[Episode #2 of "Lost Season #2".] One-sentence summary: Quinn and Daria try new looks, and Sandi enters a pet show. 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.) (...la-la LA la la...) Daria in "Cut Above" Written by C.E. Forman (ceforman@worldnet.att.net) BEGIN ACT 1. INT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE. LIVING ROOM. (Open with a closeup on the coffee table, where three colored hair-clips are lined up in apple-pie order.) SANDI'S VOICE: Bubblegum pink? Lemon-meringue? Or tortoiseshell? (Slowly zoom out to reveal Sandi, Stacy and Tiffany together on one of the couches, studying them intently. Stacy, as Fashion Club secretary, takes notes.) SANDI: (Seated in the middle, glances to Tiffany, then Stacy.) Stacy? Your thoughts? STACY: (Stops writing.) Umm... the lemon? (She shoots an expectant look at Sandi, who frowns.) STACY: (Nervous.) Uh, I mean, the pink? (Again, the frown deepens.) STACY: (Meekly.) Tortoiseshell? (This time Sandi smiles, pleased, nods approvingly.) TIFFANY: (Agrees.) Yeahhh. (Full shot reveals Daria sitting on the other couch. She lowers the paper she's reading.) DARIA: I'll just have plain vanilla, please. With sprinkles. SANDI: (Irritation.) Ex*cuse* me, Quinn's cousin with the same last name as Quinn... but we're discussing a matter of the utmost importance here. DARIA: (Can't take these three anymore.) Well. Far be it from me to interfere with such an earth-shattering event. (Folds the paper and puts it on the table.) If you need to use the red phone, it's in the War Room. (Daria stands and leaves as Quinn enters with a plate of sliced fruit.) STACY: (Confused.) What did she mean by that? (Looks to Sandi for an answer.) TIFFANY: God that girl is weird. (Beat.) Really... really... weird. SANDI: Back to business. All in favor of making tortoiseshell the official hair-clip color of the Lawndale High Fashion Club? (Raises her hand.) Aye. STACY: (Follows suit.) Aye. TIFFANY: (Ditto.) Yeah. QUINN: (Sits down. Decides she'd better agree even though she's not entirely sure what's happening.) Um, aye. SANDI: (Sneers.) *Quinn*, how nice of you to *join* us! Stacy, please read back our order of business since Quinn left to prepare refreshments she was *supposed* to have ready *ahead* of time, as specified in section one-oh-three-dash-*six* of the Fashion Club Protocol Handbook? STACY: (Turns back one page in her notebook, reads.) "Tuesday the 7th. Sandi called the meeting to order. Then we discussed what color hair-clip would be best for an outfit composed mainly of earth tones. I said lemon, then pink, then agreed with Sandi on tortoiseshell. Tiffany said 'yeah'. Then that girl with the glasses said--" SANDI: (Interrupts.) That won't be necessary, Stacy. STACY: (Pen poised.) Should I put in that I repeated all this so Quinn could hear? SANDI: (Emphatically.) Of *course*. (Moves Daria's paper onto the floor to get at the tortoiseshell clip, which she holds up as she lectures.) To reiterate. *Never* use bright solids with an earth-tone ensemble, especially if your hair is brown as *well*. QUINN: (Can't let Sandi upstage her. Holds up the pink clip.) And people shouldn't use these things *period* if their hair is too short to justify it. I mean, short is okay, but not like *short*-short. TIFFANY: Ughhh... short-short... SANDI: (Turns.) Stacy? Did you *get* all that? (But Stacy's looking at something in the paper Daria left behind, and doesn't hear Sandi.) SANDI: *STA*cy?? STACY: (Afraid she's made Sandi upset.) Um, sorry Sandi, I just saw this article, and it says they're having a pet show next week, so I just thought maybe we could-- SANDI: *Sta*-cyyy! Article two, section nineteen-dash-*four?* "Fashion Club members should refrain from reading newspapers, not only because it makes us vulnerable to misinformation from fashion know-nothings, but because newsprint can ruin nail polish." STACY: (Looks at her hands, freaks.) Ohmygod! My fingers, they're all *black!* Ohmygod! OhmyGOD! (Hyperventilates.) SANDI: (Thinking, to Tiffany.) You know, a pet show could be an excellent method of expanding the Fashion Club's area of expertise... TIFFANY: Yeahhh... SANDI: And pet ownership reduces stress, which leads to fewer *wrinkles*... TIFFANY: Yeahhh... SANDI: It'll be like a kitty *makeover*. QUINN: (The only one paying attention to Stacy.) Breathe deeply! In, out. STACY: (Squeals, tries to wipe each hand on the other.) Ohmygod! Getitoff! GETITOFFFF!! (MUSIC: "C'Est La Vie", B*Witched.) CUT TO: INT.: DINING ROOM. 7:00. (Helen opens the microwave and pulls out a family-size package of piping-hot lasagna as Daria and Quinn sit down for dinner.) HELEN: This is strange, usually your father gets home at least an hour before I do. (Croons.) Oh well, looks like it's just us girls tonight! (Just then we hear the door opening.) HELEN: (Calls out.) Jake? Is that you? (Beat, now nags.) Where have you been? The racetrack? Hanging out with your bar-fly friends? (From closeup of Daria and Quinn seated at the table, we see Jake walk into the frame, but cut off at around chest-height.) JAKE: (Quickly.) No, no! I just stopped by the barber's on the way home! (Now pan up to show the rest of Jake, and his hair has that new-cut look, a little shorter than we're used to seeing it.) JAKE: (Sits.) Got a trim, caught part of the game... (Sullen.) ...Then he stuck me for *twelve-fifty*, if you ask me *everything's* getting too damn expensive these days! HELEN: (Brings dinner over.) Mmm, looks nice, Jakey. (She ruffles it playfully, then inspects it.) Although I think you're right, it *is* starting to look a bit thin on top. JAKE: Oh my *GOD!* Really? It's not *grey*, is it?! (Jake looks panicked, covers his crown with both hands. Helen sits down, and the family passes the lasagna around.) QUINN: Yeah, it's nice, Daddy, but short hair doesn't really get the chance to show off its natural bounciness. (She straightens her own, pushing part of it back from where it hangs down in front of her shoulders.) You know, Mom, you really should consider letting yours grow out and maybe getting a permanent or something. I mean, face it, most guys are more turned on by a girl with long hair. (Jake and Helen exchange looks -- Helen's asking, "Is *that* why the spice has gone out of our marriage?", and Jake's more like just, "Huh?") DARIA: (Using two fingers, lifts a strand of hair off her lasagna.) Oh yeah. This is sexy, all right. QUINN: (Defensive.) Why are you looking at *me?* Your hair's long too, Daria, it's not *my* fault you're shedding! DARIA: (Analyzes the evidence.) Excuse me, but it's red. This is definitely a Quinn hair. (She reaches across the table and puts it on Quinn's plate.) QUINN: Ewww! DARIA: My sentiments exactly. HELEN: (Irritated.) Daria! (Picks up the strand, carries it to the kitchen garbage.) You know, Quinn, you've always looked nice with long hair, but did you ever think there might be such a thing as *too* long. JAKE: Yeah, y'know back in my day they used to call you a *girl* if you had long hair. (Beat.) Um, if you were a guy, that is. (Beat, looks awkward.) Er, we *are* just talking about hair, right? (Quinn's hair is hanging over her plate again. As she sits back down, Helen tries to brush it back. Quinn looks irked, bats her hand away, does it herself.) HELEN: Seriously, honey, have you ever thought about getting it cut? QUINN: Mo-OMM, we've had this conversation before, like a thousand times! JAKE: (Off on his own rant now.) Yeah, that's all they ever said! "Get a haircut, ya freakin' hippie!" Same overgrown he-man soldier types who SHAVED IT ALL OFF IN MILITARY SCHOOL! HELEN: (Lawyer-negotiation with Quinn.) We'd compensate you, of course. Say, a new outfit of your choice to match? QUINN: You don't get it, mother. As a member of the Fashion Club, I'm bound to certain principles. Like not changing my hair without consulting my fellow members first. It's how we maintain our standards while still expressing our individuality. DARIA: (Adds.) By all conforming to some arbitrary fashion distinction. QUINN: (To Daria.) I *meant*, expressing our individuality as a *clique*, keeping the *Club* a cut above the rest of the school. (To Helen.) Besides, I can't take a chance on it not coming out right. I have to look my best for the pet show. DARIA: I won't say it. HELEN: (To Daria.) *Thank* you, honey. (To Quinn, interested.) Pet show? JAKE: What pet show? QUINN: Sandi's entering her cat Fluffy in a pet show. It's the Fashion Club's project this month. DARIA: (Deadpan.) "The Fashion Club. Making the animal kingdom shallower, one kitty at a time." JAKE: (Pouty.) Wish *I* had a pet. DARIA: You did. Remember the snake? JAKE: (His face crumples a bit.) Waylon? QUINN: Ick, I can't believe we're talking about snakes, I'm trying to *eat* here! (As she says this she picks another hair off her plate.) HELEN: Whatever happened to that awful thing anyway? QUINN: (Brushes hair back again.) Daria's friend killed it. JAKE: (Reliving the memory.) Waylon...? DARIA: (Sorry she even brought it up.) Jane *said* she was sorry already. She didn't know it was yours. QUINN: So getting back to this hair thing? How much wardrobe compensation are we talking about? Hyperbolically speaking, I mean. DARIA: (Corrects.) Hypothetically. QUINN: (Thinks Daria just made fun of her.) Shut *up!* HELEN: Hmmm... how does fifty sound? QUINN: *Fifty?!* This is my *hair* we're talking about! HELEN: All right, one hundred, but that's my final offer. QUINN: (Thinks. Schemes.) O-*kay*, but I'll need the money in advance so I can put together the right outfit *before* I change my hair. I promise I'll have it cut afterward. DARIA: (Deadpan.) I have complete faith in you, based on your spotless track record. HELEN: (Just as Jake's about to produce his wallet.) Now Quinn, give us *some* credit. We weren't born yesterday, you know. (Jake leaves his wallet alone and returns to his dinner.) HELEN: First your hair, *then* your outfit money. QUINN: (Pouty little grunt.) *Uhh!* Fine! (She gets up, storms out.) HELEN: (Turns to her other daughter.) Daria? DARIA: Forget it. HELEN: (Defensive.) All I was going to say is, since Quinn's trying a different look, maybe you'd like one too. That's *all*, it was *just* a suggestion. (Beat, not quite all:) I mean, you *could* try expressing your individuality in a slightly *different* way... It'd still be *your* choice, wouldn't it? DARIA: Hmm. (Appears to consider it.) You know, I think I'll do that. HELEN: (Surprised.) You will? DARIA: In fact, I think I'll give myself a makeover right now. (Daria stands.) DARIA: Ready? Here goes... (Closeup on her jacket as she slowly pulls the zipper all the way up. Hold for a beat, then back to full shot of the table.) DARIA: (Self-satisfied smirk. Deadpan.) There. I hope everyone will still recognize me. HELEN: (Just shakes her head, why bother pressing it further.) Oh, Daria... DARIA: Hey, you express your individuality *your* way, and let me do it in mine. (And she walks out.) (Closeup on Jake, who's been very quiet all this time.) JAKE: (Suddenly bursts out sobbing.) WAAAAYYYLONNNNNNN...!! (MUSIC: Soundgarden's "Superunknown".) CUT TO: INT.: DARIA'S ROOM. (Daria's lying on her bed, ceiling-watching. Quinn knocks, enters.) QUINN: Daria? Will you help me with something? DARIA: (Doesn't even look.) I'd love too, Quinn, but right now I'm too busy living life to the fullest. QUINN: Will you please get your hair cut? DARIA: I've told you before, I'm perfectly happy with my hair, the way I dress, the fact that I don't have any cute birthmarks... QUINN: *Please*, Daria? I need you to, so I can get that new outfit to wear to the pet show! DARIA: You're making even less sense than usual. If I were you I'd make sure your shampoo is safety-tested for neural damage. QUINN: Look, it's really simple: *You* tell Mom and Dad you'll get your hair cut short if they'll let you buy a new outfit. Then you give *me* the money. You get a new look -- which believe me you *need*. Mom and Dad get the satisfaction of knowing they accomplished something with one of us. And I get a new outfit. Everybody wins. DARIA: Especially you. (Realizes.) You're afraid to go through with it yourself, aren't you? QUINN: I am *not!* DARIA: You've had that hair for so long, you think anything else would automatically look bad just because it's a change. QUINN: (Irked.) Is that a fact? Well while we're on the subject, *you* haven't changed outfits since like, *birth!* DARIA: And just how long have *you* had that stupid T-shirt? QUINN: (Looks down at her smiley, then back at Daria, that competitive light in her eyes.) All right, Daria, let's see you put your moxie where your mouth is! DARIA: (Dryly.) We just had dinner. QUINN: *I'll* get my hair cut short, but *you* have to... (Thinks, then a cruel smile.) ...wear *yours* up in a big bun! DARIA: (No fear.) I can handle that. QUINN: *And* you have to wear makeup. (Beat, leans closer.) And *high heels*. (Beat, closer still.) For a whole *week!* DARIA: (Sits up, meets Quinn, nearly nose-to-nose.) I accept. (Extends a hand. They shake on it. Daria smirks as she squeezes.) QUINN: (Yanks her hand away.) *Oww!* CUT TO: EXT.: GRIFFIN RESIDENCE. (MUSIC: "Barbie Girl", Aqua.) (Hold on the house, then closeup to the front door. Linda answers, sees Sandi's friends there.) LINDA: Hello Tiffany. Stacy. (Icier.) Quinn. GIRLS: Hi. / Hey. / Hi, Mrs. Griffin. CUT TO: INT.: GRIFFIN RESIDENCE, REC ROOM. (Sandi is on the couch with Fluffy on her lap. She wears an old sweatshirt and sweatpants, and a cat-grooming glove on her right hand, which she uses to brush her pet. Her younger brothers, Sam and Chris, are on the floor attempting to strangle each other.) SANDI: Hold *still*, Fluffy! LINDA: (Enters from living room, Fashion Club in tow.) Sandi, honey, you have company. QUINN: Sandi? What are you doing? TIFFANY: (Sees Sandi's old clothes.) What are you *wearing?* (Fluffy catches sight of Quinn and crawls off Sandi's lap to rub against her legs.) QUINN: Aww, c'mere, Fluffy! (She picks him up and squeezes him, closing her eyes and smiling. Fluffy purrs contentedly. Stacy glowers.) TIFFANY: (As Quinn hands the cat to her.) So... Sandi? Why are you *dressed* like that? (Scratches the cat's chin.) STACY: (Suddenly points at Quinn, about to freak.) OhmyGod... Cat hair!! TIFFANY: (Looks down at her dress, repulsed.) Cat hair... iiiick... (She drops Fluffy, begins picking the hair off herself. Quinn brushes her own shirt. The three of them sit down, Quinn on the couch beside Sandi, Tiffany and Stacy on the floor.) SANDI: (Her usual manner.) I believe *that* answers your question regarding my attire. And as for *this*-- (Holds up her gloved hand.) --I *was* trying to keep Fluffy brushed so he looks his best for the show. STACY: (Watching Fluffy on the floor.) How can cats *lick* themselves? That's so gross. QUINN: So, um, Sandi? Can I ask your opinion on something? SANDI: My, this is a big day for asking questions, isn't it? (Removes the cat glove, sets it on the table beside some makeup she's got laid out.) What is it, Quinn? (The two boys finally notice Quinn, and stop pounding each other.) CHRIS: Hey, Sam! Quinn's here! (Stumbles over Sam, trying to get over to Quinn first.) Hi, Quinn! Wanna watch me pull Sandi's hair? SAM: Will you marry me someday? SANDI: Get *out*, you little twerps! (To Quinn.) Now then. If you're thinking of going out with James, you should know his dad just has a *motorboat*, not a yacht. QUINN: Um, actually, Sandi, I was just wondering... what would you guys say if I had my hair cut shorter? STACY: (Wide-eyed.) You're getting your hair cut short??! SANDI: Settle *down*, Stacy, she hasn't *done* anything yet. SAM: You'd still look great, Quinn! CHRIS: *Anything* would look good on you! SANDI: MothERRR! Make them *leave!* LINDA'S VOICE: (From other room, stern.) *Boyyysss!* Leave Sandi's friends alone! (Sam and Chris duck out of sight before they can get punished.) QUINN: (To irritate Sandi.) They're not bothering *me*. SANDI: (Back to Quinn.) Although as President of the Fashion Club, I must ask you to *explain* your intentions for changing a formula that's always proven successful. QUINN: (Doesn't want to tell Sandi about the bet she made with Daria.) Um, it's kind of hard for me to explain, Sandi. (Maybe she can get out of it if Sandi refuses.) So... you're saying it's a bad idea? SANDI: (Scheming look.) No, nooo. On the contrary, Quinn, I think it would be an *excellent* idea. TIFFANY: Buuuut... SANDI: (Silences her.) What's the matter, Tiffany? Don't you *want* Quinn to look her very best? TIFFANY: Ummm... of course. SANDI: Then it's settled. (To Quinn, advice.) Just *don't* go to a unisex salon. They try to cover too wide an area of expertise, and end up spreading their skills too thin. TIFFANY: Umm, Sandi... (She points to the table, where Fluffy is licking an open foundation container.) SANDI: *No*, Fluffy! (Stands, swipes at the cat, driving him away.) *Bad* kitty! (Fluffy slinks away toward the middle of the room, begins making hacking noises. Sam and Chris watch from around the corner, where they've secretly been spying.) CHRIS: Cool! SAM: Fluffy's gonna ralph! FASHION CLUB: (Closeup their reactions, as it happens.) EEE-eewwwwww!! (Sam and Chris laugh dementedly. Quinn, looking away from all this, still appears uncertain about going through with the hair change, but now that she's told Sandi she can't very well back out.) (MUSIC: "Unity", Reel Big Fish.) DISSOLVE TO: INT.: TRES TRESS SALON. QUINN: (Closeup, carry over her posture from the previous scene.) I want a new look, Jozu. (Medium shot of Quinn in the chair, with her stylist standing over her, prepping.) QUINN: Something cute, that goes without saying. Cute, but easy to manage, but not *too* easy to manage or it'll look like I'm being lazy and that would violate the Fashion Club's code of conduct. (Jozu lifts Quinn's hair, letting it spill through her fingers over the back of the chair.) QUINN: (Holds up a magazine for Jozu.) Something like this, only with some highlights. And it has to be shorter. Short, but not *short*-short. (Beat.) Well, okay, maybe a *little* short-short, but not *short* short-short! (Beat, Jozu picks up her scissors, lifts them to Quinn's hair. Just before the first snip, Quinn adds--) QUINN: (No nonsense, *dead* serious.) And I had *better* like it! (Jozu gets a very nervous expression on hearing this. You can just *see* it coming.) (MUSIC: Ricky Martin -- what *is* it with him and MTV? -- "Livin' La Vida Loca".) CUT TO: INT.: PIZZA KING. (Closeup on their buffet line, where three pans of pizza are lined up.) JANE'S VOICE: Quad-cheese? Canadian bacon? Or sausage-and-pepperoni? (Daria's green-sleeved forearm lifts the turner and puts a big slice of the third pizza on her plate. Cut to show Daria and Jane at the line.) JANE: (Nods, pleased.) The old reliable. (Helps herself, then the two head over to their favorite booth.) DARIA: (Sits, as does Jane.) Face it, we're traditionalists. JANE: Speaking of which... (Digs in her backpack beside her, produces an old fold-out bellows-style camera, the kind that looks sort of like an accordion.) See what I dug up in my Dad's closet the other day? Smile. (Balancing the bulky device, she snaps a pic, as Daria tries to look away.) DARIA: So you've gone paparazzi now? JANE: I've got it all figured out: I find the perfect shot, then there's this place on Rockwell that'll scan it, digitize it, transfer it to a canvas like they do with T-shirts, and voila! A whole new artistic medium. DARIA: You're a virtuoso. JANE: (Fiddles with the camera.) I think I remember most of the basics. Now I've just gotta find a subject tragic enough. DARIA: Too bad you missed Princess Di. JANE: Yeah... but there's always Princess Quinn! She on any obsessions lately? DARIA: Her Fashion Cult's entering a pet show. Plus she's been talking about getting her hair cut. JANE: Wow, busy week. DARIA: Yyyeah. (Beat, confides.) Um, what would you think if *I* tried something different too? JANE: I'd laugh my head off. DARIA: (Worried she may actually have to go through with this.) I'm serious. (Lifts her hair a bit.) Maybe wore it up, with some different shoes? JANE: (Pseudo-crestfallen.) You're losing the *boots?!* (Realizes.) Hey, this could be the perfect subject! DARIA: (Flatly.) Ohhh no. I refuse. JANE: I meant your sister! She's *bound* to produce some cataclysmic fashion imagery worthy of Jane Lane. (Shrugs.) And if not I can always sell the rejects to the Lowdown. DARIA: The school paper *pays* for their pictures? JANE: (Admits.) Well, 20% discount on cafeteria food. (Beat.) But *still*. It's more than the teachers get. CUT TO: INT.: TRES TRESS SALON. (MUSIC: The Roots, "It Just Don't Stop".) (Open on a shot of the floor, strewn with fallen locks of Quinn's hair around the base of the swivel seat.) JOZU: (Gives Quinn a hand mirror. We don't get to see her yet.) Well? What do you think? (Quinn takes the mirror, *gasps*.) JOZU: Er-- we can try a different style... QUINN: It's too *short!* JOZU: You said you wanted it this short! QUINN: (Voice quavering.) W-what have you *DONE?!* CUT TO: EXT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE. ("Sick, Sad World" music.) CUT TO: INT.: DARIA'S ROOM. (Our Heroine lies on her side on the bed, head propped up with one arm, watching TV.) ANNOUNCER: Who would suspect a simple hair accessory could be so deadly in the wrong hands? "The Scrunchie Murders", on an all-new "Sick, Sad World"! (The last few words from the TV are drowned out by the sound of sobbing, a door slamming, more sobbing. Via remote, Daria cranks the volume up, but can still hear Quinn's bawling, and it's keeping her from enjoying the show. She goes to the far wall, pounds on it.) DARIA: Hey, keep it *down*. (The sobbing persists. Daria sighs, surveys the mess on her floor.) DARIA: There's gotta be a scrunchie around here someplace... CUT TO: INT.: UPSTAIRS HALLWAY, OUTSIDE QUINN'S DOOR. (Helen is already on the scene as Daria comes down the hall.) HELEN: (Knocks.) Quinn, sweetie? Please open up. (Tries the knob, unsuccessfully.) QUINN'S VOICE: (Between sobs.) *NO!* I don't want anyone to see me like this! I'm just gonna stay in here until it grows back! DARIA: Or until Cashman's has a sale on acrylic. QUINN'S VOICE: (Sniffles. Hopeful.) Cashman's is having a sale on acrylic? HELEN: (Pleading.) C'mon downstairs, honey, your father almost has dinner ready. QUINN'S VOICE: I'm never eating again! DARIA: Can I have her broccoli? HELEN: (Stern.) Daria! (Points downstairs.) (Daria obeys. Quinn's sobs continue.) HELEN: Dammit, why can't just *one* other person in this household be cheerful for a change? CUT TO: EXT.: LAWNDALE HIGH. THE NEXT DAY. (MUSIC: Boyzone, "Picture of You".) CUT TO: INT.: LAWNDALE HIGH, HALLWAY. (Quinn, wearing a baseball cap over her new 'do, peeks around a corner and, deciding it's safe, emerges, albeit still cautiously.) SANDI'S VOICE: (From behind.) Hey, Quinn. Like, who's on first, or whatever? (Quinn turns, the other 75% of the Fashion Club is there.) QUINN: Huh? (Tries to fake like nothing's wrong.) Oh, this silly thing? (Points to hat.) Um, I can explain, really... TIFFANY: You didn't join *baseball*, did you? Don't you know you can get *calluses* from holding the bat? STACY: You cut your hair short after all?? QUINN: (Can't hide it anymore.) Um, yeah, sort of. SANDI: (Shakes her head sadly.) Quinn, Quinn, Quinn... (Puts an arm on her shoulder.) That's why we have *rules*, honey. You failed to have a fellow Fashion Club member accompany you to the salon. Article twelve, paragraph *eight?* STACY: C'mon, show us, Quinn. It can't look *that* bad. TIFFANY: Unless it's *short*-short. SANDI: And even if it *is*, which we don't *know* because you apparently don't trust your dearest, closest friends enough to *show* us, it *still* has to look better than Jenny Talbot's hair. TIFFANY: (Interjects.) Did you *see* her hair-clip? It was *orange*. SANDI: So let's have a look-see, hmm? QUINN: I dunno, maybe after it grows back a little... (At this point Ms Li passes by, notices the cap.) LI: Hats off in the building, Ms Morgendorffer, yooouuu know the rules! QUINN: Um, but this is part of a Fashion Club school project, right guys? (Looks to her friends for support. None is coming.) LI: *Nooo* excuses! Remove it at once! QUINN: Um, I'll take it off when I get to class HEY, WAIT--! (Ms Li loses her patience, snatches the hat off Quinn's head herself. In unison, the Fashion Club gasps. Fast zoom-in on a horrified Quinn's face as her friends -- and we the audience -- see her new look for the first time. In back it's been shortened to a length of just a few inches. A few slightly longer locks, with highlight streaks visible, grow out at her crown to hang partway over one side of her face. It's very strange because we're not used to seeing her this way, but actually a nice look.... but Quinn obviously thinks otherwise.) (*DUN!* Dunnn dun dun *dun!* Dunnn dun dun DAAAAAAHHH...) (COMMERCIAL LEAD-IN: Sandi's house, Fluffy jumping off Sandi's lap.) END ACT 1. (COMMERCIAL: My current hate-list: Any and all pathetic attempts to cash in on the Year 2000, such as the "Millennium Hip-Hop Party" CD. Trojan Man, I *loathe* Trojan Man. That one godawful restaurant ad for buffalo wings where they have a buffalo and a chicken puppet singing in these godawful voices, I loathe that one even more than I loathe Trojan Man. And no, I will not mention the chain by name, that would only reward them for saturating the airwaves with crap like this.) BEGIN ACT 2. RETURN TO: INT.: LAWNDALE HIGH, HALLWAY. (Replay the last couple of seconds of Act 1. The gasp, the fast zoom on Quinn, her horrified expression.) LI: (Hands Quinn her hat back.) That's more like it. (And she's away.) (The Fashion Club, still in shock, finally manages to react.) TIFFANY: Oh my *God*. SANDI: Umm... it's... *short*, Quinn. TIFFANY: Yyyeahhh... *short*-... short. QUINN: (Fighting back tears.) I *know* it's short, but it looked so *good* on three of the top sixteen-to-eighteen models, how was I supposed to know it wasn't *me?* SANDI: Gee, Quinn, that is just *toooo* baaaad... STACY: (Touches Quinn's cropped locks.) Oh my *God* Quinn, your *hair!* Y-your beautiful *hair!!* (Rapid breathing, in and out, near tears, hyperventilates.) SANDI: *Sta*-cyyy! *Calm* yourself! (Throughout this entire exchange, Quinn maintains a devastated, crumpled-up, about-ready-to-cry expression.) STACY: B-but, Quinn's h-*HAIR!!* (Wheezes.) SANDI: Yes, yes, it's very *tragic*, but please try to remember your status as a member of the Fashion Club and act *accordingly*. QUINN: (Looking for some ray of hope.) So are you guys saying it looks bad *period*, or just bad because it's so different and you're not used to it yet? (Stacy's shortness of breath finally gets to her, and she passes out, collapsing to the floor. Passing students stare. Quinn puts the hat back on, afraid they'll look at her next.) TIFFANY: Oh my God. (Turns to passers-by.) Does anyone have any smelling salts? (All this commotion has attracted the attention of--) UPCHUCK: Never fear, Chuckie is here! (Lecherous grin.) Ahh, the fair damsel, how she doth swoon! (Spreads his hands, motioning the crowd away.) Stand back, ladies! The Chuckster knows CPR-rrrrrrrowrrr! SANDI: (Disgust.) Upchuck, what do you want? UPCHUCK: (Arm around Sandi, leers.) You. I want *you*. (Sandi shoves him away. Upchuck kneels, attempts to give Stacy mouth-to- mouth. Stacy stirs, realizes what's happening, and struggles to escape, kicking Upchuck away.) UPCHUCK: Heh heh heh... *feisty!* SANDI: (Bends over to help her up.) Are you going to *survive*, Stacy? STACY: (Barely-audible squeak.) Yeah. (Then she catches sight of Quinn's hair, and starts with the wheezing all over again.) SANDI: Um, it... doesn't look all *that* bad, Quinn? TIFFANY: Yeahhh... it's short-short... buuuuut... at least it's not *short* short-short. SANDI: (Nods.) Exactly, Tiffany. We're your friends, and we will see you through this ordeal until it grows back. But for now, why don't you get to class while Tiffany and I take Stacy here to Nurse Chase? QUINN: (Actually feels a little better now.) Um, thanks, Sandi. You're such a great friend. SANDI: (Quietly, with pride.) I know. (She and Tiffany watch as Quinn heads off. Once she's gone, Sandi drops the act and turns to Tiffany with a great big ear-to-ear grin, wide-eyed, like, "Oh my *GOD*, this is too good to be *true!*" This is her *dream*, the fall of Quinn! Tiffany tries to return Sandi's expression but only manages a weak pseudo-smile. In the background, Stacy continues to wheeze and hyperventilate.) CUT TO: ANOTHER PART OF THE LAWNDALE HIGH HALLWAY. (MUSIC: "Supernatural", Kim English.) (Daria peeks around a corner, and, deciding it's safe, emerges, albeit still cautiously. As per the deal with Quinn, she now has her hair up in a tight bun on the back of her head, and has replaced the Doc Martens with a pair of black heels. Lipstick and eyeliner are also evident. And she still has her jacket zipped all the way up.) DARIA: (Stumbles as she walks.) *Ouch!* Damn heels. JANE'S VOICE: Hey, you. Does Daria know you have her outfit? (Daria turns, the other 50% of her gang is standing right there. Smirking, Jane holds up the antique camera and snaps a picture as Daria raises her arms to cover her face.) DARIA: (Wobbles on her heels, glares.) If I could stay balanced, I would make you taste floor. JANE: (Lowers camera. Between snickers.) Sorry. It's just... what are you doing dressed like *that?!* (Snorts, covers her mouth with her hand to hide the smile.) DARIA: (Sighs.) Remember that different look I told you about? JANE: The one I said I'd laugh my head off over? DARIA: Yeah, that one. (Turns, looks at a few passing students who are giving her curious stares.) Well I made a bet with Quinn and she actually went through with her part, so this is mine. JANE: You actually kept a bargain with your sister? DARIA: I *had* to, she threatened to tell my mother about all the money I've been hiding in my mattress. (Self-disgust.) God, everybody's looking at me. JANE: I thought you *loved* being the center of attention. (Beat, Daria doesn't see the humor.) It looks okay, though. Really. (Fights to hide her amusement, can't quite do it.) (CUT TO Mack and Jodie, a short distance down the hall.) MACK: (Mid-story.) So then Brittany accuses Kevin of "making a pass" at this Midland cheerleader and starts yelling at him, okay? And somehow that gives him the idea that *throwing* passes is bad. So he tries to run the ball in himself for the whole quarter, until Coach finally calls time-out and explains the difference! JODIE: (Shakes her head.) I don't believe him. (Sees Jane with... somebody.) Hey, new student? (Extends a hand.) Hi, I'm Jodie Lan-- (Sees who it is.) *Daria?* (She can't help herself, it's just so *not* Daria! Jodie laughs, covers her mouth like Jane did.) MACK: (Likewise.) Is that *you!?* JODIE: (Tries to stifle herself.) You... you look great! (Daria groans, closes her eyes.) CUT TO: INT.: GYMNASIUM. (MUSIC: "Who's Afraid", The Art of Noise.) (Girls' P.E. class, they're playing volleyball. Teams of about six people, with Quinn and Stacy on one side of the net, Tiffany and Sandi on the other.) SANDI: (In the back row, talks to Tiffany.) Look how red her eyes are. I'll bet she's been crying over her hair all morning. TIFFANY: Yeahhh... I thought only *Stacy* did that. SANDI: (Snide.) "It doesn't look *that* bad, Quinn"? God, can you believe she *fell* for that? TIFFANY: (Bats at the ball as it comes her way.) It does look cute on her. (Beat.) Really cute. SANDI: *Shh!* Do you want her to hear us? This is my big chance to finally put that little popularity-hog in her place. She's a *freak*, that's our story and we're sticking with it. (Scowls, jealous.) Even if it *does* look cute. ANDREA: (Next to Sandi, overhears.) Makes you wonder who the *real* freaks are. SANDI: (Irritation.) Why don't you go back to your coven, or wherever? (Cut to Quinn and Stacy, on the other side of the net.) STACY: Umm, Quinn? (Nervous.) I know it's short-short and all that, but... it's really kind of nice, once you get used to it. QUINN: (Doesn't believe her.) Yeah, right, Stacy. Just *stop*, okay? STACY: (Babbling, afraid she's hurt Quinn worse, now desperate to set it right.) I mean not that it didn't already look nice *before*. Um, but also not that you *shouldn't* have had it cut to begin w-- QUINN: *Stacy!* STACY: (Guilt-wracked.) Oh. Sorry, Quinn! (Sound of Ms Morris' whistle blowing.) CUT TO: INT.: HALL OUTSIDE LOCKER ROOM. (The girls file inside. The Fashion Club lingers by the door.) QUINN: I can't stand it, Sandi. Everybody's *looking* at me! I can't be at the pet show like *this!* SANDI: (Phony friendliness.) Try to relax, Quinn. Tomorrow after school we can go downtown and get you a *hat*. (Beat.) If you still have that one from earlier, you might want to put it back *on*, in the meantime. STACY: (Trying to help.) What about a wig? TIFFANY: *Eww*, someone *else's* hair?? SANDI: (Chews her out.) *Sta*-cyyy, the fashionably correct term is "hairpiece", according to the Official Fashion Club Lexicon. And besides, everybody at school has already seen it *anyway*. (Beat, zeroes in for the kill.) And it looks bad enough as it is, do you *really* want Quinn to make it even *worse?* STACY: (Like a puppy that's just been kicked.) Oh. Sorry, Sandi. (Quinn looks pitiful.) (MUSIC: "Everything Must Go", Manic Street Preachers.) CUT TO: INT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE, KITCHEN. (Dinner. Daria puts aside her copy of Kafka's "The Metamorphosis" as the rest of the family sits down.) HELEN: Daria, Quinn, we just wanted you to know we're really pleased you followed my suggestion and tried something a little bit different, aren't we Jake? JAKE: That's right, girls! (Beat, leans partway scross the table in an attempt to whisper to Helen.) What did you say to them that actually worked, again? DARIA: (About to set the record straight.) Actually... (Stops, decides why bother, let them think *they* were responsible for the changes if that's what they want.) HELEN: (To Quinn.) Anyway, sweetie, since you kept your part of our deal, I guess we're obligated to do ours. (Jake produces his wallet.) QUINN: Um, actually Daddy, could I just use the gold card? It's safer than carrying cash, plus I'd really prefer to avoid that whole unsightly "currency bulge". HELEN: Quinn, honey, please don't insult our intelligence... JAKE: (Puts the card back, goes for cash instead.) We said a hundred, right? QUINN: (Pleading eyes, this wasn't worth a mere $100.) Didn't you say *four* hundred, Daddy? HELEN: I said *one* hundred. (Jake counts out a hundred for Quinn. She pockets it, crestfallen. None of her parent-scams are working lately.) QUINN: So Daddy? Um, remember those pills you took for your hair awhile back, do those work for girls too? JAKE: (Uncomfortable with the hair-loss topic.) Er... HELEN: Now, Quinn, your father and I think your hair looks very *nice* the way it is. (She touches it, Quinn withdrawing from her hand.) I'd even say it looks a bit like my *own*, at your age! QUINN: (Sarcastic.) Oh, *that* makes me feel better! JAKE: (Innocent.) Your mother's just trying to help, sweetheart. Besides, now that it's shorter, it brings out that family resemblance to ol' Dad, too! (Quinn's lip quivers momentarily before she bursts into tears again.) HELEN: (Slams both fists on the table.) Damn you, Jake! CUT TO: INT.: QUINN'S BEDROOM. NIGHT. (Light through the window illuminates Quinn in bed.) QUINN: (Talks in her sleep.) Hmm, do you have that in chartreuse? It matches my necklace more... No, c'mon guys, don't fight over *me*... (MUSIC: "Slip", Autechre.) (She rolls onto one side. Wavy dissolve into Quinn's dream. Her hair is back to its original length, and she dances, eyes closed, in a halo of light shining down from overhead. Everyone outside it, among whom are the rest of the Fashion Club, is grey motionless. The background, if there is any, is indistinct.) (Abruptly a few strands of Quinn's hair begin dropping off. The three J's notice it, and, panicked, run forward into the light. Quinn stops dancing and glares at them as the boys grab handfuls of the fallen hair and attempt to put it back on her head. All the while more hair is falling out.) (Abruptly change MUSIC: "The Frog", X-Dream.) (Realizing what's happening, Quinn covers her head and runs from the light, turning the same drab ash-color as everyone else. Sandi steps up to the light as soon as Quinn vacates. Plunging through the darkness, loose strands of hair flying off behind her, Quinn comes face to face with a mirror that doesn't appear to be hanging on any wall, and her jaw drops as she sees she's completely bald!) (Dream-dissolve back to her bed as she wakes, gasping, and touches her crown to make sure she still has hair there.) CUT TO: INT.: JAKE AND HELEN'S BEDROOM. (Light spilling in from the hallway stirs Jake and Helen awake as Quinn enters.) HELEN: (Shifts.) Mmm, what is it honey? It's three in the morning. (Jake and Helen sit up in bed.) QUINN: Mom! Dad! (Quinn-spiel.) I just had the most *awful* dream, it was *horrible*, I was the cutest and most popular person in the world and everybody loved me but then my hair started coming out and I ran to get away so nobody would see me and Sandi stole my spot and there was a mirror and I looked in it and I was completely *bald!* JAKE: Oh my *God!* (Covers his own head, like Quinn did, checking it.) DARIA: (At the door, in her bedclothes. Quinn must have woken her up too.) Everybody loved you? That *is* awful. (MUSIC: Blaque with "I Do".) CUT TO: INT.: CASHMAN'S DEPARTMENT STORE, JUNIOR FIVE. (Quinn is in front of the large mirror. Teresa, the saleswoman, brings her various hats to try on. The rest of the Fashion Club appraises, weeding out the rejects before passing them on to Quinn. She looks tired, like she couldn't get back to sleep last night.) SANDI: (Instructing the other two.) Absolutely *nothing* made of corduroy. STACY: (Inspects the one she's holding.) Is gingham in or out this season? SANDI: (Fits Quinn with a black beret.) These are appropriate for almost any occasion. TIFFANY: (Hands hat to Quinn.) Try this one. It's reversible. (Sandi grabs a large straw hat that Stacy's about to put on Quinn's head, flings it away.) SANDI: And nothing too big, or it will look like you've got something to hide. (Beat, cruel.) Which you obviously *do*, so why call attention to it *further?* (The three J's, apparently out Quinn-hunting, are successful.) JEFFY: Hey, Quinn! JAMIE: We thought we might find you here! JOEY: Your hair looks really nice like that! JEFFY: (Has to one-up Joey.) It's *beautiful!* JAMIE: (Has to one-up Jeffy.) It's even more beautiful than Sandi's! QUINN: (Glimmer of hope, smiles at the guys.) Really? You mean that? SANDI: (Decides she'd better quash this right now.) *Sure*, if you mean "beautiful" as in, "not bouncy anymore" and "showing those weird *freckles* on the back of your neck for everyone to *see*." (Quinn's face just *falls*. And with it, the three J's'.) JOEY: (Shoves the third J.) Nice going, *Jamie!* JEFFY: (Picks up a hat from the pile.) Here, Quinn! I bet this one would look good on you! JAMIE: (Gets one too.) This one would look better! (The three J's dig through the accumulated pile of hats as Teresa tries to shoo them away. Quinn runs for the fitting room to have another cry. Stacy looks like she wants to say something, but doesn't.) TIFFANY: Poor Quinn. SANDI: (Shakes head, evil smirk.) Poor, poor Quinn. CUT TO: EXT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE. (MUSIC: "It's All About Me", Mya.) CUT TO: INT.: QUINN'S ROOM. (Jane waits here for Daria, who's at Quinn's Makeup Central fixing her hair, putting on the lipstick, etc. Quinn, trying to get ready too, bustles around Daria, grabbing up her own stuff.) QUINN: (Annoyed, Daria's in the way.) Why don't you ask Mom and Dad to get you your *own* makeup table? DARIA: In another week, I won't need it anymore. QUINN: (Angry rant.) Well aren't *you* the lucky one! In case you didn't notice, *I'm* gonna have to live with *my* end of this stupid bet for *months* and everyone's still gonna be looking at me like, "God, can you *believe* she *did* that to herself?" My life is *over*, Daria, and it's all *your* fault! (The door slams, Quinn's out.) DARIA: (Deadpan.) If she were any more self-absorbed she'd disappear completely. JANE: (Looking into Quinn's three mirrors.) You talkinna me? You talkinna *me?!* CUT TO: INT.: GRIFFIN RESIDENCE, REC ROOM. (MUSIC: "Give It to You", Jordan Knight.) (Tom, Sandi's father, leads Quinn -- who wears her new hat -- inside. Tiffany and Stacy are already there. Stacy brushes Fluffy and tries to write in the Club notebook at the same time. Tiffany and Sandi look at the different collars the cat might look good with.) TOM: Sandi, company. SANDI: (Mid-story.) So then *I* was like, "Well if you really *want* to be Fashion Club members, maybe you should just go found the Fashion *Wannabees'* Club!" TIFFANY: (Admiration.) You suuure told *them*, Sandi. STACY: (Notices new company.) Hi, Quinn. SANDI: Ooh, hey, Quinn. (Lefthanded compliment.) Nice hat. (And the Smirk.) QUINN: Are you laughing at me? SANDI: Of *coouurrse* not. I just find it highly *ironic* that you spent the money your *parents* gave you for getting your hair cut short on a *hat* to cover it up! Don't *you*, Tiffany? TIFFANY: Um... (Not sure what "ironic" means, but decides she'd better agree with Sandi.) ...yyeahhh. SANDI: (Prompts.) Stacy? STACY: (Uncomfortable.) Umm... SANDI: *Stacy??* STACY: (Stands, hastily, startling the cat.) Uh, I'm just gonna go get Fluffy some milk. SANDI: I *wouldn't*, if I were you. STACY: Huh? SANDI: (Knows everything.) Contrary to the *popular* image of cats and milk, it actually tends to give them really bad *diarrhea*. TIFFANY: Reeeally?... (Hushed awe.) Wowwww... STACY: (Disappointed.) Oh. (She sits down again, takes Fluffy, resumes brushing him.) QUINN: (Still fuming at Sandi.) Well I don't *care* what you say, the guys said they liked it the other day. SANDI: (Just *milking* this.) Well of *course* they did. They're *guys*, they only complimented you so they could get into your *pants*. (Beat.) That, or they meant your hair would look good on *them*. QUINN: (Tries to pull her hat down a little more, panicking.) You mean... it looks like a *guy's* hair?! SANDI: Well, it *is* short-short, after all. And Quinn *does* happen to be a unisex name. At least, that's what *John* says. (Stacy cringes, wanting to speak up but too afraid. Quinn simmers defiantly.) TIFFANY: (Sifts through the cat collars.) So... what color? Tortoiseshell? SANDI: (Sees what Stacy's doing.) *Sta-cyyyy!* That's my good brush! Use the *glove!* (Hands her the cat-grooming glove.) STACY: (Pitifully, like she knows she can't do anything right.) Oh. Sorry, Sandi! SANDI: (Ignores the apology.) Stacy, take a memo... All Fashion Club members are to report for *makeovers* before the show. Since *owners* are judged as well as their pets. (To her nemesis.) Quinn, perhaps you'd like a second *chance?* QUINN: (Can't keep silent any longer.) You know, in case you've forgotten, you promised to *help* me! That's what friends *do!* SANDI: We can't undo what's already been done. QUINN: I mean *are* you guys my friends? (Gestures at her head.) I *got* this stupid hair in the first place because I trusted you and listened to *your* advice! SANDI: (Keeps her cool.) I did not *advise*, Quinn honey, I merely *suggested*. And I said *short*. I did *not* say short-short. TIFFANY: (Shakes her head, agreeing with Sandi.) Huh-*uh*. SANDI: If you have any *doubts*, I'm sure Stacy has the entire conversation written down, word-for-*word*. (Stacy, trying to be helpful, holds up the FC notebook, but is ignored.) SANDI: And even if we *weren't* your friends, which, I assure you, we *are*-- STACY: *Best* friends! TIFFANY: (Nods.) Uh-*huh*. SANDI: --we would *never* purposely give you bad counsel, lest we damage the Fashion Club's reputation for grooming *excellence*. Which, I might add, is seriously at *stake* in light of *your* little hair catastrophe! QUINN: (Angry.) Well maybe if *you* weren't so-- SANDI: (Interrupts.) If you *don't* like the way I'm running the Fashion Club, Quinn, then maybe you ought to just *leave*. (Quinn seems about to snap back, but changes her mind. Standing, she walks out without another word. Sandi's face registers a hint of surprise as the door slams. Stacy looks at her, pleadingly.) SANDI: (Weary sigh.) Go *ahead*, Stacy... (Stacy is out almost immediately.) SANDI: (Fumes.) This Club is falling *apart*. And it's all *Quinn's* fault! TIFFANY: Sandi? (Pause. No response.) Are you ever afraid maybe you're being *too* mean to Quinn? (Beat.) I mean, not that you *are*, no *way*... but do you ever wonder if you might be? (Beat.) Even though you're *not*. SANDI: It's called tough love, Tiffany. She needs to be *trained* to stay in place. Like *hair*. CUT TO: EXT.: SIDEWALK. EVENING. (It's nearly dusk. Quinn stalks angrily toward home.) STACY'S VOICE: Quinn, wait! QUINN: (Turns.) What *is* it, Stacy? STACY: Um, I just wanted to say, I don't think you should let what Sandi says mean anything to you... QUINN: (Sarcastic.) Thanks, Stacy, that really solves all my problems. STACY: You know... I think Sandi's just using you and lying to you... I don't think she's being a friend at all. QUINN: (Fed up with the whole FC.) *God*, Stacy, I'm not stupid! Don't you think I *know* that? STACY: (Contrite.) Oh. I... I guess you would. Sorry... (Stacy turns away toward Sandi's, giving Quinn a sad backward glance. As Quinn continues home, she adops the same expression.) CUT TO: INT.: GRIFFIN RESIDENCE, REC ROOM. (On the couch, Sandi has the cat on her lap, giving him a tummy rub.) SANDI: (Coos, to Fluffy.) Ooohhh, how's my snookie-wookums? Is he going to win "best of show" and be as popular as his mommy? (Scratches the cat's chin.) You're a *good* widdle snookie-wookums, aren't youuu, yes you *are!* (Unseen by Sandi, Tiffany has entered from another room and heard this.) TIFFANY: Umm... Sandi? SANDI: (Composes herself.) Oh... hey, Tiffany. TIFFANY: Are you all right? You sounded *weird*. (Beat.) Really... *really*... weird. SANDI: I was just trying to encourage Fluffy. Just because they're lower life-forms doesn't mean they should be unpopular. TIFFANY: Buuut... I thought unpopular people *were* lower life-forms. SANDI: (Smug.) My point exactly. CUT TO: EXT.: GRIFFIN RESIDENCE. NIGHT. CUT TO: INT.: SANDI'S ROOM. SANDI: (In bed, prays.) Bless little Fluffy, and let him win first place tomorrow. And bless mom and dad. (Hint of disgust.) And Sam and Chris, if you *must*-- LINDA: (Door opens, she peeks in.) Sandi? SANDI: What *is* it, mother? LINDA: (Gently insinuating.) Praying for Quinn's downfall again, are we? SANDI: *No*, I was *not*. (Lets out some of the frustration she's been keeping in.) But I might as *well*, I mean, what the hell else can I *do* now? LINDA: (Sympathy, but with a hint of it's-your-own-fault.) I *warned* you. You were too *easy* on her when she first moved here, letting her join your circle of friends right *away* instead of making her *work* for it. And now she's lost whatever *respect* for you she might have had. SANDI: (Looks down.) She's already taken *Stacy* away from me. Tiffany is probably *next*... LINDA: (Sighs, tries to stroke her daughter's hair, but Sandi's as touchy about that as Quinn.) You're so beautiful, Sandi... Just like me when *I* was your age. You *deserve* to be the most popular girl in school, and you shouldn't let anyone *else* ruin it for you. SANDI: But it's so *hard* to make really *good* friends. LINDA: (Reassuring.) You just need to persuade Quinn to see things *your* way, like you did with Tiffany and Stacy. Make her feel like she *needs* you, *that's* how you keep your friends. That's *also* how I keep your *father* in line... SANDI: (Rolls her eyes, *this* again.) What-*ever*. LINDA: (Cunning smirk.) And *remember*, don't *ever* be too proud to fight *dirty*. In the end, it's who comes out on top that *counts*. SANDI: (Piqued.) I *know*, mother. LINDA (Nods, satisfied.) Good luck tomorrow. (Stands, heads for the door.) SANDI: (Grudgingly.) Thanks. (Finishes prayers, once Linda's out.) Please look over and protect our house, *especially* my wardrobe, my exquisite jewelry, and the matching belt-and-handbag set I got at L'Impressions. And please keep Capri pants in style just a *little* while longer. (Beat, quietly.) And and please, *please* let Quinn's clothes get *moths*... and make the rest of her hair fall out. (Pause.) Like, amen, or whatever. (Sandi turns out the light on her bed table.) (...Excuse me... This is my stop... This is my stop...) (COMMERCIAL LEAD-IN: Split-screen, Sandi giving Fluffy a tummy-rub, and Sandi with the big grin after seeing Quinn's hair.) END ACT 2. (COMMERCIAL: I know it's probably illegal just saying this, but I want to watch horrible, *horrible* things happen to that little Pepsi girl with the lip-synch. I also hate that dumbass Jim Carrey impersonator in the Slim Jim commercials. And what's always kind of bugged me? Is MTV *never* shows next week's "Daria" clip during the new episode, you have to wait for reruns to catch it. Do they really *need* us to watch reruns *already?* I thought that was what fall and winter were for, but then they don't seem to be airing it at the moment.) BEGIN ACT 3. RETURN TO: INT.: ARENA. (MUSIC: The Murmurs' "All I Need to Know".) (The pet show. Slow pan along a line of tables, owners prepping their pets. All varieties of dogs and cats, Upchuck with his fish, the guy from "Through a Lens Darkly" with all the dogs. Stop at the Fashion Club, dressed in their best. Stacy wears shorts and one of those tank-tops with the tie-string at the neck. Tiffany has on a skort and the fuzzy white short-sleeve top we saw her in in "Taking Debate". Sandi, in her best red gown, hefts Fluffy's cat-carrier up onto the table. Arriving last is Quinn, also dressed in her best... and without her hat.) SANDI: (Notices Quinn.) Hey, Quinn. (Points.) What's that on your head? (Beat.) *Oohhh*, that's *right!* Your *hair!* QUINN: (Dark mood.) Ha-ha, Sandi. SANDI: *Still* upset, huh? (Feigns nonchalance.) Well, look at it this way. At least you'll save money by using less *hairspray*. (Quinn looks like there's nothing she'd rather do than cold-cock Sandi right then and there. But another idea stops her.) QUINN: (Phony.) Um, actually, Sandi, that's a really *good* idea! SANDI: (Skeptical.) Rrreally? QUINN: *Yes*, in fact that reminds me, I left my hairspray in your car. Stacy and I are just gonna go get it, okay? Be right back! (She drags Stacy along with her. Tiffany watches, wondering what they're up to.) SANDI: Is there a *problem*, Tiffany? TIFFANY: Y--... Noooo... SANDI: I think there *is*. (CUT TO Daria and Jane, walking around, Jane with her camera plus now a tripod for it. Daria still wears her hair up, plus makeup and heels.) JANE: Let's look around a bit first. I'd love to get a shot of some rabid hamsters like the ones on TV the other night. DARIA: (Looks down at her shoes.) I'm actually starting to get used to these. (Quinn, tailed by Stacy, passes them.) QUINN: God, Sandi just makes me so *mad* sometimes, you know? It's like, she knows *everything* and she's always right! Even when she's *wrong*, she's right! But I'm gonna *get* her this time, Stacy. I'm gonna get her *so bad*... (Quinn continues onward, oblivious to the fact that Stacy's stopped to talk to Our Heroine.) STACY: (Unsure how to begin.) Umm... hi? JANE: We don't have any lash gel. Go away. DARIA: (A bit more willing to talk.) You realize you're compromising your social status just by being seen with us, don't you? STACY: I know, I know! But I don't have anyone else to turn to! JANE: You're asking a *brain* for help? You must be desperate. STACY: (Verge of an anxiety attack.) I'm just so *worried*, Quinn and Sandi have been at each others' throats for *days* now, and I just *know* something *awful's* gonna happen! DARIA: It happened 15 years ago. Quinn was born. STACY: Huh? DARIA: Look, those two are never going to get along, so why don't you just pick one and stick with her all the time? JANE: (Sardonic.) Or maybe Daria'd like to be your friend. STACY: (Shocked.) But... that'd mean breaking up the Club! I could never do that. I really like Quinn a lot, but my first loyalty is to the Fashion Club. And to Sandi. DARIA: Why? STACY: Sandi's been my friend since junior high. She's the one who made me popular! (Fearful.) And... if she wanted to, she could make me UNpopular again... DARIA: Is it worth it? STACY: Is what worth what? DARIA: Is popularity worth the price of your identity? STACY: (Sadly.) I've already made that decision. (Not sure what else to say.) Well... bye... (Turns to go.) JANE: (Taking her picture.) That girl's headed for a bleak future. DARIA: Along with the rest of us. C'mon, let's go. (But before they can, Sandi and Tiffany come up.) SANDI: (To Daria.) Look, I know we've had our differences, or whatever... JANE: (Feigns shock.) We do?!? SANDI: (Glares at Jane, back to Daria.) But you like, *live* with Quinn, and I could really use your advice now. JANE: (Fake-coughs the word.) *Money*. SANDI: Um, sure... (Takes a bill from her pocket.) Is ten enough? DARIA: Better make it twenty. SANDI: Very *well*... (Gets out another bill.) (CUT TO Quinn and Stacy. The former at Fluffy's table, opening his carrier cage and taking him out. The latter standing nearby, looking distinctly uncomfortable.) QUINN: Now just watch for Sandi and if she comes back, keep her distracted. STACY: Quinn? Um, I... (Trails off, can't finish.) QUINN: *What?* You can *talk*, Stacy! *God*. (Quinn opens a sack she's brought, and removes a jar of foundation, a bowl, and a small carton of milk. You can just *see* it coming.) STACY: (Fidgets, can't look Quinn in the eye.) I dunno, I just feel so *guilty*. Like I'm betraying one of my best friends! QUINN: Look. Sandi's *not* a friend, we decided that. Aren't you *sick* of her constantly putting you down? STACY: (Looks around, afraid she might be listening.) Um, sometimes. QUINN: (Pours some milk, which Fluffy begins lapping up.) And bossing you around all the time? STACY: (Reluctant.) Sort of. QUINN: (Opens the foundation, puts it next to the bowl of milk.) And always interrupting when you're trying to say something important? STACY: I guess so, but still-- QUINN: Then stop acting like a big baby, and come *help* me! STACY: Um... Sure, Quinn. (CUT TO Sandi with Daria and Jane.) SANDI: (Mid-explanation.) I mean, I love Quinn like a sister, I really *do*, but she's been *continuously* overstepping her bounds since *day one*. Like, how would *you* like it if some... *brain*, or whatever, an even *bigger* weirdo than *you* just showed up at school one day? JANE: (Smirk to Daria.) *I'd* be okay with it. (Daria returns the amused look.) SANDI: (Catches it. Now suspicious.) Are you *laughing* at me? JANE: We're laughing *with* you! DARIA: I wasn't. SANDI: So like, what should I *do?* About *Quinn?* JANE: Basically you're asking what's the best way to tear her down? DARIA: (Dry.) "It is not enough to succeed. Others must fail." SANDI: (Not sure if that was a jab at her or not.) Um, yeah... DARIA: Why do you even care what Quinn does? SANDI: (Getting nervous, Daria's gonna rip her *apart*.) Because *I'm* President of the Fashion Club and her actions reflect directly on *me*. DARIA: Which speaks volumes about how sad this really is. (Advice mode.) How can you spend your entire life domineering over *three* clueless people? Why don't you concentrate on making some *real* friends instead of just trying to control everyone all the time? You'd probably be a lot happier. JANE: (Bein' smart.) Worked for *me*. (Pause, Sandi ponders this, then...) SANDI: (Disgusted look.) I don't know *why* Quinn always tells me you give such *great* advice... (Jane takes a picture as Sandi stalks off, $20 poorer with nothing to show for it. Tiffany lingers.) JANE: So how much of that advice money does your sister get? DARIA: 20%. TIFFANY: Umm... Quinn's... whatever? (Slow, drawn-out.) If Sandi's supposed to... stop... leading... or whatever... thennn... what am *I* supposed to... do...? (Daria loses patience halfway through the question, gives a disgusted sigh, turns and leaves. Jane follows, after snapping a Tiffany pic.) TIFFANY: (Still stands there.) Heyyyy... waaiit!... I'm not finished... talking... yet...! (CUT TO Daria and Jane, setting up the tripod a short distance from the Fashion Club's table.) JANE: (Trains the camera on a growling bulldog leashed to a table leg.) C'mon, big-boy. Go ahead, break the leash, bite the nice man, you know you want to... (She clicks off another picture, the flash angering the dog into loud barking.) DARIA: (Takes the camera away from her.) Will you *give* me that! (She mounts it on the tripod.) (CUT TO the Fashion Club, with Fluffy. The judge proceeds down the aisle examining entrants, she's currently only one table away. Fluffy's making *noises*, which is giving Sandi cause for concern. People stare.) TIFFANY: (Glances at the people gathered around.) Everybody's *looking* at us weird. (Looks down at her angora top.) Maybe I shouldn't have worn *fur* to an animal show. SANDI: (Stews.) No *time* for that now, there's something wrong with Fluffy! QUINN: (Standing with Stacy. Fakes concern.) Oh *no*, I hope it's nothing too *serious!* JUDGE: (Looks at clipboard.) Well, Ms... Griffin, let's have a look at your... "Fluffy". SANDI: (Desperate to stall.) Um, can we have like, five minutes? JUDGE: (Sees the cat's behavior.) Is he all right? (The cat continues to make retching sounds. Cut to behind-Fluffy shot -- this *is* "Daria" after all, not "B&B" -- as he leans toward the table, lets loose one final massive hack and... wait for it!... we hear a sickening, *splattery* wet noise. Accompanying disgust on the judge's face.) SANDI AND TIFFANY: (Closeup their reactions, as it happens.) EEE-eewwwwww!! SANDI: (Wails, looks down.) My best *goowwn!* (Then an even *nastier* wet-noise from Fluffy.) SANDI, TIFFANY & JUDGE: *EEE*-EEWWWWWW!! (Quinn turns to Stacy with an ear-to-ear grin, wide-eyed delight. Stacy tries to return the expression but only manages a weak pseudo-smile. Jane's camera flashes, snapping pics of the entire unpleasant spectacle.) CUT TO: EXT.: GRIFFIN RESIDENCE, LATE AFTERNOON. (MUSIC: "Waiting for the Blow", Spin Doctors.) CUT TO: INT.: GRIFFIN RESIDENCE, REC ROOM. (Close-up on Sandi in a chair, *seething*. Fluffy slinks up, looks up at her, mews hopefully, and jumps onto her lap.) SANDI: (Shoves him off.) *No*, Fluffy! Get *down!* You're not *popular* enough to sit with me anymore! (Mr Griffin escorts Quinn inside and leaves meekly, as inconspicuously as possible. The rest of the Club is already present and accounted for. Stacy takes notes, afraid to look up. The cat goes to Quinn and rubs around her legs. Quinn picks him up, making Sandi's scowl deepen even further.) SANDI: (Let's get ready to rumble.) You all *know* why I've called this meeting. It's clear the Fashion Club has a *saboteur* in its ranks. (Piercing glare.) *Quinn*, would you kindly *explain* yourself? QUINN: (Wide eyed, looks genuinely innocent.) What makes you think *I* had anything to do with what happened to Fluffy? SANDI: (Livid.) I'll *tell* you why! (Stands, yanks the notebook from Stacy's hands, shoves it in Quinn's face.) Because Stacy wrote the whole thing *down* in the Fashion Club *minutes*, *THAT'S* why! STACY: (Gasps in horror, she didn't even realize she'd *done* it! Very quietly, almost a whisper:) Ohmygod...! SANDI: It's *all right*, Stacy. (Pats her head condescendingly, like she's a trained animal.) Need I *remind* you, Quinn, that we have *strict* penalties for infractions against Fashion colleagues? QUINN: (Petulant, drops the cat.) Oh, *well*, while we're on that subject, *you* said changing my hair was a good idea and then lied about it afterwards! You *tricked* me! (Tiffany watches, fascinated, poised to instantly leap in with support for whoever might come out on top. Quick cut to Sam and Chris, watching from behind the couch.) CHRIS: Cool! Catfight! SAM: (Smacks him upside the head.) Shut up, dumbass! (Back to Sandi and Quinn.) SANDI: (Face-off.) It's your *own* fault for taking that deal, Quinn! Clause *16-A*, subparagraph *C*, "No Fashion Club member shall permit another member of her *family* to influence her Fashion choices"! QUINN: (Leans in, *she* can quote Fashion Club policy too.) "To *support* fellow students in achieving their appearance goals", from our own *Mission Statement!* *You* broke the rules *first!* SANDI: (Leans in, meets Quinn, nearly nose-to-nose.) Amendment *seven*, a higher-ranking officer's *immunity* from retaliating accusations! (Vicious.) *PAGE* thirty-five, *SECOND* paragraph, *THIRD REVISION!!* VOICE: (Screams.) STOP IT, JUST *STOP IT!!* (Tense beat, the two turn. It's *Stacy*.) STACY: (Bawls.) I JUST CAN'T *STAND* WATCHING YOU GUYS *FIGHT* ANYMORE!! SANDI: (Unfazed, rolls her eyes.) *Sta*-cyyy... your *mascara* is running... STACY: I DON'T *CARE!!* (Sobs.) I THOUGHT WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE *FRIENDS!!* (She breaks down, snivels.) (Sandi sighs deeply, backs off a bit. Cut between the four members: Tiffany, taciturn, gazing intently. Stacy, lower lip quivering, wiping her eyes between sobs. Quinn, staring Sandi down. And back to Sandi herself. Her expression softens a little as she realizes what Daria meant: That if she goes through with this she'll likely end up with no friends, and worse, won't be in *charge* of anyone anymore. Better to give an inch to gain a mile.) SANDI: (Concedes.) Very *well*, Stacy, your point is taken. Perhaps we were *both* somewhat in violation of the Fashion Club laws. (Turns, subdued jealousy.) And I have to admit... (Touches Quinn's hair.) ...it *does* look cute. TIFFANY: Yeahhh... Really, *really* cute. SANDI: So, what do you say we *forget* this entire unfortunate incident, and let bygones be bygones, or whatever? QUINN: (That was the *last* response she expected from Sandi.) Um... okay... SANDI: (Nods, satisfied.) Now. That just leaves finding an appropriate punishment for *Stacy*, for speaking out of turn and raising her voice to her Fashion Club *superior*. Perhaps a *month's* exclusion from Club activities will suffice? STACY: (Horrified.) No...! N-*no*, *please*, Sandi! (She starts with the rapid breathing again, eyes shimmering with tears.) SANDI: (Smiles, hand on her shoulder.) Kidding, Stacy. *Kidding*. (But she raises an eyebrow, sees she's just found a new way of keeping Stacy in check.) (Quick shot of Linda around a corner, listening, nodding with approval at Sandi's tactic.) QUINN: (Extends a hand to Sandi.) So then, we have a deal? SANDI: (Offers her own hand.) Deal. (They shake on it. Quinn smirks as she *squeezes*.) SANDI: (Yanks her hand away.) *Oww!* (In the background, a wheezing, gasping Stacy clutches her chest and topples to the floor.) CUT TO: EXT.: LAWNDALE HIGH. (MUSIC: "The Good in Everyone", Sloan.) CUT TO: INT.: GIRLS' BATHROOM. (Close-up of the mirror, where three of Jane's pictures are propped up on the edge of the frame.) DARIA'S VOICE: Fluffy vomiting? Fluffy with intestinal distress? Or the Fashion Club President in crushing disgrace? JANE'S VOICE: Hmm... (Pause, then her red-sleeved forearm plucks the third picture -- the one of Sandi. Medium shot of the two in front of the mirror.) DARIA: Excellent choice. (Takes off the high heels she's been wearing, puts them in her backpack.) JANE: Actually I may just use all of them. The Lowdown wouldn't take the others. DARIA: (Now barefoot, puts her socks and boots back on.) Genius is never understood in its own time. JANE: (Watching Daria change back.) So the bet with Quinn is off? It hasn't been a whole week yet. DARIA: She sort of felt she owed me for keeping Sandi occupied at the show. So she cut my end of the deal short. JANE: (Smirking.) *Short*-short? DARIA: (At the sink, wipes off her makeup.) It's weird, and not just with Quinn. I feel like I know the whole Fashion Club better than they know each other. (Beat.) Which makes me very, very depressed. JANE: And Princess Crew-Cut actually *likes* her new look now? DARIA: Mm-hmm. (Turns so Jane can undo her hair from the bun, shakes it a bit, straightens it.) She's back to looking in guys' eyes to see her own reflection. (Beat.) I'd never have bet on that, myself. (Dressed like herself again, Daria looks to Jane for approval.) JANE: So everything's more or less exactly like before? DARIA: (Shakes her head, pretends to cogitate a bit.) I'm not sure... Something still doesn't feel quite right... (Smirking, Jane reaches for the zipper on her friend's jacket and tugs it back down to its normal, half-zipped position. Daria shoots back a smirk of her own.) (...la-la LA la la...) (CREDITS AND CUTE LITTLE RENDERINGS OF THE CHARACTERS.) (CLOSING MUSIC: "Fashion" by David Bowie.) THE END AUTHOR'S NOTES: A significant percentage of fans seem to feel they're overexposed on the show, but I can't help it, I just *love* the Fashion Club. If you don't, you'll be happy to know this is the *only* script I have planned with a major FC plot, and we got it out of the way early. I wanted to do this to explore the FC members' relationships to one another, and to finally do Sandi halfway right. She's been mean to both Quinn and Daria in my first 13 fics, and here we finally get some idea *why*. Thanks to Austin Covello, whose Sandi essay provided inspiration for a number of points to tackle. Though other fanfics have done it plausibly, I personally don't believe the Fashion Club will ever break up, for the reason shown here. They're snotty, they're stuck-up, everybody else probably hates them. The only reason they're treated with any respect at all is because they've bonded together the way they have. If they ever *do* split up, they'll be friendless, though Quinn and Stacy may well pair off, as may Sandi and Tiffany. The obvious (but I'll answer it anyway) 'shipper question: Why no Trent in this one? Well, what would he have accomplished besides (1) making Daria embarrassed, not wanting him to see her make a fool of herself, or (2) telling her she looked nice, which would make her blush? We've seen (1) in "Pinch Sitter", "Road Worrier", "Monster", "It Happened One Nut", and "Lane Miserables"; and (2) in "Pierce Me" and "Through a Lens Darkly". It's an old joke, it's been done to death, so I chose not to do it here. So please don't give me any crap about not including Trent in this one. He'll be in the next one. Promise. Inspiration: My parents used to bug my younger sister about getting her long hair cut all the time. There was an obvious Quinn plot in there, and I'm sure other families have gone through the same discussion. Fluffy's behavior is based on my own cat's, aside from the puking (I don't leave foundation lying around, but she does get the occasional hairball) and the diarrhea (they really do get it from drinking milk, so I don't let her have any). Changing Quinn's hair this drastically was something of a departure from the show's conventions, and a detail that would normally be carried from script to script if the sense of realism were to be maintained. But I don't feel it's necessary to remind everybody about it in every fic I do, so just picture it growing slightly longer with each new story, and by the season finale it should be back to its normal length. You won't hear me mention it again. Stuff that might have gotten past you: * The untimely demise of Jake's pet snake Waylon comes direct from John Berry's first-rate fanfic "The Best Years of Our Lives, Revisited". Hundreds of thousands of people die every day without ever having read this story. *Please*, don't let yourself be among them. * Another John Berry reference is the line about "Quinn" being a unisex name. Presumably John explores this in his fic "The Education of Dumber- than-a-Tree". (I don't know to what extent, as I'm not allowing myself to read it until I finish "Tutor Monarch".) * The address of the shop Jane mentions (on Rockwell Street) refers to the print shop owned by the family of fanfic author Peter Guerin. (Not that I think Lawndale is in New York or anything.) * Midland (mentioned by Mack to Jodie) is the new name of my old high school. (Not that I think Lawndale is in central Illinois or anything.) * Daria remembers her vow at the end of "The Misery Chick" when she charges Sandi for advice. * Daria quotes novelist Gore Vidal when talking to Sandi. * Jane's seems less willing to talk to the FC than Daria is. This will be explained/addressed, eventually. 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. 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.]