[Episode #1 of "Lost Season #2".] One-sentence summary: Daria the writer gets her first taste of genuine criticism. First off, let me say that I love the TV show just the way it is, and have tried to be as true as possible to it here, keeping the general style and plotline in the direction the show's writers seem to have their minds set on. You won't find the start of any outrageous story arcs, new major characters or departures in style from the "Daria" we all know and love. Please let me know how close I got. (And if you're from MTV, I should mention I'd love to do this for a living. I'm not just gonna go away because you guys ignore me, y'know.) (...la-la LA la la...) Daria in "A Morgendorffer Scorned" Written by C.E. Forman (ceforman@worldnet.att.net) Dedicated to the memory of Tim Kelly BEGIN ACT 1. (Open on an extreme closeup of Daria -- only her eyes, encircled by her glasses and taking on a thoughtful look, fit into the shot.) DARIA: (VO.) I've spent seventeen years in isolation from the caviling bigotry of the socialite masses. (Cut to Daria's point of view, a shot of the journal on her desk. Continue voice-over as her hand, holding a pen, writes out the words she's thinking.) DARIA: (VO continues.) Just as my sister Quinn was born pretty and popular, I was destined to live life as a teenage pariah. A dull, unremarkable person to whom nothing remotely exciting ever happens... or so it would appear to the rest of Lawndale High. (Daria's hands from another angle, still writing.) DARIA: (VO.) You'd never guess from looking at me, Daria Morgendorffer, that I was the girl who told off an egomaniacal fashion magazine editor visiting my school. Who incited an anti-communism riot at the local coffeehouse. Who got in a car accident with my best friend's brother... for whom I'll never be able to admit that I have an attra-- (Closeup of the paper, Daria quickly scratches this last part out, then continues writing.) DARIA: But is this all I'll ever be, or is there more to me? Something I might discover if only I could find something resembling acceptance? And if I did find this, and grow from it, would it still be me? (A bell rings. Zoom out from a full profile shot of Daria, still writing, to show Jane sitting in the seat beside her.) JANE: Yo. Class is starting. DARIA: (Pretend sigh, closes notebook.) And just when I was about to learn something. (Overhead view of the class from the back, revealing that we're in:) INT.: LAWNDALE HIGH, MR O'NEILL'S CLASSROOM. (Mr O'Neill stands at the front of the class, and with him is someone we've never seen before. A roundish man with thinning hair, glasses, suspenders and a hint of beard.) O'NEILL: (His usual enthusiasm.) Class, we have a very *stimulating* two weeks ahead of us! JANE: (To Daria, who smirks.) Caffeine. Awright. O'NEILL: I'd like to introduce Mr Eugene Baldwin, of the Sun Foundation Creative Learning Center! Mr Baldwin is here to bring a taste of his summer programs to our class, to help all of you improve your creative expression, or-- (Unmistakable glance in Daria's direction.) --just to expand your horizons a bit. JANE: (Aside, to Daria.) Isn't that *his* job? DARIA: Maybe Ms Li's phasing him out. JANE: Nah. We'd never get that lucky. BALDWIN: (Nods, takes over.) Thanks, Tim. Looks like we've got an interesting group here. Now hopefully before too long I'll be able to learn all of your names as well as Mr O'Neill does... DARIA: (Closeup, her and Jane.) Better just let that one go. (Jane smirks. Back to Baldwin.) BALDWIN: ...so what I'd like to do to start us off is, let's go around the room and introduce ourselves, share your name and one thing about yourself that makes you unique. (Baldwin's POV, showing the entire class. No one moves.) O'NEILL: (Trying feebly to help.) Um, let's start with... Matt. (Points to a student at his far left.) MACK: Uh, that's "Mack". O'NEILL: (Embarrassed.) Y-yes, of course. Mack. That's what I... meant. (Nervous chuckle, immediately followed by a sigh and slight slumping of the shoulders.) MACK: Well, my name's Michael Jordan MacKenzie, everyone calls me "Mack", and... I guess I'm unique because my dad changed my birth certificate so I'd be named after MJ. BALDWIN: Ah, a sports-legend namesake. Excellent. (Indicates Jodie.) JODIE: (Raises her hand before speaking.) I'm Jodie Landon, and I'm... (Thinks a moment.) ...the Student Council VP, yearbook editor, Science Club president, first trombone in the marching band-- BALDWIN: (Nods.) Hey, that's great! JODIE: (Continues, counts off on her fingers.) --Rhodes Scholar, tennis team, I co-founded the Lawndale High Student Diversity League-- BALDWIN: (Cuts her off.) Er, thanks, Jodie, that'll do. JODIE: Oh. Okay. (Baldwin turns, nods expectantly to Kevin.) KEVIN: (Stands, proclaims boisterously.) I'm Kevin Thompson, I'm the QB! *YEAAAAHHH!!* (Spikes the football he's always carrying.) BALDWIN: (Smiles, he likes this class.) Well. Brief, energetic and very clearly stated. Glad to have you aboard, Kevin. KEVIN: Thanks! (Sits, then looks confused.) "Aboard"? But... we're not on a boat... (Beat.) Are we? BRITTANY: (Stands, Baldwin's picked her next.) I'm Brittany Taylor, and I'm a *cheerleader!* (She says it as if that weren't immediately obvious from her uniform. Waves her pompoms.) Goooo *Lions!!* (Notices Kevin looks hurt.) BRITTANY: Oh, and I'm *dating* the QB! (Waves pompoms.) Goooo *Kevvy!!* KEVIN: (Grabs her affectionately around the waist, pulls her close.) Aww, babe! BALDWIN: (Amused smirk.) Ah, young love. (The class giggles. Baldwin turns, points.) How about you? JANE: Jane, Jane Lane. (Fake French accent.) And I am zee artiste extraordinare. BALDWIN: Hey, great! You know, the Sun Foundation offers a number of summer art programs, have you seen our catalog? (He takes one from a stack on Mr O'Neill's desk, offers it to her.) JANE: (Takes it.) Yeah, I've taken a couple before. (Smiles, remembering.) "Yourself as Your Canvas" was *wicked*. (Puts the catalog into the backpack at her feet.) BALDWIN: (Nods, pleased.) Thought I'd seen you around. (To Daria.) And you? DARIA: (Says each syllable slowly, none of the other students' enthusiasm.) Dar-i-a. BALDWIN: Daria... you have a last name, Daria? DARIA: (Blandly.) Shmaria. (Baldwin smiles tolerantly, gives a good-natured chuckle, but continues to look at her expectantly.) DARIA: (Relents.) Daria Morgendorffer. Just don't ask me to spell it. BALDWIN: (Nods, agreeing.) And what makes you unique, Daria? What sets you apart from the rest of your class? DARIA: (Stares him straight in the eye.) Apparently I'm the only one here who detests these stupid icebreakers. BALDWIN: (Doesn't faze him a bit.) Well, well, a *decisive* attitude! Heh, we can use that here! (Turns to another student.) And you? (Closeup on Andrea. Just before she can talk, we--) CUT TO: INT.: CAFETERIA. (MUSIC: "G.O.D.", Fastball.) (Daria and Jane carry their trays to their usual spot.) DARIA: (Sits down.) So what exactly *is* this Sun Foundation thing? JANE: They're a group of retired teachers or professional artists, mostly volunteers. DARIA: (Raised eyebrow.) Mandatory volunteers? JANE: *Paid* volunteers, they get their money from the class fees. They teach art, nature, drama, they have a music program... It's like a summer school, only for smart people instead of idiots. DARIA: Thrillsville. Academic pressure and forced peer interaction the whole year round. JANE: ("C'monnn" tone.) It's *fun*, I took their figure-drawing class a couple summers ago. (Kevin -- with his pet football -- comes up to the girls' table.) KEVIN: Hey Daria? I know he just said it, like, five minutes ago? But what's our first assignment for that Baldwin guy again? DARIA: (Sighs, *this* again. Condescendingly.) We're supposed to write a paper on the events that have shaped our lives and made us who we are. (Beat.) In your case that probably won't take long. KEVIN: Cool! Thanks, man. (Turns to go.) JANE: Sure you don't wanna write that down? KEVIN: Naw, that's okay. I'll remember it. DARIA: (Watching Kevin go.) Going, going, aaaaand... *gone*. He'll be asking someone else before the next bell. JANE: Or you again. So, got any ideas for yours yet? DARIA: Just what I jotted down in the lunch line. JANE: C'I see it? DARIA: (Digs it from her backpack, hands it over.) It's not very good. JANE: (Playfully.) Hey now, don't knock your own work, that's what critics are for. (Reads it aloud.) "Pointless reflection on days gone by is a basic mannerism inherent in all humanoids. Just as the fulfilled individual might look back to relive her glory days, so might the derelict contemplate her dismal descent into failure. Still others must confront days gone by when they are forced to bare their soul to a complete stranger in exchange for a passing grade. Which of course brings us to myself." (Hands paper back.) Well I like it. Inventive, yet decidedly smart-assy. DARIA: I thought so. (Smiles, pleased, that's what she was hoping for.) JANE: Givin' him the full Daria assault right off the bat, huh? DARIA: You saw the way he burned me in there. JANE: I didn't see him *burn* you, I just saw him unfazed by your sarcasm. DARIA: Exactly. Which leads us to the next step up. Brutal honesty, the uncensored truth about why I'm the way I am. I figure that's the best way to handle him and find out what kind of teacher he is. JANE: (Admiration.) You really pour yourself into this sort of thing, don't you? DARIA: I have to, it's the only thing in life I have going for me. (Beat.) Well, that and personality. CUT TO: INT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE, KITCHEN. LATE AFTERNOON. (Jake's tending a pot he's got on the stove. Quinn has the fridge open and is getting a diet soda. Helen enters from the living room, leafing through a Sun Foundation catalog.) HELEN: Jake, honey, did you see this? JAKE: (Looks up.) Oh, is that that Sun Foundation thing? HELEN: Yes, and they're offering some introductory gourmet cooking classes this June, maybe you'd like to take a couple? JAKE: "Introductory"? (A bit hurt.) You think I *need* to take a cooking class? HELEN: (Bit exasperated.) Of *course* not, Jake, I just thought maybe you might *enjoy* expanding your culinary horizons a little. JAKE: Oh. (All better now.) Maybe I will! QUINN: Da-AAADD!! You *can't* take some stupid class, I thought we were going to the *beach* this summer! (Whiny, melodramatic.) This *always* happens, I go and make my plans *months* in advance and then have to cancel them for somebody *else*, and it's *JUST*, *NOT*, *FAIR!* (Beat.) Oh, that reminds me, can I have forty dollars for a month of unlimited tanning at the salon? HELEN: (Before Jake can respond.) Now Quinn, those booths are awfully expensive, and you'll be getting a tan at the beach anyway. (Daria enters, in time to catch this last part.) QUINN: But Mo-OMMM!! I *can't* show up in Florida without a tan! Everyone'll peg me as some geeky *tourist!* DARIA: Instead of seeing you for the conceited and superficial beach- bunny you really are. QUINN: Exactly! See, even *Daria* understands the importance of tanning! HELEN: (Annoyed.) Daria... DARIA: (Ignores Helen, goes for Quinn.) Do you really want a fake tan anyway? I thought that was unfashionable. QUINN: Well unlike *you*, at least I'll *have* one, and no one else has to know it's from a booth! Besides, it doesn't really matter how you get your looks as long as they're good. DARIA: I see. Same principle as plastic surgery and artificial hair-color. QUINN: (Advice mode.) Well, no one with any self-respect would use fake *hair*-coloring, it grows out and then your roots look all sick. DARIA: (Sardonic.) I learn so much from you, Quinn. JAKE: (Looks up from his pot, finally notices Daria.) Heyyy, there you are, kiddo! Your mother was gonna ask you about-- HELEN: (Takes over.) --Daria, I saw this writing class they're offering at the Sun Foundation this summer, Mr O'Neill said he'd reserve a spot for you if you were interested. DARIA: ("Oh *God*.") He called you? QUINN: (Interjects.) So can I, Mom? Get my tans, I mean? DARIA: (To Helen.) Does that man tell you *everything* that goes on in my life? QUINN: (Little laugh.) *What* life? (Turns her efforts on Jake.) So *can* I, Daddy? DARIA: (To Helen.) You think I *need* to take a writing class? HELEN: Now Daria, I know you're a talented writer. As a parent I'd be slacking off if I didn't encourage you to use every opportunity to build your skills. Besides, the price is reasonable, it'd get you out of the house this summer, and if nothing else the life experience will be good for inspiration. DARIA: "Inspiration"? QUINN: (To Jake, using this development to her advantage.) You mean *Daria* gets to have her writing thing, but *I* don't get my tans? (Whiny.) You *always* treat her better! JAKE: (Guilt-wracked, gives in.) I... I'm sorry, sweetie. You're right, here you go. (Takes out his wallet, gives her a stack of bills, which she snatches.) QUINN: (Sweetly.) Thanks, Daddy! (She's out before Helen can react.) HELEN: Jake, how much did you just give her?! JAKE: (Quickly, immediately knows he did bad.) Well it's only 'cause Daria's getting to take her writing class-- HELEN: Didn't you just hear me tell her no? (Disgusted sigh.) Now *I'm* the bad guy. Jake, can't you just *once* help me put up a unified front? JAKE: (Stammers.) But-- but don't we want to be fair to both of them--? HELEN: She's *not* spending that kind of money on a tan when she can lie outside for free. C'mon, give me what's left, give it here. (Jake wilts, opens his wallet, extracts the rest of his cash and gives it to Helen.) HELEN: (Unrelenting, holds out her hand.) And the credit cards. C'mon. JAKE: (Contritely forks over his wallet. Whiny, pitiful.) Darnit... (Watches, dejected, as his pot on the stove proceeds to bubble over.) DARIA: (Dry.) Who needs the Sun Foundation when I already have all the inspiration in the world right here? CUT TO: EXT.: LAWNDALE HIGH. A COUPLE OF DAYS LATER. (MUSIC: "Otono", Orbital.) CUT TO: INT.: MR O'NEILL'S CLASSROOM. THE NEXT DAY. (Daria and Jane at their desks. Mr O'Neill and Mr Baldwin hand back papers.) JANE: (To Daria.) So howdja do? DARIA: "A-". JANE: "C+" on mine. He's a tough grader. DARIA: Anyone's tough compared to O'Neill. (Surprised look as she flips through the pages of her essay.) Hey, get a load of this. (Reads.) "Rare insight and honesty, with well-illustrated opinions. You're a gifted writer, what'll you *do* with this gift?" JANE: (Impressed.) Really? Baldwin wrote that? DARIA: I'm sure it's just B.S., for encouragement. He probably put it on everyone's, even Kevin's. JANE: (Looks hers over.) *I* didn't get it. DARIA: Oh. (Sits quietly, realizing how arrogant that must've sounded.) KEVIN'S VOICE: Uh, Mr O'Neill? I got Mack Daddy's paper! MACK'S VOICE: Don't *call* me that! O'NEILL: (Realizes he screwed up names again.) Oh dear... (Up front, closeup of Baldwin.) BALDWIN: Okaaay, now that we're all warmed up, for our next project we're going to pair you off into teams of three and have each group write a little skit and perform it in front of the class. DARIA: (Rolls eyes.) Oh, God. BALDWIN: Any subject, any style, you make the rules, but *everybody* contributes. And choose carefully: We'll eventually be performing these for the rest of the school! DARIA: (Rolls eyes.) Oh, *God*. BALDWIN: Let's see... (Points to students, pairing them off.) Jane, Andrea, and Jodie. (Beat.) Daria, Brittany and... Kevin. DARIA: Oh, *GOD*. KEVIN: (To Brit.) This is gonna be great, babe! DISSOLVE TO: (A few minutes later. The students have their desks pushed together, in clusters of three or four. Daria moves hers over to where Kevin and Brittany sit, whispering and giggling.) DARIA: (Sits.) All right, let's get this over with. BRITTANY: (Hair-twirl, with the finger, perky.) So Daria, I was thinking, why don't the three of us write a script about-- DARIA: (Anticipates, intercepts.) Nothing on cheerleading. (Brittany lets out a disconsolate little squeak.) KEVIN: (Lights up.) Hey, how 'bout we do one on-- DARIA: Or quarterbacks. KEVIN: Aww, *mannn!* DARIA: (Just flat-out disgusted, getting stuck with these two.) Look, I know you two probably don't care, but I want a decent grade on this stupid thing. And since both of you have one-track minds, why don't you just let me handle the writing part? I'll do the script, you can sit and... twirl your hair or stare vacantly. Sound good? (The two populars look unhappy, this isn't gonna be as much fun as they'd initially hoped.) KEVIN: Um, sure... BRITTANY: (Also resigned.) If you say so, Daria. I mean, you *are* smarter than us, I guess... (Daria produces her notebook and begins writing. Brittany rummages through her rabbit purse-thing, and Kevin just sits and looks at his football. Zoom into the page as Daria writes, then out again to reveal the full script, in Kevin's hand, later, near the end of class. He sits on a chair in front of the class, with Daria to one side, Brittany slightly behind her. With the rest of the class, O'Neill and Baldwin watch the skit.) KEVIN: (Reads, poorly.) "What's... going on? Who... dares..." (Leans over, points at the notebook.) Hey Daria, what's this word? DARIA: (Without looking.) "Interrupt." KEVIN: (Continues.) "Who dares interrupt me... when I'm pon--... *pondering* these mo--...mor--" DARIA: (Says it for him.) Morose. KEVIN: "Morose... con--" DARIA: (Again.) Convictions. KEVIN: (Reads.) "Con-victions... that can't be... shaken by... mere... reality?" (Beat.) Whoa, this is cool! It says my character gets to have a *gun!* Just like in "Ratboy"! (He passes the notebook to Daria, who reads her line wearing her typical expression of disdain. She stands with one arm across her chest, tucked under the other arm which holds the notebook.) DARIA: (Reads, deadpan.) "Why, don't you recognize me? I am Thanatos, the Grim Spectre of Death." (She passes the script to Brittany.) BRITTANY: (Reads, in a grand display of *ACTING!*) "*She* has *come* to..." (Twirls hair.) "...es-*cort* your... pr-- pre--" DARIA: (Sighs, losing patience.) Prematurely. BRITTANY: "Your prematurely... de-par-ted *soul* to its... afterlife! Pause. As she did mine.--" DARIA: (Under her breath, to Brittany.) You're supposed to *pause* there, not *read* the word "pause". (Muffled laughs are audible from the rest of the class.) BRITTANY: Oh. (Beat.) Acting is hard. KEVIN: (To Brittany, he's finally grasping what the script's about.) Um, I changed my mind, this is kinda creepy, babe. (The bell rings before they can finish. Applause from the class. Mr O'Neill is on the verge of tears.) BALDWIN: O-kay, we'll pick up with the next group tomorrow. (Catches Daria as the students file out.) Daria, can we talk for a minute? (Jane notices, heads out with the last of the students, waits outside.) DARIA: (Anticipates.) I'm accustomed to controversy over subject matter. BALDWIN: No, it's not that. DARIA: Oh. (Guesses his next most-likely objection.) Well we decided I'd write the script and Kevin and Brittany would get the major parts, so it balances out. BALDWIN: Yes, I'd guessed from the style that most of the writing was yours. It's well-paced, and you have good control over the characters' actions. DARIA: (Deadpan.) I *am* the Puppet Master. BALDWIN: ...But I just feel the script needs some tweaking. DARIA: Uh-huh? (Hands him the notebook, trying to remain expressionless.) Like what? BALDWIN: Well... (Browses, points.) Like this pause, here, when Brittany's character explains why you've come for Kevin. DARIA: (Not what she expected.) Excuse me? BALDWIN: Who put this pause here? DARIA: I did. BALDWIN: Why? DARIA: For effect. BALDWIN: Hmm... What kind of effect? DARIA: (Her brow furrows.) Well... certianly not the effect of having it analyzed microscopically. BALDWIN: (Chuckles at the comeback.) Think about it in your spare time. (Makes a note in the margin of Daria's notebook.) Next, "Thanatos", why the Greek reference, what's it signify? DARIA: Um, nothing, really. BALDWIN: *Nothing?* Why'd you use it? (Beat, Daria's too stunned/confused to respond.) Think about that too. (Moves on.) Now, tell me what you were *thinking* with these characters' basic motivations. DARIA: (Irritated sigh.) It's really very simple... BALDWIN: Good, then we'll be done quick, then. DARIA: (VO to herself.) Maybe. But this is gonna be a long two weeks. (...la-la LA la la... ...la-la LA la la...) (COMMERCIAL LEAD-IN: Split screen, Baldwin at the front of the class and Daria at her desk.) END ACT 1. (COMMERCIAL: Wow, six *months* since my last commercial. So many new ones to rip on. Where oh where oh where oh *WHERE* to begin...? Car commercials, which all look the same and all have the same techno music in the background now, it seems... Burger King takes another perfectly good song and ruins it... Those new Addidas ads where it's like WHAT THE HELL WAS *THAT?!* The Hardee's Star catches on fire... Is it wrong for me to *want* to see that? I mean really *WANT* to?... Tom Green waves Pepsi One in our faces and makes irritating noises... Sorry, I know some of you are fans, but I *really* hate that man... All those 10-10-321-345-220-9000-90210 numbers... and does *anyone* actually watch "The Blame Game"??) BEGIN ACT 2. RETURN TO: EXT.: LANE RESIDENCE. AFTERNOON. (MUSIC: "Choke", Sepultura.) CUT TO: INT.: JANE'S ROOM. (Jane's mixing paints while Daria's on the bed writing. The girls pass a stick of cookie dough back and forth.) JANE: (Mouthful of cookie dough.) Znnughjhzrmppdmprd? DARIA: *What?* JANE: Mff. (Swallows, repeats question.) So he just ripped it apart? DARIA: No, that I would've at least understood. He liked the script, but then he just *picked* it to death. "Why's this pause here?" Little, insignificant things. JANE: Then what's so bad about that? DARIA: Well, it's-- (Hard for her to explain.) ...It's just... irritating as hell, is all. I thought the whole thing was pretty obvious myself. But he stood there and made me answer all these questions about the most pointless details. JANE: I dunno, I think I'd be more upset if he missed the point entirely. At least, that's how I am with my art. DARIA: (Patiently.) Jane, you're a talented artist, and a really good friend-- JANE: (Pretend-offense.) You take that back! DARIA: (Has to smirk, Jane can always lighten the mood.) --but you've never had to deal with anyone criticizing something you *wrote*. JANE: (Shrugs.) Ms DeFoe makes suggestions with my work all the time. DARIA: It's not as if that stupid script even merited any criticism -- I just cranked out the first thing that came to mind at the time. JANE: I believe that. Kevin and Brittany inspire thoughts of suicide for me too. DARIA: Assisted suicide. JANE: (Back on her own thoughts.) But, I mean, different interpretations are only natural, that's what's so great about it. DARIA: (Looks just a bit hurt.) I can't believe you're taking *his* side over mine on this. JANE: I'm not on his "side", I can just sort of see where he's coming from. He's a teacher, that's his job. You don't have to agree with him. DARIA: You didn't see him clobber anyone *else's* script, did you? JANE: (Concedes on that.) So what're you gonna do? DARIA: A scathing little composition that should put him in his place. (Hands Jane the notebook she's been writing in.) Here, what do you think of this? JANE: Hmm... (Reads to herself, eyes move over the paper.) Ooh. (Reads a bit more.) *Oooh!* I didn't even know you could *use* that word that way. You are *vicious*, girl! DARIA: (Allows herself a bit of pride.) You're right, I guess I really do pour myself into these things. JANE: (Only half-joking.) Just don't let Mr O'Neill see this. It'd *shatter* him. DARIA: Hmm, I should probably keep it away from my Mom and Dad too. JANE: (Smirk.) Well, I dunno if I'd go *that* far... (Hands the cookie dough back, Daria takes a bite.) CUT TO: INT.: MR O'NEILL'S CLASS. THE NEXT DAY. (Kevin, Brittany and Daria are wrapping up their skit.) KEVIN: (Playing the would-be suicide, reads script, poorly.) "I think I'd... like to be... alone." DARIA: (As Death.) "Obviously it is not his time. We shall leave him now, and return when he is ready." (Daria and Brittany step back. Daria lowers the notebook, signifying that it's over. Applause from the class, though Kevin and Brittany don't look like they're enjoying it.) BALDWIN: (Stands, claps hands together.) O-kay, great, now practice it every day for next week. Homeroom, study hall, whenever you get the chance. (Beat.) And Daria, for God's sake put a little *emotion* into it, you look like you're *dead* up there. DARIA: (Annoyed.) I *am* playing Death, you'll recall. BALDWIN: (Laughs.) Hey, good comeback! Decisive! BRITTANY: (Approaches her classmate.) Um, Daria? Kevin and I were thinking, and-- DARIA: (Takes out her frustrations on them.) You're kidding. Not both at the same time, I hope. BRITTANY: (Smart enough to know she's being put down, but not clever enough to produce a retort.) Um, anyway, we were wondering-- (Nervous hair-twirl.) --if you'd mind if we did, um, a different script? DARIA: You want me to write another one? BRITTANY: Actually, we were wondering if we could go with one of *our* ideas instead? DARIA: (Nods, once.) Mmm. By all means. KEVIN: Really? You mean it? DARIA: (Dripping sarcasm.) Yes. You two write it up, since you obviously don't care for *my* ideas. And if Hollywood doesn't immediately snatch your opus, it'll play Lawndale instead. KEVIN: Okay, cool! (Takes Brit's hand.) Let's go, babe! (Again Brittany lets out that disappointed squeak. Daria goes up to the desk where Baldwin is standing, and puts her new essay on it.) BALDWIN: What's this? DARIA: Just a little surprise I wrote for you last night. BALDWIN: (Looks intrigued.) Really? Maybe I'll just read it right now, hmm? (Closeup on smirking Daria, this is just what she was hoping for.) CUT TO: (Closeup on Daria, resting her head against her hands, looking both ruined and exhausted.) JANE: (Disbelief.) He *what?!* (Hold for a beat, then reveal we're in:) INT.: CAFETERIA. (Daria and Jane at their favorite table.) DARIA: (Defeat.) He *liked* it. JANE: That piece where you brutalized him?? He *liked* it?! DARIA: He said it exhibited decisive attitude. (Beat.) And then he made me analyze my use of the ellipsis in my second paragraph. (Sighs.) I can't believe I stayed up 'till one to finish it. (Folds her arms on the table, rests her head on top, closes her eyes.) JANE: So... you gonna kill him now? DARIA: I would, but... I'm afraid he'd enjoy that too. CUT TO: INT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE, DARIA'S ROOM. (MUSIC: "Forgiven, Not Forgotten", the Corrs.) (Daria's lying backwards on her bed, looking depressed. Helen and Jake pass by, and, taking notice, enter.) JAKE: Daria? Are you feeling all right? You've been looking a little down lately. DARIA: Only for the last seventeen years. HELEN: (Sits on bed.) C'mon, what's bothering you, sweetie? DARIA: Nothing either of you can help me with. HELEN: (Rolls eyes.) Oh, Daria, you always say that. DARIA: And what made you believe this time would be an exception? (As Helen and Daria are talking, Jake's foot accidently nudges the bones on Daria's floor. He grimaces, shudders slightly.) HELEN: (Probing.) Is there a problem at school...? Something with Jane...? Or... Trent? JAKE: (Kneels by her bed, awkward.) It's not... "that time" again, is it, hon'? (Helen elbows him.) DARIA: (Sighs, decides humoring them will get rid of them faster.) It's the Sun Foundation guy. We started out fine, but now he's always finding things wrong with my writing. Meaningless things. JAKE: He criticizes everything you do? DARIA: Yeah. JAKE: Just can't seem to please him, no matter how hard you try? DARIA: Yeah. JAKE: (Anger building.) You're never spared an opportunity to be put down, just because you're not the tough, hardened *BRUTE* your *mean*, *HEARTLESS* father always EXPECTED you to *ASPIRE* TO?! DARIA: Umm... I suppose that's one way of putting it. HELEN: Well, maybe he just has an *issue* with a young lady who's more talented than he is and is just trying to mask his feelings. You know, *I've* known judges who-- JAKE: (Interrupts.) He *never* hid his feelings, he never *HAD* any to begin with! HELEN: (To Daria.) I take it you've already confronted him about this? DARIA: That was my first tactic. JAKE: Yeah! *Tell* him how you feel! Don't let him intimidate you into bottling your feelings... letting unrequited *rage* turn you into a bitter, spiteful shell of a man after he's *dead* and it's too *LATE!* HELEN: (Losing patience with him.) *Jake*... go downstairs. JAKE: (Meekly.) Yes, dear. (And he's out.) HELEN: (Reassuring.) You'll find a way to handle this, I'm sure. And remember, your father and I are always here to help-- (Beeping sound. Helen produces her pager, reads the display.) HELEN: (Heads out, downstairs, leaving Daria.) Coming, Eric! CUT TO: INT.: MR O'NEILL'S CLASS. THE NEXT DAY. BALDWIN: O-kay, everybody got their poems ready? Who wants to read first? KEVIN: (Overexcited.) Oh! Oh oh, me! Pick me, Mr B! Mememe! BALDWIN: (Nods, smiles tolerantly.) Very well, Kevin. Go ahead. KEVIN: (Beat.) Um, it's in my locker. (Baldwin looks at O'Neill as if asking, "Is he always like this?" Mr O'Neill nods his head sadly. Cut to a closeup of an empty seat, then zoom out to show Jodie giving Jane a questioning look.) JODIE: Where is she? JANE: (Shrugs.) I dunno, she was here this morning. CUT TO: EXT.: LIBRARY. (MUSIC: "Something Just Ain't Right", Keith Sweat.) CUT TO: INT.: LIBRARY. (Closeup of Daria at a table, studying quietly by herself.) CUT TO: INT.: MR O'NEILL'S CLASS. (Bell rings. Kevin and Brittany approach Baldwin and O'Neill as the other students file out.) KEVIN: Can we talk to you, Mr B? BALDWIN: Sure, kids, what's up? KEVIN: It's... uh... (Turns to Brittany.) What is it again, babe? BRITTANY: It's this play we're doing with Daria. KEVIN: (Remembers now.) Yeah! It's freaking us out. BRITTANY: Can we maybe do a different one? BALDWIN: Well, it's okay with me... but have you talked this over with Daria? BRITTANY: Umm, sort of... (Airhead thought-spiel.) But she just said to do it ourselves if we didn't like hers, only we *didn't* didn't like hers but she never really let us *explain* and now she's not in class and we can't *do* her script by ourselves and... (Beat. End thought-spiel.) ...and I guess that's it. O'NEILL: (Compassionate demeanor.) Oh... Well, I know Daria can be... strong-willed, at times. (Ever the optimist.) But perhaps writing your *own* script would be a real growth opportunity for the two of you! KEVIN: (Perks up.) You mean I'll finally be the biggest guy on the team? BALDWIN: He's saying don't let what Daria says get you down. You don't have to agree with her. O'NEILL: Hmm, maybe a little story would help here... KEVIN: Cool, a story! O'NEILL: (Tells the story, with his usual enthusiasm.) Once upon a time, a king had a boulder placed in the middle of a road, then watched his subjects' reactions. The wealthiest merchants and courtiers passed by and went around it, loudly blaming their king for not keeping the road clear. KEVIN: (Interrupts.) Should we be writing this down? O'NEILL: (Continues.) Then along came a peasant who put down his burden and, straining, finally succeeded in moving the rock. As he prepared to set off again, he noticed a purse full of gold coins, lying in the road where the boulder had been! Also inside was a note from the king explaining that the gold was a reward for the person who moved the boulder out of the way! (Beams, gets warm fuzzy feeling just telling it.) So the moral is, every obstacle in life presents an opportunity to improve yourself! KEVIN: (Bursts into laughter, mistaking the story for a joke. Then he stops.) Um, I don't get it. BRITTANY: (Also misses the point.) So... we should do something that takes place in Mid-Evil times? (Mr O'Neill turns to Baldwin and shrugs, as if to say, "I tried." Baldwin's nonverbal reply looks something like, "Don't be too hard on yourself.") DISSOLVE TO: INT.: MR O'NEILL'S CLASSROOM. A SHORT TIME LATER. (Daria looks inside as she passes by, enters when she sees Mr O'Neill is alone.) DARIA: I just stopped by to drop off this poem for class. (Hands assignment to O'Neill.) O'NEILL: Oh. (Disappointment evident.) We missed you today, Daria. Class just isn't the same without you. DARIA: It hasn't been the same since Mr Baldwin got here. O'NEILL: (Looks pained.) I know Eugene's a bit... overbearing at times, but he's a good friend of mine, and his summer programs really are excellent. He told me he'd kind of hoped you'd try one. He mentioned you specifically. DARIA: (Bitter.) He could offer me some incentive besides just picking at my work all the time. O'NEILL: (Smiles, empathizes.) Just remember Theodore Roosevelt's statement about critics. I always say, if you can see the obstacles you've taken your eyes off the goal. DARIA: Right. So instead I'll plow blindly ahead and trip over them. (Mr O'Neill's face falls as Daria shoots down another of his favorite sayings.) CUT TO: INT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE, DARIA'S ROOM. (MUSIC: "Angel of Mercy", Jonny Lang.) (Jane is stretched out on the bed. Daria paces.) DARIA: (Frustrated.) It's bad enough not learning anything. But now I'm not learning *and* I'm getting pissed off every day. Writing just isn't any *fun* with him around. He's arrogant, he finds fault with everything, he's... JANE: (Smirk.) Exactly like you? DARIA: (Turns.) What does *that* mean? JANE: (Realizes she's on thin ice here.) Now promise you won't get mad, okay? (Beat, Daria nods.) But I heard the other day when you put down all of Kevin and Brittany's ideas. Okay, so they were stupid, I agree. But you basically tore down their ideas and didn't even listen to what they had to say. How's that any different from what Baldwin's doing to *you?* (Sees Daria's expression, quickly adds:) You promised you wouldn't get mad! DARIA: Well I-- But that was only because-- (Daria stammers, but *dammit*, Jane has a point.) So you're saying I deserve this somehow? JANE: (Sits up, claps her pal on the shoulder.) *No*, I'm just saying maybe there's a little Eugene Baldwin in all of us! DARIA: Is there any chance I could have him surgically removed? CUT TO: EXT.: LAWNDALE HIGH, OUTSIDE THE LIBRARY. (MUSIC: "Evil Ways", Swamp Boogie Queen.) (As the girls walk to class together, Daria stops at the library doors.) DARIA: Well, this is my stop. Gotta get off. JANE: You're *sure* you won't join me for some Sun Foundation Fun? (Daria replies by heading inside. Follow Jane down the walk, where she has to veer off to make room as a group of students led by Mr DeMartino goes by.) CUT TO: INT.: LIBRARY. (Mr DeMartino brings his sophomore history class inside.) DEMARTINO: All right class, with all of Lawndale High's academic REsources at your disposal, I expect even the most JADED of you can throw together enough PLAGiarized DRIVEL to EKE out a passing grade! So everybody get with your groups and work until the first bell. (The students break into groups, noisy, chattering.) DEMARTINO: And reMEMBER, this is the LIBRARY so be *QUIET!!* LIBRARIAN: (Off-camera.) Shhh! DEMARTINO: (Suppresses a growl, his eye twitching.) I'll be in the nurse's office obTAINing some ASPIRIN... (He heads out, so pan to Quinn and her comrades.) STACY: I wonder if they have the latest "Waif" in yet. TIFFANY: (Looking around.) This place creeps me *out*. It always smells like brains. (Sniffs, wrinkles her nose.) SANDI: (Digs in her purse.) Here, try some "Malibu Musk". It should help keep the odor from *clinging* to you. (The Fashion Club members pass it around, applying the fragrance as if it were bug spray.) STACY: (Admiration.) You're so well-prepared, Sandi! (Quinn gets a jealous scowl.) SANDI: (Smug.) I know. Now let's find our own table and decide on a *topic*. (The four girls move through the rows of bookshelves to an empty table, where they take a seat.) QUINN: I was thinking we could do sort of a history of fashion thing, like show how clothing is a reflection of the times, or whatever. Like how everything sucked in the 1950s, and 50s clothes sucked too. Unless they're retro, I mean. STACY: You're so creative, Quinn! (Sandi gets a jealous scowl.) QUINN: I kn--*aack!* (Quinn spots a familiar green jacket at the table beside hers, moves in front of it so the rest of the Fashion Club won't see.) SANDI: (Faux concern.) Is something the *matter*, Quinn? QUINN: (Lies.) No, nothing's wrong, Sandi. (Opens a compact, pretends to look at herself.) Um, I just need to touch up my mascara, why don't you guys go get somebody to look up references for us? I think I saw Joey and Jeffy and... the third one, over there. (Points.) SANDI: (Snide.) Whatever you say, Quinn. After all, *you're* the creative one. (The other three girls head off, Tiffany holding her nose. Stacy, recognizing Daria, turns and hesitates.) SANDI: (Returns, grabs her forearm.) Come along, Stacy. (Stacy gives a backward clance as Sandi drags her along.) QUINN: (Approaches who she suspects is her sister.) Daria? (Daria gives up and lowers the book, knowing she's been caught.) (*DUN!* Dunnn dun dun *dun!* Dunnn dun dun DAAAAAAHHH...) (COMMERCIAL LEAD-IN: Daria, Kevin and Brittany performing their skit.) END ACT 2. (COMMERCIAL: Phantom Menace, now playing in theaters. Phantom Menace at Taco Bell. Phantom Menace at KFC. Phantom Menace at Pizza Hut. Phantom Menace collector's cans from Pepsi. Phantom Menace action figures. Phantom Menace CommTech gizmo to make Phantom Menace action figures talk. Phantom Menace Legos. I swear to God one time I saw three Phantom Menace commercials in a *row!* Phantom Menace, Phantom Menace, Phantom Menace, and, I almost forgot, Phantom Menace.) (And Phantom Menace.) (And Phantom Menace.) (*And!*... Phantom Menace.) (There. Now that's out of the way and I will *never* do another Phantom Menace commercial again. Perhaps a certain soft-drink manufacturer out there will TAKE THE HINT!!!) BEGIN ACT 3. RETURN TO: EXT.: LAWNDALE HIGH, LIBRARY. (MUSIC: "Vision Incision", Lo Fidelity Allstars.) CUT TO: INT.: LIBRARY. QUINN: What are *you* doing here? Don't you have class this period? Not that I really *care* what you do or anything. DARIA: As long as it doesn't involve you, you mean. (Sighs.) It's that Baldwin guy O'Neill brought in, I can't take him anymore. QUINN: So you're... *cutting class?* DARIA: (Protests.) No! I'm-- LIBRARIAN: (Off-camera.) Shhh! DARIA: (Lowers voice.) I'm just... I'm not learning anything there so I'm doing my own... I'm... (Sighs, she's not as good a liar as Quinn.) Yes. I'm cutting class. Happy? QUINN: (Delighted.) Daria! DARIA: Have fun telling Mom and Dad. QUINN: What, are you *kidding?* I'm not gonna go and narc on you! DARIA: (Skeptical.) You're not? QUINN: Of *course* not, you think I want to discourage you? This is like *the* coolest thing you've ever *done!* We'll have you wearing halter-tops and scrunchies like a *normal* person in no time! DARIA: You can't be serious. QUINN: But I *am* serious! (After a quick look around to make sure the Fashion Club isn't watching, she actually puts a hand on Daria's shoulder.) I'm *proud* of you today, Daria, you're finally starting to drop that *brain* attitude! Just think, before long we'll be like sisters, *real* sisters I mean, and we'll be able to trade clothes and go to the mall together and talk about guys and-- (Then it hits her.) --Waitaminute, you cut class... and you're at the *LIBRARY?!* (Throws up her hands.) God, you are *hopeless*, Daria! (Frustrated little shriek.) *Uhh!* LIBRARIAN: (Off-camera.) *Shhhhh!* QUINN: (Whirls, annoyed.) All *right!* *God!* (Beat.) Some people are so *rude!* (Daria goes back to her book as Quinn stalks away in disgust.) (MUSIC: "Even Though", Sugar Ray.) CUT TO: EXT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE, LATE AFTERNOON. (Quinn, in a bikini and sunglasses, is tanning in a lawn chair in the front yard. In a chair beside her sits Helen in casual clothes, doing paperwork. Jake's trimming the shrubbery with a pair of clippers. Daria arrives home as the scene opens.) JAKE: (Spots his daughter.) Heyyy, there you are, kiddo! Your mother was gonna ask-- HELEN: (Takes over.) Daria? What's been going on at school? DARIA: (Taken by surprise.) Um, nothing. HELEN: Come on now, isn't there something you'd like to share with us? DARIA: No, nothing I can think of. HELEN: (Prodding.) About your English class...? (Quinn lowers her sunglasses enough to watch. Daria notices, glowers at the little rat, who returns a confused look, like "*What?*") DARIA: (Disgusted sigh.) All right, fine. If you must know, I cut my English class the last two d-- HELEN: Nooo, I meant your *play*, Mr O'Neill said you're doing a play next week! DARIA: He called *again?* Doesn't he know there are laws against harassment? HELEN: He was just afraid you weren't going to mention it to us, sweetie, you *know* we always love to be involved with your school projects. I was just trying to coordinate my schedule with Eric and the Library Board, so I could make it... JAKE: (Half-pouty.) Howcome nobody ever calls *me* about the girls? DARIA: (Dry.) I'll reserve a balcony seat for you. (Tries to sneak into the house before Helen--) HELEN: (Catches her. Folds arms, cross look.) Now what's this about cutting class? (Daria shoots her sister the look again, then gets a look of genuine shock as she realizes... Quinn *didn't* tell! Quinn simply puts a hand to her forehead, shakes her head: Daria's *clueless*.) DARIA: Whoops. CUT TO: (Closeup of Daria and Jane sitting, talking.) JANE: So as punishment they took away your TV for... how many weeks? DARIA: Three. JANE: *Ouch*. (Beat.) And they honestly believe that'll make you a born- again Baldwinite, just like that? DARIA: Apparently. JANE: Think it'll do any good? (Zoom out to reveal the girls are on the bed in:) INT.: JANE'S ROOM. (Daria's been watching TV there the whole time.) ANNOUNCER: (On TV.) He installs hidden cameras in public restrooms... and *you* could be his next star! Find out how to protect yourself from the "Lavatory Lensmaster", when "Sick, Sad World" returns! DARIA: (Answering Jane's question.) Doubtful. (The two exchange smirks.) (MUSIC: "Duende", Delerium.) CUT TO: EXT.: LAWNDALE HIGH. MONDAY MORNING. CUT TO: INT.: LAWNDALE HIGH, HALLWAY. (A closeup, 360-degree pan around Our Heronie, face set like stone, as she proceeds through halls. Cut off the music as Daria is accosted by--) JODIE: Are you coming to English today, Daria? DARIA: Yes, Jodie. I relish the thought of subjecting myself to more pointless criticism. And after that maybe I'll work on my yodeling. JODIE: (Serious.) Daria, I really think it's time you buried that hatchet. DARIA: In his back. JODIE: I'm serious, you've gotta talk to him about this. You're missing classwork, Jane said you were grounded... and we still have a whole week of class with Baldwin. It'll definitely get worse before it gets better. LI: (Over intercom, as if on cue.) Daria Morgendorffer, please report to the principal's office, iiimediately! (Daria gets a look of resignation.) JODIE: See? (MUSIC: "I'd Like That", XTC.) CUT TO: INT.: MS LI'S OFFICE. (Ms Li, behind her desk, and Mr O'Neill. Baldwin isn't present.) LI: Ms Morgendorffer, please have a seat. (Beat.) This is getting to be a routine with us, isn't it? O'NEILL: (Oozing goopy sentiment.) Now, Daria, we just want to stress that we're not upset with you, you're not in any sort of-- (Makes finger-quotes.) --"trouble" here-- LI: (Cuts in.) Oohhh *yes* you are! O'NEILL: I know you've had some difficulties with Mr Baldwin, and I was just becoming concerned about your repeated absences, so I asked Ms Li-- LI: (Stands, moves toward door.) Daria, come with me. CUT TO: EXT.: MS LI'S OFFICE. (Mr O'Neill follows Daria and Ms Li into the hall.) LI: (Indicates the trophy case.) Daria, do you think *these* were obtained by *quitting* when the game gets tough?? (Shakes her head.) Hard work, and perrrrseverence, Ms Morgendorffer! You will *deal* with your problem and let it make you *strooonger*. You will resume going to class so that you may graduate with hooonors and let yoouuur success extol the virtues of... Lllaawwwndale High. (Beat.) Aaand you will serve one week's detention for skipping! (Ms Li proceeds back into her office, closing the door. Daria turns away, wordlessly. Mr O'Neill follows, catches up.) O'NEILL: (Looks guilty, ready to cry.) I-I'm sorry, Daria... LI'S VOICE: (Intercom, she's spying on him somehow.) *Noooo* you're not! O'NEILL: Um, you know, Daria, this could actually be very positive growth experience for you. Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve yourself. DARIA: Or fail miserably. O'NEILL: (Stricken.) Y-yes, I... suppose that's one way of putting it... But I'm reminded of a story... (Daria gets an "uh-oh" look.) O'NEILL: You see, once upon a time, a king had a boulder placed in the middle of a road... DISSOLVE TO: EXT.: LANE RESIDENCE. DARIA'S VOICE: It's a conspiracy. *Everyone's* against me. CUT TO: (Closeup of Daria on the bed, talking.) DARIA: My parents, Mr O'Neill... even Jane. (Zoom out to reveal it's *Trent* Daria's talking to. The two of them sit on the bed in his room.) [Hey, 'shippers, wake up! Look, Trent's in this one! See? See??] TRENT: Yeah... that must suck. Watching your dream get put down at every turn. People telling you you're just not good enough. That you can't play in enough different keys. I know what that's like. DARIA: (Senses topic-drift here.) Umm... yyyeah... TRENT: But y'know, Daria, maybe this guy's just being honest. Sometimes the only way to really help somebody is to hurt them. (Beat.) Whoa. That was deep. I gotta use that. (From under the mattress he pulls his notebook of Mystik Spiral lyrics, jots it down.) TRENT: (Puts lyric book away.) Anyway, the point is, I remember my senior year in high school. (Beat.) Well, not really. But there was this one time right before graduation. Jesse Moreno was in this garage band with a couple other guys, and I watched 'em practice one day. (Zoom in on Trent as he speaks.) They had a raw, kinetic sound and showed a lotta promise... DARIA: But...? TRENT: But I noticed all these little things holding them back. So I sat down, told 'em what I thought they could do to improve. Had Jesse's brother teach 'em how to really use that sixth string. DARIA: And how'd they take it? TRENT: (Lopsided smirk.) Now I'm their lead singer and guitarist. DARIA: Mmm. (She tries to seem grateful to Trent, but the truth is this didn't really help her situation any.) [Okay, 'shippers, that's the only Trent part. You can stop reading now.] CUT TO: EXT.: PIZZA KING. (MUSIC: "Where I Stand", Days of the New.) CUT TO: INT.: PIZZA KING. (Daria with Jane at their favorite table, enjoying her favorite non-lasagna Italian entree. Open the scene in mid-conversation.) JANE: Personally I'd've had the peasant move the boulder *back* after he took the gold. "Power to the proletariat" kind of thing. Or at least put in a scene where someone gets mauled by bears. DARIA: What is it with you and animal attacks? JANE: Nothin', it's just cool when our four-legged friends turn on us. (Spots Kevin and Brittany stumbling through the door in a lip-lock. Nods her head in their direction.) Heads up, two savage beasts at 10:00. DARIA: (On another topic.) That's what's so stupid about this whole mess: What does it even *matter* to him why the stupid pause is there? Those two are just gonna screw it up in front of everyone anyway. If Ms Li and Mr O'Neill think they're going to change my mind, they're sadly mistaken. (Kevin and Brittany notice Daria and come over.) BRITTANY: Daria? Will you *please* come back to class, and do the play with us? DARIA: I have no desire to participate in the predestined failure of that pointless endeavor. KEVIN: (Looks at Brittany, confused.) Umm... JANE: (Explains.) She said no, Kevin. KEVIN: We're still using your script, y'know. Me 'n' Brit tried to do a new one like you said, but Mr B said maybe we should just use yours. Which is cool with us, we decided. Cuz ours kinda, um, sucked. DARIA: (Taken by surprise, but pleased to hear this.) Really? JANE: (To Kevin.) Now, now. Don't knock your own work. That's what critics are for. KEVIN: Yeah. Only he's been having me play *your* part, cuz he says maybe it's better if I like, have less lines to say. Hope that's okay. BRITTANY: So will you please help us? It's just not the same without you. KEVIN: Yeah, we really need you, man. (Daria looks torn. On one hand she's sick of Baldwin and wants nothing to do with him. But there's something very satisfying about hearing Kevin and Brittany say they need her. Jane watches, intrigued.) DARIA: Mmm... well... I dunno... (Then she gives a slight nod to Jane, indicating she's decided to go with it.) (Brittany, not noticing this, elbows Kevin, points at their table.) KEVIN: Um, we'll pay for that, if you'll come back. (Indicates pizza.) DARIA: Done. (Allows herself a smile. She'd already made up her mind, the free pizza is an extra bonus.) CUT TO: EXT.: LAWNDALE HIGH. DARIA'S VOICE: (Slight echo.) "Do I have a good reason to be feeling such despair and hopelessness?" CUT TO: INT.: AUDITORIUM. (Daria, performing what was originally Kevin's part in the skit she wrote for Baldwin's class, sits in a chair facing the audience on an otherwise bare stage. She holds a prop gun butt-first, the barrel pointed toward herself as she stares down it. A blue-white spotlight, mixed with amber to avoid a totally unnatural flesh tone, transfixes her, leaving the rest of the auditorium in a darkness accentuated by the light's brightness.) DARIA: (Soliloquy, in her usual monotone.) "...If my misery has a legitimate cause, then my life really is pointless." (As Daria speaks, pan across the audience, showing reactions. The students are captivated. Mr O'Neill is fighting back tears. Helen has her hands clasped over her chest. Jake looks like he's starting to nod off. The Fashion Clubbers look at each other like "Uggh, what is *this?*" Quinn shrinks down in her seat, Daria's embarrassing her again.) DARIA: "But if I'm merely overreacting, then life still is pointless, since I'm perceiving my problems to be this bad and can't convince myself otherwise, despite what others might say." (Kevin and Brittany enter from stage right and stand at the edge of the spotlight. Kevin wears a black hooded coat designed to make him look like the character of Death -- it's over his shoulder pads, of course -- and carries a scythe as a prop. And, yes, he's still got that stupid football under one arm. Brittany carries a copy of the script -- no way she and Kevin could ever remember all those lines.) DARIA: (Just the tiniest smidgen of emotion leaking through.) "And yet there are so many other people worse off than me. If they can deal with it and I can't, then I must be truly pathetic." (Turns, noticing "Death" and Brittany. Still in her flat voice.) "What's going on? Who dares interrupt me when I'm pondering these morose convictions that can't be shaken by mere reality?" (Pause. Brittany holds up the script for Kevin. Daria looks at him expectantly. Finally, Brittany elbows him.) KEVIN: Oh, my line! (Reads.) "Why, don't you... rec-ognize me? I am Th--... Tha--" DARIA: (Helps him out, whispers.) Thanatos. KEVIN: "Thanatos! Uh, the Grim Spectre of Death!" (Beat.) Whoa, this is cool! BRITTANY: (Reads, sounds out the words slowly.) "*He* has *come* to... es-*cort* your... pre-ma-ture-ly... de-par-ted *soul* to its... af-ter-life! P--" (Brittany catches herself at the last moment, doesn't *say* the "pause" this time, but lets the dialogue break momentarily. Daria smirks a bit as she catches a raised eyebrow from Baldwin in the audience: She didn't let his treatment of her script make a bit of difference.) BRITTANY: (Continues.) "...As he did mine." DARIA: (To Brittany's character.) "And why have you come with him?" BRITTANY: (*Bad* acting!) "I re-a-lized too *late* that *I'd* made the *wrong* decision!" DARIA: "So you've come to talk me out of my grim agenda?" (Closeup, Jane and Jodie in the audience.) JODIE: You can just tell she wrote that part with herself in mind. JANE: (Watching, very entertained.) I think any of these roles would be appropriate for our Daria. (Back to onstage.) BRITTANY: (Reads, more bad acting.) "I don't think I *need* to. If you *really* feel this way, you *would* have *already* *pulled* the trigger. I think you *must* have the same un-cer-tain-ties *I* did. You seem to be *filled* with doubt, always second-guessing yourself." KEVIN: (To Brit's character. Even worse acting.) "But maybe she... *has* made up... her mind. Who are you to... keep her from... doing what she wants with her life?" BRITTANY: (To Kevin's character.) "*Who* are *you* to pressure her into *ending* it?" (To Daria's character.) "It's your choice, and yours... *alone*." DARIA: "Then I think I'd like to *be* alone." KEVIN: (Butchering the words.) "Ob-vi-ous-ly it is not yet... her time. We shall... leave her for now, and... re-turn when she is... ready." (Kevin and Brittany slowly step back, appearing to fade as they leave the central spotlight still on Daria, holding the gun pointed at herself and looking deep in thought. Fade the lights, close the curtains.) (MUSIC: "Saint Joe on the Schoolbus", Marcy Playground.) (Pan across the audience, showing reactions. Cheers from Daria's classmates. Jane puts two fingers in her mouth and blows a loud whistle. Even Andrea claps. Baldwin has an expression of pride while Mr O'Neill's finally broken down and is sobbing uncontrollably. Ms Barch attempts, unsuccessfully, to comfort him. Helen looks momentarily stunned, but notices the applause around her and joins in... then elbows Jake, who's dozed off.) DISSOLVE TO: INT.: AUDITORIUM. A SHORT TIME LATER. (Daria's family waits for her at the top of the auditorium steps, by the door. Daria emerges from backstage, where she comes face-to-face with Baldwin.) BALDWIN: (Proud.) Congratulations, Daria. I just wanted to say you did a fabulous job up there. DARIA: ("Yeah, right.") *Except*...? BALDWIN: What do you mean, "except"? DARIA: What trivial nuance are you going to nitpick this time? BALDWIN: (Deciding how to approach this.) You know, they say a cynic is someone who knows the price of everything but the value of nothing. DARIA: That's me, all right. (Beat.) It's no wonder you're friends with Mr O'Neill. You spout the same tired phrases he does. BALDWIN: (Shakes his head.) You still don't get it, do you? DARIA: Apparently not. BALDWIN: You have so much more potential as a writer than anyone else here! You're honest, you have a gift for words, I have no doubt you'll accomplish everything you told me about in your first essay. DARIA: All right. So then why are you constantly tearing my work down? BALDWIN: Because that's what real life *is* for a writer. Do you really think everyone's going to support you unconditionally like Tim? DARIA: (Her eyes are wide with surprise. This is clearly something that she's never really even *considered*.) Oh. BALDWIN: There'll be critics, of course. Vocal, vehement critics. But you don't have to agree with them. You can either let them get you down, or you can channel it, and take a harder look at what goes into your own work. Like you did up there. (Indicates the stage. Smiles.) Maybe you're not quite the cynic you think you are. (Daria, for once, is speechless. She looks like she feels like the world's biggest fool for not understanding this sooner.) BALDWIN: Which is why I think my Sun Foundation workshop this summer would be so good for you. (Hopeful.) I'll keep a spot open. DARIA: Mmm... I dunno... BALDWIN: Just think about it in your spare time. That's all I ask. Okay? (He extends a hand in friendship, which, after some hesitation, Daria shakes. Then she turns and proceeds up the steps to where her family is still waiting.) DARIA: (Closeup, thought VO.) Okay. I'm done. (As she heads up, Charles Ruttheimer nears, catches the tail end of it.) UPCHUCK: (Watches her go.) Rrrrrr... (To Baldwin.) Watch out for that one, sir. She's *feisty!* (Grinning, nods knowingly, does his eyebrow thing.) BALDWIN: (Nods agreement, watching Daria exit.) Quite decisive, yes... DISSOLVE TO: EXT.: SUN FOUNDATION. MID-JUNE. (MUSIC: Banco de Gaia, "Last Train to Lhasa", the remix by Sasha & John Digweed.) (A narrow paved road lined with trees, leading down through the hills to a group of interconnected buildings, each with an arched roof, their bases in distinct regular-polygon shapes. Hold for a minute, then--) CUT TO: INT.: SUN FOUNDATION LEARNING CENTER. (Fade music.) (Jane and Jodie, each taking a summer course, run into each other. Jane carries one of those large portfolios artists use to safely carry their portraits around.) JODIE: Hey. JANE: Hey. (Looks around.) Have you seen Daria? JODIE: (Shakes her head.) I dunno, Mr Baldwin said she signed up... CUT TO: (Extreme closeup of Daria -- only her eyes, encircled by her glasses and taking on a thoughtful look, fit into the shot.) DARIA: (VO.) "I've spent seventeen years in isolation from the caviling bigotry of the socialite masses. And that suits me just fine." (Cut to Daria's point of view, a shot of her journal. Continue voice-over as her hand, holding a pen, writes out the words she's thinking.) DARIA: (VO continues.) "But if what Eugene Baldwin said is true -- that I'm not really the cynic I've always thought I was -- then who exactly am I? How will I cope with what lies ahead? Will I always be able to shrug it off with an incisive comment, or will I often end up frustrated... like Trent? Sometimes I wonder how he handles it..." (Daria's hands from another angle, still writing.) DARIA: (VO, writes.) "...And then I find myself thinking... For God's sake, Morgendorffer: Stop babbling to yourself... put down the stupid notebook... and just... *ASK* him!" EXT.: BEACH. (Zoom out from a profile shot of Daria, who pauses in her writing and gives a sideways glance at Trent, who's lying on a towel beside her, sunbathing. The rest of the Morgendorffer family can be seen in the background: a fully- tanned Quinn soaking up attention from a group of surfer guys, Helen in a beach chair talking on her cell phone, and Jake getting buried in the sand by a couple of kids.) [And just think, all the 'shippers who bailed out missed this last part!] (...la-la LA la la...) (CREDITS AND CUTE LITTLE RENDERINGS OF THE CHARACTERS.) (CLOSING MUSIC: Ascension's "Someone", w/ Paul Oakenfold mixing. Fade in right before the start of the vocals.) THE END AUTHOR'S NOTES: Pure autobiography, this one. During my junior year (IIRC) of high school, the teacher brought in this guy, and we did essays and wrote our own stupid skit that we had to take to the grade schools and perform. I loathed every minute of it, and I suppose writing about it serves as an exorcism of sorts. Both the Baldwin character and the Sun Foundation are based on real places, though they've been "tweaked" considerably to fit the script's needs. Even Daria's skit and the opening paragraph of her first essay are based on stuff I wrote in high school (which I still have, don't ask me why), though I did paraphrase them to fit Daria's style a little better. This is the "season opener", and like "Esteemsters", "Arts 'n' Crass", and "Through a Lens Darkly" (which *should* have been the Season 3 premiere, I don't care what MTV says), it serves to reinforce the idea of who Daria is and what she's all about, as well as re-introducing the rest of the cast (hence the otherwise pointless icebreaker scene with Baldwin). I also wanted to explore Daria's flawed side. She really is a bit of a jerk to Kevin and Brittany in this one, continually putting them down right to their faces. Sure, they *are* nitwits and who *could* resist making a few cracks at their expense? But Daria's never really been outright insulting to them (the possible exception being in "It Happened One Nut" when she calls Kevin an idiot, but that was under fear of humiliation in front of Trent). Daria treats Kevin and Brittany in pretty much the way Baldwin treats Daria (or *seems* to, from Daria's POV -- his motivation is eventually revealed to both us and her). The play, too, is a reflection of what Daria experiences. Lots of similar parallels in this script, see how many you can find. When I bring my own guest characters aboard, I like to use them to explore aspects of the "real" cast we haven't seen before. We all know sarcasm as Daria's favorite response to whatever's thrust upon her. Here she pegs Baldwin for everything he's not, and continually anticipates responses he doesn't deliver on. Consider that Daria's primary objective is to avoid emotional pain, hence her use of words to drive away people who might hurt her if she let them get too close. Stripped of this primary defense mechanism, Daria loses her guiding light and becomes uncertain how to react, ultimately leading to her class-cutting simply to get away from it all. In short I wanted to explore what might happen if Daria's sarcasm simply did not work. As Daria matures, she will learn to handle such Issues better, but at present she hasn't really given much thought to her future and thus was genuinely surprised when it hit her that not everyone is going to encourage her like Mr O'Neill. Daria the writer really needed a formative experience, and the show hasn't hit on it yet, so I gave her one. Stuff that might have gotten past you: * Jane's reference to her figure-drawing class was from "The Invitation", where she mentions she'd studied life drawing "last summer" (which would be two summers ago from Season 3, since Season 3 takes place one year after Season 1). * Jodie's trombone reference is from my two-parter "Rain on Your Parade" and "Quinntet". She makes an allusion to the Student Diversity League in "No Picnic". * Mr O'Neill's story came from... er, one of those feel-good self-help mush books, you know the kind. I found it at my Grandma's, I can't remember what it was called. They're all pretty much the same, though. * Daria's a lot more comfortable around Trent than she was a year ago, in "Lotto Nonsense", isn't she? Here she was able to have a nice, serious conversation with the guy, even asking his advice... though the two of them did ultimately disagree. I'm building to Something (with a capital "S", you'll note). (And no, not *THAT!*) Dedication: This fan-fiction is dedicated to the memory of Tim Kelly, a prolific and very talented playwright from the Pioneer Drama Service, whose many scripts served as the basis for many high school theatrical productions of which I was a part, and which helped fuel my own interests as a writer. He will be missed. (By myself and my high school music teacher, if by no one else.) God it's good to be back. Have I still "got it"? Other authors like John Berry, Jon Kilner and Kara "Driven" Wild have made me work a lot harder for this new season of fics. Hopefully this year's scripts will be better than the last set. Here's a preview of what's ahead. (If you want to be surprised, don't look. And in the proud tradition of MTV, I've tried my best to make these sound as lame-ass as possible): "A Morgendorffer Scorned" Daria the writer gets her first taste of genuine criticism. "Cut Above" Quinn and Daria try new looks, and Sandi enters a pet show. "Fireworks" A "when Jake met Helen" story, with a 4th of July backdrop. "Short-Order Kooks" A flashback episode in which Daria works at the Highland Burger World with Beavis and Butt-Head. "Throw Away the Key" Jake becomes overly concerned for his family's safety, and Ms Li tightens school security. "Tutor Monarch" Daria faces her greatest challenge ever: Can she help Kevin pass Ms Barch's midterm? "DTV" Daria gets her own TV show. Would you like to be updated when I release new "Daria" stories and get sneak previews of what I have in store just around the corner? If so, send an e-mail and ask to be put on my "Daria" fanfic update list. This won't cram your mailbox full, I promise. One update a week at most. Also let me know if you want to receive new stories by e-mail, or just the announcements. Anybody got any fan art based on my fics? If so, you can send it to: C.E. Forman 6823 N. TerraVista #706 Peoria, IL 61614 U.S.A. I'd love to see it, and I'll gladly forward a copy to Martin Pollard for Outpost Daria. E-mail is good too, JPEGs, GIFs or bitmaps work best. [Disclaimer: "Daria" and all related characters are trademarks of MTV Networks, a division of Viacom International Inc., and are used here without permission for the purpose of fan fiction. I suppose if you represent MTV's legal department you could sue, but think about it, what's it really going to get you? I mean, *I* sure don't have any money, and there's like fifty other people writing these fan stories, so you might as well just live with it and maybe learn to appreciate the fact that your show has such a loyal, dedicated legion of fans who care enough to write things like this. Of course, you *could* just hire us and that'd solve your problem nicely too.] [This "Daria" fanfic story is copyright 1999 by C.E. Forman but may be distributed freely in unaltered form to fans of "Daria" everywhere, provided the author's name and e-mail address remain intact. Thank you, and good night.]