AUTHOR'S NOTE: Congratulations! You've found a fanfic with absolutely no hidden meaning whatsoever! Just pure story and pure comedy! Enjoy. DISCLAIMER: Daria and all related characters are the property of "Viacom" and MTV, blah blah blah. This is a fanfiction, written for the amusement of myself and other fans. So sue me. DARIA in "SCIENCE FARE" by Admonisher (10/7/99) ACT 1. EXT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- MONDAY (A school bell rings.) INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- MRS. BARCH'S ROOM (Mrs. Barch stands before the class, looking disgustingly at the stack of papers she holds.) BARCH: ... while the female test averages continue to be above the current GPA, the *male* portion of the class is continuing to fall further and further behind. Can anyone tell me why that is? DARIA: (to herself) The belle curve. (v/o) Puns that require spelling are useless. (beat) But you're talking to yourself. (beat) Oh yeah. BARCH: Kevin? KEVIN: (cheerfully) Umm ... I dunno. BARCH: (impatient; she missed the opportunity to cut him off) Mack? MACK: I think there's a reason -- BARCH: Shut your man-hole! (Jodie raises her hand.) BARCH: (kindly) Yes, Jodie? JODIE: I think what my boyfriend was trying to point out is that there seems to be a slight gender bias going on. BARCH: (sympathetic) Now, Jodie, it's not your fault. You're young. You're inexperienced in the ways of the world. It's a scientific fact that women are smarter than men. (turning cold) Which is why they use every opportunity to reduce us in our own minds like the cruel, self-driven toads that they are! Now ... I certainly hope things are different for the Science Fair this week. DARIA: Excuse me. Wasn't the Science Fair supposed to be in three weeks? BARCH: Yes, well, the dance was rescheduled and the gym freed up early. JODIE: Isn't that going to mess up our schedules. BARCH: I'm sure you *ladies* will cope just fine. The faculty judging panel I'd intended to use is now caught up in the dance committee, so I recruited some members of the sophomore class to fill in. DARIA: (suddenly wary) Umm ... which members would those be? [Flashback to earlier that day ...] BARCH: So who would like to volunteer to officiate at the Science Fair? (Quinn raises a hand without hesitation) QUINN: I move that the Fashion Club volunteers. SANDI: Umm ... Quinn. Have you taken leave of your senses? You want us to be in a *science* fair? With all the *brains*? QUINN: We wouldn't be *participating*, Sandi. We'd be officiating! It's, like, an opportunity to show the school that fashion isn't just an extra-curricular activity. SANDI: (considers) Oh. Well then. (as if it was her idea) The Fashion Club volunteers. BARCH: Excellent. I know you girls will do a wonderful job. Here's your schedule for the next week. (Sandi examines it, her eyes growing wide.) SANDI: I thought we were just, like, going to officiate or something. This has planning and stuff! We won't even have time for dates! BARCH: (shrugs casually) No big loss. You'll have to survive without your *male* handicaps for a week. (The three J's look at each other in worry before stumbling over themselves to volunteer to join the Science Fair committee.) BARCH: Back, you man-spawn! (Sandi glares at Quinn, who looks like she wants to shrink into her desk.) [Flash forward to ...] DARIA: You put the *Fashion Club* in charge of the *Science Fair*?!? BRITTANY: (raising her hand) Does that mean our science project has to be fashion-related? DARIA: (groans) Just kill me now. INT. LANE RESIDENCE (Jane and Daria are entering through the front door. Guitar music can be heard coming from the basement -- presumably Trent.) DARIA: So how did your class take the news? JANE: About our Fine Fashioned Friends running the Science Fair? The usual apathy. DARIA: Did you say anything? JANE: I was asleep. I found out later. Why didn't *you* protest? DARIA: I didn't want another patronizing lecture like Jodie got. JANE: Aha. So what's your project going to be? DARIA: I haven't decided. JANE: I think I'll devote mine to the works of Escher -- y'know: how the human brain can be made to perceive things that aren't true. DARIA: Like it's okay to raise your kids with a self-help manual in between meetings so you can justify your existence through the illusion of success that accompanies a career-driven society? JANE: Uhhh ... exactly. So anyway, while Trent's down in the basement, I'm going to go pick through his room for my old Escher book. Wanna come? DARIA: Um ... JANE: C'mon! It'll be fun! INT. LANE RESIDENCE -- TRENT'S ROOM (The front door swings open from the inside, revealing Jane and Daria.) DARIA: Oh yeah ... 'fun'. Like Pompeii. JANE: No, you had a better chance of surviving Pompeii. (We see that Trent's room is more of a disaster-area than usual. Jane and Daria step inside, carefully avoiding the larger clusters of shoes/pizza boxes/etc. Daria pauses to eye a large heap of discarded shirts.) JANE: (smirks) See anything you like? DARIA: Like to burn, maybe. (beat, as she notices Jane's smirk) Or perhaps to ram down your throat. JANE: Relax! (begins casting her eyes around the room) DARIA: What was Trent doing with Escher, anyway? JANE: (shrugs) He said it inspired him. I think he got the name "Mystic Spiral" from one of those tessellations. DARIA: How long do you think it will take us to find it? JANE: (grim) Hours. Days. Weeks. There it is. (Jane points, and Daria sees one corner of a book peeking out from Trent's mostly-shut closet door. Jane leans over and tugs it free, causing the door to swing open. Jane and Daria gasp in shock. The closet is no messier than the rest of the room, but the clothes strewn within are coated with some sort of disgusting orange growth.) (Trent appears in the doorway, mildly surprised to find Jane and Daria in his room.) TRENT: Hey. What's going on? JANE: (not bothering to apologize for the intrusion) Trent, what the hell is that? TRENT: (shrugs) I don't know. I haven't opened that closet in two months. DARIA: (disgusted) I think it's ... I think it's a slime-mold. JANE: Well that sounds appetizing. What is it? DARIA: It's a kind of fungus ... but not really. They also exhibit characteristics of animals. TRENT: (sounding out the sequence) Slime ... mold ... sounds like a good name for a song. DARIA: (nauseated) Uh ... sure, Trent. JANE: Hey, Daria! This could be your science project. DARIA: (what the hell) Hmm. Well it would save me the trouble of thinking up and developing something on my own time. Trent, can I take some of this? TRENT: Sure. (hands her an affected sock) DARIA: On second thought ... why don't you put that in a bag for me. INT. MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE -- KITCHEN (It's dinnertime at the Morgendorffers. Jake is gleefully cooking dinner, while Helen is sitting a the table making an attempt to bond with her daughters.) HELEN: So how was your day, girls? QUINN: (distressed) Terrible! The Fashion Club got tricked into being in charge of the Science Fair, and now they're all blaming me! HELEN: Oh my! Daria? DARIA: (monotone) Terrible. The Fashion Club got tricked into being in charge of the Science Fair. I'm blaming Quinn. QUINN: Like I *want* to be in charge of a bunch of brains! DARIA: Don't worry. You'll also be in charge of such fountains of wisdom as Kevin. And Brittany. Aaaaand Upchuck. QUINN: Ewwww... DARIA: As if that wasn't bad enough, the date's been pushed up two weeks, so we only have a third of the time to prepare. HELEN: (genuinely connecting) Do I know what that feels like. I'm sure you'll do fine, honey. Why, you're better prepared than anyone in that class. You've probably already got a project picked out. DARIA: Yeah. It just sort of came to me. (Jake approaches with a large dish containing his meal-of-the-day.) JAKE: (with a flourish) Prepare yourself for my latest culinary delight! Pasta a la Jake a la Super Cheese! (Jake ladles a large glob of bright-orange foodstuff -- the same color as the slime-mold -- on to Daria's plate. She looks sick.) DARIA: (quickly) I'll be in the bathroom if anyone needs me. (Daria rushes from the room. Jake looks in Helen in puzzlement.) HELEN: Oh, for God's sake, Jake, what's the matter with just plain old macaroni and cheese for once. JAKE: (distressed) But Helen, this has my secret sauce! (tries a spoonful) GAAAHHHHH!!!! (flees in pain) QUINN: Um ... I'll just go upstairs and eat my old lipstick. (Quinn exits as well, leaving Helen alone at the dinner table, mourning the destruction of another evening.) INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- "FASHION ROOM" -- THE FOLLOWING DAY (The upperclassman science class sits in their seats waiting. A banner above the blackboard proclaims in flowery letters: "Lawndale High School Fashion Club". A sexless mannequin is posed at the front desk, done up in a mini-skirt and halter-top with complementary hat. Focus in on Kevin and Brittany.) KEVIN: So what are you doing, Babe? BRITTANY: Since this is, like, a Fashion Science Fair, I decided to invent something that will benefit all mankind. I'm going to make it so you only have to have one perfume thingy for all your different perfume thingies. KEVIN: Cool! BRITTANY: What are you doing? KEVIN: Umm ...gosh, Babe I haven't decided yet. ANDREA: (overhearing; scornfully) Try Einstein's theory of relativity. KEVIN: Huh? ANDREA: You know. The speed of light? KEVIN: (comprehension) Ohhhh. Cool! [Cut to Jane and Daria] JANE: I didn't even know Lawndale High *had* a Fashion Room. DARIA: Quinn's idea. It's really the room for remedary economics. But for meetings they put up the banner and haul out the dummy. JANE: (indicating mannequin) That? DARIA: (indicating Sandi, who is entering the room) No, that. (Quinn, Tiffany and Stacy file in after a scowling Sandi. Sandi assumes the central position before the congregation of upperclassmen.) SANDI: Ahem. Okay, people. Like, I know there's supposed to be more of these group meetings and stuff, but in light of recent scheduling difficulties we've decided to make this the only one. DARIA: There is a God. SANDI: Science projects will be judged on the basis of style, coordination and presentation. JANE: (under her breath) God forbid you judge them on the basis of science. SANDI: (continuing) There will be refreshments, courtesy of the Fashion Club, and music afterwards in an attempt to salvage an otherwise ruined Friday night. TIFANNY: (in that adorably airy Tiffany voice) I'm ... baking ... cookies. DARIA: (mock-brightly) It's the first annual Science Dance. SANDI: Any questions? UPCHUCK: (raises hand) I'm still a bit hazy on the grading policy. Perhaps one of you lovely ladies would be willing to explain it to me over lunch? SANDI: (can't help but shudder) Meeting adjourned. COMMERCIAL LEAD IN: Daria and Jane's faces as Trent's closet swings open. COMMERCIAL BREAK #1: I'd like to take this opportunity to say how much I HATE THAT DAMNED TACO BELL DOG!!! "Yo quiero --" BLAM! Then we have a car commercial. I'm not making this one up. The car (I think it's a Mitsubishi) drives along the wet road. I guess it's supposed to look sexy. "If you were stranded on a deserted island, who would you want with you? A survival expert? A hunter? Or someone who looked really good in a bathing suit! Sure! You could get a car that's safer, or more practical ... but when it looks this good, why bother!" Ugh. America is so vain, advertisers don't even need to appeal to their sense of morality or practicality anymore ... they just brush it aside. This commercial could be salvaged, on the other hand, if the car hit that abominable "Taco Bell" dog ... ACT 2. INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- CAFETERIA (Daria and Jane are sitting alone, as usual.) JANE: So how's the old fungus? DARIA: Myxomycetes. JANE: Pardon? DARIA: They're myxomycetes, not fungi. Making me a myxomycologist. JANE: As opposed to a "fun guy". (beat) Okay, that was bad. (beat) I wonder how much a professional myxomycologist makes. DARIA: Not enough. Actually, some species are supposed to be beautiful ... in the early stages. JANE: That sounds ominous. DARIA: Let's just say I'd suggest your brother sterilize his closet before they begin to spore. JANE: That sounds worse. DARIA: It is. JANE: You know, we *are* dealing with Mrs. Barch. And we are of the *privileged* gender. So we could just fudge the thing and blame it on Kevin. DARIA: How would that be any better than Kevin getting a "by" on his math tests because he plays football? JANE: Oh, no you don't! My conscience is steeled against your veiled morality! DARIA: Okay ... then how would taking advantage of Kevin's "manhood" reflect on you? JANE: I'm not above exploitation. DARIA: Alright then. How will humiliating Kevin pay tribute to the memory of M. Escher? JANE: (beat) Damn your pretty words! (Upchuck approaches) UPCHUCK: Pardon me, ladies, but -- JANE: No. UPCHUCK: But you haven't heard my question! DARIA: The answer is still 'no.' UPCHUCK: I was merely wondering if you know where I could find cheap metal in large quantities. DARIA: Oh. In that case ... no. JANE: What, are you building a robot or something? UPCHUCH: Sorry, professional secret. It's a shame, though. (grins) Whoever helped me would ... reap the benefits. (something catches his eye off camera) Oh girls! (he darts away) JANE: Curiouser and curiouser. [Cut to the Fashion Club table. Stacy is absent. The three J's stand at uneasy attention as Sandi talks.] SANDI: So you see, there's a whole lot of work to get done, and the more work *you* do, the more time *we* have for dates. JAMIE: Uhhh ... but then wouldn't *we* not have time for dates? JOEY: Shut up! JEFFY: You shut up! SANDI: Boys, please ... I didn't say dates with *you*. JAMIE: Oh. But ... QUINN: Just, like, think of how grateful we'll be *next* week. (The three J's ponder this for approximately two nanoseconds.) JEFFY: I'll make you grateful, Quinn! JAMIE: I'll make her gratefuler! JOEY: Well I'll make her gratefulest! SANDI: (scowling) I'm sure we'll ALL be very grateful. Now don't you have to go talk to the janitors about tables or something? (The three J's quickly fall silent and depart hastily. Sandi turns her attentions to Quinn.) SANDI: I'd just like to thank you again, Quinn, for getting us involved with this wonderful Science Fair thing. (In case it is unclear, Sandi is definitely not thankful.) QUINN: (small laugh) Oh, Sandi, it was your leadership that got us here. SANDI: Nonsense. The idea was yours. TIFFANY: Yeah, Quinn. You're a visionary. (Quinn laughs nervously. Before she can respond, Stacy runs up to the table, flushed and breathless.) STACY: (panicked) You guys! Our mannequin! It's gone! SANDI: What do you mean, 'gone'? STACY: (catching her breath) I just went to the Fashion Room to get my makeup pouch, and it's gone! The outfit we were debating was just lying there on the floor. It wasn't in the closet! SANDI: (scowling) We needed that mannequin for our meeting on Thursday. I thought that closet was supposed to be locked. Only ourselves and Mrs. Bennett have keys. TIFFANY: Quinn was the last one out. (The girls turn to stare at Quinn accusingly.) QUINN: (wailing) I *did* lock the door! STACY: There was tape over the lock! SANDI: It had to be someone in the science class. It's the only possibility. If only the person entrusted with the sacred responsibility of securing the room had checked to be sure ... QUINN: God, Sandi! How was *I* supposed to know someone was going to try and steal it! What am I supposed to do, investigate everyone in the class? SANDI: (smiling) Why, Quinn ... that's an excellent idea. It might even be enough to get you out of any sort of punishment for this gross breach of security. (Quinn deflates) QUINN: Of course, Sandi. INT. MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE -- LATER (Helen is going over papers. Jake enters in his casual-attire, looking over his shoulder in worry and slight suspicion.) JAKE: What is she *doing* in there? HELEN: (sighing) For the tenth time, Jake, it's a science project! (Quinn enters, looking tired. Helen looks up.) HELEN: Hi, honey. You're home late. An afternoon date with one of your friends? QUINN: (weary) No. I was at school. (exits to garage) JAKE: (convinced he's on to something) Quinn staying after school? Daria experimenting in the garage? And what did she need all those things from the medical cabinet for anyway? She could be making drugs! HELEN: (exasperated) Well I don't know, Jake? Why don't you ASK HER? (Jake's at a loss for that one.) INT. MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE -- GARAGE (Daria is arranging several petri dishes, each one containing a gooey orange mass. A poster lies out on the workbench, with several rough sketches and typed sections attached to it. Quinn enters.) QUINN: (wrinkling her nose) God, Daria, what's that smell? DARIA: I'm experimenting on your beauty products. QUINN: Ha ha, Daria. DARIA: (holds up an eyedropper) No, it's true. I'm seeing how this slime-mold reacts to some of the chemicals from your end of the bathroom. (Daria squeezes a drop of amber liquid into one of the petri dishes. The slime mold burbles and expands slightly, pushing out several spore-sacs. Daria and Quinn both recoil slightly.) QUINN: Ewwwwww! DARIA: It seems to like "Lereaux" No. 5. QUINN: Remind me never to use that again! DARIA: Maybe you'll listen to me this time. QUINN: Look, I'd love to sit here and debate perfume with you, but I need to ask you something. Have you seen the mannequin from the Fashion Room? DARIA: Unfortunately, I did. QUINN: No, I mean it was stolen. By someone in your class. I searched the entire school today, and there's no sign of it. DARIA: Who would go out of their way to steal a lifeless representation of superficiality when they have your company? QUINN: Daria, this is important! DARIA: Alright. If I find the poor desperate soul that took your mannequin, you'll be the third person to know. QUINN: (confused) But who will be the first? DARIA: The person who stole it. And I'd be the second, of course. QUINN: Whatever. (Quinn turns to leave, but instead of going back into the house, she heads for the outside door, pulling on a jacket as she does.) DARIA: Where are you going? I thought you'd be busy planning for the Science Fair. QUINN: This is, um, related business. (As Quinn leaves, Jake walks in and eyes the petri dishes.) JAKE: So, kiddo, what are you up to? DARIA: (deadpan) It's a recipe. I've invented a new vegetable. JAKE: Wow! Can I try it? DARIA: I think it's for the best that you don't. I've, um ... still got a few bugs to work out. JAKE: Sure thing, kiddo! INT. TAYLOR RESIDENCE -- GARAGE (Brittany is tinkering with several airbrushes, bottles of perfume, and a few rubber bands. Kevin is tossing his football repeatedly into the air, making a loud "thwak" every time the ball hits his hands. Brittany looks up in annoyance.) BRITTANY: Babe! This is, like, hard work! And that is really annoying! KEVIN: Oh. Sorry, Babe. How about I go inside and watch the Pigskin channel then? BRITTANY: Kevvy! You're supposed to be helping me! KEVIN: Oh. (Brittany resumes work. After a moment, Kevin starts tossing the football again.) BRITTANY: Oooohhh! (The doorbell rings.) BRITTANY: (dropping her work) Who could that be? [Cut to Brittany opening the front door.] BRITTANY: Quinn? QUINN: (tired) Hi, Brittany. I was just stopping by to ask if you've seen the mannequin that was in the Fashion Room. Somebody took it. BRITTANY: (cocks her head sideways in confusion) But why would *I* need a mannequin? My stepmom's a *real* model. QUINN: (in perfect agreement) See, that's what *I* thought. But I just thought I'd check. Is Kevin here? What's his project? (There is the clatter of falling objects, followed by a loud "Oops!") BRITTANY: (furious) Making my life *miserable*!!!! (She slams the door and storms away. Outside, Quinn sighs.) INT. LANE RESIDENCE -- JANE'S ROOM (Jane is painting, with Escher's book propped up as a reference. The phone rings. She switches her easel to her brush hand and picks up the receiver.) JANE: Yo! DARIA: Jane? JANE: It's me. DARIA: Have you seen Quinn? JANE: (looks around suspiciously) Nnno. Should I have? DARIA: No. This is just a warning. The mannequin from the Fashion Room is missing. JANE: You know, I'm in the market for a mannequin. I've got a new camera. DARIA: Don't let Quinn know. JANE: Gotcha. So did you call just to check up on your sister? DARIA: No. Some of the slime-mold samples are starting to spore. You might want to warn Trent. (At that moment, Trent sticks his head in the door.) TRENT: Where do we keep the vacuum cleaner? And the really big fan? JANE: (quickly) The basement. DARIA: What? JANE: Everything's under control. I hope. Thanks for the warning. EXT. RUTTHEIMER RESIDENCE -- NIGHT (Quinn, tired and bedraggled at this point, is pushing her way through several bushes to get a good look inside Upchuck's garage. She peers through the window and gasps. There on the workbench is a mannequin-sized shape obscured by a sheet. Upchuck is grinning madly, and caressing a long cord as he walks over to a wall outlet.) UPCHUCK: At last, at long last! (he jams the plug into the socket and sparks fly) Give my creation life!!! (Upchuck throws his hands into the air and laughs like a mad scientist. On the workbench, the hidden form shudders violently, and bends slowly upward at the waist. The sheet slides off, revealing an amalgam of metal that bears a striking resemblance to its creator. The eyes glow to life.) UPCHUCK 2000: [Feis]-[ty!] (Outside, Quinn screams (who wouldn't?) Upchuck dashes to the window.) UPCHUCK: Hark! Spies at the window! Robot! To action! UPCHUCK 2000: (a digital approximation of Upchuck's "feisty" noise) [Grrrrrrrow!] QUINN: (a few feet away, outside the window) God, Upchuck, it's just me! UPCHUCK: (dramatic) My fair Quinn? One of the Fashion Judges? Spying on me? I'm flattered, my dear. Perhaps you'd like to come inside where it's warm. We could discuss my ... score? QUINN: Don't bother. I wasn't spying on *you*, I was looking for the missing fashion mannequin. UPCHUCK: Missing mannequin? Why would I need a mannequin. (indicates the "robot" version of himself) I've got *twice* the "man". (He leers suggestively) How about the "quinn"? QUINN: Oooooh!!! (storms away) UPCHUCK/UPCHUCK 2000: Feisty! EXT. LANE RESIDENCE -- NIGHT (The doorbell rings, and we see Quinn waiting on the doorstep. Jane opens the door, her hair and shirt unevenly splotched with some sort of orange dust. Quinn's eyes widen and she begins to speak. Jane preempts her.) JANE: First, don't ask. Second, I don't have your mannequin. QUINN: Oh. (eyes narrowing) Wait a minute. How did you know that's what I was looking for? JANE: Daria called ahead. QUINN: (dejected) Oh. Sorry to bother you. JANE: (more curious than concerned) How many houses have you been to? QUINN: (moaning) All of them. JANE: Oh. Well listen, if the mannequin does turn up, and it's like, horribly disfigured or something, could I have it? QUINN: (throwing up her hands in defeat) Sure. Why not? MY life is over. TRENT: (from inside) Uhh ... Janey? It *likes* "Mr. Clean". JANE: (quickly) Gotta go. (Jane shuts the door, and Quinn's shoulders slump in defeat.) INT. GRIFFIN RESIDENCE (The Fashion Club is sitting around the living room. Stacy is taking notes.) STACY: Banners, check. DJ, check. SANDI: What about refreshments. TIFFANY: I've got a fresh batch of no-fat, no-sugar cookies. STACY: (gleeful) And I got a great recipe for one-calorie punch out of "Waif"! SANDI: Ladies, a commendable job. (There is a knock at the door.) SANDI: Who could that be at this hour? (Sandi gets up to answer the door. Quinn enters, looking bedraggled and exhausted, her eyes red and swollen.) SANDI: It's Quinn! (Quinn enters and walks over to the couch. Tiffany looks up.) TIFFANY: God, Quinn. What happened? QUINN: (it all comes out at once:) I've-been-out-for-the-last-six-hours-going-from-house-to-house-in-the-cold- and-the-dark-and-NO-one-has-the-mannequin-and-it's-not-my-fault-and-it's-NOT FAIR! (Quinn collapses onto the couch.) SANDI: (obviously pleased) There, there Quinn. You tried your best and that's what's important. It doesn't matter if you failed *miserably*. We're still your friends. TIFFANY: For sure. STACY: Like, totally! QUINN: (smiling weakly) Thanks. You guys are the greatest. SANDI: We'll start a fund for a new mannequin next week. INT. MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE -- GARAGE (The lights are dark, and we see Daria's completed science project set up inside a large box. Focus in on one of the petri dishes. It gurgles ominously and sprouts several more spore pods.) COMMERCIAL LEAD IN: The Upchuck 2000 sliding to horrible life! COMMERCIAL BREAK #2: A really sickening series of commercials has been on lately about some new breath-freshener. The commercials feature a man using the product to fool everybody into thinking he's stopped smoking. His wife/mother or whoever is delighted. They're so proud of him for quitting smoking. He winks at the camera! Ha ha! He's only fooling! Use "Decept-o-mint" gum! Sheesh! ACT 3. EXT. MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE -- DAWN (The sun rises over the Morgendorffer house! How calm! How peaceful! How ...) INT. MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE -- GARAGE (We see a close-up of Daria's eyes widening, then pan back to reveal she is peering inside the box that contains her science project.) INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- MRS. BARCH'S ROOM (Daria sits calmly at her desk. Jane enters and sits down. Her clothes are rumpled, her hair mussed-up and her eyes bleary.) DARIA: What happened to you? JANE: Let's just say last night was ... busy. Say, can I sleep over at your place this weekend? DARIA: Ummm ... sure. Why? JANE: (innocently) No reason. (beat) Okay, so disaster struck and the house is temporarily uninhabitable. But we used this months mortgage to hire a cleaning service. At least we'll finally get rid of that *smell* coming from behind the refrigerator. And we owe it all to my brother's hygiene. That is one aggressive mix-o-mite! DARIA: That's "myxomycete". And I know. I tried adding some of my sister's cheap perfume and it went haywire on me. It must be some odd chemical mutation. JANE: I can see the headline now: "Giant Slime-Mold Envelops Suburbs! Mannequin Sole Survivor"! DARIA: (earnestly) That's not a joke. They found a slime-mold in Michigan once that went on for miles ... underground. It was the World's largest living organism. JANE: "Humongous Fungus Among Us? Next on 'Sick, Sad World' " DARIA: Knock it off. (Kevin enters with a flashlight and a stopwatch. He sits down at a nearby desk, and Daria eyes the objects.) DARIA: Umm ... Kevin? What was your science project again? KEVIN: (grins) It's the speed of light, Daria! See, I point this flashlight at the wall and turn it on. Then I use this stopwatch to see how long it takes to get there. Like coach does in practice! DARIA: But ... doesn't the light reach the wall before you have time to *start* the stopwatch? KEVIN: Yeah! The speed of light is zero! Pretty cool, huh? JANE: But if the speed of light is zero ... how does it move? KEVIN: (shrugs) I dunno. It's, like, one of those two doctors or something. DARIA: (sarcasm ... duh) That's it! Give this boy the prize! (Kevin beams, pleased with himself.) INT. LAWNDALE HIGH -- GYMNASIUM (The Science Fair has arrived! Booths are set up in two rows down either side of the gym, Mrs. Barch and the members of the Fashion Club move from booth to booth with a critical eye. We see the next sequence of presentations from their point of view.) [Cut to Andrea stands behind a fish tank filled with compost and several worms:] ANDREA: This is decomposition. The way of all flesh. It's what will happen to *you* when *you're* dead in the ground. But no torture is painful enough for the scum that pass for mankind. (Gagging sounds from the girls.) BARCH: (offscreen) Bravo, Andrea! Men are worm food. You get an 'A'. [Cut to Mack in front of a diagram of the Human brain:] MACK: ... so this represents the denigration of Human synapses. But this isn't common until old age. So how do we explain common stupidity? It's possible that some people are incapable of forming mental connections in the first place ... KEVIN: (offscreen; at a distance) Yo! Mack Daddy! MACK: (shouting back) Don't call me that!!! [Cut to Jodie gesturing to a diagram of the Human body:] JODIE: ... and that represents the destructive nature of stress on the physical condition of the human body. (silence) JODIE: (sighs) Stress such as that caused by the painful breakup of a relationship. BARCH: (offscreen) Excellent job, Jodie. [Cut to Jane's table. As they wait for the Judging Committee, Daria scrutinizes Jane's picture: a cleverly drawn tribute to Escher, with several of the more famous of his works pasted up next to it, along with an essay.] DARIA: I like it. Subtle, clever ... but why did you use an orange canvas? JANE: I didn't. Did I mention there was some myxomycete difficulty at my house last night? DARIA: Oh yeah. JANE: Speaking of which, you might want to keep an eye on *that*. (Jane jerks a thumb to the right, and the camera pans back to show Daria's table adjacent to Jane's. A poster is propped up describing the life-cycle of the slime-mold. Three of the four petri dishes are of normal size. The fourth is swollen to the approximate size of a basketball, with ugly tendrils and spore-pods sprouting out at odd angles. It quivers slightly.) DARIA: It was *really* bad this morning. I had to leave some of it at home. JANE: You didn't leave it sitting out, did you? DARIA: Um ... yeah. I was in a hurry. Why? [FLASH TO the Morgendorffer kitchen.] (Jake walks by the counter and spots a dish filled with the orange overflow. This must be Daria's new vegetable. Craftily, he makes sure he's alone before seizing a spoon and sampling the ... 'recipe'. His eyes light up.) JAKE: Yum! [RETURN TO the Science Fair.] (Daria and Jane are right where we left them.) DARIA: It's been getting worse since it got to school. Although I don't know what could be stimulating it like this ... [PAN left quickly to Brittany's table, right next to Daria's, where she is demonstrating her first and only invention:] BRITTANY: (especially bouncy) I call it "The Perfuminator"! (Kevin appears to her right holding a glass of punch.) KEVIN: Hey, Babe, I got you a drink! BRITTANY: (wheels on him) Not now, Kevvy! I'm busy! (to the judges) Now you only need one squirt-thingy for all your fragrances! Do you want to try it? (Brittany holds the device out to Sandi. It is a conglomerate of airbrush parts held together with rubber-bands so the nozzles all face outward. Instead of vials of paint, vials of perfume are screwed in. While it would be somewhat unwieldy in a bathroom cabinet, it is quite possibly the cleverest thing Brittany will ever do ...) SANDI: (smiling) Sure. (... or maybe not. Brittany has neglected to test the device, and it immediately soaks Sandi's head and shoulders with perfume. Sandi gasps, and staggers back, dropping the device and wiping at her eyes.) SANDI: Ohhhhh! STACY: (panic-stricken) Omigod! TIFFANY: Sandy? Are you all right? SANDI: (enraged) I was *this* close to awarding Brittany first prize. BRITTANY: (crushed) I don't understand! KEVIN: Don't worry about it, Babe. Here! Have some punch! BRITTANY: Ooooooh! I *hate* science! (Sandi shakes droplets of perfume from her head and walks a few steps closer to Daria's table.) SANDI: Come on, Quinn. Let's move on to your weird cousin, or whatever. (Quinn looks worried. Her eyes move from Sandi to Daria's monster slime-mold. Several of the spore-sacs have broken open.) QUINN: (nervously) Umm ... Sandi? What perfume was that? SANDI (sniffing) "Lereaux" No. 5 ... why? (Sandi turns around to reveal that a sticky orange material is congealing in her hair. Tiffany gasps and Stacy screams. In horror, Sandi brings her hands up to her hair. With a low scream, she dashes away. Quinn watches with a satisfied smile on her face.) JANE: (calling after Sandi) Whatever you do, do NOT use "Liquid Plumber" on that!!! (Mrs. Li walks into view, looking over her shoulder where Sandi just disappeared.) LI: What is going on over here? I hope it won't be necessary to bring this Science Fair to a screeching halt! (Upchuch walks up behind Mrs. Li with a remote-control.) UPCHUCK: But you can't! You haven't seen *my* creation yet. Behold ... (Upchuck presses a button and the robot wheels into view on motorized treads, a thick power cable trailing behind.) DARIA: (disgusted) It's the "Upchuck 2000". UPCHUCK: Allow me to demonstrate its many abilities! (He begins fiddling with the remote, and the robot wheels up to Mrs. Barch.) UPCHUCK 2000: [How] [may] [I] [serve?] (Mrs. Barch regards the robot thoughtfully.) BARCH: Hmmm ... a man attached to a remote control ... (Upchuck, pleased, begins sending his creation into a series of loop-de-loops, and Daria's eyes widen as it stumbles near her table.) DARIA: Upchuck, watch out! (The robot smacks against the table, and the mammoth slime-mold rolls off the table to against the motorized treads. The robot begins to fizzle and spark, looping in circles. The small crowd takes a step back. Upchuck works his remote frantically.) UPCHUCK: (desperate) I've ... I've lost control! (The robot wheels up to Brittany) UPCHUCK 2000: [Hey] [baby!] [Wanna] [do it?] (Brittany squeaks in outrage. She seizes the cup of punch Kevin holds and flings it into the metal Upchuck's face. The robot stops, and begins to smoke. The crowd backs up another step and the head explodes, showering sparks everywhere. Daria's slime-mold experiment ignites in flame, and the robot crashes to the ground.) (The Fashion Club screams, and Daria and Jane take several hasty steps back. But before the fire can grow, Mr. DeMartino appears with a fire extinguisher. His eyes bulging, he makes short work of the fire. But the room fills with thick orange smoke, and the gym descends into a cacophony of coughing. The main lights vanish to be replaced with the dim flicker of the emergency lights. Kevin turns on his flashlight.) (When the smoke clears, Mrs. Li is quivering in rage.) LI: Just look at this mess! Look at it! These cables are ruined! The entire gymnasium will have to be rewired! (Jane bends over the fallen robot.) JANE: Hey! Look at this! (Jane peels off part of the robot's "metal" skin to reveal white plastic. Gasps ensue.) JANE: It's not even metal! Just tin-foil. STACY: (in horror) That's ... that's our *mannequin*!!! JANE: (distastefully) Just tin-foil and tin cans. *Rusty* tin cans. QUINN: (looks around furiously) Where's Upchuck? That thief! [Cut to where Upchuck is sneaking into an open door marked "storage".] UPCHUCK: (sneakily) Ah! My fortress of solitude! (The door snaps shut behind him) SANDI: (also inside the closet) Who's there? Are they gone yet? UPCHUCK: Grrrow! SANDI: Upchuck?!? (The handle jiggles frantically to no success. The door is locked. We hear a moan of despair.) UPCHUCK: Looks like it's just you and me, my little muchacha! () UPCHUCK: (groans) Unnngghhh ... Ff ... feisty ... [Cut back to the remains of Daria's booth, where Daria, Jane and the Fashion Club remain. Quinn has managed to uncover the majority of the mannequin, which is badly burnt and smeared with rust. A heap of discarded bits of technology lie on the floor next to it.] JANE: I can still use this, you know. It'll look great against some of my backdrops. QUINN: (sighing) Take it. Like *we'd* put clothes on it now. (to Tiffany and Stacy) Come on. We'll go back to the room and figure out a way to salvage this fashion disaster. STACY: But shouldn't we, like, try to find Sandi? QUINN: (shrugs) We'll check the bathrooms on the way. She's President! She can take care of herself. (The Fashion Club walks away, leaving Daria and Jane alone with the mannequin.) JANE: Up in flames. We should have tried that with Trent's clothes. DARIA: (monotone) You realize I'm devastated. JANE: Of course. Now help me drag this guy out to the curb and I'll call Trent. (Daria and Jane bend over and each grab a limb.) JANE: Careful with it. So what do you think I should name it? DARIA: How about 'Quinn?' JANE: No, then I'd start to despise it. (a flash of insight) I think I'll call it ... 'Rusty'. (With a little exertion, Daria and Jane drag 'Rusty' off the screen.) DARIA: Whatever. At least we've seen the end of the Great Myxomycete Plague. JANE: (to the mannequin) Rusty, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship ... EXT. AN UNSPECIFIED GARDEN -- DAY (Birds chirp, flowers bloom the sun beams down ... and out from the ground pops a tiny orange growth ...) THE END Well, there it is. My second or third fanfic! (Depending on whether or not you read "The Last Word" first.) If you liked it (or hated it) let me know! My e-mail is *DELETED* -- do it! To learn the eventual fate of Rusty the Mannequin, read my first fanfic "Love at First Slight". Really. To discover the eventual consequences of the "Upchuck 2000", keep an eye out for my upcoming novel "Stranger than Fiction".