Well, actually, I don’t need it. My grandfather’s inheritance, on my mother’s side, kicked in when I turned eighteen. It isn’t that much, really, fifty thousand, but it’ll do for starters. My grandfather’s inheritance on my father’s side doesn’t start until I’m twenty-five, but by that time, I hope—

 

ANDREA: You’ve got an inheritance? You never told me this!

 

UPCHUCK: [shrugs, embarrassed] It never came up. I was saving it for tonight, actually. To go with . . . everything else. It doesn’t really start until I leave home, too. [smiles] So it isn’t real until I’m out of here myself. In Denver. Then it’s mine. [pause] Ours, I mean.

 

Andrea tries to frame a comment or question, but cannot. She stares at Upchuck.

 

UPCHUCK: [looks down at Andrea’s feet, then back to her face] Andrea, I love you. [reaches for her right hand and takes it, on her lap] I was never so sure of anything in my life. You are everything that’s bright and good in the world, everything that’s good to me. [swallows] I don’t want to go on in my life except with you. I wouldn’t have anyone to laugh with me. All the fun would—ffft! [pause] I want you. I just . . . want . . . you.

 

Upchuck bends down and kisses her hands. He turns her left hand so her injured wrist faces up, and he gently moves her bracelet aside and kisses the scars there. Andrea lowers her head as he does, her eyes closed tight as if she were in great pain.

 

UPCHUCK: [quietly] Don’t run away, Andrea. I love you. I need you.

 

Her face flushed and eyes tearing, Andrea slowly bends down until she kisses Upchuck’s red hair. She then makes a face and coughs.

 

ANDREA: [sitting up, wiping mouth with arm] What is that stuff in your hair? Jeez, it tastes awful.

 

UPCHUCK: [laughs, sits up, runs hand through hair] It’s a gel from the costume kit. I wanted to impress you when I . . . well . . .

 

ANDREA: [gets off the bed, helps Upchuck up] You impressed me. Look, I don’t wanna talk anymore. Let’s get cleaned up. You’ve gotta wash your hair out, and I look like crap.

 

UPCHUCK: [getting back into usual form] Ah, no, my queen of the infinite night. You are the glorious moon, and all else is dark and empty.

 

ANDREA: [snorts, amused] God, you really can talk the bark off a tree.

 

Andrea hesitates, then leans close to Upchuck and hugs him. He hugs her back, then they kiss long and passionately. Their embrace picks up steam.

 

UPCHUCK: [during a momentary break, whispers] I love you. But you also have to start doing “In/Out/Down” again. And this time, make them pay you for it.

 

Andrea freezes, then slumps and buries her face in Upchuck’s shirt. Upchuck cradles her head and kisses her hair.

 

ANDREA: Is there anyone who doesn’t know I was doing that? [pause, surrenders] Oh, all right, I’ll do it. I love you, too, but you are so damn crazy. You are . . . so . . .

 

They kiss again, deeply, and their hands rapidly go into active roaming mode. Andrea and Upchuck both moan. We depart the scene immediately.

 

 

155. EXT: A SHORT WHILE LATER, STREET BY “DAMNATION ALLEY” SHOP, LAWNDALE

 

Jane’s sedan, on its way to Cashman’s, slows down as it comes to the place where Andrea said that “Damnation Alley” existed. The sedan parks along the empty street, and Jane gets out to look across the road at the shop—rather, where the shop used to be. It is clearly abandoned, with no store identification or signs. Frowning, Jane crosses the street and looks at the store closely, noting how old the abandoned shop appears. Nothing is written on the windows or visible through them.

 

As Jane is about to leave, she notices a scrap of paper taped to one window. She walks over and lifts the paper, reading it in the neon light from other stores around. The paper reads:

 

I am not here at present, but I hope to reopen another store on this fine world in the near future, once again serving its citizens the things they think they need most. I hope to serve you as well, Miss Lane.

 

Jane stares at the note with wide eyes, gasping when she reaches the end. She rips the note from the window, reads it again, then crumples it and flings it away. Shocked and angry, Jane looks at the abandoned store, then holds up both arms and shows her middle fingers to the windows with an outraged look, mouthing two words. That done, she walks back to her car without looking back, gets in, and drives away to her night job.

 

 

156. INT: ABOUT 9:30 P.M., JAKE AND HELEN’S BEDROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

Helen is in her nightgown, typing on her laptop while sitting up in bed, surrounded by legal paperwork. Large piles of paperwork rest on Jake’s side of the bed, in danger of falling over. The sound of a toilet flushing can be heard outside, down the hall. Moments later, footsteps pad up to the bedroom door, and someone knocks.

 

HELEN: [low voice, to laptop] That is a word, now stop it! It IS a word! I use it all the time! You idiot! Oh, I hate this spellchecker! [to door] Come in, Quinn!

 

QUINN: [enters bedroom in pajamas and bathrobe, low voice] Hi, Mom. [walks over, sits on edge of bed] Got a minute?

 

HELEN: Mmm-hmmm. [hits some keys, sits back and looks at Quinn] What’s up, dear?

 

QUINN: [reluctant, plays with fingers in lap] Well . . . I’m sorry about the mess I made this weekend. Making up all that stuff about Daria. She’s pulled some tricks on me in the past, none that I’ll mention right now, though I might later, but . . . anyway, I’m sorry.

 

HELEN: [pause, eyes Quinn, senses more] Okay.

 

QUINN: [still playing with fingers, low voice] And I’m sorry I got into your closet. [pause, looks down] For the videos. I won’t do it again.

 

HELEN: [colors, but nods] A little late, but I’m glad to hear that anyway. [clears throat, nervous look] You want to talk about—[steels herself]—what was on those videos? Perhaps we should, especially the, um, Swedish one about—

 

QUINN: Uh, no, sorry, I don’t have any questions about that. [distant look, smiles] They were pretty funny, though, especially the Swedish one, if that was Swedish the six of them were speaking with the English stuck over it like it didn’t fit.

 

HELEN: [reddens even more] Well, Quinn, sex is an important issue for everyone and more so when we are young and don’t understand how precious the fleeting years are before the burdens of adulthood—

 

QUINN: [holds up hand] Stop. Not right now, Mom. That’s not why I’m here. I didn’t have any questions about that before I came in, and if I did have any questions about it before this weekend, trust me, I certainly don’t have any now, so let’s not go there.

 

HELEN: [bright crimson, but nods] So, why are you here?

 

QUINN: [very anxious] Um . . . I’m kinda afraid of what Daria is going to do when she gets home. I want to tell her I’m sorry and all that, but I’d kinda like for her not to do anything to get back at me, which I sort of think she’s going to do, and I’m kinda like really nervous about it, ‘cause I know Daria and I think she might be angry about it, kinda like an uh-oh sort of angry, if you know what I mean.

 

HELEN: [thinks, color returning to normal] I know what you mean. Tell you what. I’ll call Daria in the morning, before she and Jake leave the hotel, and we’ll negotiate a peace settlement. You know, Daria might not be angry at you for this. They’ve had a great time, last I heard. I’m not even sure if Jake’s told her what happened.

 

QUINN: [looks at Helen] Does Daddy know what I did?

 

HELEN: [nods] Yes.

 

QUINN: [face falls] Oh. Daria knows. Daddy can’t keep a secret from her. He can’t keep any from me, either.

 

HELEN: [sighs] Well, we’ll work out something. [pause] Perhaps you should think of something special you can do for her to make up.

 

QUINN: Mom, I can’t get farther than ten seconds from a toilet. How can I get her anything? And what would I get? She just likes books. [makes a face]

 

HELEN: I don’t mean buy her anything. Maybe you can do things for her, like clean her room.

 

QUINN: Oh, Muuuh-ooom! Do you know what’s in her room? Eeewww! Why do you think I’m working so hard to change it into something else?

 

HELEN: Well, think about it. I’ll talk with Daria tomorrow. [raises eyebrow] You know, this is what happens when you do something wrong, Quinn. I see it all the time in my legal work. You have to live with the consequences of your actions.

 

QUINN: Yeah, it sucks. Okay, I’ll think of something I can do for her. Just don’t let her get into my room without me there, or touch anything of mine, okay? Especially not my clothes or bed or food or conditioners or clothes or anything. Please?

 

HELEN: I’ll do my best.

 

QUINN: [gets off bed] Thanks, Mom!

 

They kiss goodnight, then Quinn hurries out of the room—heading down the hall to the bathroom again. After the bathroom door shuts, Helen returns to her work—just as the large piles of papers on Jake’s side of the bed fall over, spilling papers everywhere.

 

HELEN: [grabbing for papers, too late] Nonononononono damn!

 

 

157. INT: ABOUT 10:30 P.M., LOBBY, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Brittany—the real Brittany Taylor—nervously walks through the revolving doors of the hotel. She is dressed as before, but Mack’s school jacket is now folded in her arms. The lobby is quiet, and few people are about. After a moment’s hesitation, she walks across the lobby to the elevators and gets in the first one going up.

 

 

158. INT: TWO MINUTES LATER, HOTEL GUEST ROOMS’ CORRIDOR, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Brittany appears around the corner of a long corridor leading to many hotel-room doors. She walks slowly down the corridor, reading the room numbers, then focuses on one in particular. She comes to a stop in front of the door, looking very nervous. Summoning her courage, she raises a hand and knocks on the door, then steps back and waits, looking at the peephole. She forces a smile in preparation. Footsteps are heard walking toward the door, then the door opens. Mack is barefoot and his shirt is pulled out, but he otherwise looks as before.

 

BRITTANY: [nervous squeak] Hi! [coughs]

 

MACK: [surprised and concerned] Brittany? Are you all right? [opens door fully]

 

BRITTANY: [voice too high] I’m fine. [hands over Mack’s school jacket] Here. I forgot I had it on.

 

MACK: [takes jacket] You didn’t have to come back for this. It’s pretty late.

 

BRITTANY: [very nervous] It’s okay. I wanted to bring it back. Didn’t want to forget it.

 

MACK: Thanks. [looks at Brittany with concern] You’re sure you’re all right?

 

BRITTANY: [nods, looks past Mack] Whatcha doing?

 

MACK: Huh? Oh. [looks back in room] I was watching TV. Found a weird sports channel in Chinese. I think it’s Chinese. Hard to tell. Soccer game. [smiles] I can’t tell anything about it, but it was fun to watch.

 

BRITTANY: [swallows, nods] That’s funny. [pause, low voice] I wanted to thank you again for . . . for—

 

MACK: It’s okay.

 

Brittany moves closer to Mack. He looks at her with growing uncertainty.

 

BRITTANY: This is silly, but I wanted to, um, make sure it’s okay if you read some Shakespeare to me, you know, this summer.

 

MACK: [faint smile] Sure, it’s okay. Don’t have a copy of anything on me right now. I’ve got the complete works back in my room at home.

 

BRITTANY: [smiles, looking down] Othello and Juliet.

 

MACK: [snorts mildly, amused] Romeo and Juliet.

 

BRITTANY: No. [takes a deep breath, looks up] I know what I’m saying, Mack.

 

A long pause develops. Mack’s smile goes away. Brittany and Mack stare at each other. Brittany’s right hand rises to nervously play with her right pigtail. Her fingers shake.

 

BRITTANY: [looks away, extremely anxious] Maybe this is too soon. I . . . I was driving home, and . . . I—

 

MACK: [exhales softly] Brittany . . .

 

BRITTANY: [talks rapidly and distractedly, cutting Mack off] This is probably too soon. I’m sure it is. I don’t know why I’m going to say this anyway, please don’t be mad at me, but I got over Kevin weeks ago. I knew it wasn’t going to work. I got over it long ago. But you—you and Jodie, that was, um, yesterday, and after everything that happened tonight, when . . . I know this is too soon, but I was driving home, and I was wearing your jacket, and . . . [fast and pressured] and I suddenly wanted to come back and see you and ask you if . . . if you, if you and I, we might . . . [stops, bangs side of head with the flat of her right hand] I’m being really stupid, aren’t I? I know I’m being stupid. I’m not really very smart. I wish I was, because you’re smart, you know everything, and I’ve been thinking about you, a lot, in the last few weeks, but . . . I’m not doing this right. I’m messing this all up. It’s okay, I’ll go home. Let’s pretend I didn’t say any of this, okay? Don’t be mad at me. Please, Mack, don’t be mad at me. You can say we’ll be friends, and I’ll go home, and that will—

 

MACK: [softly interrupts] Brittany.

 

BRITTANY: W-w-what?

 

MACK: [nods toward the room behind him] Want to watch some TV?

 

BRITTANY: Uh, TV?

 

MACK: As friends. [pause] It is too soon for . . . to do anything else. You were right about that. I’m . . . I still have . . . [sighs] I have Jodie still stuck in my head, and this whole weekend’s been nothing but one crazy thing after another, and it’s been hard to—

 

BRITTANY: [anxious, rushed speech, eyes tearing up] Maybe—maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. It is too soon. I didn’t do this right. I read this article in Cosmo about dating after breakups, and I just couldn’t wait three months for—I mean, after Jodie—I mean, when you told me today that she broke up with you, I thought, three months, God, I can’t do that, because you’ll be gone, then, and I can’t go home, there’s no one there, and—

 

MACK: It’s okay. [reaches for her right hand, still twirling her pigtail]

 

The moment his hand touches hers, Brittany reaches up with her other hand and presses his hand to her cheek. Her eyes close, and she kisses his hand. Tears run down from her eyes. Her face turns red.

 

MACK: [pause, soft voice] Come on in and watch some TV with me. You’re safe here. I’m not going to do anything. We can get something from room service if you’re hungry, and you can see what Chinese soccer looks like. It’s pretty funny, trying to figure out what’s going on.

 

BRITTANY: [sniffs, voice thick] Friends? We’re still friends?

 

MACK: We’ll always be friends. [longer pause, low voice] But I would like to go out with you before too long. [pause] On a date.

 

BRITTANY: [looks up at Mack, radiating hope] A date? You mean like a real date? Like we’re really dating? Like—

 

MACK: [nods] Really dating. Maybe we can go dancing . . . if you want.

 

BRITTANY: Oh, yes! Yes, I-I mean, I want, yes, dancing, please.

 

MACK: Come on in.

 

Mack leads Brittany into his room. He remains at the door, letting her look around, his foot blocking the door from closing.

 

MACK: You sure this is okay, being here with me?

 

BRITTANY: [nods quickly] Yes. [looks around the room] Twin beds. [to Mack, puzzled] Uh, twin beds?

 

MACK: [groans] I asked for a queen-size, but they gave me this. Nothing was going right at all, right from the start. Stupid hotel.

 

BRITTANY: [small voice, looks at beds] Um . . . listen, um, can I stay here? Tonight?

 

MACK: [frowns] Well . . .

 

BRITTANY: Please. I don’t have anywhere else to go.

 

MACK: [reluctant] I guess that would be okay. You get one bed, I’ll get the other. You sure you want to do this?

 

BRITTANY: [nods quickly] I’m sure. [pause] No one’s home, and . . . [looks more upset] you know, after what happened tonight, I just can’t—I don’t want to be—

 

MACK: You’re safe here. [removes foot from door, door slowly closes]

 

BRITTANY: [nods] I know I’m safe. I know. [pause, looks at Mack with nervous grin] I’m . . . not really sure, though, that . . . you’re safe from me.

 

The door thumps shut.

 

 

 

* * *

 

SUNDAY MORNING AND AFTERWARD

Part Eight: Dawn of the Dad

(a.k.a.: The Mommy Returns, or, Scream Too)

 

 

159. INT: ABOUT 2:30 A.M. SUNDAY MORNING, TRENT LANE’S BEDROOM, LANE HOME

 

All is darkness. We hear deep, faint snoring. After a few moments, we hear a distant house door open, then heavy footsteps coming through a hallway and up a flight of stairs. This is accompanied by the noise of something dragged across the floor. Someone struggles with the dragged object; we hear panting, grunting, and whispers of “Damn it!” Suddenly, a nearby door opens, something thumps on the floor, and an overhead light flips on. We now see Trent Lane’s bedroom, which is of course the complete mess that we expect it to be. Trent is sprawled face-up on a light blanket on the bed. His pillows are on the floor. He appears to have fallen asleep in his clothes though in bare feet. In the doorway to his room stands his sister Jane, who walks from the light switch over to Trent on the bed. Jane looks tired and quite angry, in a tight-lipped way. The bruise on her cheek, from the fight with Kevin Thompson earlier, is notable. She carries a single long envelope that has been torn open and has a letter crudely stuck back inside it.

 

JANE: [walking over to shake her brother] Trent! Trent, get up!

 

TRENT: [dead to the world] Unh.

 

JANE: [shaking Trent] Trent, I need to ask you something.

 

TRENT: [arm waves around] Uh wuh, unk, unh.

 

JANE: [louder] Trent, wake up! I have to talk to you!

 

TRENT: [starting to awaken] Suh wazzuh. [pause] Sup? [eyes open, squinting]

 

JANE: [holds envelope in front of Trent’s face] Do you remember getting this letter?

 

TRENT: Whuh?

 

JANE: Look. Did you get this letter out of the mailbox a few days ago?

 

TRENT: [tries to focus on Jane] Jame? Suh? Whuh, whazzup? Janey?

 

JANE: [shakes letter in front of Trent’s squinting eyes] Trent, did you get this letter out of the mailbox a few days ago?

 

TRENT: [slowly reaches for letter, still not awake] Who?

 

JANE: This letter.

 

TRENT: Uuuhhh . . . [catches letter, pulls to eyes, squints harder] Yeah. [pause] Yeah.

 

JANE: You got it out of the mailbox?

 

TRENT: Uh, yeah. [releases letter, looks at sister] Janey? Wassup?

 

JANE: [tense] Why didn’t you give me this letter when you got it?

 

TRENT: [frowns at letter] Aaahhh . . . uuuhhh . . . what time sit?

 

JANE: [tense] It’s two-thirty in the morning. Why didn’t you give me this letter when you got it out of the mailbox?

 

TRENT: Aaahhh . . . forgot. Uh, left it onna . . . uh . . .

 

JANE: [angry] You left it on the floor of the car. I found it when I got home tonight because I dropped some change there. If I hadn’t done that, I’d never have found this letter, Trent.

 

TRENT: [blinks, peers at envelope] Uh, okay. [pause] Sorry, Janey.

 

JANE: You’re sorry?

 

TRENT: [pause, rubs eyes] Yeah.

 

JANE: [lowers envelope] Okay. You’re sorry.

 

TRENT: [looks vaguely concerned] Uh, um, yeah.

 

JANE: [nods] Okay. [walks away from Trent to door, bends down, picks up a garden hose with spray nozzle] I’m sorry, too, Trent. [pause] Not.

 

Jane turns on the hose and sprays Trent for two seconds. Trent flails wildly about in bed, making animal-like noises and cries of shock as the ice-cold water hits him and soaks him and his bed. He becomes entangled in the soaked bedsheets and blanket. Jane stops spraying him, then turns off the light and leaves the room, dragging the hose with her and closing the door behind her while Trent continues to struggle in his bed.

 

TRENT: [awake now, in darkness] Janey! What the hell was that for? Janey! [sound of Trent falling out of bed onto floor] Ouch! Janey!

 

 

160. DARIA’S DREAM—INT: EARLY MORNING, DARIA MORGENDORFFER’S BEDROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

We look down at Daria Morgendorffer, who is asleep on her back in her hotel bed. Her glasses are on a bedside table, and she wears one of her long nightshirts. Her long hair is spread out everywhere. The room is lit from sunlight streaming through cracks in the heavy curtains shrouding the windows. Daria stirs, rubs her eyes, and sighs—then notices something to her left. Her eyes enlarge to the size of dinner plates, and she jerks to the right in an exaggerated fright reaction.

 

DARIA: Eeep!

 

We pull back. Sitting up on the left side of the bed, leaning back against the headboard, is a human skeleton wearing dusty black robes. A heavy cowl partly hides its skull face. The figure’s lower half is covered by a blanket that also covers most of Daria. Skeletal hands protrude from the long sleeves, holding a paperback book in the figure’s lap. A huge dark scythe leans against the wall next to the bed. The skeletal figure ignores Daria at the moment, being deeply involved in reading the paperback book. Daria’s terrified gaze darts takes in the figure, but she has the presence of mind to reach for her glasses on the side table. She puts them on with trembling hands, stares hard for a few seconds, collects herself, and finally speaks.

 

DARIA: [low whisper] Bad dream, bad dream, bad dream, it’s just a bad dream. Okay to talk. Bad dream. [strained voice to Grim Reaper] Um, hi. I bet you hear this a lot, but, just in case you’re really here and not a bad dream, uh, I, uh, you know, I’m not really ready to go anywhere yet. See, I’m here with my dad on a father-daughter weekend, and, uh, I’m not done with the weekend, we still have breakfast and lunch to go, and, uh, I would not like for Dad to come in here and, uh, you know, find that I was—

 

The Grim Reaper looks in Daria’s direction with hollow eyes. Daria gasps and pulls the covers to just below her glasses, unable to flee or stop watching the figure. The Grim Reaper points at Daria, but it shakes its head “no” with gentle side-to-side movements. It then goes back to reading its book, turning a page with a bone finger.

 

DARIA: [high voice] Not me? You’re not here for me? Uh, uh, um, you’re not here for my d-d-dad, are you? Uh, see, I’m not really ready for him to go yet, you see, no heart attack yet, okay? Because we’re here on a father-daughter weekend, and—

 

The Grim Reaper looks at Daria again and once more shakes its head no. It then lifts the paperback book and points to it with one hand. Daria’s gaze goes to the book.

 

DARIA: [calming a little] You’re . . . you’re not here for my dad, either? You just . . . want to read? [peers closer at book, looks surprised] Hey, that’s my library book! The Stephen King book, Needful Things. How’d you . . . [looks at skeleton’s face, which turns toward hers again] Oh, I get it. My library book is, um, dead, right?

 

The Grim Reaper nods solemnly, staring at Daria.

 

DARIA: My book’s been destroyed? Torn up or burned or something?

 

The Grim Reaper nods again.

 

DARIA: And you’re just here to read it before you, uh, go somewhere else?

 

The Grim Reaper nods again.

 

DARIA: Uh, okay. I, uh, I’m sorry I bothered you. It’s okay.

 

The Grim Reaper stares at Daria, then goes back to reading the book.

 

DARIA: [voice growing weaker] I’ll, uh, just go back to bed, okay, and later I’ll, uh, wake up, and . . . and, uh, pay the library fine, and, uh, I’m okay with that.

 

Daria lies down again, the covers pulled up to her glasses, watching the figure as it reads. Her eyes remain enormous.

 

DARIA: [to Grim Reaper, small voice] It’s a good book.

 

The Grim Reaper nods without looking at Daria, turning another page.

 

DARIA: [almost normal deadpan] You know, since you’re here, I had a question for you about—

 

Without warning or turning toward her, the Grim Reaper’s right hand lets go of its book and reaches for Daria with dry, skeletal fingers. She sees this and loses it completely, filling her lungs in terror in a quarter of a second.

 

 

161. INT: ABOUT 7 A.M., DARIA MORGENDORFFER’S BEDROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

A smile on his face and dressed for a casual breakfast, Jake Morgendorffer has walked into Daria’s bedroom. He bends over Daria, who is almost completely covered by a blanket on her bed, and touches her shoulder.

 

JAKE: Dar—

 

Daria, wild eyed, jackknifes up from the bed and shrieks briefly. Startled, Jake jumps back and falls over Daria’s suitcase behind him, yelling at the same time.

 

 

162. INT: ABOUT 8 A.M., MORGENDORFFERS’ HOTEL ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

We look into the central room that connects to both Jake and Daria’s bedrooms. Daria, hair uncombed and still in her nightshirt, is escorting two paramedics to the door.

 

DARIA: [usual deadpan] Thank you again for being so understanding. And I promise, no more pizza for me before bedtime. Gives me bad dreams. Won’t go there again. We’ll get everything sorted out with the front desk when we go. Thanks so much.

 

The two paramedics wave and leave, and Daria shuts the hotel room door. After a pause, she leans forward and un-gently bangs her head against the door several times, sighs, then turns around and walks over to her father’s bedroom. She peers inside and sees Jake lying on the bed with a damp washcloth covering his eyes and the side of his head, where he sports a new bruise.

 

DARIA: [deadpan] So . . . what’s showing on the Noggin Channel?

 

JAKE: What? Oh, I’m fine, kiddo. It doesn’t hurt so much now. Say, you decent for breakfast?

 

DARIA: Only if the hotel’s adopted a very liberal dress code.

 

JAKE: What? [lifts washcloth, peers at Daria] Oh. [places washcloth over eyes again] Well, whenever you’re ready, we’ll head on down.

 

DARIA: [low voice, to self] I don’t think this father-daughter weekend can descend any further into nightmare . . . but we still have the rest of Sunday to go.

 

JAKE: [not paying attention] Sure thing. We’ll have a great time. Say, Daria, did the hotel leave a newspaper outside our door? I can read it while you get dressed.

 

DARIA: Your wish is my command. [leaves doorway, walks to hotel door, opens it, sees newspaper, brings it in while door shuts] Yep. All the local news that’s unfit to print, with all the little stuff like nuclear wars pushed off to page six. [scans headlines, flips paper over to read below fold as she walks to Jake’s room] Nothing but the usual—[freezes in mid-stride, gasps, stares at newspaper with huge eyes, soft voice] Uh-oh.

 

We look at the newspaper from her point of view. An article (with a photo of Kevin Thompson) below the fold bears the headline, “Teenage Hero With Stun Gun Subdues Alleged Mugger During Hotel Rampage.” Daria brings the paper closer to her horrified face, and her mouth falls open.

 

DARIA: [whispers] “Police say that the heroic teenager with the stun gun, 18-year-old Dora Morgenstern . . .” [frowns] Dora Morgenstern? How did they—oh, I suppose I’d better be grateful that the police-desk reporter slept through his fact-checking classes. [lowers paper, still in shock] I wonder if—[reads]—huh. “The hotel was unable to capture video of any of the attacks over the weekend, as the security system was being upgraded, and all video cameras were off-line.” [reads] And I used that one guy’s door card, so they can’t—oops. I’ll have to burn that when we get home. Gotta remember that. [shakes head] Love that new technology. Breaks down at all the right momen—

 

The telephone rings. Startled, Daria hurries to answer it.

 

DARIA: [tense voice] Hello? Oh, hi, Mom. Yes, we’re up. [pause] No, no, that was, um, Dora Morgenstern. No, I’ve never heard the name before. Teenagers today. What do you think gets into them? [pause, look anxious] Mom, seriously—does that sound like something I would do? If it had actually been me, I would have used two stun guns, not just one. Assuming, of course, that I had any stun guns. [pause, looks relieved] I knew you’d understand. Yeah, we watched a war movie and ate pizza. It was fun. [pause] She did? Well, I guess we’re predictable. Quinn got it right. Sure, I’ll have him pick it up in his room. Um—listen, before I do, Dad tripped over his suitcase this morning. He’s fine, but he bumped his head. [pause] No, no, a little bump. It was nothing. We had it checked to be sure, but take anything he says with that in mind. Right. Okay, hold on. [holds phone handset to one side] Dad, it’s Mom. She wants to ask you about your bump.

 

JAKE: [VO, from his bedroom] Sure thing, kiddo!

 

Daria listens to the handset until her father picks up the line from his room, then hangs up the phone. She looks again at the newspaper article and shakes her head slightly.

 

DARIA: I’ll have to get extra copies of this.

 

 

163. INT: ABOUT 8:45 A.M., BOOK AND GIFT SHOP, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

In the very same gift ship where Daria met Andrea Saturday morning, and where Mack met Brittany that same day, we see brother-and-sister Tom and Elsie Sloane looking through some of the souvenirs, bored out of their minds and more than a little sleepy.

 

TOM: [staring dully at the paperback book racks] Yes, I said to myself when I got up this morning, what I really want to do is go to a hotel and get a Lawndale souvenir. Thankfully, Dad saw it that way, too.

 

ELSIE: [looking at coffee mugs] What are you crapping about? You got to sleep five minutes longer than I did.

 

TOM: But it wasn’t a good sleep. I knew we had to come out here and meet the Goldsteins for breakfast.

 

ELSIE: [glances at Tom] Hey, you like the Goldsteins.

 

TOM: [checks watch] I do, but I don’t like anyone before eleven a.m. on a weekend. Interferes with my beauty rest.

 

ELISE: Ah, yes, you are the very image of romance and loveliness.

 

TOM: [pulls out a paperback edition of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire] Everyone’s a critic. [pause] When is Rowling going to write that fifth book? It’s been a year already. What the hell’s she doing in her spare time, anyway? She could pay me, and I could write it. I should send her an e-mail.

 

Elsie notices one personalized mug on the shelves that’s turned around. She reaches out and turns it back—and sees the name “Tom” on it. She thinks for a moment, then turns and looks at some of the other racks and shelves of personalized items. She notices that in every single one of them, the items with the name “Tom” are reversed or hidden.

 

ELSIE: [low voice] Uh-oh.

 

TOM: [opening Harry Potter book] Hmmm?

 

ELSIE: [pause] Do you remember when we watched that Hitchcock movie, The Birds?

 

TOM: [reading the Harry Potter book] What? Oh, yeah. That was cool. Love that movie.

 

ELSIE: You remember that moment when what’s-her-name, um—

 

TOM: [distracted, reading the book] Tippi Hendren or Suzanne Pleshette?

 

ELSIE: Hendren, the blonde. You remember when she was sitting on the sofa and she looked up while everyone else was talking, and she saw that little sparrow by the . . . by the fireplace?

 

Elsie’s voice fades out because she looked up and saw Daria (in her usual outfit) walk into the store. Daria and Elsie immediately see each other; Daria stops, then looks over and sees Tom, his back to her, still reading the Harry Potter book. Daria raises a finger to her lips at Elsie; Elsie glances at Tom, then nods to Daria, who waves goodbye and leaves. Elsie waves back, looking sad, and sighs heavily.

 

TOM: [still reading book] When what?

 

ELSIE: Oh . . . never mind.

 

TOM: [still reading book] Yeah, and all those birds came flying out of the fireplace and attacked everyone a moment later? Great moment of suspense. [looks up from book at sister] You had just this second or two of warning that everything was going to hit the fan, when she saw that little bird, then Hitchcock lowered the boom. [goes back to book] That was great. Watching that movie almost makes me want to go into cinema. [pause] What about it? Why’d you ask?

 

ELSIE: [walks away from souvenirs over to Tom] Brother of mine, did anyone ever call you clueless?

 

TOM: [reads book again] Just Daria. [pause, reflects] And Jane. [pause] And you. Why?

 

ELSIE: [suppresses a laugh, pats Tom on the back] Just curious.

 

 

164. INT: MOMENTS LATER, DINING AREA, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Daria quickly walks away from the gift shop and finds her father, standing in a long line of people waiting to be seated for breakfast.

 

DARIA: [deadpan] Change of plans, Dad. I’m taking you out for breakfast. My treat—but we’re blowing this joint and going to your favorite restaurant.

 

JAKE: [face lights up] The Horseplay Café? [face falls] Ah, but I can’t do that, kiddo. This is YOUR weekend.

 

DARIA: Dad, we’re out of here. You went through a lot for me this weekend, and I just wouldn’t feel like a good daughter if I couldn’t take my good old dad out for a big brunch at an off-track betting parlor. You don’t want me to feel like a bad daughter, right?

 

JAKE: [face lights up again] You really mean it? Ah, gee, kiddo, that’s great!

 

DARIA: [quick glance back at gift shop] Let’s get out of here now, before the rush starts. You might even get lucky if some of the Florida tracks have opened.

 

JAKE: Say, you’re right! Let’s go! Yippee!

 

Daria rolls her eyes but smiles faintly as she leads her father out of the lobby to their car.

 

 

165. INT: ABOUT 9:15 A.M., DINING ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

We again see Tiffany Blum-Deckler and her father, sitting at a table in the main hotel dining room. A small crowd of fathers and daughters surrounds their table, giving their congratulations and admiring the overwhelming award. In front of Tiffany is a five-foot-high silver-plated trophy with the image of a young girl on top. The plaque on the trophy bears the headline, The Blum-Decklers—Best Daughter-Father Team, Lawndale Princesses Weekend. The other daughters (including Sandi and Stacy) look at the trophy with irritated envy.

 

SANDI: [dark look at trophy, flat voice] Congratulations, Tiffany. I’m sure you are very, very, very, very proud. [gives her father a caustic glare] It’s just a shame that some fathers had to ruin everything by arguing with their beloved daughters about spy cameras during the dance, making them look like lower-class trailer-park undesirables.

 

STACY: [on edge of a crying jag, quavering voice] Yes, I am sure that you are very, very, very, very, very proud! [runs off, her father following her with an agonized “not again!” look]

 

TIFFANY: [unperturbed, slow drawl] Thaaank yooou.

 

Tiffany looks at her trophy, then leans close to a mirrorlike silver plate on the bottom of the award to check her reflection. She uses her reflection to look for bits of food caught in her teeth, probing with a little finger. Her father sits across from her, almost hidden by the enormous trophy. He looks mortified at the whole affair.

 

TIFFANY: [looking at reflection, to father, slow drawl] Caaan yooou put this in myyy rooom when yooou seeearch it next time, Daaad? It would look sooo goood by my bed.

 

Her father, thoroughly beaten, nods in subdued agreement.

 

 

166. ABOUT 10 A.M., UPCHUCK AND ANDREA’S ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

Upchuck and Andrea are in bed, having finished a room-service breakfast. They sit together, leaning against the headboard of the large bed, a sheet covering their laps and legs. Andrea wears a long, ash-gray nightshirt. Upchuck has no shirt on. Two trays with plates, bowls, empty glasses, and food remnants sit near the foot of the bed, which is also covered with black rose pedals and stray articles of clothing (as is much of the room by this point). Andrea, who was staring off into space while trying to dislodge a bit of food from between her teeth with her tongue, takes a deep breath and sighs.

 

ANDREA: [to herself] A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.

 

UPCHUCK: [grins] One of your greatest t-shirts. I like what’s inside the t-shirt better, though. [growls] Grrrrrr!

 

ANDREA: [pause, not smiling] I’m never going to get away from reality, so I may as well face it and minimize the damage.

 

UPCHUCK: [looks at Andrea, puzzled] Sorry, my dear?

 

ANDREA: Charles . . . you know, if you marry me, you’re gonna regret it at some point. You really are.

 

UPCHUCK: Ah, but I do not swear my love by the inconstant moon.

 

ANDREA: You haven’t seen me in a really bad mood.

 

UPCHUCK: You haven’t been around me after I’ve had Mexican food.

 

ANDREA: No, that’s wrong. I have.

 

UPCHUCK: [pause] What? When?

 

ANDREA: You were the MC at some auditorium meeting at school, sitting in the back with the sound system, and I had to walk past you to get to the restrooms.

 

UPCHUCK: Eh, oh. [looks embarrassed] I remember that. Sorry.

 

ANDREA: You were making jokes with one of the football players about eating at Burrito Bro the day before. I can live with that. I mean, I can go in another room or something. That’s not the same thing as what I’m talking about. When I’m down, and it does happen—not a lot, but it does happen—I’m worse than bad. I’m a basket case.

 

UPCHUCK: [reflective] You hide.

 

ANDREA: Um, yeah, I do that. [pause] And I bite people’s heads off if they get near me.

 

UPCHUCK: [nods] That’s true.

 

ANDREA: [stares at Upchuck, irritated] What do you mean, that’s true?

 

UPCHUCK: [raises hands in an apologetic gesture] You said it, and I’ve seen you do it.

 

ANDREA: Oh. [looks away] Well, great, we’ve got all that out. So, you think you know me well enough to marry me? When all we’ve been doing is screwing like brain-damaged rabbits on speed?

 

UPCHUCK: [nods] Well put. I could not have said it better, my dark-eyed queen.

 

ANDREA: Stop it with the damn “dark-eyed queen” bullshit! It’s like you’re acting and not paying any attention to what I’m saying! It’s just that . . . [groans, leans back heavily against headboard] Oh, hell, I don’t know what I’m going on about. People either make it or they don’t. I must be insane to even think about this.

 

Andrea sits quietly and stares at the TV set, which is turned off. After a moment, she leans over and opens the top drawer of nightstand by bed, picking out a small black box. She hands this to Upchuck without looking at him.

 

ANDREA: What the hell. All right then—do it, but hurry, before I change my mind.

 

UPCHUCK: [mischievous smile] Do it? You are hitting on me to marry you?

 

ANDREA: [suddenly uncertain] Uh . . . I—

 

UPCHUCK: [cheery] Okay.

 

Upchuck gets out of bed. He wears a pair of wrinkled tan slacks, but nothing else. He takes the small black box around the bed to Andrea’s side, where he kneels by the bed and looks up and Andrea, opening the box and revealing the gold-and-pearl ring inside.

 

UPCHUCK: Andrea, I love you by all the stars in the heavens and the dark places between them, and I will be yours forever. I accept your proposal of marriage.

 

ANDREA: [taken aback, faint voice] What I was really doing was asking for you to—

 

UPCHUCK: [takes ring out, takes Andrea’s left hand, puts the ring on her ring finger—a perfect fit] Say no more, my raven-haired ravisher. It is done. The details will be dealt with in the fullness of time, but for now, we must seal our pact. Your warm, yearning body calls to me, and I hear its carnal magic and must obey. You are the temple of the night at which I worship, the spring of ebon nectar from which I drink.

 

Upchuck stands and bends over Andrea, kissing her deeply. Their hands go to hold each other’s head and hair. When they finally break for a breath—

 

ANDREA: [whisper] You messed me up, you bastard.

 

UPCHUCK: [wicked leer] You’re going to say those exact words one hour from now.

 

ANDREA: [voice deepening] Maybe, but you won’t even be able to—

 

They kiss again. Their hands roam again. We leave again, quickly.

 

 

167. INT: ABOUT 10:45 A.M., DINING ROOM, LAWNDALE PLAZA HOTEL

 

As diners gather for the late breakfast buffet at the Lawndale Plaza Hotel, a family of five appears at the entrance to the dining room. Jodie Landon, looking nervous and angry, is accompanied by her father Andrew, mother Michele, younger sister Rachel, and baby brother Evan (in Michele’s arms). All wear their Sunday best, though Rachel’s shoes are muddy and she has a bandage on one knee.

 

JODIE: [agitated, looks around the room] Can’t we go someplace else? This place is too crowded.

 

ANDREW: Give it a rest, Jodie. Everyone else wanted a buffet this morning. It won’t kill you.

 

MICHELE: [to Jodie, deadly tone] But I might, if you don’t stop acting up.

 

Jodie shuts her mouth, her eyes still searching the dining room.

 

WAITER: [walks over, to all] Hi! Welcome to the Lawndale Plaza! Will you be joining us for the buffet, or for menu items?

 

ANDREW: Um, we’ll look at the menus, but we’ll probably all get the buffet.

 

WAITER: Great! Please follow me.

 

Glowering, Jodie follows her family as a waiter seats them.

 

WAITER: Here are our menus. Water for everyone?

 

ANDREW: Yeah, to start with.

 

RACHEL: Milkshake for me! Strawberry!

 

MICHELE: Dear, we’ll order after—

 

ANDREW: Oh, it’s okay, honey. Sure, you can have a milkshake. Jodie?

 

JODIE: [glum, stares down at table] Water’s fine.

 

The waiter passes out menus (in case they want a non-buffet item) and leaves to get glasses of water for everyone, plus Rachel’s milkshake. Evan sits in his mother’s lap, sucking on a pacifier and eyeing his sisters, who sit together on one side of the table. Rachel is cheery, perhaps because Jodie is not.

 

RACHEL: [looking at menu] Nothing here for me. [puts menu down] Buffet!

 

ANDREW: Sounds good. [puts menu down, to wife Michele] Dear?

 

MICHELE: Sure. Jodie?

 

JODIE: [never looked at menu, still mad] Whatever.

 

MICHELE: [deadly parental tone] If that attitude doesn’t take a walk in the next three seconds, girl, you are—

 

JODIE: The buffet’s fine, Mother.

 

MICHELE: [stares at Jodie] Good. [normal voice] Evan can eat off my plate. I think they have applesauce.

 

ANDREW: [gets up again] Okay, let’s go.

 

All the Landons get up and head for the buffet table, with Jodie trailing. As she walks, her gaze drifts to one side, and she stops. Between two potted bushes in the dining room, she can see a figure that is unmistakably Mack, sitting with his back to her at a small table. Jodie looks back at her family, then steps up to her father, who is just ahead of her in the buffet line.

 

JODIE: [whisper] Dad!

 

ANDREW: Hmmm? What?

 

JODIE: Dad, I see someone I know. I’ll be right back, okay?

 

ANDREW: [looks around, sees Mack, grimaces] Oh, Jodie. I thought you broke up with him.

 

JODIE: Yeah, but I need to go talk to him.

 

ANDREW: [peeved] Jodie, let him be. You’ve been breaking up and making up with him too much. Let the boy alone. Move on with your life, and let him move on, too.

 

JODIE: [grits teeth] Dad, please!

 

ANDREW: [groans] One day, you’ll learn. Hurry up. No more than five minutes. [shakes head in disgust]

 

Without replying, Jodie walks off, heading for Mack. As she approaches, however, she slows down and becomes more nervous and less self-assured. Her lips move as she practices what to say.

 

JODIE: [soft whisper, to herself] I was thinking that . . . maybe I was too hasty, and we should give it another . . . we should try one more time to make it . . .

 

She is only twenty feet behind Mack, moving slowly, when she hears a voice from someone sitting next to Mack, eating breakfast with him.

 

BRITTANY: [VO, behind potted shrub] I thought you said you snored.

 

MACK: [to Brittany, beside him] I’ve been told I do.

 

BRITTANY: I didn’t hear any snoring. Nothing really bad, anyway.

 

MACK: Good to know.

 

BRITTANY: I slept fine. Sorry I woke you up with the toilet flushing.

 

MACK: [shrugs] S’okay. I had to get up eventually.

 

Jodie comes to a dead stop, staring at Mack with large eyes. She steps slightly to one side, and she sees Brittany—wearing Mack’s school jacket. Brittany is eating a bowl of cereal with fruit on it; Mack is having steak, eggs, and hash browns. The following conversation goes on while Mack and Brittany eat their meal.

 

BRITTANY: So, now we’ve had our first date.

 

MACK: [stares at Brittany] First date? You’re kidding.

 

BRITTANY: First date. We slept together in the same room. That’s a date in most civilized countries.

 

MACK: [tone of protest] Oh, now, that’s—

 

BRITTANY: No, sorry, that was a first date. [clears throat, becomes nervous] So, uh . . . what, uh, are you going to tell Jodie? I mean, if you want to say what—

 

MACK: [pause] She was right. We weren’t going in the same direction after all. [sighs, looks unhappy] It’s really hard to talk about right now. It still bothers me, but she was right. She broke up with me five times in the last three months. I think she knew it wasn’t going to work out, and I just didn’t see it. I really thought she and I could make it.

 

BRITTANY: [nervous, high voice] Mack, you know, I want you to know that I still think Jodie’s a really good person. She’s been my friend for ages, and I still like her.

 

MACK: I do, too. She’s a great person—from a distance for a while, though, for me.

 

BRITTANY: [even more nervous, hides face with one hand, tries to appear casual] You know, M-Mack, if . . . if you want to get back together with her, I promise I won’t—

 

MACK: [shakes head no] No. It’s over. We’re not getting back together. It wouldn’t work. It’ll be a little while before I get over it, but it’s over. I can deal with it now.

 

Brittany, overcome with relief, puts a hand on Mack’s arm and gives him a long squeeze. Jodie stares at this gesture as if it had became the center of the universe. Jodie then begins to back up slowly.

 

BRITTANY: By the way, thanks for massaging my legs last night. I don’t usually get leg cramps like that.

 

MACK: Probably nerves. We had a hell of an evening.

 

BRITTANY: We did, yeah. [quiet voice] It felt really good when you were massaging my thighs.

 

MACK: Hmm. I read somewhere that women like having their thighs rubbed.

 

BRITTANY: [voice deepening] It felt really, really good.

 

MACK: [nods] Good.

 

BRITTANY: [eyes Mack significantly] You wouldn’t believe how good that was. You really do have huge hands.

 

MACK: [snorts in amusement, holds up a hand and studies it] They look pretty normal to me.

 

BRITTANY: Not from where I’m sitting. [shivers] I still can’t believe it. I break up with Kevin, and Jodie breaks up with you, all on the same day. And here we are.

 

MACK: Hmmm. And here we are. Life is funny like that.

 

Eyes brimming, Jodie silently flees, heading out of the dining area for the ladies’ restroom nearby.

 

BRITTANY: Want some fruit? I can’t eat all these berries.

 

MACK: Um, sure. Dump ‘em on here, next to the hash browns.

 

BRITTANY: How can you eat all that food and not get fat?

 

MACK: Practice.

 

BRITTANY: You must work out a lot.

 

MACK: Not as much as I did during school. I should keep it up, though.

 

BRITTANY: Yes, you should. Have you . . . always had so many muscles?

 

MACK: What?

 

BRITTANY: [clears throat] When you took your shirt off last night, I . . . [breaks off with a laugh]

 

MACK: [smiles, puzzled] What?

 

BRITTANY: Oh, my God. I looked at you and I thought you were Superman!

 

MACK: [pulls shirt out to peer down at his chest] Not sure what you mean. Looks like me to me.

 

Brittany exhales heavily. She stares at Mack without blinking.

 

BRITTANY: You liked that red nightgown I got for Ashley-Amber? For her birthday?

 

MACK: [nods absently] Yeah. It was pretty good.

 

BRITTANY: That one really grabbed you?

 

MACK: [shrugs, but nods sincerely] Uh-huh.

 

BRITTANY: Damn. I’ll have to get her something else, then.

 

MACK: [glances at Brittany] Why? Because I liked it?

 

BRITTANY: Yeah. She and I wear about the same size.

 

MACK: [stops eating, looks at Brittany] What are you talking about?

 

BRITTANY: Third date, Mack.

 

Mack stares at Brittany, but she doesn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she digs into her cereal.

 

BRITTANY: Third date, I’m going to make up for everything we’ve missed since seventh grade. [glances at Mack, looks back at her cereal with a smile] Be prepared.

 

 

168. INT: ABOUT NOON, JAKE MORGENDORFFER’S LEXUS

 

Daria and her father are on their way home from the hotel; Jake is driving, and he looks wildly excited; he cannot stop grinning. Daria herself cannot resist a smile.

 

JAKE: What a great weekend! Helen will flip when she hears about this!

 

DARIA: [deadpan] Yes, your unexpected eleven-thousand-dollar trifecta payout does overshadow that glorious moment when I realized that maybe you do know me, after all, and our parent-child bond was made stronger as a result.

 

JAKE: I can’t believe it! And on a ten-dollar bet! We’re going on a BIG vacation!

 

DARIA: Not to Vegas, I hope. Wouldn’t want to push your luck too far.

 

JAKE: We’re going to Wally World! Or maybe Wallyland, I can’t remember which one’s closer. Do you remember? [before Daria can answer] Ah, hell, let’s go to both of them! We’re going to really live it up! What a great weekend!

 

DARIA: As long as you’re in a good mood, I wanted to ask you something.

 

JAKE: Sure, but let’s wait until we get home. I can’t get at my wallet right now.

 

DARIA: Um—hold on to that thought, but that wasn’t what I was going to ask. I was thinking, you and I had such a great time this weekend, and I feel so much closer to you as a result, you should really do something like this with Quinn.

 

JAKE: [startled] You know something? You’re a genius! You’re absolutely right!

 

DARIA: [smirks, pleased in spite of herself] Of course.

 

JAKE: I should take Quinn to the next Lawndale Princesses weekend! [face falls] Ah, but that’s not for another year!

 

DARIA: Not to worry, dear father. [reaches into inside pocket of green jacket, pulls out folded sheet] I was browsing some of the handouts on a table outside a seminar room yesterday, and I found a solution. [hands folded paper to Jake, sees that he’s about to unfold it and read it] Don’t read it while you’re driving. Wait until we get to a stoplight.

 

JAKE: Oh, right! You bet! [puts folded paper in lap]

 

DARIA: No, YOU bet. You’re the ramblin’ gamblin’ man in the household.

 

JAKE: That’s me! Jake “Diamonds” Morgendorffer! Zowie!

 

DARIA: And we’ll talk about your wallet when we get home, too.

 

JAKE: Sure thing! Man, what a great weekend!

 

 

169. INT: ABOUT 12:15 P.M., FRONT HALLWAY, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

Helen Morgendorffer, wearing her lazy-day sweat suit and sandals, is picking up some magazines in the living room when she hears someone at the front door. She starts toward the door as it opens suddenly, and Jake hurries in. Jake sees Helen, drops his suitcase, and rushes toward her.

 

JAKE: Angel!

 

HELEN: Jake! What—

 

JAKE: [joyous, holds a payout sheet in front of Helen’s eyes] Read it!

 

Helen reads the sheet, then her eyes get huge and she shrieks with excitement.

 

HELEN: You’re kidding me! You won this? Oh, Jake, darling!

 

Jake grabs Helen and kisses her passionately. Helen’s arms flail wildly in surprise, but she eagerly joins in the kiss after a few moments. Both make little moaning and groaning noises, and their hands begin to roam. The payout sheet falls to the floor.

 

DARIA: [comes inside with her suitcase, sees parents and looks startled, deadpan] Um, maybe you should get a room or something. There are children present.

 

Jake and Helen continue, oblivious to Daria. Daria sighs and walks past them, heading upstairs to her room.

 

DARIA: [as she walks past] Call me when you’re done. No rush. Good talking with you.

 

 

170. INT: MOMENTS LATER, UPSTAIRS HALLWAY OUTSIDE QUINN AND DARIA’S BATHROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

Daria, carrying her suitcase, walks down the hall to her room—but stops outside the door to the bathroom that she and Quinn share. Daria listens for a moment.

 

DARIA: [deadpan] Quinn?

 

QUINN: [VO, inside bathroom, frightened voice] Daria? Did Mom talk to you? Did she tell you not to lose your cool or get upset or anything? Is Mom outside there with you? Has she searched you yet?

 

DARIA: She hasn’t searched me yet, and she’s not here. She and Dad are having sex in the living room. Or they will be in about five minutes.

 

QUINN: [VO, inside bathroom] What? Oh, Daria, that’s gross!

 

DARIA: [looks behind her, down the staircase] Tell me about it. [eyes bathroom door] Speaking of gross, how was your weekend?

 

QUINN: [VO, inside bathroom] Oh, shut up! Don’t make fun of me like this!

 

DARIA: Dad said something about you having a bad date with someone named Olestra. Is he from around here?

 

QUINN: [VO, inside bathroom] It’s not funny, damn it!

 

DARIA: I’m not laughing. [pause, low voice] Yet. [pause, normal deadpan] Okay, Quinn, I know you set me up. I know about the pictures you took of me. I know about the devil-worship thing.

 

QUINN: [VO, inside bathroom, high frightened voice again] Daria, don’t hurt me! It was just a little joke, I swear it! Muuuh-ooom!!! Muuuh-ooom, you said you’d help me!!! I need you!!! Help me!!!

 

DARIA: Stop it, Quinn. She’s out of hearing range. [looks downstairs] Mentally, anyway. [looks back at door] Either way, it’s just you and me. [pause] And I forgive you.

 

QUINN: [VO, inside bathroom, long pause, small voice] What? I didn’t hear that.

 

DARIA: I said, I forgive you. You can come out. You’re safe.

 

QUINN: [VO, inside bathroom] Muuuh-ooom!!! For God’s sake, help me!!!

 

DARIA: I’m not kidding, Quinn. I swear to you, it’s okay. Dad and I had a great weekend. If you hadn’t pulled that prank, I would never have found out how lucky I am to have a wonderful father like we do. I’ll treasure the time we had for the rest of my life.

 

QUINN: [VO, inside bathroom] Yeah, right! Muuuh-ooom!!! Daria’s trying to kill me!!! Damn it, Mom, help me, please!!!

 

DARIA: [sighs] Whatever. [walks off to room with her suitcase, shuts the door]

 

 

171. EXT: ABOUT 12:30 P.M., DARIA’S BEDROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

The phone rings. Daria, watching TV from her bed (we can’t see the screen), picks it up. We go to split screen when she does, and we see Jane Lane on the other end, holding a portable phone, relaxing in the rebuilt backyard gazebo we saw in “Art Burn,” “Daria” episode #507. Jane has a copy of the Sunday paper in her lap, and she looks happy.

 

DARIA: Morgendorffers—the sane one, anyway.

 

JANE: Virginia here. May I speak with Dora Morgenstern?

 

DARIA: [shuts eyes briefly, groans] Speaking.

 

JANE: [looks down at newspaper] Man, you do know how to party. Got time today to come over and celebrate your new fame, plus a few other great events? We’re having a cookout here in a couple hours.

 

DARIA: A cookout? Is your house on fire?

 

JANE: No, that was last year. Just drive over around two-ish, and look for the house with the broken-down panel truck out front.

 

DARIA: Uh, okay. Would that be your place?

 

JANE: Yup. Just the latest exciting event at La Casa Lane. The truck was heading for a grocery store in Oakwood, but the driver got lost, and the engine overheated right by the driveway. He’s waiting for a tow, but the refrigeration unit died, so the driver asked if I wanted some of his load for free, before it all went bad. Guess what I got? Go ahead, guess. You’ll never guess.

 

DARIA: [shrugs] Uh . . . cheese fries.

 

JANE: [pause, pounds fist on gazebo wall] Damn it! How did you know, Morgendorffer?

 

DARIA: [startled] You’re joking, right?

 

JANE: Cheese fries! We’ve got cheese fries for the next ten years! We filled the refrigerator and the freezer both! Trent and the band have invited everyone they know. We’re cooking them in Mom’s kiln out back. I don’t think the cheese will ruin it. Hope not, anyway. Mom’s in Australia, painting rocks. We’ll build a new kiln if we have to.

 

DARIA: Jane, I swear, I had no idea. Cheese fries? Two o’clock?

 

JANE: Damn straight. You be here. [pause] Unless you’ve already killed Quinn and you have to get dressed for prison.

 

DARIA: No, I forgave her. She doesn’t believe me, though.

 

JANE: [chuckles] Can’t imagine why, knowing you.

 

Daria looks irked.

 

JANE: And guess what else? [frowns] If you guess right, I’ll be really pissed.

 

DARIA: [face relaxes] Um, gosh, I have no idea. What else happened?

 

JANE: [jumps to her feet, yells] I got into BFAC this fall!!! We’re going to Boston together this August, you wacky egghead!!!

 

DARIA: [sits up in bed, genuinely shocked] You what?

 

JANE: [doing a victory dance] I got a letter from BFAC! A slot opened because some students dropped out, and I’m in the fall semester!!! [gives a rebel-yell scream into the air] Yeee-haaaw!!!

 

DARIA: [still shocked, loses her deadpan, begins to smile] You’re going with me? Please don’t joke about this.

 

JANE: [screams] You and I are out of here, Morgendorffer! We are so gone! [calms abruptly and sits down again] Ah, that felt good. The letter actually came last Monday, but Trent lost the mail. I found the letter early this morning when I got back from Cashman’s. I was a little upset with Trent, of course, since I wasted all that time making that stupid video, which of course led Quinn to making up that story about you, which led to everything else, but what the heck. I forgave him. [coughs]

 

DARIA: [winces] Hmmm, I can imagine how that went, knowing you.

 

JANE: Perhaps like you’ve forgiven Quinn.

 

DARIA: Actually, I have. Sort of. I’m not going to do anything to her. [pause] Sort of. [pause] I sort of worked that out with Dad.

 

JANE: I see. Sort of. We’ll talk about it when you get here. Anyway, that’s my news. Did you shoot anyone else who wasn’t mentioned in the paper?

 

DARIA: I haven’t gotten to see you yet.

 

JANE: Let me have my own taser when you get here, then. You’ve still got them and all the rest of your nutcase survivalist arsenal?

 

DARIA: All that stuff is locked away. I’d rather no one found out I have any of that until I can return it tomorrow. Assuming they take back used weaponry. If not, eh. [shrugs] Maybe I can hunt dinosaurs or something.

 

JANE: Hey, you know, I could use a taser, and my birthday’s not too far off. You said fifty thousand volts, right? What kind of battery does it use?

 

 

172. INT: ABOUT 1 P.M., QUINN’S BEDROOM, MORGENDORFFER HOME

 

We look into Quinn’s bedroom, but she is not visible. A dresser has been pushed in front of the door to her room, however, and all the window shades are closed. A faint light shines from underneath Quinn’s bed. We hear a knock on the bedroom door. The light under the bed snaps off.

 

HELEN: [VO, outside door] Quinn? Quinn, open up. It’s Mom.

 

QUINN: [VO, under bed] Mom? Is Daria with you?

 

HELEN: [VO, outside door] Yes, sweetie, but Dad’s here, too. Don’t worry.

 

QUINN: [crawls from under the bed, covered with dust bunnies, flashlight and fashion magazine in her hands] Did you search her? Are you sure it’s safe?

 

HELEN: [VO, outside door] Quinn, just open the door, okay?

 

QUINN: Oh, okay. Ick. [dusts self off, frowns at dust in hair, but walks over to door and carefully opens it anyway]

 

Jake, Helen, and Daria enter Quinn’s bedroom. Daria appears very reserved and stands behind her parents with a deadpan expression. Quinn retreats across the room, eyeing Daria, holding a pillow in front of her that she takes from the bed. Jake and Helen are dressed as before, though their clothing is rumpled and seems to fit crookedly. They both smile in an oddly mellow and relaxed way.

 

HELEN: Quinn, now calm down. Daria said that she forgives you, and I believe her.

 

DARIA: It’s true. Dad and I had the best weekend together ever. It was worth it, even if you did . . . [glares at Quinn for a second, then resumes deadpan look] . . . set it up.

 

QUINN: [who caught Daria’s look] Mom, I have to go to the bathroom again! Get her out of here! Help me!

 

JAKE: Quinn, Daria came up with a great idea! I won big on a trifecta bet this morning, when we were at brunch, and we’re all going to celebrate! But first, I’m taking you out for our own Lawndale Princess’s weekend! Just you and me, kiddo! Morgendorffer and Morgendorffer! And right after you and I get back, we’re all going to Wally World!

 

QUINN: [faintly] What? You’re what?

 

HELEN: [enthusiastic] It was Daria’s idea! She really has forgiven you! Trust us on this!

 

DARIA: [fights the urge to smile, deadpan] Yeah, trust them on this.

 

QUINN: [senses a trap, holds pillow in front of her face] Muuuh-ooom! No!

 

HELEN: And you know what kind of wonderful weekend Daria picked out for you and your father to share?

 

JAKE: [wildly excited] It’ll be great!

 

HELEN: [extremely cheery] Just the two of you!

 

JAKE: Morgendorffer and Morgendorffer!

 

DARIA: [face twitching, losing her desperate fight not to smile] Just the two of you, and no one else, for a whole weekend. [pause] Goodbye, Clarice.

 

QUINN: [sees Daria smile, knows she’s been set up] Muuuh-ooom!!!

 

 

173. EXT: ONE WEEKEND LATER, LATE AFTERNOON, CAMPGROUNDS IN FORESTED WILDERNESS NEAR LAWNDALE

 

We are at the same unnamed campground that the Morgendorffers visited in “The Teachings of Don Jake” (“Daria” episode #112). It is storming like a crazed tropical monsoon, with high winds blowing sheets of rain everywhere through the trees. In the background is a rustic cabin, “rustic” here meaning on the verge of total collapse from decay. In the foreground is Quinn, who wears an orange rain poncho (no hood) and is trying to find something in a chaotic pile of bags and suitcases in the rear of the family SUV. She is ankle-deep in mud (and wearing sandals), and the wind blows rain and leaves into the car around her. Her red hair is plastered flat to her head and full of dirt and sticks, and she looks as miserable as a human being can get.

 

QUINN: [throws items across the inside of the car, almost screaming] Where is it? Where is it? Where’s the freaking mosquito-bite cream? [numerous items fall out of the back of the SUV into the mud] Oh, damn it! [stamps her foot, splashing mud everywhere, growls aloud with teeth gritted] Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!

 

JAKE: [VO, inside cabin] Quinn?

 

QUINN: [screams] What?! [scratching both arms at once]

 

JAKE: [comes to cabin door, looks nauseated] I don’t feel so good, kiddo.

 

QUINN: What? What are you talking about? [scratches both her legs]

 

JAKE: The smell in here from when that mother skunk . . . when she . . . oh, God, I think I’m going to be . . . [runs back inside the cabin, holding hand over mouth]

 

QUINN: Daddy, no! Don’t throw up in—[puts one hand over eyes to shield from rain, looks into cabin, screams]—No, Daddy! Stop throwing up in the cabin! We have to sleep in there! Oh, damn, not near the freaking beds! Damn it! [closes eyes, groans, scratches back of neck] I swear, I’m gonna tell everyone about “Kim and Dim” when I get back. I swear it. She’ll kill me, but I’ll die happy.

 

JAKE: [VO, inside cabin, gasps] Sorry, kiddo! It’ll air out, I promise!

 

QUINN: [yells] Of course it’ll air out—the freaking cabin doesn’t have any windows!

 

JAKE: [VO, inside cabin] I’m okay now! I’ll get all this cleaned up!

 

QUINN: [sarcastic] If the roof’s still leaking, it’ll wash out by itself!

 

JAKE: [VO, inside cabin, misses sarcasm] Nah, I’ll just do it. It’s quicker that way. Whew! Man, it smells! Quinn, can you bring the rest of the groceries in from the car?

 

QUINN: [yells] I haven’t even found the freaking mosquito-bite cream yet! [scratches both her elbows]

 

JAKE: [VO, inside cabin] Oh, that! We ran out of that last night. I used the last of it!

 

QUINN: [gives up, falls back against the SUV, exhausted and angry] Great. Thanks.

 

JAKE: [comes to door of cabin] I’m sorry, kiddo. But I’ll make up for it after I clean out the cabin. I’m going to fix up something special for dinner tonight!

 

QUINN: [scratches her rear end] No! Don’t cook anything for dinner! I’m not eating any freaking berries or roots or leaves or dead animals or anything that came from this damn freaking park! Nothing at all! I’ll eat lard out of a can first!

 

JAKE: [nervous laugh] Ah, now, calm down, kiddo! We’re not going to eat any of those glitter berries or anything. [shivers] No, not that. Just bring in the stuff I got from that little grocery this morning, on the floor behind the driver’s seat.

 

QUINN: [sighs heavily, looks at self, scratches arms again] Sure. Why not.

 

Worn out, Quinn walks around to door behind the driver’s seat, opens it, and looks in. She spies a large paper bag full of groceries—boxes and bags of various snack foods.

 

QUINN: Oh, good. Real freaking junk food.

 

Quinn starts to lift the sack, then notices something on one of the chip bags. She puts the grocery sack down and pulls out a plastic sack of potato chips labeled “Fat Free!” She flips the sack over and reads the back. We look over her shoulder and see a small red label on the back of the bag: This product contains olestra, which may cause abdominal cramping, diarrhea, and loose stools.

 

QUINN: [aghast] Eeewwwwwww!!!

 

Quinn throws the fat-free potato-chip bag down into the mud, then stamps on it with her muddy sandals, bursting the sack open. As she does, Jake walks back to the door of the cabin. He’s holding a potato-chip bag identical to the one Quinn just threw away. His bag is open, and he’s eating chips from it.

 

JAKE: Quinn, honey, don’t do that! Those things are good! [holds up sack] This one’s my third bag today!

 

Quinn stares at Jake in disbelief and horror. She stands perfectly still for a few moments, then she throws back her head and screams up into the storm, as loud as she possibly can. We pull back as she screams, looking down on the soaking-wet Quinn from above, until we pass through clouds and the scene fades out, and the story ends.

 

 

 

 

Original (collected as a single work): 07/01/02, modified 03/09/03, 09/08/06, 09/18/06, 07/16/08

 

FINIS