_The Look-Alike Series_ Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit Season 2, episode 5: "Blind Audition" prose adaptation by Austin Loomis ACT 1: CATASTROPHONIC Quinn Morgendorffer stood in front of the Dewitt-Clinton house, wearing the outfit she'd bought for just this occasion -- the pink cardigan, cream turtleneck, denim skirt and flats. She watched the cornfield that took the place of a front lawn waving in the breeze for a moment, then sighed and walked towards the house. She stopped at the front door, looking at it for a long moment. She almost wanted to run away, but she knew that'd just be -- what would Daria say? delaying the indubitable or whatever. _Suck it up, Morgendorffer. Faint heart ne'er won cute guy._ She reached out and rang the bell. * * * Of all the brewpubs and bars of Carter County, Skunk's is by far the closest to the State Prison for the Criminally Insane, but any inferences you might draw from that are not my fault (even though they did occur to me, too). There's also a murder scene located close by -- possibly (though it'd still be rude to speculate) someone who didn't heed the simple warning "Don't stare at Skunk's hair. He gets angry." You can imagine what it was like on the inside. Then again, maybe you can't, and maybe that's just as well for you. A.P. McIntyre and Lynn Cullen were setting up some audio recording equipment, but apart from them, the place was empty. "Remind me again why I'm here?" Lynn wondered. A.P. thought a moment. "Since you don't have that crush on Little Drummer Boy anymore...I figure your weakness for lost causes." Lynn scowled at the reminder of her initial obsession with Max Tyler. "I don't want to talk about that." _Not after he turned out to be such a whiny moron._ "And anyway, Mystik Spiral's not that bad." A.P. snickered at that, and Lynn faked a punch at him. "Oh, shut up." "Hey, Purple Peril...why don't you ever go up on stage with these guys?" "Shut up." "You remember what they said in _Twang!_ magazine, while we were in London, about Trent's vocal ability and lyrics. You could really help these guys." "Shut *up.*" Daria Morgendorffer, Lynn's look-alike, arrived with her first (and still possibly best) friend Jane Lane. They looked from A.P., who looked confused and earnest, to Lynn, who simply looked murderous. "Ah, the active volcanoes strike again," Art-Smart Scarlet invoked what A.P. had once told her were the most prominent features of Lynn's emotional landscape. "Straight to hell with you, Lane. Do not pass go, do not collect $200." "Where are the guys?" Daria asked by way of defusing a situation that was bidding fair to get quite ugly. "They're unloading stuff," A.P. explained. "Oh," Jane shrugged, "then don't expect them here any time soon. Trent got a new guitar and he's drooling over it." "Yeah," Lynn noted wistfully, "I've seen it. Not much to look at, but great sound." "And I bet you'd just *love* to try it out," A.P. couldn't resist needling her. Lynn glared at him and walked away. Daria and Jane looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Daria's catchphrase _Excuse me?_ echoed in both their minds. * * * In the DeWitt-Clinton dining room, they ate their grilled vegetables and couscous in grim silence. Ted's parents, Leslie DeWitt and Grant Clinton, were glaring slightly at Quinn, making her *very* nervous, and Ted looked about like she felt. Finally, she had to either say something or start gibbering. "Um...why's your sofa made of logs?" The parents glared a little harder. Ted swallowed nervously. Quinn sheepishly caught the glances, but thought, _Well, can't take it back *now.*_ * * * Backstage at Skunk's, Daria, Jane, Lynn and A.P. were standing by Lynn's recording equipment. They could hear the sound of rowdy drinkers from out front. "So," Lynn asked, "tonight's the night for Narcissa, huh?" "Yes," Daria confirmed. "Today she meets the parents. She's finally facing up to the fact that a guy she's dating has a life beyond her. I just wonder what they're going to feed her." "I don't think that's worth speculating about." "...Lynn?" "Yallo..." "What are A.P.'s parents like?" "Well...Fred seems constantly exasperated and Carol's a little vague. Good people all around, though. -- You thinking of following in your sister's footsteps?" "Well..." Then they heard a guitar twang from out front, and the rowdy drinkers' noises resolved into a cheer. "We're Mystik Spiral," Trent Lane announced, "but we're thinking of changing the name." Jane raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe he still says that." The Spiral started in on their Plush Records single, "Behind My Eyelids." The crowd started booing after the first chord. Then Sir Naps-a-Lot opened his mouth to sing, and the hissing began. "o/~ As lashes close I see my woes Spread out like a carpet of bugs In absence of light Pass visions of night And shallow graves left halfway dug Behind my eyelids-- o/~" "HEY!" some angry drunken guy called out. "GET A LIFE, YOU MOPEY LOSER!" Later, three of the four Flack-Jacket Mafiosi would swear that time had gone into slow-motion the moment the chair leg came flying out of the crowd -- except Daria, who knew that the moments hadn't started stretching until the ballistic furniture hit Trent in the jaw and he began to topple. The look-alikes were stunned as still as the other two, but both managed to get their mouths moving in sarcastic unison. "Tough room." Then Lynn rushed out onto the stage, closely followed by Daria, Jane and AP. Jesse Moreno, the ever-shirtless rhythm guitarist, had his hands full keeping some angry-looking punk type from climbing up on stage. The punk moved to hit Jesse. Jesse blocked, then hit back, and the punk slithered to the floor like his bones had been removed. "*Not* cool, man," Jesse observed. The gang watched Trent as he put a hand to his jaw, then grasped his wrist with his other hand, wincing and moaning in pain. Lynn un- fastened the guitar strap and took it from him gently, then helped him to his feet. Nick Campbell, the Spiral's bass player, joined them, looking panicked. "We've got a problem. Skunk kicked out the guy who threw that thing at Trent, but the rest of them are threatening to riot if they don't get their gig." Lynn sighed. "Someone up there is really against me, aren't they." She didn't even *try* to make it sound like a question. "What?" "Never mind. What music do you guys play when you're not playing your own stuff?" Nick thought a moment. "Nirvana, Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam..." "Grunge *lives!*" Lynn replied sarcastically, then sighed. "Daria, you and Jane get Trent to a hospital." As she spoke, she re- fastened the guitar strap and slung Trent's axe over her shoulder with a resigned look. Daria and Jane stared. "What are *you* going to do?" Jane boggled. Lynn shrugged. "`Smells Like Teen Spirit,' more than likely." She shoo'ed them away and they left, half-dragging Trent behind them. * * * The Dewitt-Clinton front door opened and Quinn stepped out. She walked slowly up the walk and onto the sidewalk. She paused for a moment... then she began to beam as if lit from within. "YES!" * * * Daria was driving the SUV, and Jane was sitting in the back seat with a worried look. "I wish we hadn't left him there." "He's in good hands, Jane. They need to keep him under observation. And we had to get Lynn -- there's no telling what that crowd did to her." She drove on into the night. At Skunk's, they stepped out of the SUV and heard a great deal of noise coming from inside. "Maybe that's a good thing," Daria mused. "Since when did *you* become Ms. Ray of Optimistic Sunlight?" "Do *you* want to voice the alternative?" Jane considered a moment. "Maybe that *is* a good thing." They barged in to yelling and clapping as Mystik Spiral played a surprisingly good rendition of Therapy?'s "Screamager." Lynn was holding her own quite nicely. The other three -- Jesse, Nick and Max -- looked a little stunned, but at least they were managing to keep up as Lynn sang. "o/~ Your beauty makes me feel alone/I look inside but no one's home... o/~" Jesse joined in on the chorus. "o/~ Screw that; forget about that I don't wanna think about anything like that Screw that; forget about that I don't wanna know about anything like that I've got nothing to do But hang around and get screwed up on you I've got nothing to do But hang around and get screwed up on you... o/~" They broke into an instrumental, and Daria and Jane finally quit staring at the stage and started staring at each other. "Remember all those Olsen Twins cracks?" Jane reflected. "I take *all* of them back." A.P. bounced over and draped his arm over Daria's shoulders. "You see? You *see? Told* you she couldn't resist!" Daria was confused. "What are they still doing playing? Mystik Spiral was supposed to have finished their set by now." "They wouldn't let Purple Peril leave! Skunk finally offered them a lump sum to play the rest of the night!" "She can really sing!" Jane boggled. "But she said..." Daria quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, come on. Even *I* didn't swallow that story she fed us about only being able to sing the Lumberjack Song." The music ended to a rousing cheer. "Thank you, Skunk's!" Lynn called out. "Good night!" The crowd started cheering, obviously hoping for an encore, but the lights switched on, indicating a club owner desperate to close. Daria, Jane and A.P. made their way backstage, but we'll jump ahead of them. Lynn was checking her recording equipment as Jesse, Nick and Max hovered nearby. "Well," the Peril observed, "*that* ought to give me a few laughs when I'm old and grey and decrepit. And maybe now A.P.'ll finally get off my back about playing in public again." "That was cool, Lynn!" Max gushed. "You are a *true* criminale!" Lynn raised an eyebrow. "You have *no* idea how right you are." Daria, Jane and A.P. came in just as Nick spoke. "So...you're gonna keep playing with us until Trent heals up, right?" "Oh, no. My hair-waving days are over." Jane was impressed. "That was *great,* Lynn!" "Yeah," Daria agreed. "I didn't know you could play like that. -- Or at all." A.P. smirked evilly. "Now try explaining to all these people why the hell you gave up the band." "You were in a band? I never saw you as the type." Lynn sighed. "Yeah, well, I was...when I was fifteen." She rounded on her longtime partner-in-crime. "So were *you,* so you should be able to help tell this." "Yeah," A.P. shrugged, "I guess I should. It was back in the Oakwood days. There were four of us that used to gather in that garage -- the Purple Peril on guitar, your friendly neighborhood Psycho-Maverick on drums, Casey Wright on the bass..." "You've never met him, but...well, to be polite, he's sort of what they had in mind when they invented the word `pudgy.'" "...and Mara Fitzgerald on keyboards. She's sort of a petite- size version of Black Magic Woman," his improvised codename for Andrea Thorne. "Together, we were the Back Alley Name-Droppers." "Sounds like a band that plays Sex Pistols covers at brewpubs," Daria observed. "Yeah, I said that at the time, but A.P. was adamant." "Hey," he piped up, "I spent *three days* trying to come up with a decent band name using those initials. I wasn't going to have all that work be for nothing." "Whatever. We got a gig at a school dance and got kicked off by the principal halfway through our opening number." "I guess the woman didn't like thrash/Goth." "Or lyrics telling her to go to hell..." "Oh yeah." "Well, my guitar got confiscated and the band broke up on its own. My mother and the principal slung me into the marching band, but I got the hell out when they decided to try a band reshuffle and giving me an instrument I couldn't play." "They switched her from alto clarinet. We stopped up all the wind instruments with quick-dry cement, then the Peril told him she wanted out before he found out about it. And *that,* boys and girls, is Method 9," he took an opportunity to hawk his _25 Sure-Fire Ways to Drive Any Teacher into Early Retirement_ (25% off through the end of March, only at www.subversion_is_we.co.uk). "And so here I am...the stage-phobic person you see before you today. So maybe you understand why I say that, though I was happy to step in and save the collective hindquarters of Mystik Spiral this time around, I will *not* be playing with you while Trent's still healing. It goes against my principles." "People like us don't have principles," Daria reminded her. "When I say `it goes against my principles,' take that as meaning that I just don't feel like it." "Oh, come on, Lynn!" Max muttered. "Mystik Spiral has gigs lined up next week! And what about our weekly gig at McGrundy's?" "Cancel," she replied flatly. "Hey," Nick clarified, "the main reason we keep playing McGrundy's is because we're a tidy space-filler. If we cancel, they might not let us come back." "This is a guilt-trip. Luckily, I have no conscience." "You could finally get Lorna off your back about being onstage," A.P. suggested. Lynn glared at him...then sighed with resignation. ACT 2: SEETHER "Seether's neither loose nor tight Seether's neither black nor white" -- Veruca Salt, "Seether" The next night in the kitchen of Morgendorffer Home Base, the manchild of the house, Jake Morgendorffer, was glowering at Quinn, who still looked ecstatically happy as she related her adventures in meeting the parents. Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer looked interested in the account, while Daria was trying very hard not to hear any of what her annoyingly attractive and painfully popular younger sister had to say. "So they really *liked* me and said that I could come over any *time!* -- I know they were, like, *really* nasty when they talked to you and for awhile I thought they weren't even going to *talk* to me at all but then I asked them why their furniture was handmade and they told me all about how bad buying things was and even though I didn't, like, *believe* that, I just smiled and nodded and then later Ted told me that he does the same *thing* now!" Jake continued to smolder, still remembering his own encounter with Grant and Leslie. "I don't like you hanging around with those Commie weirdoes, Quinn. They'll mess with your mind!" "Well, that would be a challenge..." "*Daria!*" Helen chid her firstborn, then turned to her husband. "Jake, honey, simmer down. I think it's *wonderful* that Quinn's finally ...found someone she wants to see exclusively for awhile." "Exactly!" Quinn perked. "I don't like it," Jake steamed. "I just don't like it, I tell you!" He stabbed his fork into the lasagna. "Well, I don't like school either," Daria deadpanned, "but if I have to put up with that, you have to put up with this." He glared at her much as he'd done when she'd suggested that if being out of work had his hands feeling idle, there were chores that needed doing. _God, I wish I could fold napkins into artistic shapes._ Helen, desperate, decided a change of subject was in order. "So, Daria, when are you going to be meeting *your* boyfriend's parents?" Daria blushed. "Um...no plans have as yet been made regarding the date of that event." "Oh, come *on,* Daria!" Quinn loftily exhorted her. "It's not hard at *all!* Don't be so *timid!*" Daria glared at Quinn, thinking _If I run the *hitchhiker* down next time, not just his suitcase, will *that* convince you?_ Quinn, however, didn't notice. "Anyway, so can we plant an herb garden? Ted says it's like, really useful and stuff to have fresh herbs growing and some are good for cooking and they're not so good freeze- dried and some are even good for your *skin!* Did you know that camomile was an herb?" Daria and Helen sighed in unison. Jake just kept glaring. * * * Trent was sprawled out on his bed, his sprained wrist wrapped in an Ace bandage, looking bored, when Janey came in, looking evasive. "Hey, how're you feeling?" she led off. "Well, the new wires on my jaw help...but still no singing for awhile. And no guitar for a couple of weeks. -- How are the guys? I mean...you told them?" Janey seemed to be dodging the question. "Yeah." "Hope they're not too bummed about missing the gigs we've had lined up." She seemed reluctant to speak. "Actually..." The opening riffs of Coal Chamber's "El Cu Cuy" rattled the house. Trent was shocked. "...Lynn's taking over until you're better." * * * Down in the basement of Casa Lane, Mystik Spiral was thrashing out "El Cu Cuy." Trent staggered down the stairs with Jane at his heels; they stopped halfway down. Lynn and the others were too involved in playing to notice their arrival. Then, suddenly and without warning, Max and Nick stopped playing and started yelling at each other. Lynn and Jesse took a break to watch. "You lost the beat, man!" Nick snapped. "What's *wrong* with you?" "I did *not!*" Max retorted. "*You* were the one going off, Nick!" "I was *not!*" "Yes you were!" "Was *not!*" "You *were! I* was right on the beat, man!" "You were *not!*" "I *was!*" "*Wasn't!*" "*Was!*" "BING!" Lynn interjected. "Good morning!" They all stared at her. Jesse was the first to say what everyone was thinking. As you may have noticed, he's not exactly the sharpest crayon in the box, and he knows it, so it's natural he'd be the one to break down and admit he needed an explanation. "What?" "That's it; good morning. If you want to continue this argument, you're going to have to pay for another five minutes." Jane assumed (correctly, as it happens) that that was one of Lynn's semi-traditional Monty Python references. "Anyway, you were *both* off." "But..." Max spluttered. "*Shut up,*" Lynn explained, getting quite fed up with him. "Look, you guys are going to have to work together if you want this band to work -- *both* of you." "But...I'm a *criminale*...I live on the *edge!*" _Except when that sharp edge rubs against your sensitive skin._ Aloud, Lynn said, "And you wouldn't survive on that edge for five minutes without Trent, Jesse and Nick to back you up. Max...you've heard of Bonnie and Clyde? Jake and Elwood? Mickey and Mallory? *Real* criminales work best with partners in crime. For example -- who among you remembers Ms. Li?" There was a moment of hate-filled, frightened silence for the former principal of...Laaawndale Hiiigh. Lynn gave them all a smug Mona Lisa smile. "Well, the criminale standing before you got her arrested, with help." If you think silence can't change its tone, you weren't there -- this silence instantly became stunned and awe-struck. It was mostly about the facial expressions as they took in the new data. They'd heard that the supreme dictator of Lawndale High had been hauled off school property in handcuffs, but Trent was the only one of the Spiral who'd heard about the Flack-Jacket Mafia's role in the incident, and he hadn't mentioned it to the rest of them. Again, Jesse was the first to speak. "Cool." Nothing else really needed saying. "I couldn't have done it without Daria, Jane and A.P. The information I had was useless without their help. I nearly got expelled because of that. So you see the importance of teamwork?" In sheepish unison, Nick and Max acknowledged, "Yes..." "Good. Now, Max, keep a steady rhythm. Try not to go overboard on the solos. We need you to anchor us. But, Nick, if he *does* lose it a bit in a solo, keep steady and lead him back. Are we clear?" "Yes..." "Good. Now let's try it again." Jane and Trent came down the stairs far enough to be noticed. Lynn surreptitiously stuffed her hands into her pockets. "Hey," Trent led off. "Hey, man," Nick acknowledged him, "sorry if we're invading or anything but we just *really* needed a place to practice." "Hey, it's cool." He turned to Lynn. "Hey, you can play. And you got Nick and Max to stop fighting." "You haven't heard her *sing* yet!" Max gushed. "And some of the lyrics she was showing us! She *really*..." He trailed off, noticing the hurt look on Trent's face. "...kicks..." "Can I hear this?" Lynn sighed. "Oh, *God*..." "Hey, yeah!" Max perked. "Let's play `Denied' for him!" Lynn was feeling trapped. "But we've barely *practiced* yet!" "It'll be cool," Jesse assured her. "We'd hardly practiced `Spite' the first time around either." "*No!*" She took a deep breath, then continued, slightly calmer now. "We play something we've practiced, or we don't...play...at *all.* Do you get me?" The guys sounded suitably subdued as they said, "Okay..." "How about finishing up `El Cu Cuy'?" Max suggested. "That's a song for a *true* criminale!" Lynn made a seesaw hand motion. "Eh...I haven't got A.P. to work out the effects pedals for new Coal Chamber yet. How about something you guys know? Um...How about `Jeremy'?" "Cool." "Sure." "All *right!*" And they cranked into Pearl Jam's account of King Jeremy the Wicked and his fateful day of show-and-tell. Over the course of the verses, Trent noticed that, while Lynn's voice was better than his -- she had vocal range and a fair bit of power -- she wasn't *completely* superb, much to his relief. "o/~ Daddy didn't give affection/And the boy was something that Mommy wouldn't wear/King Jeremy the Wicked ruled his world o/~" Jesse joined in on the chorus again. "o/~ Jeremy spoke in class today/Jeremy spoke in class today o/~" They came to the guitar break then, and Trent observed that Lynn was an adequate guitar player -- nothing flashy or spectacular; her voice was better than her axework. "o/~ Try to forget this! o/~" she called out eventually, as they knew she must. "o/~ Try to forget this o/~" Jesse echoed. "o/~ Try to erase this! o/~" "o/~ Try to erase this o/~" "o/~ From the blackboard o/~" And they wound their way down to the end: "o/~ Jeremy spoke in, spoke in/Jeremy spoke in, spoke in/Jeremy spoke in class today... o/~ "o/~ Oooo, whoa-oh... o/~" "o/~ Jeremy spoke in, spoke in... o/~" Jesse echoed again. When Lynn was holding that one note after the final chorus, Trent swallowed nervously. After the final desperate chords where the song just falls to pieces, as resolved as it's ever gonna be, there was a moment of awkward silence as Lynn quickly disengaged her hands from the guitar and shoved them into her pockets. In shaky tones, she asked, "Blows, right?" "Nah," Trent assured her. "That was great. I can never get that kind of vocal power. And I don't think I could hit some of those notes." She seemed flustered. "Um..." Trent forced himself to sound cheery. "I'll let you guys practice. Later." And he shuffled back up the stairs. Jane glared at Lynn, then followed her brother. Lynn looked ashamed. Nick and Max looked unfazed, but Jesse had a look of mildly confused guilt. "Hey," Nick asked then, "can we do that again? I really want to do that at McGrundy's tomorrow!" Lynn sighed and took up the guitar again. * * * After the rehearsal, Lynn, Jesse, Nick and Max were standing outside Casa Lane. "You sure we shouldn't get in a few more hours?" Nick asked. "Unfortunately," Lynn shrugged, "I am still immersed in that rite of passage known as high school. They try me with plagues of, not locusts, but homework assignments. One day I will negotiate the final test of humiliation known to most as a graduation ceremony and then I will be free...and not before. -- Sorry, guys. This is why you don't want a high school student in your band." She took off her glasses, put on her motorcycle helmet, replaced the glasses through the visor, shut the visor, got on Amethyst and roared off. "Hey," Jesse philosophized. "Cool kid." "Hey, yeah," Nick allowed as, "she really socked it to Skunk when he asked us to stay on. We wouldn't have gotten half what we got if she hadn't been there." "Dunno, guys," Max reflected, "I see real criminale potential with that one, high school kid or not. I mean, how hard can it be to get around homework?" "What?" Jesse wondered, clueless as usual. Nick decided to draw him a picture. "I think he's trying to say that...aw, man, if only *Trent* could sing like that! I mean, we go *way* back, but..." That made Jesse suspicious and unhappy. "Hey, Nick..." "Hey," Max pointed out, "we have a few more weeks before we have to say anything, but...I'd *really* like to see Mystik Spiral get her on board." They piled into the Tank, Max's beloved if much-abused van, and drove away...leaving a *very* morose-looking Trent, one who'd seen -- and heard -- the whole thing. * * * Sunday night at McGrundy's Brewpub, Daria was standing next to an irate Jane. "I don't believe she got us in here. I have *got* to read more of those _1001 Ways to Manipulate..._ books." She noticed Jane quietly seething. "What's with *you?*" "I just don't like to see Lynn taking Trent's place, is all." "It's not like she's enjoying it or anything, Jane. She's just doing it as a favor." Jane met that with a disbelieving chuckle. "If you say so..." Lynn stepped on stage. She was wearing the custom-fitted biker leathers she'd been persuaded to shell out for after her suicide run on Amethyst, open to reveal a Coal Chamber hockey shirt, with a pair of black leather gloves on her hands and what were probably prescription sunglasses on her face. "Hello, drunkards, miscreants and all-around music lovers! *They* are Mystik Spiral -- I'm just their sex toy." The crowd cheered and laughed at that. "Nope," Jane snarked; "hating every *minute* of this, isn't she?" Daria rolled her eyes as the music began. * * * Outside McGrundy's, after the show, Lynn, still in her onstage outfit, walked up to a coolly impressed Daria and a still-smoldering Jane. "So..." she led off hesitantly, "what'd you think?" "The covers were good," Daria assured her. "And I really liked some of the lyrics you were coming out with in the original stuff. They kind of...I don't know...screamed along with the music." "Yeah, that was what I was *hoping* for, but you never know. Jane?" Jane looked livid. "Yeah," she hissed. "Great." Lynn looked surprised. Daria rolled her eyes again. ACT 3: WHAT IS IT? "You want it all but you can't have it It's in your face but you can't grab it WHAT?! IS?! IT?! IT'S IT! (What is it?)" -- Faith No More, "Epic" Lynn looked at her computer, then at her hands -- still gloved. She sighed and crossed her room, picked up her guitar case and left. * * * In his room, Trent looked sadly at his guitar, then at a CD -- the demo Lynn had made from another Mystik Spiral show. He sighed and tossed the disk under his bed. * * * In English class, Lynn was sitting at her desk, not reading or writing, just staring in front of her with her hands -- still in gloves -- folded on the desk in front of her. Daria and A.P. looked at her strangely. * * * Mystik Spiral was onstage in a grubby club, and Lynn seemed to be enjoying herself. Daria, Jane, Trent and A.P. were sitting at a table. Daria looked coolly impressed and A.P. looked ecstatic, but Trent looked miserable and Jane, upon seeing her brother's expression, looked bitterly at the stage. * * * Another day, another English class. Lynn was asleep at her desk. Her hands were still gloved. Daria and A.P. looked at her with concern. * * * Trent opened his closet door a crack, and some of his clothes took the chance to try to escape. He kicked them back in and shoved his guitar in after them. Then he struggled to close the door. At the door of his room, Jane stood watching sadly. * * * In the halls of Lawndale High, Lynn, still gloved, walked up to Daria and Jane. Jane shot Lynn a dirty look, which took the Peril aback. She walked away. Daria looked sternly at Jane. Throughout this whole discussion, none of the three girls said a word. * * * Daria and Jane were walking home on the streets of Lawndale. Jane still looked angry, which still had Daria confused. After all, when something drove wedges between two of their little club, it was usually Daria herself who got wrapped around the axle about it. "I don't see why this bothers you so much," she insisted. "Daria," Jane muttered, "it's really getting to Trent. I mean... fine, *we* can tease him about his singing...even *Lynn* can tease him about his singing...but we don't do it like we *mean* it!" "I don't recall hearing her tease Trent. She'd done a lot for the band even before Trent got hurt -- fixing the Tank, getting them to London..." "True...But she *is* showing him that there are people out there *better* than him!" "Doesn't he know that already? Whenever he walks into a music store, he's shown that there are people out there better than him. -- Making more money than him, anyway," she hastily added. "Yeah, but...that's strangers! When it's Lynn, running his band better than he can..." "Jane, I doubt it's personal. Does she even realize that this is affecting Trent?" "He hasn't said anything, so no, but...he keeps giving his guitar this *wistful* look, like he's never gonna see it again. He shoved it in his *closet* the other day -- and that closet *eats* things, I *swear!* -- She's killing his dream, Daria!" "Jane, I think you're overreacting. Maybe having a little competition will encourage Trent to work harder. And anyway, it's not exactly Lynn's fault if she can sing." Jane thought about that a moment, then her face softened and she sighed. "Aw, hell. This means eating a big helping of crow and apologizing, doesn't it?" "Not as such. She might do something you'd regret. Just lay off. -- Anyway, the way she's been lately, she might not even have noticed." Jane sighed again. * * * Trent sitting at the kitchen table, looking as peeved as he felt. That Lynn came in, and he decided it was time to talk it out. As bitterly as he could, he said, "Hey. You and *your* band can use the basement here as long as you want." Lynn was confused. "Excuse me?" "They want to replace me." "Well," she told him firmly, "they can't. If it involves playing, I'm not going to do it, end of story." "You're giving up the band for me? I mean, you obviously like doing this..." "Oh, don't we like ourselves," she snarked. "I'm *not* giving up the band for you. I'm giving up the *guitar,* and I'm doing it for *me.*" "I don't follow. You're doing really well..." She started to pull off one of her gloves. "Oh, yeah. Great, right?" The glove came off, and Trent could see why she'd been wearing them lately -- her fingers were all bandaged, and some of the bandages were stained with fresh blood. "No calluses. And no time to build them the way these guys are pushing me. I won't be able to type for weeks, and I may be doing myself permanent damage. I'm not playing for Mystik Spiral anymore. They want a guitarist, they go to you." "The guys will be disappointed. They've been doing a lot better since you fronted." "That's only the novelty of a woman fronting. God, even Tura Satana had a vogue on that basis." "You sing better than I do. You've got stronger lungs and more vocal power than I'll ever have." Lynn blushed. "Um...look, that that's not your fault and it doesn't matter anyway. I just wanted to let you know I was stepping down after you've healed up. I'll see you around, Trent." She turned to go. Trent was actually a bit sad. _I was ready to rip her a few new orifices, and she does this. She's pretty cool._ Then an idea hit him. "Hey, Lynn! Hold up!" She turned back to look at him. "Make you a proposition." "I think we've had quite enough of *that,* don't you?" Trent blushed, remembering what had happened between them in London over New Year's. Lynn smirked at him and sat back down. "Sorry. Shouldn't joke. I'm listening." * * * Morgendorffer Home Base seemed to shake as a stunned Daria exclaimed, "WHAT?" Up in the padded room, she was staring incredulously at Lynn. A.P. was grinning like the lunatic he was, and Jane had a semi-smirk on her face. After a slight pause, Daria made sure she'd heard what she thought. "You're going to *manage* Mystik Spiral?" "Why not?" Jane wondered. "It's not like *they've* been doing a great job." "And then, if that wasn't enough, you're considering joining the band as their singer?" "What's wrong with *that?*" A.P. snapped. "I mean, unlike some, *she* doesn't sound like she's got a throat full of gravel!" Lynn sighed. "Look, it was the best compromise anyone could come up with. We talked to the guys and they agreed that, while Trent's playing could conceivably improve, his singing voice is kind of a lost cause. Additionally -- and I'm not sure how to take this next statement -- they figured they needed someone really smart and equally devious to manage the band. So..." "You could all make some *beautiful* music together!" Jane smirked mischievously. For that one, Lynn, Daria *and* A.P. glared at Jane, who looked startled. Each noticed the others' reactions and look puzzled. Daria sighed. "So we on `the list' for the next gig?" She made finger quotes around the words "the list." "No..." Lynn informed her, "you're on `the list' for *all* of them, as far as I'm concerned." "Hey!" Jane piped. "This situation has perks!" A.P. and Daria looked like they might argue with that statement, but quickly checked their facial expressions. "Hey, Erudite Emerald," A.P. changed the subject; "mind if I show you off to the 'rents? Dinner at my house in a few days, maybe?" Slightly too forcefully, Daria said, "Sure." Jane and Lynn looked at her curiously, then shrugged. "Anyway," Lynn assured them, "I'm not getting carried away. It's not an issue until Trent heals. And even then I'd settle for getting them a gig that pays more than twenty bucks and the right to empty the kegs after closing..." A.P. grinned. Jane smirked evilly. Daria, slightly reluctantly, smiled a Mona Lisa smile. ADAPTOR'S NOTES Hello yourself. CB didn't even notice what she'd done with the BAND name until I pointed it out. She suggested A.P.'s reason for insisting on keeping the name. I had honestly never heard of the band Tura Satana. The only Tura Satana I knew, until CB explained it to me, was the stripper the band was (I presume) named for, the raven-haired Fury from Russ Meyer's classic of bosomaniacinema, _Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!_ Obligatory legal blap: Daria Morgendorffer was created (as were the rest of the Lawndale characters) by Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis Lynn, and she and her neighbors are copyright 1993, 1997, 2000 MTV Networks, a Viacom company. (As Michelle Klein-Haess has pointed out, work-for-hire sucks the yolks from ostrich eggs.) Monty Python quotes and characters are copright 1970, 2000 Python (Monty) Pictures Ltd. "Screamager" lyrics are copyright somebody or other; "Jeremy" lyrics are copyright 1991 Eddie Vedder or at least his music publisher. They are here used, without the permission of their creators or owners, in the not-for-profit context of fan-fiction. The characters of Lynn Cullen and A.P. McIntyre are copyright 1999, 2000 Janet "Canadibrit" Neilson, as is this storyline, which was adapted by Austin Loomis (to whom the prose format version is copyright 2000) with permission. All other characters, locations and incidents (of which I don't think there are any, actually) are either imaginary or used fictitiously. Any coincidence of names is regretted, and any resemblance to persons living, dead, undead, or wandering the night in ghostly torment is either purely satirical or not my fault. As a "substantially transformative" derivative work, this story is protected by the Supreme Court's decision in re Campbell v. Acuff Rose Music. It may be freely redistributed as long as this copyright notice is maintained intact, but may not be in any way redistributed for profit without the permission of the legal owners of all concepts involved. The present author hereby gives permission for any and all keepers of Daria fanfic pages to archive this work (as if I could stop them). Any publication of this story for profit without the express written permission of Austin Loomis, Janet Neilson and MTV Networks (like any of that'll happen, especially the last) is strictly prohibited, and violators, if I ever decide to track them down, will be strung up by the thumbs, beaten about the head and shoulders with a free-range carrot, and then handed over to corporate lawyers who will do terrible things to them. On purpose. Austin, and good day.