The IUF Tale

The IUF Tale

Or, Total Disaster in a Nutshell

Feedback (good, bad, indifferent, just want to bother me, whatever) is appreciated. Please write to: theangstguy@yahoo.com

Synopsis: The author inserts himself and numerous other Daria fans, particularly members of the notorious IUF, into a lurid Daria fanfic, a nightmarish tale of cartoon lust and horror. You won’t understand this unless you’ve read the IUF spam threads on PPMB. No penguins were harmed in the writing of this script. I swear.

Author’s Notes: This story was written because, at the time, no one else was adding to the IUF spam thread on PPMB, and the author felt a punishment was called for.

Acknowledgements: Thanks go out to the IUF: Tananda, Scarlett, Mahna Mahna, Taryn, and Beth Ann, and all their allies, particularly the one with the Upchuck fetish. Thank you for the inspiration.

[Scene: A dark and stormy night outside the surface entrance to the IUF’s underground lair. A figure waits behind a tall rock, near a hidden woodland path. In moments, another figure approaches along the path.]

FIRST FIGURE: Yo.

SECOND FIGURE: Oh, hey. [short laugh, fake British accent] I say, is that you, Double-Oh Seven?

FIRST FIGURE (ROGER): [makes a face] Knock it off, Tom.

SECOND FIGURE (TOM SLOANE): [imitates Pierce Brosnan voice] The name’s Bond. James Bond.

ROGER: [shakes head] Grow up. You’re worse than Butthead.

TOM: [false anguish] Hey, that hurt my feelings.

ROGER: Another joke about my name, and I’ll summon certain members of the IUF who will hurt a lot more than your feelings.

TOM: [serious now] All right. Damn. Touchy fellow, aren’t ya?

ROGER: So, you want the whole IUF, right?

TOM: [panicked] Hey, they’ll hear you, idiot!

ROGER: No, they won’t. They’re downstairs watching a Dariathon on the big-screen plasma TV, eating popcorn. I cooked up twenty bowls of it and left enough soft drinks to keep them going to the bathroom for hours.

TOM: Are they watching the fourth and fifth seasons?

ROGER: Why would they do that? [beat] Oh, right, because— [points to Tom]

TOM: Well, excuse me for blowing my horn a little. That was my breakout into big-time TV.

ROGER: You blew a lot more than your horn.

TOM: What? What’s that supposed to mean?

ROGER: Nothing. Forget it. So, you want the IUF?

TOM: Uh, yeah. All of them. Even Woot and wotzername, the Upchuck lover from Iowa somewhere.

ROGER: Fine. You got ‘em. They’re ready for delivery whenever you want ‘em.

TOM: [beat] What? You’re joking.

ROGER: If I was joking, I would have said, What do Canadians call a woman who can carry six beer mugs in either hand?

TOM: Huh? What?

ROGER: Bridget.

TOM: [very confused] Whaaat?

ROGER: They call her Bridget. That’s her name. Bridget.

TOM: What the hell kind of joke is that?

ROGER: A Canadian joke. The punch line in a Canadian joke is supposed to be a letdown. I learned about them in college.

TOM: At least you didn’t waste your time there. Look, did you get me to come all the way out here from Lawndale just to tell me about Canadian jokes, or what?

ROGER: Nah. Just wanted to let you know you can have the IUF. Did you bring that tractor trailer like I told you to?

TOM: Yeah, it’s down the road about a hundred yards. How are you going to get them out?

ROGER: I’ll go back inside in a few minutes and jam the bathroom door shut, then I’ll knock out the power to the TV. They’ll all run for the bathroom at the same time, and I’ll tell them there’s a Port-a-Potty outside inside a truck, and they’ll all come upstairs and run into the truck. You shut the tailgate, and presto. They’re yours.

TOM: [blinks] And you’re giving them to me for free?

ROGER: Nope.

TOM: [grins] Ah, I figured there was a price. What’s your price?

ROGER: Linda Griffin.

TOM: [long pause, grins fades] What? The acoustics are bad out here, and I thought you said you—

ROGER: Linda Griffin. I want Linda Griffin.

TOM: [pause] You mean Sandi, right?

ROGER: No, her mom. Linda.

TOM: Aren’t you the guy with the penguin fetish?

ROGER: That’s what I want them to think.

TOM: [nods] Okay, I can buy that, but why Linda Griffin?

ROGER: [takes a deep breath] Because she’s hot.

TOM: [backs up a step] Whoa. Okay, I am officially creeped out now. Aren’t you supposed to be married or something?

ROGER: Aren’t you supposed to be a cartoon character?

TOM: What does that have to do with anything?

ROGER: My question exactly.

TOM: [starts to smile] You know, I could get to like you.

ROGER: And now I’m the one who’s officially creeped out. Why do you want the IUF, anyway?

TOM: They’re going to be my new sweatshop labor force. I need a lot of “I HEART TOM SLOANE” stickers for my campaign to get into the animated version of “Sex and the City.”

ROGER: Whatever. Deal?

TOM: Yeah, deal. Sure. So, I’ve got the truck here. What next?

ROGER: Be right back. Go hide in those bushes there.

TOM: Oh, yeah. Sure.

[Tom runs off to the bushes—and a huge SNAP! echoes through the night. The bushes fall apart to reveal Tom caught inside an animal cage.]

TOM: Hey!

ROGER: All right, he’s yours! Come and get ‘em!

[The entire IUF and all their associates and allies pour out from the underground lair, cheering.]

MANHA MANHA: [shouting] He’s mine! All mine! Mine, I tell you!

BETH ANN: Burn him! But first let me kiss him goodbye! And let me write a story about it!

SCARLETT: He must face the Muffin of Inescapable Doom, the Muffinator!

TARYN: Grind his bones to make Kevo’s bread!

KRISTEN: Upchuck? Upchuck, are you out here, too?

MANY OTHERS: Death to Tom! Death to Tom!

TOM: [shakes bars of cage] @#$@%%^%!!! HELP!!! DARIA!!! JANE!!! HELP ME!!!

[The IUF and allies drag the cage into the underground lair as Tom screams.]

TANANDA: [walks up to Roger with a clipboard] Just sign here.

ROGER: What’s this? You said you’d give me Linda Griffin.

TANANDA: Right, right. Sign there. And there. And there. [takes clipboard] She’s all yours! [hands Roger a sheet of paper he’s signed, points to a tied-up figure under a nearby tree, then goes inside the underground lair and shuts the steel door and locks it.]

ROGER: [goes to figure, unties her and takes off the mouth gag] Linda?

SANDI GRIFFIN: [getting up] What in the hell is going on here?

ROGER: Whaaat? What the hell is—?

SANDI: I said that already! Who the hell are you? My new dad?

ROGER: [looks at sheet of paper with his flashlight] Holy @#%$%^%, this is an adoption paper! Oh, @$$^#%&#%^&%!!!!

SANDI: [crosses arms, looking mad] Look, if you’re my new dad, we’re going to get the ground rules straight. First, you do whatever I want. Second, there are no other rules except the first rule. Third, if there is a question about the rules, go to rule number one.

ROGER: [runs to IUF underground lair door and beats on it] YOU CHEATED ME! COME OUT HERE RIGHT NOW AND FIX THIS!

SANDI: My first demand, and don’t give me any crap about it, is for you to give me all your money and checkbooks and credit cards. There’s a big sale on at Cashman’s. You’ll drive me there, of course, and we’re going now because the sale ends at midnight. Where’s your car? It’d better be a Stingray! I can’t be seen in public in anything less!

ROGER: [claws at underground door, weeping] GAAAAH!!!!

Original: 02/24/04, revised 12/24/04, 09/22/06

FINIS