_The Look-Alike Series_
Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit
Season 3, episode 8: "Job Lots"
prose adaptation by Austin Loomis

ACT 1: NOT MY IDEA

"I got some money in my pocket, 'bout ready to burn
 I don't remember where I got it, gotta get it to you
 So please answer the phone
 'Cos I keep callin', but you're never home
 What am I gonna do?"
	-- Genesis, "Tonight, Tonight, Tonight"

In the Lawndale High auditorium, Jane Lane, Lynn Cullen, Andrew Philip 
McIntyre, Charles Ruttheimer III, Ted DeWitt-Clinton and assorted other 
cast members of the school's production of "Romeo and Juliet" were 
milling around onstage.  From out in the seats, Tim O'Neill called out 
directions: "Okay, Lynn, A.P., we're going to go through the scene in 
which Romeo and Juliet discover their undying love!"
	Lynn and A.P. turned away from each other a little to hide the 
slightly worried looks, each (unbeknownst to the other but beknownst 
to those of us who've been following the series) for the same reason.  
Lynn found herself looking right at Jane, who smirked at her before being 
cowed into submission with a single sharp glare.  A.P. looked at Daria 
Morgendorffer, Purple Peril's look-alike and half-sister, who was hanging 
around in the wings; she gave him a little sympathetic shrug.
	"Now, this time, I'd like to try it with full blocking.  That 
means *all* the actions."
	Very quietly, and in unison, the leads agreed, "Eep..."
	"So we'll go from..."  O'Neill thumbed through his script.  "Ah!  
Where Romeo catches his Juliet for the first time!"
	"Um...Mr. O'Neill?" Upchuck raised his hand.  "Could I make a 
suggestion?"  O'Neill nodded, and the Chuckster continued, quite calmly 
and without the badly-suppressed leer that usually pervades his speech 
patterns.  "I got the impression that Juliet, while taken by Romeo, 
wouldn't just wander off on her own and allow herself to be accosted 
by just *anyone.*  After all, it's already established that her mother 
has trained her to set her sights high, and she's promised to at least 
consider Paris as a suitor.  It might be helpful to give Juliet some 
reason why Paris is out of the running."
	"Like she hasn't got enough of one already..." A.P. muttered.
	"Why, that's a marvellous idea, Charles!" Wimp-in-the-Willows 
gushed.  "Now, what would you suggest?"
	"Perhaps," Charles replied, a trace of the real Upchuck creeping 
into his voice, "a feisty but virtuous lady such as Juliet would drop 
Paris from the running if he let his *passionate* nature get the better 
of him..."
	"Of *course!*  An unwanted advance would drive Juliet away from
the dancing and straight into the arms of gentle Romeo!  Wonderful 
suggestion, Charles..."  He turned his attention to a clipboard, taking 
notes.
	Lynn turned to her companions, appalled.  "That...just gave him 
free license to grope me, didn't it."  Jane and A.P. gave regretful, 
sympathetic nods.  "Crap..."

				      * * *

And so, Lynn and Upchuck were dancing, she looking less than thrilled.  
His hand moved to her butt and gave a squeeze, and she smacked him hard 
across the face, stepping about as hard on his foot at the same time.  
He screamed in pain and pushed her away, knocking her to the floor.  
"That's a *little* too realistic, Upchuck..." she half-snarled.
	"*Perfect!*" O'Neill outgrabe.
	Lynn and Upchuck shared a Look, then turned to O'Neill.  "Excuse 
me?"
	"From a blocking point of view, that's perfect!  If you're on 
the floor, Romeo has an excuse to take your hand!  Now maybe we should 
try that again to get the timing..."  He caught Lynn's look and backed 
hastily off from that notion.  "Okay...let's move straight on to the 
scene with Romeo.  Action!"
	A.P. took Lynn's hand and helped her up.  "`If I profane with 
my unworthiest hand
	This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this
	My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
	To smooth that rough touch with a gentle kiss.'"
	He moved to kiss her hand; she pulled it away, still clasped 
in his.  A palpable tension began to build between them.
	"`Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
	Which mannerly devotion shows in this,
	For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch
	And palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss.'"  She slipped her hand 
over his until their hands were pressed palm-to-palm.
	The hopeful grin on A.P.'s face as he twined his fingers in hers 
wasn't all acting.  "`Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?'"
	Juliet, I mean Lynn, pulled away with a teasing smirk.  "`Aye, 
pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.'"
	Suddenly quite earnest, Romeo gripped her hand again.  "`O, then, 
sweet saint, let lips do what hands do/They pray; grant thou, lest faith 
turn to despair.'"
	"`Saints do not move...'"  A small smile.  "`Though grant for 
prayer's sake.'"
	A shy smile.  "`Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.'" 
The kiss lasted about a second and a half -- just a bit longer than a 
chaste peck really should.  It added to the tension on the stage rather 
than diminishing it.  A.P. looked into Lynn's face and sheepishly dropped 
her hand.  "`Thus, from my lips by thine, my sin is purged.'"  He turned 
to go.
	Before he'd gotten three steps away, Lynn countered with her 
line, "`And have my lips the sin that they have took?'"
	He turned to face her, saw the inviting little smile on her face, 
and his own face lit up.  Neither one was acting any more, but each was 
too consumed by eir own feelings to notice the other's sincerity.  He 
just grinned.  "`Sin from my lips?  O trespass sweetly urged;/give me 
my sin again!'"
	They each took one step forward to close the gap between them.
	The kiss actually lasted for 15 seconds; it only *seemed* longer 
to those outside it -- and those inside.  Lynn's hands were locked around 
A.P.'s neck, and his were buried in her hair.  Eventually, they realized 
what they were doing and jumped backwards, turning away from each other.  
Each was too flustered about what they felt for the other to consider 
that it might have been reciprocated.  Lynn, though, was quite breathless 
as she concluded the quatrain: "`You kiss by the book...'"
	Desperate for something else to look at, they looked up towards 
the seats, where O'Neill was now talking to Nathan Caldwell.  O'Neill 
looked depressed and a bit worried about whatever Lawndale High's newish 
principal was telling him.  Purple Peril and Psycho-Maverick had calmed 
down enough that they could now look at each other, and so they did.  
"What do you make of that?" he asked, most of the way under his breath.
	Caldwell stood up.  "Good afternoon, students, if I could have 
your attention, please?"
	"Don't know," Lynn replied, likewise sotto with the voice.  "But 
I bet we're not going to like it."
	"Now, as some of you may be aware, Lawndale High has had some
...budget problems under my predecessor."  Daria, Jane, Lynn and A.P. 
shared a look, concluding that if he wasn't going to mention the ways 
the late Angela Li had spent the school budget, it wasn't their place 
to chime in.  "And, the way things are running at present, it seems the 
budget won't be able to sustain a theatre performance this year."
	Low muttering from the students.  A.P. looked almost relieved, 
and there was no "almost" about the obvious look of relief on Lynn's 
face.  Jane, however, looked a bit peeved about being cheated out of 
a yenta-ing opportunity.
	Daria was impassive as usual, until she realized.  "This is going 
to hurt you two; don't you need the extra credit?"
	"Yeah," Jane shrugged, "but not too badly."
	A.P. added, "Yeah, but what can *we* do about it?"
	Caldwell wasn't done talking.  "But I do have a solution that 
you may find suitable and, who knows?  Maybe even fun!"
	"Do you get that shuddery feeling every time a principal says 
`fun'?" Daria wondered.
	"I propose a slave auction!"
	If the message in the cast's stares had to be summed up in one 
word, it couldn't be.  It'd take three, those three being "What the 
*hell*...?"

				      * * *

After school, Daria sat on one side of the gang's usual booth at Pizza 
King, Lynn on the other.  Jane and A.P. approached, bearing pizza, and 
Jane moved quickly to sit next to Daria, leaving the spot next to Lynn 
free for A.P.  Lynn rolled her eyes but said nothing as the boy she'd 
once pretended to date sat down.
	"Slave auction?" he led off.  "What the *hell* gave him *that* 
dumb idea?"
	"I'd imagine _Saved by the Bell_ reruns."  The others looked 
at Lynn funny.  "Hey, you aren't the only one who's ever been roped into 
babysitting, Daria."
	Daria opted to ignore that.  "It's bad enough he wants as many 
people from the play itself as he can get to sign up to be slaves for 
a day.  But to ask for us as a double-act?"
	"Well, I guess it makes sense," Jane allowed as.  "I mean, you're 
practically twins.  If you want a pair of slaves you can show off, get 
the ones that match the best."
	"We're not twins, Jane.  Nor are we bookends."
	"Well, she's right, though," A.P. pointed out, "and there's only 
so much anyone who buys you can do to you *both* in a day..."
	Lynn felt inspiration strike.  "I say we do it."  More looks.  
"No, no, listen to me.  We need money to keep this play going, or A.P. 
probably goes to summer school, right?  And Jane's not doing much better."
	"That's basically it, yeah..."
	"And we assume that Daria and I are going to make a lot of money 
as a double-act, right?"  This got nods from the gang, who weren't sure 
where she was going with this.  "So we sign up as a team -- a pair of 
twin slaves -- and then I hand over a substantial amount of trust fund 
to Jane and A.P., who buy us at a price unheard of by most high school 
teenagers."
	"The play gets the money..."
	"We look like we're participating in something for a change..." 
Daria chimed in.
	"And you don't get asked to do anything..."
	"I think you should stop right there, Jane."
	Brief silence followed Lynn's remark.  She smirked and took a 
bite of her pizza; the others followed suit.  
	In the next booth over, Upchuck, having heard the whole thing, 
was sitting by himself with a thoughtful expression on his face, which 
slowly turned into his sleaziest, sneakiest grin.  If you just imagined 
it, you might want to take advantage of the next asterisks to go wash 
your eyes.  I know I will.

				      * * *

Later, one could find Jane in the art room, working on a potter's wheel.  
A.P. wandered in, shutting the door behind him, and watched her for a 
while or two.  "Well," he eventually said, "you're not my idea of Demi 
Moore, but the pot's nice."
	Jane visibly bit back what she'd started to say, but A.P. didn't 
notice -- noticing things, you yourself may have noticed, is not his 
forte.  Instead, she asked, "How are Daria and Lynn coping, with so few 
moments of freedom left?"
	"It's almost funny.  Erudite Emerald is pacing around in the 
wings going `I can't believe I'm doing this I can't believe I'm doing 
this I can't believe I'm doing this' like a broken record and Purple 
Peril...well, she's keeping the volcanoes inactive.  For now."
	Jane crumpled the pot-in-progress.  "Ah well, come on.  We want 
to get good seats for this thing."  They headed for the door.
	"You have the cash, right?"
	"Of course.  You don't think I'm going to mislay two hundred 
dollars, do you?"
	"Two *hundred?*  Whoa, Purple Peril believes in covering all 
bases, doesn't..."  He twisted the doorknob, and it didn't budge.  He 
rattled the doorknob.  Still no dice.
	"What's going on?"
	A.P. rattled the doorknob some more.
	"We're locked *in?*"
	A.P. didn't respond, just started sifting through his pockets.
	"You're *kidding!*  Who would want to do something like that?"
	A.P. kicked the door.  "No one died and made me Nostradamus, 
okay?  I don't *know!*"  _But like Bethany said about God, I have a 
pretty good idea..._

				      * * *

Out in the auditorium seats, Upchuck grinned evilly as he heard the words 
coming from the podium, where Mr. DeMartino stood with a gavel, the very 
picture of an auctioneer.  "*Sold* to *Charles Ruttheimer!*"
	Daria and Lynn, standing sheepishly next to Mr. D., looked at 
each other in absolute horror.  With one voice, they summed it up.  "Oh.  
My.  God."
	In defiance of the laws of anatomy, Upchuck's grin somehow got 
even wider.  "Rrowrl..."


ACT 2: TONIGHT, TONIGHT, TONIGHT

"You keep tellin' me I've got everything
 You say I got everything I want
 And you keep tellin' me you're gonna help me
 You're gonna help me, but you don't
 Well, now I'm in too deep
 See, it's got me so bad I just can't sleep..."
	-- "Tonight, Tonight, Tonight"

Later, in the kitchen of Chez Cullen, Jane and A.P. were busily screwing 
the legs back onto the kitchen table while Daria and Lynn, sitting side-
by-side on the countertop, went through sheets of paper.  "Well," Lynn 
summed up the rules, "he's not allowed to touch us or make us touch him 
in any intimate way, he's not allowed to make us spend our own money, 
he's not allowed to make us wear anything really indecent and the slavery 
only runs for the length of the school day.  So now what?"
	Daria hove a sigh.  "We do it.  What else is there?"  She let 
that question hang there a moment.  "So much for a simple plan."
	"We're really sorry; we..."
	Jane got no futher.  "It wasn't your fault."
	"But I bet I know whose fault it *was*..." Lynn grated with cold 
certainty.
	"Let's not jump to conclusions here."
	"Oh, come on, Erudite Emerald," A.P. snapped; "he obviously 
wanted you badly.  I mean, you said he paid seventy-five bucks for you 
both!"
	"And," Jane added, "if he had some way of knowing that we were 
the only ones who could even hope to get more than that together on short 
notice..."
	"Well, that's yet another lesson being driven home the hard way."  
The others looked at Lynn as if she were a toadfrog.  "Never discuss 
something that you wouldn't want even one other person to hear in public."
	A short silence greeted this.
	"Well, well.  Pearls of wisdom from the Purple Paranoid."
	"Jane..." Daria warned.
	Lynn sighed.  "I'm sorry; I'm in a bit of a pessimistic frame 
of mind.  And can you blame me?  He's bound to want revenge for the times 
I've beaten him up this year.  Or threatened to."
	"He's not going to be that much less likely to want to score 
a few points off me, Lynn.  I may not ever have got physical with him, 
but I've cut him down sharply enough that he's probably still feeling 
the sting.  At least that might take some of the pressure off."
	"I suppose.  And it's only a day.  Somehow, we'll get through it."
	"But if you explain to Caldwell..." A.P. blurted.  "I mean, it's 
Hefner's Folly we're talking about here!  You could probably get out 
of it..."
	"Only by having Caldwell give the seventy-five bucks that Upchuck 
spent on us back," Daria pointed out.  "That's not a spit in the ocean, 
A.P."
	"Maybe that much less in the budget wouldn't make or break the 
play," Lynn added.  "But what if it *did?*  We said we'd do this, and 
we're going to."  She considered how that sounded.  "We're just not going 
to *like* it very much."
	The doorbell rang.  Everyone looked at Lynn, who shrugged and 
headed out to answer it.
	After a brief pause, A.P. put down his screwdriver.  "How far 
do you think we'd get into searching her room before she got back?"
	"A.P...." Daria warned.
	"Well, it might give us some answers.  I read _Hideaway_ too, 
you know!"
	Daria tried a sterner tone.  "A.P...."
	Lynn returned then, bearing two mid-sized boxes, handing one 
to her sister.  "Special Delivery.  From Upchuck.  For tomorrow."
	"Any clue as to what's in them?"
	"I don't even think I want to know."
	Nonetheless, they tore open the paper on the boxes and opened 
them. Their eyes went big as saucers.
	"His father has *got* to take his credit card off that kid."

				      * * *

On the fateful day, Daria poked her head out of the girl's locker room 
and saw Jane and A.P. looking at her.
	"Come on," Jane urged; "it can't be that bad."
	Daria exited the locker room wearing...a short, slinky black 
cocktail dress.  With the boots.
	Jane smirked.
	A.P. let out a cheerful, teasing wolf-whistle.
	Daria blushed and glared at him, subsiding after a moment.  
"Well, I guess I haven't got it *so* bad.  You should see *Lynn's* 
outfit."
	_Oh, *God.*_  "How many times over is she going to have to kill 
him?"
	Daria pushed the door open.  "Come on, Lynn.  You're just 
delaying the inevitable."
	The door opened fully and Lynn stepped out, clad in that pulp-
era gold/brass bikini-thing Princess Leia wore in _Return of the Jedi_, 
accompanied by a pair of lace-up sandals.  Her hair was in a braid down 
her back, just the way Leia wore it, and she looked *extremely* pissed 
off -- very Amazon warrior.
	A.P.'s jaw dropped.  "Nrgh..."
	Jane just smirked some more.  "Whoa.  Nice."
	Upchuck approached then, looking entirely too frickin' pleased 
with himself.  "Well, well, well!  And how are my feisty love-slaves 
this morning?"
	"Can it, Upchuck," Daria & Lynn replied in that usually-scary 
unison they do sometimes.
	Upchuck made an attempt to sound commanding.  "Now. ladies...
for today, at least, you call me Chas."
	The look-alikes exchanged a look, then chorused, "Fine.  Can 
it, Chas."
	Upchuck ignored that, opting instead to circle Daria and Lynn, 
who glare at him as he inspected his "merchandise," if you'll pardon 
the expression.  "Well, well, Ms. Morgendorffer...now I finally get a 
decent view of that figure you so badly want to hide.  And I can see 
why you would -- so rare and precious a vision should be saved for the 
few and fortunate.  Rrowrl..."
	Daria suppressed a shudder, biting her tongue until she could 
almost taste blood.
	Now the Chuckster approached Lynn, who just stood very still 
and refused to look at him.  "And Ms. Cullen...Force or no Force, you're 
feisty!  In the words of the suave and sophisticated Mr. Bond, I do so 
like a girl in a bikini...no concealed weapons."
	If you knew what to look for, Lynn's facial expression conveyed 
anger, slight guilt and a feeling of being cheated.  Upchuck probably 
wouldn't have noticed even if he *had* been looking at her face, but 
Daria was and did, and she frowned suspiciously.
	"Now, my little pets...today, you are mine."
	"We know the rules to this slave day, Up...Chas," Daria caught 
herself.  "We may have to do *some* of what you say, but there are limits 
and we're not letting you cross them.  Step out of line and..."  She 
needed a moment to think of the worst possible threat.  "...and I'll 
turn the matter over to Lynn."
	"You know what I'm capable of," the Peril reminded him.  "Don't 
test me."
	"Perhaps we can...strike a bargain," suggested God's gag gift 
to women.  "You play fair with me, and I...*I* will play fair with 
*you.*"  He let them meditate on his definition of "fair play" a moment.  
"After all, it simply wouldn't do to have Mr. Caldwell thinking that 
you hadn't done your duty and insist on giving me a refund for your 
services..."
	Daria looked at Lynn, who was *just* about keeping her temper, 
then turned back to the Chuckster.  "Look, all we want is to get through 
this day with a minimum of embarrassment.  Do you think we can handle 
that?"
	"The name of the game is `servitude,' fair handmaidens."  He 
snapped his fingers imperiously.  "Come!  You shall carry my books!"
	Daria and Lynn shot Jane and A.P. an "oh, hell" look as they 
followed Upchuck away.
	"Do you think we'll ever be able to pay them back for what 
they're doing for us here?" A.P. wondered.
	Jane gave her head a barely noticeable shake.  "No one can do 
enough good deeds in a lifetime to make *this* up to them."
	They looked at each other sadly and walked off, in separate 
directions, toward their own classes.

				      * * *

Images to store away for a later nightmare:
	They were walking down the hall when Upchuck deliberately dropped 
a stack of books.  He gestured to Daria and Lynn, who sighed and started 
picking them up.  He blatantly ogled them as they do so.  Ms. Barch, 
standing not too far away, looked pissed off enough to bite a boulder 
in half, but Upchuck just grinned at her and went back to his "show."  
Barch managed to look even angrier.
	In econ class, Upchuck was sitting back in his chair, flipping 
idly through the latest _Esquire_, while everyone else was furiously 
trying to copy one of Mrs. Bennett's notorious football-playbook-on-the-
brown-acid diagrams off the board.  Daria, one of the "everybody else," 
looked up and scowled at the Chuckster.  Later, in the library, she made 
photocopies of her notes and handing them over to her smug "master."
	Looking around the cafeteria at lunchtime, it was clear that 
the slave day was in full effect.  Sandi Griffin and Tiffany Blum-Deckler 
sat like queens as Jamie White, in full waiter uniform, served them a 
packed lunch.  Their former Fashion Club secretary, Stacy Rowe, was 
getting a manicure from Jodie Landon.  Ted DeWitt-Clinton was wearing 
a kilt and dancing a reluctant hornpipe for Kevin Thompson and the rest 
of the guffawing football team, while Quinn Morgendorffer, Daria's other-
half sister, looked on in genuine pity for her boyfriend.  Kevin's main 
squeeze, Brittany Taylor, was wearing a French maid's outfit and spoon-
feeding Kevin his lunch between the bursts of laughter.
	Upchuck saw that last element and his eyes lit up.  He turned 
to Lynn, who was sitting next to him in a posture that suggested she 
might bolt at any moment, and pulled a bunch of grapes out of his book 
bag.  Lynn, looking utterly disgusted, began none-too-gently feeding 
him the grapes.  Daria, sitting on the Chuckster's other side and fanning 
him with an Oriental paper fan, looked at her sister with a pitying 
expression.  Lynn took this badly and nearly tosses the next grape down 
Upchuck's throat.  He choked briefly, then looked at her as who should 
say "naughty girl."  Lynn sighed and visibly fought her temper down.
	Later, in the halls of Lawndale, Upchuck stopped by a water 
fountain and gestured imperiously to Lynn, who stepped forward with a 
sighs and pushed the button.  Unfortunately, the water fountain was 
defective; it spat the water too high, soaking Hefner's Folly.  Lynn 
gave a vindicated smirk while Upchuck looked rather askance at her, 
thinking she's done it on purpose.  Lynn wiped that smirk off her face 
and pushed the button again, more delicately this time.  Upchuck scowled 
at her before taking his drink.

				      * * *

The look-alikes had shared out Upchuck's books between them and were 
now walking down the corridor, flanking him like bookends or bodyguards.  
Joey headed past them the other way, sweeping the floor in front of Sandi 
and Tiffany.
	Upchuck stopped at his locker and spun the dial before making 
a gesture to Lynn with one hand as he reached into his pocket with the 
other.  "You open it for me, my beauteous barbarian handmaiden."
	Lynn complied...and that hand came out of the pocket with a pair 
of handcuffs, one of which he'd locked around Lynn's wrist before she 
could react.  He slipped the other cuff through the locker handle and 
onto her other wrist even as she lashed out with a knee and caught him 
in the stomach.  He staggered back, gasping but triumphant.
	Lynn was now chained to the locker door like a sacrificial 
offering.  She yanked downwards with both hands; the locker door handle 
and the handcuff chains both held.  Her temper went completely pear-
shaped.  "You're going to wish your parents had never *met!*"  She yanked 
on the chain again; still nothing.
	Upchuck shook a finger at her.  "Ah, ah, ah; you don't talk to 
your master that way."
	Daria decided to try and defuse the situation.  "I seriously 
don't think you'd be allowed to do this, Upchuck."
	"Daria, it's *Chas.*"
	"No; it's *mud* if you don't unlock her.  This isn't in the
rules."
	"If it doesn't say I *can't*..."  He let her consider that while 
he turned back to the still-struggling Lynn.  "Some feisty lady *you* 
turned out to be," he mocked her.  "Only got one shot in before I locked 
you up..."  Lynn lashed out with a foot at that, but the Chuckster had 
calculated well and was about three inches out of her reach.  "Nice view, 
though."  With that, he pulled a disposable camera out of his pocket 
and started taking pictures.
	Lynn managed to harness her temper enough to stop struggling.  
She just hung from the locker door like some symbolic sculpture, eyes 
closed, almost meditative.
	This worried Daria more than the demon-rage would have done.  
"Up...Chas.  Hand over the keys.  *Now.*"
	"I don't think so.  I'd like to be a fair distance before she's 
off there."
	"Well," she muttered, more to herself than to him, "I guess no 
one ever said you were stupid..."  He put the camera away.  "Fine.  Give 
*me* the keys and *I'll* unlock her."
	But the power had completely gone to Upchuck's head now, -- or 
should I say to his *heads,* big and little?  He grinned his slimiest 
grin, dangled the keys before Daria's miserable and resigned eyes, then 
dropped them down the front of his pants.  "Want to go fishing for them?" 
he leered.
	Daria looked at him a moment.  Her face took on an expression 
that said "Oh, what the hell."  Then she hiked a booted foot back and 
nailed him squarely in the crotch.  He whimpered ever so gently and 
collapsed.
	"I don't think so."  Daria turned back to Lynn...and noticed 
her sister was now free of the handcuffs.  "How the *hell* did..."
	"If I'd kept my temper I'd have realized..."  Lynn held up a 
bobby pin.  "...that sometimes doing your hair isn't so bad after all."  
She contemplated that a moment.  "I'm gonna have to do something about 
this temper of mine.  Maybe I'd stop acting first and thinking later."
	"Might be safer for you all around."
	"So...how did it feel, indulging in a random act of violence?"
	Daria treated herself to a small smile.  "I think I see what 
you get out of it."  She let that hang briefly in the air, then added, 
"We ought to try to get that camera away from Upchuck..."
	"Too late," came the quite calm reply.  They both turned around 
to see that Upchuck had made himself scarce.  "I guess you take enough 
hits to the happy-sacks, you develop enough of an immunity that you can 
at least move."
	Daria was stunned.  "But...he's got..."
	A small, very evil smirk.  "I think it's safe to say that he 
will be...dealt with."  Lynn let her sister consider that.  "I'm going 
to get changed."  After a moment, an idea struck her.  "Come around to 
my house after school.  Claim a late rehearsal.  Extend the invitation 
to Jane and A.P., but don't arrive before eight; I'll be busy."
	Daria watched Lynn walk away, hoping she could balance justice 
with prudence.  (Fortitude was one of Lynn's known strong points, and 
as for the fourth cardinal virtue, temperance...well, if you've been 
following Lynn so far, I think you can draw your own conclusions.)


ACT 3: YOUR OWN PERSONAL JESUS

"Ooh, get me out of here
 Please get me out of here
 Just help me, I'll do anything
 Anything, if you'll just help
 Get me out of here!"
	-- "Tonight, Tonight, Tonight"

The other three were walking home on the streets of Lawndale.  Daria 
appeared to be in a world of her own.  Jane and A.P. just stared at her.
	"He's gonna die," Jane observed.
	"She's going to jail," added A.P.
	"I mean, even *before* the attack, she wouldn't have let him 
live!"
	"Or worse -- the wacky ward."
	"She knows ways to hurt people that would freak out Inquisitors 
if she even knows *half* the ones I saw in her book..."
	"They'd call Kate."  He thought about that and realized he could 
think of a way it could get worse.  "They'd call Kate, and Kate would 
have her locked in a wacky ward."  He thought some more and realized 
it could *still* get worse.  "Kate would make them turn her into
Narcissa."
	Daria decided to interrupt their pessimistic sticomythia.  "Have 
you ever considered that maybe Lynn isn't going to hurt anyone?"  That 
got skeptical looks from the others.  "She looked like she'd calmed down 
last time I saw her."
	"She's beaten him to pulp for less than this," Jane pointed out.
	"She knows how to use a knife," A.P. further reminded her.
	Daria, remembering Upchuck's "concealed weapons" crack and Lynn's 
reaction to it, fell silent.  They all walk on in silence for awhile, 
actually.
	It was Jane who broke the silence.  "What does Lynn want to meet 
up with us for?"
	"She wouldn't say," Daria replied.
	"Oh, jeez," Jane snarked, "of course she didn't; what *was* I 
thinking?"
	They fell silent again at that, and just kept walking.

				      * * *

Upchuck just kept walking toward the doors, whistling and smirking to 
himself.  Suddenly and without warning, a set of hands reached out from 
a doorway, grabbed him and pull him into a classroom before he could 
make any sort of sound.  The door shut behind him.
	Upchuck, looking rather pale, was thrown into a chair.  Lynn, 
back in her normal clothes, was looking at him with a neutral expression
...well, neutral except her eyes, which glittered with fury.  A fairly 
large fly could be heard buzzing around the room in the silence before 
she spoke.  "We're going to have a little chat, you and I."
	The Chuckster tried to maintain his composure.  "What about, 
my vicious and feisty senorita?"
	Lynn flicked her right wrist, and a knife appeared in her hand.  
Another flick, and the knife was flying past him to stick in the chalk 
gutter of the blackboard, four inches from his left ear.  Already pale 
enough when he turned his eyes to look, he blanched another shade or 
two when he saw that it had smashed the neatly-skewered fly.  When he 
looked back at Lynn, she had another knife out.  In a conversational 
tone, she asked him, "How much easier do you think it would be to get 
you in the balls?"  After a pause to let that sink in, she added, "Now 
perhaps you could hand over the camera?"  Shaking, he complied.  "And 
no one has to find out we had this little chat.  After all, being picked 
on by a girl..."  She shook her head as if pitying him.  "...it doesn't 
say much for your reputation, does it?"  She stepped around him.
	If he'd known she was going to retrieve her other knife, Upchuck 
might not have attempted to regain some of his misguided courage; even 
if he had, he probably wouldn't have succeeded, which would have been 
better for him in the long run.  As it was, though, he *would* insist 
on running his mouth.  "What I did was perfectly fair!  It didn't say 
*anywhere* in the rules that--"
	He got no further -- before he could blink, she was back in his 
face with the knife to his throat.  In a low, sweetly menacing tone, 
she asked him, "Am I acting like someone who cares?  The letter of the 
law means sweet piss-all."  She was doing a lot of pausing to let things 
sink in tonight.  "You don't touch me again.  You don't come near me 
again.  *Ever.*  And that goes for my friends as well.  And if the wrong 
ears -- and that means *any* ears -- hear about this incident, I will 
see to it that the Ruttheimer lineage dies with you."
	Upchuck was scared witless -- even scared lustless, which should 
tell you something.  "you...you wouldn't..."
	"Kill you?  Test me."  
	He went very still.  There was a fairly long silence.
	"All right then.  Are we on the same page?"  He nodded, but it 
was a careful production, what with the knife and all.  "Good.  Now get 
out of here."  She took the knife away.
	Upchuck sat there for a moment, then jumped to his feet and ran 
like hell.
	Lynn looked after him, looking almost ashamed and a lot older.  
Then she shrugged and stuffed the knife up her sleeve.

				      * * *

Daria was standing at the door of Casa Lane when Jane opened it.  "Yo, 
amiga!"
	"Hey."  She realized her presence posed a question.  "I know 
it's not time to get to Lynn's yet, but I wanted to get out of the house 
before Dad got home."
	"He's cleaned up a little?"
	"Yeah; I don't see much of Mom *or* Dad anymore.  Dad's new 
client is keeping him busy and Mom got another three this week alone, 
so we're all communicating via fridge notes and answering machine 
messages."  She considered that, then went on, slightly sad.  "It's 
probably better this way for awhile."
	"It's not really your problem, Daria," Jane assured her in her 
most sympathetic tones.  "I mean, this happened before you were born."
	"Or *because* I was born."  _Or because I was born as who I am, 
anyway._  The Light had warned her there'd be...his office...to pay when 
Jake Morgendorffer found out his wife's eldest daughter was his only 
by upbringing, and whether he'd been an actual angelic (well, diabolic) 
manifestation or just her own subconscious telling her what she didn't 
want to admit she knew, he'd been on the money in that regard.  On the 
other hand, he hadn't correctly told her *where* the information would 
come from to get to her dad's ears...
	Jane's mock-stern bark cut through her musings.  "Enough of that, 
young lady!  We're not going to have any of this self-pitying crap!  
I know we've got a bottle of bourbon somewhere; maybe a good stiff 
drink'll do you good."
	"London was a really corrupting influence on you, wasn't it?"
	A shrug.  "Oh, I would have got this way eventually.  That just 
gave me a head start."  Jane grinned; Daria smirked at her, and they 
went into the house.

				      * * *

At Biers, the bar where nobody knows your name, Lynn was sitting at one 
of the rickety tables, staring morosely into a drink.
	"I think you handled that quite well, considering," said the 
young man she'd nicknamed "Rust."  He thought about it a moment, then 
added, "After all, some things should only be allowed to go so far."  
Another pause for consideration.  "And you seem to have followed the 
rules."
	"What rules?" she muttered miserably.  When he didn't ask for 
clarification, she decided to provide it anyway.  "I held a knife to 
someone's throat today."
	"Sounds like he deserved it."  He let her consider that.  "And 
with what we've gone over the past few weeks, how were you supposed to 
react?"
	"Like a normal teenage girl."
	"But you're not one.  And it's dangerous for you to be one."  
He let that sink in.  "Whatever you decide about...all this...in the 
long run, for now you need to know how to defend yourself.  And that 
means against *anything.*  Even sleaze-bags like the Ruttheimer kid."
	"I went too far."
	"You went as far as you went.  Is he going to bother you again?"
	Lynn allowed herself a very slight smile.  "He'd rather chew 
his own arm off than come within twenty feet of me."  The smile spread 
slowly.  "And you should have seen the look on his face..."
	"That's more like it, Cullen."
	"Guess you're good for more than just target practice."  She 
looked at his face and answered what she found there with a slight nod.  
"Thanks."
	"No problem."  He considered some more.  "Speaking of target 
practice..."  Lynn got a miserable look at the notion.  "...we can skip 
it today.  You got practical experience."
	Lynn gave a relieved little sigh.

				      * * *

Outside Chez Cullen, Daria, Jane and A.P. were leaning on the side of 
Trent's Plymouth, watching the house.  Jane looked at her watch.  "Is 
this getting to be a habit with her, or what?"
	"I *still* say we search her room," A.P. muttered.
	The Mercedes pulled into the driveway, and Lynn popped out of 
the driver's seat, bearing pizza and looking annoyed.  "Do *not* blame 
me.  This time it was that UFO-holic over at Pizza King that held me 
up."
	"What's going on?" Daria demanded.  "There is no way I'm up for 
a rehearsal session tonight."
	A.P. pleaded with her.  "Once, Purple Peril, just once...*tell 
us what you're up to!*"
	"Look," Lynn sighed, "things have been...a little difficult 
lately.  For all of us.  And I kind of feel responsible for suggesting 
that we accept the slave jobs.  So I thought it might be a nice surprise 
if I set up one of our typical `order pizza in, watch movies and pig 
out' sessions.  We haven't had one in awhile.  Sorry if I presumed or 
anything -- I just thought it might be nice to forget about school and 
family and kick back the old-fashioned way."
	The other three all looked a bit sheepish at that.
	"Um...that pizza's going to get cold if we don't start this up 
soon."  Daria took the pizza from Lynn.  Lynn grabbed a shopping bag 
with the videos, and all four made their way into the house.  Their 
silhouettes were still clearly visible through the lighted living room 
window.
	"_The Craft_?"Jane boggled.   "You actually rented _The Craft_?  
*And* _The Blair Witch Project_?"
	"*Lynn!*"
	"Well, I like those movies!" Lynn retorted.  There was a *flump* 
as someone, it doesn't matter who, made eir rebuttal.  "*Ow!*  Put that 
pillow down! -- And we all know there wasn't anything remotely like a 
witch out there."
	"Hey!" A.P. wowed.  "_First Contact_!"
	"Trekkies," Daria and Jane sighed in unison.
	"Yeah, but *new* school Trekkies."
	"He who quoted Kirk..." Daria mused.  *Flump.*  "*Hey!*"  Another 
*flump.*  "We're too *old* for pillow..."  Several more *flumps*, and 
muffled laughter.

ADAPTOR'S NOTES
	Anyone who has quibbles (as I do, but I've been biting down on 
them up to now) with the text of R&J Jan's using: it's an accepted high 
school text, I'm pretty sure.  It probably was back when Lawndale High 
was buying its textbooks, anyway.  I've seen those variations (vis-a-
vis my Big Book of the Bard) around before, I could swear.  The only 
reason I mention it now is because I prefer "gentle fine" (the reading 
in the said Big Green Book) to "gentle sin"; just an opinion, worth what 
you paid for it.
	"Eir" is the genitive case of the "Spivak" pronouns (nonspecific 
gender) I first encountered on LambdaMOO (lambda.moo.mud.org:8888) and 
have found useful ever since.  The nominative and objective cases are 
"e" and "em" respectively; "eirself" is the reflective.  Now you can 
use Spivak, assuming you want to in the first place.
	The reference to Brother Grimace's "The Sun Will Come Out 
Tomorrow" appeared because it felt apt.
	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.  
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.
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