The Thong

Remains the Same





©2009 The Angst Guy (

Daria and associated characters are ©2009 MTV Networks

Kara Wild’s Driven Wild Universe and its

associated original characters are ©2009 Kara Wild



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


Synopsis: In this sensitive and insightful, though unofficial, continuation of Kara Wild’s Driven Wild Universe, Amy and Joel separate after fighting over a trivial issue, as married couples usually do, and they and Daria, Jane, Quinn, Helen, Jake, Tom, and everyone else wander Lawndale in search of a plot that is supposed to involve thongs. I think this is also the first Daria fanfic to feature a Hooters restaurant as a major setting.


Author’s Notes: It has been a long time since we’ve had a Driven Wild Universe story to thrill and entertain and move us. Kara Wild, our first-class spinner of tales, has moved on to bigger and better things, and that leaves the rest of us with only our happy memories to keep us warm at night, not that I am implying anything in saying that. However, with Kara Wild’s gracious permission—which, legally speaking, completely absolves me from blame for creating this abomination—we now have one more DWU story, that being this one, which takes place after DWU episode #20, “Memory Road.” Note: I borrowed part of Scene 1 from something Kara wrote on PPMB. I’m admitting it, so I didn’t really steal it. Also, the baby’s name is actually RYAN, or so Kara says, but Kara says a lot of things and let’s not quibble over unimportant details. This story originally appeared on the new PPMB website in a much less edited form, if you can believe that. I was trying to remember what moved me to write this, but all I can recall is a PPMB discussion about thongs, Quinn dating a possum, and sex between people pretending they are pirates. Kara did not ask me to write this, as she would technically have to be insane to do so.


I should point out that it helps to have read Kara Wild’s DWU before starting this, as you’ll understand then why Quinn wears glasses and acts like a brain, or Tom hasn’t dumped Jane, or who the hell Joel is, etc. Or you can just read this story, which is a lot shorter and much easier to handle. Plus, it has 750% more thong than DWU does.


By the way, this story makes use of a free font used in the title (and other places) that you might like. It is called Jester and can be downloaded from or, among other fine places.


BONUS! This version of “The Thong Remains the Same” comes with an ending scene not shown on PPMB! Download this story immediately and show all your friends!


Acknowledgements: None of this would be possible without the stupendously brilliant work of Kara Wild, who created DWU just so that I could produce this horrible, horrible parody of it. Kara also contributed commentary to keep the story on-canon (ha!) and suggested the addition of Lindy and the use of the word “uncle” since Joel was married to Amy at the time of this story, which I sort of forgot. Brandon League gets credit for spotting an error, as he always does in everything I write, and I mean everything, thank God I am not bitter about it, and I shamelessly stole the whole pirate/sex subplot from Galen “Lawndale Stalker” Hardesty’s “The Teachings of Doña Daria,” because—hey! Pirates are sexy! Everybody loves pirates! Also, Kristen Bealer makes a guest appearance with a “special friend,” although I can’t remember now why I wrote her into the script. I think it was punishment for something. Oh, well. This story is respectfully dedicated to Frito Lay, which made the large sack of Doritos I ate as I wrote this story. Enjoy!










INT: Interior scene

EXT: Exterior scene

VO: Voice over (off screen)





We look into a typical bedroom. Joel is undoing his silk shirt. His black trousers are on, but his belt is undone and shoes are off. Amy is in the bathroom with the door shut.


JOEL: [to Amy] The sitter told me our little ankle biter was the best little ankle biter in the whole world! Ain’t he great?


AMY: [VO] If she didn’t say it, she wouldn’t get paid. She knows the rules.


JOEL: Well, at least she said it. By the way, when are we going to give Junior Johnson a name? He’s six months old, for chrissakes.


AMY: [VO] Don’t rush me, okay? I’m still thinking about it! His whole life depends on a good name!


JOEL: His whole life depends on just getting a name, Amy. I mean, everyone’s calling him The Little Dude or Amy’s Kid or Prince Poopalot or John Doe or stuff like that. It’s sort of embarrassing. Just pick something soon, okay?


AMY: [VO] You don’t understand. Men never do.


JOEL: [rolls eyes] Whatever. Say, your sister Helen really knows how to throw a divorce party, huh? Whew! So, she and the Jakester are history now, huh?


AMY: [VO] I think she went a little over the top with those sculpted hot dog treats.


JOEL: The Bobbit Burgers? Well, they did look kinda realistic. [winces] Maybe a little too realistic.


AMY: [VO] I mean, what was Helen thinking? Her daughters were there! They could’ve been traumatized!


JOEL: Oh, I saw Daria eat two of those Bobbit Burgers. With lots of ketchup, too. That artist friend of hers ate about a half dozen.


AMY: [VO] Well, Quinn could have been traumatized.


JOEL: Nah. The Math Club was keeping her entertained with calculator tricks. Those nerds really like her. I bet it’s her glasses. Dorks always go for chicks with glasses. Some kind of mating signal, I bet. Know what? I think the Math Club wanted a little piece of Quinn pi. Get it? Math Club? Pi? [long silence] Amy? Did you get it?


AMY: [VO] I got it, I got it! I’m in Mensa, remember? I got it!


JOEL: [under his breath] Sounds like you’re having a little Mensa problem there. Or should I say, a little menses problem.


AMY: [VO] What?


JOEL: Nothing, dearest! [takes off his silk shirt, blows his nose on it, and kicks it under the bed]


Amy quietly opens the bathroom door and saunters out. She is wearing a mostly unbuttoned man’s shirt and a thong, but nothing else. She creeps up behind Joel and puts her arms around him.


AMY: Hey, handsome! Notice anything . . . different?


JOEL: Uh . . . I like the way you did your hair.


AMY: Oh, thanks, you idiot! I did my hair two weeks ago!


JOEL: Yeah, uh, I knew that, but—


AMY: You never notice anything about me!


JOEL: You did your nails? Your eyes? Mustache?


AMY: Joel!


JOEL: You bought something through the Internet to make your boobs bigger? Help me out, okay?


AMY: You dope! Look at me!


[Amy turns around while pulling her shirt up, revealing that she’s wearing a thong. She wiggles her behind.]


JOEL: Oooh, that’s . . . [long pause] Hmmm.


AMY: What?


JOEL: Oh, uh, nothing. It looks great. I mean, it’s grrrr-REAT!


AMY: But you’re saying that something’s wrong with it, right? Do you like my thong?


JOEL: [pause] Uh, no, no, of course not. Wait! I mean, yeah, I do, I—


AMY: Oh, I knew you’d hate it!


JOEL: What? All I originally said was “Hmmm”!


Amy looks doubtful, but she turns and wiggles her behind again.


AMY: So, you do like it?


JOEL: Wha—uh, yeah! Heck, yeah! I love it! You look, uh, you know, uh, real hot!


AMY: Does it make my butt look big? Tell me!


JOEL: No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Of course not! You look great! Both of you!


AMY: It does make my butt look a little bit big, though, doesn’t it?


JOEL: Amy, for heaven’s sakes, no! You look fantastic! Your butt . . . it’s just a little bigger than Helen’s, maybe, but it—


AMY: [after a beat] WHAAAT?


JOEL: Oh, man. That was a joke! Amy, wait—no! Amy! AMY! AAAAAA—






Daria and Jane sit on the sofa, watching TV with a large bowl of popcorn between them.


TV ANNOUNCER: Area woman attempts to strangle her husband with her thong! Film and a live report at eleven!


DARIA: That’s Amy and Joel, I bet.


JANE: Those wacky kids. So in love.


DARIA: So insane.


JANE: So, do you think I’d look good in a thong?


DARIA: God, Lane. I just ate.


The doorbell rings.


QUINN: [runs downstairs, wears glasses] I’ll get it it’s for me don’t open it let me open it it’s for—


Quinn opens the front door to reveal Aunt Amy standing there. Amy wears an overcoat and carries two suitcases.


QUINN: [sighs and walks back upstairs] Daria, it’s your future self come to warn you about your wardrobe.


Daria and Jane get up and walk over as Amy walks in and puts down her suitcases.


DARIA: Hmm, you’re not the Math Club come to take Quinn out to Chez Pierre, and you’re not Dad in drag, pulling a Mrs. Doubtfire, so you must be . . . the Spanish Inquisition.


JANE: No one expec


AMY: Another word, and you’re toast.


JANE: —ts the, um . . . [coughs]


AMY: Don’t get married, Daria. Just don’t. Don’t live with a man, don’t hook up with a boyfriend, don’t let a boy put his hand up your blouse or down in your pants, don’t even look at of them. Don’t have anything to do with men at all. Ever. Be a lesbian, Daria. You’ll be happier for it. Trust me on this.


DARIA: So, how’s Joel?


AMY: Men are pure evil, Daria. They drop used underwear with railroad tracks in them and everything right on the floor, just leave it lying right there in the shower and in the vegetable crisper and in the china cabinet and your car’s glove compartment, anyplace that looks vaguely like a clothes hamper, they’ll put it.


DARIA: Once when Quinn was three, she threw her—


AMY: Their feet stink when they don’t change their socks every week, and when they eat too much bean-and-onion chili and have the most horrible flatulence in the whole freaking world, they wait until the middle of the night and then pull the covers over your head and gas you and then laugh exactly like lobotomized hyenas.


JANE: [laughs hysterically] Oh, that’s great! I love that! I’m going to try that the next—


DARIA: Jane.


JANE: [laughter dies] Uh . . . I meant, good to see you, Amy!


DARIA: How did this harmless little nuclear exchange get started?


AMY: It doesn’t matter. It was over something completely trivial and unimportant. I can’t even remember what the argument was about. My ass isn’t that big, anyway. And Joel and I are fine. I’m just moving in with your mother until Joel is dead.


JANE: But what about the baby?


AMY: I’ll have UPS ship him over after my wounded inner self has been healed.


DARIA: Ah. You’re punishing Joel by sticking him with Prince Poopalot for a week.


AMY: About damn time that jerk learned to change a diaper.


DARIA: I’ll get Quinn’s room ready.


AMY: But wouldn’t Quinn have to move out first?


DARIA: [after a beat] Your point is . . .?


AMY: Never mind, I’ll take the spare bedroom. If Helen can crash with me when she has man trouble, I can crash with her.


JANE: Men certainly are trouble, aren’t they?


AMY: You can’t live with ‘em, and you can’t shoot ‘em and throw ‘em out of your car by the side of the Interstate—not legally, I think. It might be littering. Helen would know.


JANE: I have a boyfriend. He’s handsome and smart and cool and rich, but one of these days, some other girl is going to stick her tongue down his thro—


DARIA: No one wants to hear about it, Jane. Come on, Aunt Amy. [picks up a suitcase, leads Amy into the house]


JANE: I’m mostly over it now, though.


DARIA: [leaving the room] Good. Shut up.


JANE: My therapist says I’ll be doing pretty well once I lick the mutilation thing.


DARIA: [VO] Jane!


JANE: Joking!


Jane gets the other suitcase and follows Daria and Amy off to the spare bedroom.


JANE: [under her breath] Bee-itch!






Daria and Jane are asleep on the sofa, an empty bowl of popcorn between them. The TV shows a farm report about hog prices. Daria lies on her side, half covered by an afghan. Her mouth open, and she snores lightly. Jane slouches with her head back. As we watch, Jane stirs, scratches herself under her T-shirt, and stretches, awakening. She looks down and sees Daria.


JANE: [whispers] So innocent. So harmless. So ready to swap spit with my boyfriend. [evil look crosses her face] Heh heh heh heh heh.


Jane moves the popcorn bowl off the couch and slowly scoots over next to the snoring Daria. Jane then carefully drapes the afghan over Daria’s face, making sure it covers Jane’s lower half as well.


JANE: [whispers] Launch sequence started. Ten, nine, eight . . .






Helen Morgendorffer and her sister Amy sit at the kitchen table, wearing bathrobes. Their hair is a mess, and neither appears to have slept well. On the table between them is a huge container of chocolate-chip cookie-dough ice cream with two large spoons stuck in it.


AMY: And he leaves pubic hairs in the shower soap! Can you believe that? It takes me half an hour each day to get all of them out!


HELEN: Joel looked like such a polite, cultured, neatnik kind of guy when I was staying with you. What happened?


AMY: We got married.


HELEN: Oh. Yeah, I remember Jake also changed after our little hippie wedding.


AMY: Excuse me? Jake was a clueless nutcase crybaby long before you got married.


HELEN: Well, yeah, but there was more of that after.


AMY: What ever attracted you to him in the first place?


HELEN: He always put his underwear in the hamper.


AMY: Oh. [sigh] Boy, I’d love to meet a man who did that.


Amy gets up from the table to look in the refrigerator.


AMY: [head in the refrigerator] What is it with men? As soon as they get married, they completely change! They’re like Jekyll and Hyde, Frankenstein and his monster, Doctor Evil and Mini-Me, the Captain and Tennille. You put a ring on ‘em, and they go from one extreme to the other! When I met him, Joel was sweet and picked up all his clothes and didn’t floss and belch at the dinner table or watch ESPN when I was trying to get it on with him! And he hasn’t changed the baby once! Why are guys so fickle? I haven’t changed! I’m still the same rational, open-minded, sensitive intellectual I was before I married that stinking scum-sucking pig two-faced microcephalic dirtball male twit!


As Amy rants, Helen frowns. She’s staring at Amy’s bathrobe-covered behind as Amy bends over, rummaging through the refrigerator. Helen looks down at her own lap and lifts her hands, holding them as far apart as the width of her hips. She eyeballs Amy’s behind again, her hands moving apart a few more inches. Helen’s eyebrows raise, and she leans forward, looking surprised as she moves her hands apart another few inches.


Amy abruptly turns around and sees Helen. Helen claps her hands together and shrugs and smiles innocently as if nothing were going on.


AMY: What?


HELEN: What?


AMY: [points at Helen] What?


HELEN: [looks innocent] What?


AMY: What’s with this? [points at Helen’s hands]


HELEN: This? [looks at her hands in pretend confusion]


AMY: No, this! [holds up her hands just as Helen did] You were—


DARIA: [VO, in the living room] AAAAUUUGGGGHHH!!! [coughing and choking sounds]


HELEN: [stands up from table] Girls! Are you awake yet?


Jane wanders into the kitchen in her rumpled clothes. She has an enormously satisfied smirk on her face.


JANE: Up and ready. [yawning] What time is it?


HELEN: Eight-fifteen.


JANE: Wow, that’s a new record for me! But why is it still light out?


HELEN: It’s eight-fifteen in the morning.


JANE: The morning? Oh, man, I’m going home to bed.


HELEN: No, don’t! Stay and have some ice cream with us before I go to work! I’ll get you a spoon.


JANE: Hmmm. You’re eating ice cream right out of the container. By any chance, were you two complaining to each other about your guy problems or something?


AMY: Oh, no, of course not. Why would we talk about men? Why would anyone want to talk about men? What could there possibly be about men that would make anyone ever want to talk about them? Answer me, damn it! Why why why why WHY?!?!


Jane thinks, then looks into the ice-cream container.


JANE: Chocolate-chip cookie dough. Hmmm. Did I ever tell you about my boyfr—my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, Tom?


HELEN: [hands something to Jane] Here’s a spoon.


Jane, Amy, and Helen sit down and start in on the ice cream.


HELEN: Where’s Daria?


JANE: Getting a little fresh air.






Daria washes off her face, coughing and spitting into the sink. Quinn walks in wearing her glasses and nightclothes.


QUINN: Spray some Lysol in the sink when you’re done, okay?


DARIA: [gasps] Can’t. Gargled the last of it.


QUINN: Tell Mom we need more, then. Listen, Daria, I’ve been thinking about Mom and Dad and Aunt Amy and Uncle Joel, and—


DARIA: Group marriages are illegal, but I’d go to the wedding anyway if Mom served those Bobbit Burgers again.


QUINN: No, listen! I worked this out on my computer. We have to come up with something that will get everyone back together again. If we pool our brains, we can make it work.


DARIA: Quinn, if we pooled our brains, I’d lose fifty IQ points. Stop getting your ideas from reruns of “The Lucy Show,” okay?


QUINN: Daria, seriously! Just imagine what horrible kind of mental anguish Joel and Amy’s Kid are experiencing now!






Joel and his infant son sit on an overstuffed couch, watching a TV set connected to a DVD player. Joel wears Star Wars boxer shorts and a Chicago Cubs T-shirt, with oversized pink rabbit-faced fuzzy slippers on his feet. He holds a Duff beer can. His infant son wears bulky disposable diapers and a blue “I’m With Stupid!” T-shirt, holding a baby bottle up to his mouth.


JOEL: [to infant son, pointing to TV] See that? That’s Cameron Diaz. Whoa. Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. Look at that butt. It’s all about butt, Little Dude. Look at that. Damn! [drinks beer]


Joel’s son looks at him while sucking on the baby bottle. The little boy then looks back at the TV. On the TV, we see Cameron Diaz in an opening scene of Charlie’s Angels, dancing in her home and shaking her bootie to music. Joel’s son stares at Cameron Diaz’s breasts, not her wiggle-waggle behind.


JOEL: Now, that’s a butt. Man, I’m tellinya! You know, your mom’s got a great butt, but . . . I dunno. [drinks beer] We’re married now, and it’s not the same, really. I mean, Amy’s got a fantastic butt, the best, but it’s like . . . you know, like I’m supposed to look at her butt. It’s not like, um, you know, forbidden fruit. I mean, she didn’t keep me from looking at her butt, she practically stuck it in my face every chance she got, but it was like, you know, forbidden, sort of, before we got married. Now it’s like I have to look at her butt. It just ruins everything. You know what I mean?


Joel’s son pulls the bottle from his mouth and burps loudly.


JOEL: Damn right! [drink beer, looks at TV] Man, oh, man. Now, that’s a majorly serious species of butt! Go, mama! Yeah! Shake that thing for me!






DARIA: What makes you think we need to engineer some kind of “Parent Trap” deus ex machina to get the wayward adults back together? Maybe it’s better they all go find someone else. In the meanwhile, we can change our names and move to South America and pretend we never knew them. Argentina’s supposed to be nice.


QUINN: Oh, Daria, don’t you ever worry about Dad? Can’t you imagine the self-esteem problems he must be having, knowing that because of his behavior, he’s lost his wife and family?






Jake is at the wheel of a bright red Lamborghini, doing 115 mph down the Interstate with eight police cars and two National Guard helicopters in hot pursuit behind him. He appears insanely happy. Brittany Taylor and the rest of the Lawndale High School cheerleading squad are packed into the car with him, every one of them drunk and naked and laughing their heads off. Brittany sits beside Jake Morgendorffer, her breasts bouncing wildly up and down as the Lamborghini rockets down the freeway, passing gasoline tankers, semi tractor-trailers, and tour buses full of nuns with careless abandon.


BRITTANY: My gosh, Mister Morgendorffer, where did you learn all those blonde jokes?


JAKE: Easy! I went to college!


Everyone laughs hysterically.


BRITTANY: [points at the windshield with an empty bottle of Night Train] Oh, Mister Morgendorffer, there’s an oil slick!




The car hits the oil slick and spins around like a mad amusement park ride. Everyone screams with crazed excitement.






DARIA: Okay, you’ve made your point. What do you think we have to do to get the balls and chains on everyone again?


QUINN: Just leave everything to me.


DARIA: I will. Meanwhile, I’ll change my name to Daria Gonzales and get an apartment in Buenos Aires. I could work as a maid if I could ever figure out how to make a bed.






Helen, Amy, and Jane are on their third container of ice cream (“Praline Fudge Overbloat Ribbon”) at the kitchen table. An empty bottle of crème de menthe and several small shot glasses also litter the table.


JANE: Yeah, okay, so Tom hasn’t really cheated on me with Daria, and she’s not really trying to jump his bones every chance she gets. Maybe I’m a little paranoid. [under her breath] Not.


HELEN: He’ll do it.


AMY: Men are all alike.


HELEN: Jake did it. I think. He might have. He had the chance, so he’s guilty.


AMY: You did it! You kissed your art teacher!


HELEN: That doesn’t count. It was just a kiss.


AMY: Depends on how much of your tongue he choked on.


HELEN: Oh, and I suppose you haven’t swapped spit with anyone!


AMY: Doesn’t count.


HELEN: Doesn’t count? Why?


AMY: It was with a girl.


HELEN: Oh. [shrugs, peers into empty ice cream container] We’re out again. Damn it.


JANE: Tom’s gonna do it. He and Daria are dying to buff the bedsheets. I just know it.


HELEN: [gets up, looks in freezer for more ice cream] Dear, there is something you can do to prevent that.


JANE: Shoot him?


HELEN: [gets container of ice cream and brings it to the table] That might be illegal in this state. I’ll check. But you could do what Jake and I did.


AMY: Get divorced? Jane’s not even married yet!


HELEN: No. We had a special thing we did that kept the excitement in our marriage, until Jake got tired of wearing the eye patch and the fake parrot. Still, it worked wonders for us for over twenty years.


JANE: He dressed up as Moshe Dayan?


HELEN: Long John Silver, Jane. [blushes] We pretended he was a pirate captain and I was an innocent maiden.


AMY: Jake as a pirate is a bit of a stretch, but not as much as that other part.


HELEN: He would tie me up and ravish me, or pretend to ravish me when his Viagra ran out, and that kept the magic in our marriage. [pounds table] If only we could have found a stuffed parrot that wouldn’t keep falling off his shoulder and hitting me in the ass! And he wanted me to wear a thong, but I wouldn’t do it because it hurt my toes.


JANE: [thoughtful] Hmmm.


AMY: [thoughtful] Hmmm.






Daria and Quinn (wearing glasses) sit at Quinn’s hot pink i-Mac computer.


QUINN: See, here’s how it would work. We print off these “secret admirer” notes I got off the Internet, and we put them where Mom and Dad can find them, and they’ll each think they’ve got a secret admirer, and they go to the secret meeting place and find—tah dah!—each other! And we’ll do the same for Amy and Joel! It can’t fail!


DARIA: [squints at computer] “hi i saw u thru yur bedrum windo an u r hottr then brittanni speers xcpt she has biggr boobz. I want 2 c u tonit n the park at midnihgt. war a thong! luv, jeffy. ps joey an jamie r 2 stupid 4 u.”


QUINN: Yeah, he thinks he can win me back with romance, but I’ve got standards now!


DARIA: [squints at computer] The one from Jamie is just a picture of his—wow.


QUINN: It’s not his. Trust me, it’s not.


DARIA: I don’t want to hear about it. Oh, how sweet—Joey sent you a poem. “Roses are red, violets are blue, if you don’t go out with me, I’ll kill the Math Club so I can have you.”


QUINN: I think he copied it from somewhere. The spelling’s too good.


DARIA: You’re going to turn these into secret admirer notes?


QUINN: Jamie’s picture will go with the first one. I’ll change “Math Club” to something else in the second and add the note about the park at midnight. Oh, Daria! This is so exciting!


DARIA: My bowels are churning with anticipation.


QUINN: I always knew I had a special talent for matchmaking.


DARIA: I thought you weren’t allowed to play with those.


QUINN: You wait and see, Daria. Maybe I can even hook you up with a guy!


DARIA: Thanks, but your offer is respectfully refused. I’ve looked around and decided to marry myself.


QUINN: Your wedding night should be interesting. I worry about your kids, though.






Tom Sloane walks over to answer the front door as the doorbell rings. He opens the door to reveal Jane Lane, standing there with a large, full sack in one hand.


TOM: Uh, hi. I thought you weren’t coming over until later tonight. “Seven” doesn’t start until eight.


JANE: I kinda wanted to get in the mood first.


TOM: For a serial-killer movie?


JANE: For the refreshments afterward. [winks]


TOM: Oh. Oh! Sure, come in!


JANE: I brought a little something to help out. Props.


TOM: Props? Uh, you mean like, uh—


JANE: Role-playing.


TOM: [groans] Not Dungeons and Dragons again, please. You know I can’t stand—


JANE: I’m thinking of something less geeky, maybe a little . . . dirtier.


TOM: [quickly] The bedroom’s right this way. [leads Jane upstairs] I still have that Greystar condom, too! Still in its gold pack!


JANE: [follows Tom upstairs, looking at his tush, under her breath in deep voice] That’s not the treasure I’m after, me hearty. Arrr, now!






Joel and his infant son sit in Lawndale’s Hooters Restaurant. Joel looks at a menu. The baby is trying to drink from his bottle while ogling the over-endowed waitresses in their tight T-shirts. The waitresses also wear thongs, but the baby ignores that. As one waitress walks past, the baby gets distracted by her jiggly front and drops his milk bottle.


HOOTERS GIRL: Goodness! Let me get that for you, honey!


The Hooters Girl bends down to pick up the bottle, giving the baby a generous view down her low-cut cleavage. The baby is all eyes with astonishment.


HOOTERS GIRL: Here you go, sweetie! [returns bottle and kisses baby, inadvertently putting her breasts up to his face] Bye bye!


The Hooters Girl leaves. The baby is shocked—but then smiles. Joel pays no attention to this, still reading his menu. Another waitress walks past, and the baby again drops his bottle—deliberately, this time.


ANDREA, THE SECOND HOOTERS GIRL: Oh, no! I’ll get that, little guy!


Andrea, the Second Hooters Girl, bends down to pick up the bottle, giving the baby yet another generous view of Mammary Wonderland.


JOEL: [without looking up from menu] Hi, Andrea. What’s good tonight?


ANDREA, THE SECOND HOOTERS GIRL: [hands bottle to baby] Hi, Joel. The wings are pretty good. I think some of them are from chickens this time. [to baby] Here you go, sweetie-pie! [kisses baby, bumping her bosom into his face, then leaves]


JOEL: [to baby] I dunno, Little Dude. What looks good to you?


A third waitress walks past, and the baby again drops his bottle on the floor.


THIRD HOOTERS GIRL: Oopsie! I’ll get it, darlin’! [bends over to get the bottle]


The baby grins broadly, happy as a clam. Drool runs down his chin onto his bib.






Daria and Quinn drive up in Helen’s SUV and stop outside the restaurant. Quinn is driving.


QUINN: Amy said Joel eats lunch here sometimes. Oh! There he is, with Prince Poopalot!


DARIA: Amy’s got to pick a name for that kid, and soon.


QUINN: Don’t rush her. [opens SUV door] Wait for me in the car. I’ll be right back after I deliver his “secret admirer” note.


DARIA: Quinn! Joel will see you! And someone will see me!


QUINN: Daria, we’re at Hooters! No one is going to look at you.


DARIA: [glares] I feel so much better now.


QUINN: And Joel will never see me anyway. I’ll have a waitress deliver the message.







Brittany Taylor, in full Hooters regalia, is working the reception desk. She grins and waves at Quinn when she comes in.


BRITTANY: Hi, Quinn! Good to see you! But doesn’t your shift start at eight?


QUINN: I’m just here to deliver a message. [hands envelope to Brittany, points to dining area] It has to go to that guy over there, next to the baby, but he can’t know I sent it.


BRITTANY: Oh, I’d take it! And I love your glasses, Quinn! They make you look so smart!


QUINN: Thanks! See you at eight!


Quinn leaves. Brittany takes the envelope with the message in it and walks back into the dining area.






Brittany walks toward Joel (still reading the menu and frowning), but she is clearly heading for another table. The baby sees Brittany, mouths the word “WOW!” and throws his battered baby bottle on the floor in front of her. The top comes off the bottle, and milk goes everywhere.


BRITTANY: [stops by baby] Uh-oh! Better get you a refill! Hi, Joel! [picks up the bottle]


JOEL: [looking at menu] Hi, Brittany. [points at menu] I heard that the American burgers were good. You think so?


Brittany [frowns, squints at menu, points] That’smerkin burger.”


JOEL: Oh. Thought it was a misprint.


BRITTANY: I haven’t gotten any complains.


JOEL: [nods, still looking at menu] Hmmm. I’ll think about it. [glances at her] Oh, by the way, nice thong.


BRITTANY: Thanks! Can I take Amy’s Kid back to the kitchen for more milk?


JOEL: [nods absently] No problem. He’s probably bored. The trip’ll do him good.


Brittany picks up the baby (also holding the envelope and the bottle parts) and holds him cradled against her so that his head is between her breasts. The baby appears to be overwhelmed, and he buries his face deep in her cleavage, content. Brittany walks away to a party going on two tables beyond Joel’s.


BRITTANY: [handing over the envelope to a man at the new table] Someone had a message for you, Mr. Morgendorffer!


Jake Morgendorffer looks up from his steak and oysters, an open bottle of Jack Daniels by his plate. Monique and Alison sit at his side, wearing in tiny string bikinis and drinking Duff beers.


JAKE: [cheery] Thanks, Brittany! Good to see you! [puts envelope in his pants pocket]


BRITTANY: You, too, Mr. Morgendorffer! Have fun!


JAKE: I’ll try, but I’ve got a long, hard night of overtime ahead!


Monique, Alison, and Brittany burst into laughter.


BRITTANY: You’re so funny, Mr. Morgendorffer! Can I get you a sandwich for later?


JAKE: No, thanks. [glances at Monique and Alison] I’ve already got one!


Everyone laughs again.






Looking upset, Daria still sits in the SUV, waiting for Quinn.


DARIA: Quinn was right. No one’s so much as peeked at me. Crap.


Quinn comes out of the restaurant and gets back into the SUV.


DARIA: Congratulations, Double-O Seven.


QUINN: You’re giving me a number and taking away my name? Is that some kind of math crack?


DARIA: No, you’re the . . . oh, forget it.


QUINN: Gosh, this is the best plan I’ve ever had! I should work for the government!


DARIA: [takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes] That was a better put-down than anything I could possibly have dreamed up.


QUINN: We’d better hurry. I have a date tonight.


DARIA: [puts glasses back on] As usual. Who’s the lucky guy this time?


QUINN: Oh, I never know their names, maybe fifteen or twenty guys if—[stops, realizing what she’s said]—I mean, Jeffy.


Daria turns to stare at Quinn with huge eyes and open mouth. Quinn looks mortified.






Amy Barksdale sits on the sofa, watching the big-screen TV.


TV ANNOUNCER: In this afternoon’s news, Ryan O’Neill and Meg Ryan, fresh from a remake of “Ryan’s Daughter,” were on their way to Chicago to start filming a remake of “Saving Private Ryan” when they suffered a minor accident on the Dan Ryan Expressway.


AMY: That would be a good name for the baby. Dan.


Amy tries to figure out the TV’s remote settings, but finally throws the remote aside and gets up to walk over to the TV herself to work the controls. As she does, she looks down at the round coffee table before her and stops. On the table is an envelope marked “AMY.” She opens the envelope and pulls out a laser-printed letter. A small, colorful piece of paper falls from the envelope as she does.


AMY: [reading letter] “hi i saw u thru yur bedrum windo an u r hottr then brittanni speers xcpt she has smaler boobz. I want 2 c u tonit n the park at midnihgt. war a thong! luv, yur secrit admrirrirerer. ps jole r 2 stupid 4 u.” A secret admirer? Wow!


Amy sees the piece of paper on the floor and bends down to pick it up. She looks at the paper, which appears to be a color photo from a computer printer—then starts violently. Her eyes open wide and her mouth drops open.


AMY: Oh, my God! He’s a mutant! [looks at letter again] I’d better get showered and put on my thong! [hurries off to her bedroom and shuts the door]






Daria and Quinn drive up in Helen’s SUV and park next to Jake’s first-floor apartment. They are in the middle of a heated talk.


QUINN: [turns off ignition] Daria, look—it’s not what you think! I just have a secret job as a Hooters waitress to get some extra cash. I’m not—not whatever literary kind of thing you were thinking!


DARIA: I can’t imagine which is worse, what I was thinking or what the reality turned out to be. Just tell me one thing.


QUINN: And the answer is: No! I never have, and I never will! I don’t even slow dance until the fifth date, and the customers have all been perfect gentlemen, except for the ones who tip only ten percent. I hope they rot.


DARIA: My question was, how’s the pay?


QUINN: Forget it. They’ll never take you.


DARIA: [glares] Do J, J, and J know about this?


QUINN: I’ll give you fifty to shut up.


DARIA: A hundred.


QUINN: [reaches in purse, grabs handful of money, throws it at Daria’s feet] There goes an hour’s worth of tips. Don’t press your luck.


DARIA: [collecting cash] What I don’t get is, how can you square this with your new brain persona?


QUINN: Daria, was Einstein a millionaire?




QUINN: Well, I’m not making his mistake.


Quinn gets out of the SUV with an envelope in her hand, walks to Jake’s door, and puts the envelope in the crack between the door and the doorframe.


DARIA: [sitting in SUV, frowning] I’m having difficulty refuting her point. Damn it.


Daria takes off her glasses, looks in the driver’s rear-view mirror, and tries a vacant smile with blinking eyes.


DARIA: [forced perky voice] Hi! I’m Daria! Welcome to Hooters! [looks disgusted and puts glasses back on.] I should have my head examined for ferret nests.


Quinn hurries back to the car, gets in, and starts it.


QUINN: We’d better get to Mom’s office and deliver her envelope before she gets back from her lunch break.


DARIA: We could fax it to her from one of those business services places, like Mailboxes Ad Nauseum or Kinky’s.


QUINN: [driving off] You’re right! Now you’re starting to think like me!


Daria goes wide-eyed with shock, then grits her teeth and begins banging her head against her side window as hard as she can.


About five seconds after Daria and Quinn depart, Helen Morgendorffer can be seen creeping around the side of the apartment building, dressed in her usual legal outfit. She stays out of the way of windows, hiding behind bushes and shrubs, until she is close to the apartment door. She spies the envelope stuck in the door and sneaks over to get it, trying to look nonchalant while watching out to make sure she is not seen. She snatches the envelope and rushes back into the bushes, where she tears the envelope open and reads its contents.


HELEN: [quotes from letter] “Roses are red, violets are blue, if you don’t go out with me, I’ll put your name on every spam mailing list in existence. Oops—pretend that this letter rhymed or something. Whatever. Signed, Your Secret Admirer. P.S. Meet me in the park at midnight. I will wear a thong so you will know who I am, but don’t expect me to wear it a second time, because they’re not very hygienic, even if some of them can be considered fashionable in an extreme sense.”


Helen crumples up the letter in a rage.


HELEN: He is seeing someone else! So, he thinks he can run around and cheat on me just because we’re divorced? We’ll see about that, Long Thong Silver! [rushes off to a nearby company car and drives away]






Jake Morgendorffer has finished his early dinner, and he and the bikini-clad Monique and Alison leave, arm in arm—almost, as Jake’s hands are on the posteriors of Monique and Alison. We look back at their vacated table and see that the envelope Brittany gave Jake fell out of his pocket when he got up. Andrea the Hooters waitress walks over to the table with a large garbage can, sweeps everything into the garbage can with one motion of her arm, then drags the garage can away. A few moments later, Brittany appears, leading Jeffy, Joey, and Jamie to the table. The three Js appear very glum and initially look at nothing other than the floor, their shoes, or the tabletop after they sit down.


BRITTANY: [cheery] Here are your Hooters menus! Anything to drink?


JEFFY: Hemlock.


JOEY: Battery acid.


JAMIE: The blood of everyone in the Math Club except Quinn.


BRITTANY: [writes this down, frowning in confusion] I’ll have to ask the bartender if we have that, okay? Be right back!


The three Js don’t even bother to look at the menus.


JOEY: I can’t believe Quinn dumped us for a bunch of dorks with pocket protectors.


JAMIE: There is no justice.


JEFFY: I feel like Job, right after the whale swallowed him.


JAMIE: That was Moses, dope.


JOEY: No, it was Sinbad! Jeez, are you ever stupid!


Jamie looks down and sees the envelope that Jake Morgendorffer dropped. He idly picks it up and opens it.


JEFFY: Sinbad was the one that went to the archery contest and beat King Lear or somebody.


JOEY: That was William Shakespeare.


JEFFY: He didn’t have anything to do with archery, man!


JOEY: He shot that apple off his son’s head, right?


JEFFY: You idiot, that was—


JAMIE: [clutching letter] Whoa! I can’t believe this!


All three crowd around the letter.


JAMIE: [reading] “Roses are red, violets are blue, if you don’t go out with me tonight at midnight in the park, then something something something rhymes with ‘blue.’ Remember to finish this poem before delivering it to J.”


JOEY: [grabs letter] That’s typed in Quinn’s favorite font with her hot-purple ink cartridge on her lavender stationery! That’s for me!


JAMIE: [grabs letter back] No, it’s for me! I’m the J!


JEFFY: [grabs letter for himself] No, me!


All three Js tear the letter apart, then rush out of the restaurant at full speed, pushing and shoving each other. Moments later, platinum-blonde Lindy appears in a string bikini, clutching a half-empty bottle of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Wine. She rushes over to the table that the three Js just vacated.


LINDY: Oh, rats! I just missed him! [looks around restaurant, yells] Jake? Jake! I’m here now! Where are you?






Daria sits at her desk, checking her computer monitor for her e-mail. A digital clock gives the time.


DARIA: Do I want to refinance my home mortgage loan? No. Do I want to meet friendly Russian women for marriage? No. Do I want to fix my septic tank? No. Do I want to get the dirt on my neighbors? I’ve already ordered that. Do I want to see hot Asian teens? No. Do I want more pills, a new diet, a new credit card, a cable descrambler, or a way to make thousands of dollars at home stuffing envelopes? No. [sits back] This sucks. Damn Al Gore anyway for inventing this piece of—


A knock sounds at her door.


DARIA: Go away!


QUINN: [opens the door and comes in] Thanks! Isn’t it great, Daria? In just five more minutes, Mom and Dad will find each other, and Aunt Amy and Uncle Joel will find each other, and they’ll live happier ever after, just like in “Romeo and Juliet”!


DARIA: I know that’s not what you meant to say, but I’m actually afraid you got it right.


QUINN: Oh, give me some credit, okay? You’ll thank me when this is over.


DARIA: Assuming that civilization as we know it still exists. Look, I was going to ask you, where in the park are they supposed to meet?


QUINN: Um, you know, in the, uh, park. Just in the park.


DARIA: But where are Mom and Dad supposed to meet? You didn’t make it the same place as where Amy and Joel are supposed to meet, right?


QUINN: Uh . . . uh, you know, I hadn’t thought about that. I mean, Village Green isn’t that big, right? I thought . . . well, they should be able to . . . um . . .


Daria closes her eyes and groans, putting a hand to her forehead as if she has a migraine.


QUINN: Oh, stop it! I’m sure it’ll work out! What could possibly go wrong?


DARIA: [opens eyes] They said that at Chernobyl just before they shut the coolant off.


QUINN: Which high school was that?


DARIA: If we’re suddenly orphaned tonight, I’m fighting you for the house.






A dark blue sedan slowly cruises the streets around Village Green. Jane Lane peers out the rolled-down driver’s window, looking for something. She wears what seems to be a pirate’s outfit, cut for a woman. A black tri-corner hat rests on the passenger seat beside her, partially covering a bullwhip.


JANE: [calls out window] Tom? Tom, are you hiding from me? Come on, it was just a little role-playing! It was fun, wasn’t it? I won’t use the whip any more if you come back, okay? Tom? Tom! Damn it.


Jane sighs and accelerates away from the park. After a moment, some bushes in the park near the central statue rustle, and Tom Sloane peeks out in great fear. He appears naked except for a black thong and a pirate flag he has partially wrapped around himself; broken handcuffs dangle from his wrists as well. He appears a bit worse for the wear, scratched up as if he’d run through a patch of briars. Hearing a sound approaching, Tom immediately hides in the bushes again.


After a moment, Amy Barksdale appears, walking toward the city park wearing a long, dark raincoat. She wears her glasses, but as she approaches the park, she takes her glasses off and puts them in her raincoat pocket. She takes out a pocket cosmetic mirror, opens it to check herself, then shuts it and walks into the park itself, looking around her.


AMY: [soft voice] Hello? Hello? Anyone here wanna play “pirate”? Is there anyone around who sent me a secret admirer note with a take-me-now passport attached to it? Hmmm. This is the only park in Lawndale, I think. [hears someone coming] Oh! [hurries off and hides in the bushes about forty feet from where Tom is hiding]


After a moment, Jeffy, Joey, and Jamie wander into view. They appear to have been fighting, as all are severely battered, bruised, and scratched, but they are now cooperating to search the park as they walk through it.


JEFFY: [loud whisper] I don’t see her, man.


JAMIE: [loud whisper] She’s here. I know she is. Quinn wouldn’t lie.


JOEY: [loud whisper] But it’s really dark, you know. I can barely see my face in front of my hand!


JAMIE: [loud whisper] Shhh! [points to bush where Amy went] Something moved over there!


JEFFY: [grabs both Joey and Jamie, loud whisper] Okay, remember what we agreed on? All three of us are going to talk to Quinn and find out which one of us she’s going to choose, once and for—


At this moment, Amy’s raincoat flies over the bush and lands on the ground near the three Js. They jump, startled, and stare at it. After another moment, Amy’s blouse flies over the bush to land by the coat, then her skirt, her shoes and stockings, and her bra. The three Js stare at the clothing, then at the bush.


AMY: [VO, soft whisper] Oops! I’ve lost my clothes! I hope the pirates don’t find me!


The three Js appear stupefied.


JOEY: [pointing at bushes] Was that Quinn?


JAMIE: [stares at bushes] Kinda sounded like her.


AMY: [VO, soft whisper] All I’ve got on for protection from the pirates is my thong!


JOEY AND JAMIE: [gasp] That is Quinn!


JEFFY: [to the other Js, loud whisper] Hey, do you think we should call the police about the pirates? They could be—


Joey and Jamie clamp their hands over Jeffy’s mouth. All stand perfectly still.


JOEY: [clears throat, rough voice addressed toward bush] Arrr, now, matey! I reckon this here jungle be a good spot to go a-huntin’!


JAMIE: Arrr, I reckon ye be right, me hearty! I reckon this here place be a good spot fer some pirate sport, yo ho ho!


TOM: [VO, soft whisper from bush] Damn it! Not this!


JEFFY: Uh, yeah, I guess—


Joey and Jamie punch him in the arms.


JEFFY: Ow! Oh, um, I meant, arrr, there be buckets o’ blood spilled tonight if—


Joey and Jamie punch Jeffy again, harder.


JEFFY: Ouch! Okay! Uh, arrr! Arrr, let’s be off a-huntinfer wenches, mates!


TOM: [VO, soft panicked whisper from bush] Oh, no. No way, not this. Oh, man, I gotta get out of—


JOEY: [tiptoeing toward Amy’s hiding bush] Avast! I wonder if there be . . . female treasure a-hiding here!


JAMIE: [moving up with Joey] Aye! If there be, it’s about to be boarded, it be!


JEFFY: Um, yo, Captain Hook and Captain Hook Two, what’ll we do with, um, you know, if we, uh, catch her?


Joey and Jamie look at Jeffy with pained expressions.


JAMIE: [whispers] We’ll do anything she wants us to do, period. Anything. Got it?


JOEY: [whispers] Like, duh!


JEFFY: [blinks in shock] Oh. Okay.


AMY: [VO, in bushes] Oh, no! I fear I’ve been discovered!


At a signal, all three Js rush the bush where Amy is hiding. After much rustling around, there are three sudden, distinct gasps in masculine voices.


AMY: [VO] Uh . . . three of you? What the hell. [loud whisper] Oh, no! The pirates have caught me, and all I have on is this thong! [pause] Does it make my butt look too big?


JOEY, JEFFY, AND JAMIE: [VO] No! Not at all! You look great!


AMY: [VO, relieved] Good! Oh, and what are you going to do with me, you sea dogs?


JEFFY: [VO] Hey, guys, she’s not Qui—[punching noises]—ouch! Damn it!


JOEY: [VO] Arrr, now, me pretty! And what d’ye think ruffians such as we should do with the likes of ye?


AMY: [VO] That’s pretty good.


JOEY: [VO] Thanks.


AMY: [VO] Oh! I fear that all I have left to ransom my safety from you cutthroats is . . . my body!


Stunned silence for a moment, then—




The bushes rustle with combinations of piratical calls like “Time t’ be keel-hauled!” and “Prepare fer boardin’!” mixed with Amy’s cries of  “Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh . . . oh, you’re not the one in the photo, are you?”


As this goes on with increasing intensity, Tom Sloane slowly comes out of his hiding bushes, clutching the pirate flag around him. He starts to run for it—but a shadowy shape sudden darts into the park from the sidewalk and jumps on him. Startled, he falls backward into the bushes again, the shadowy shape falling into the bushes with him.


TOM: [VO] Augh! [voice cut off suddenly]


HELEN: [VO] So, you think you can just ignore me as if I was a total stranger? All this time we’ve known each other, and you think you can just take up with any woman you please, ignorant of the pleasures you could have had with me?


TOM: [VO] Mmrph! Grmph! Rrrghmmph!


HELEN: [VO] Stop struggling! I’ve been working out since you left me, and I’m a lot stronger than you now! I want you to see what you gave up when you ran off with that wench, whoever she is! Gimme your hands! Feel these? Feel how luscious and ripe they are, ready for picking? Is this the kind of body you can just run off and ignore whenever you feel like it? Is this a body you can toss away like two-week-old lasagna? [sound of clothing tearing] Look at me now! [sound of more clothing tearing] And look at you! We were made for each other! Look at how we . . . we . . . uh-oh.


TOM: [VO] Mrs. Morgendorffer?


HELEN: [VO] Oh, my God!


TOM: [VO] What the hell are you doing?


HELEN: [VO] I . . . I . . . thought you were . . . um . . .


TOM: [VO] And I thought . . . uh . . . Mrs. Morgendor


HELEN: [VO] Shhh. [pause] Helen.


A silence begins, broken only by rustling noises coming from the bush where Amy and the three Js are, um, occupied. Very quickly, rustling noises begin coming from the bush where Tom and Helen are hiding as well. The noises in both places grow in intensity, mixed with cries of “Avast!” and “Yo, ho, ho!” and “Mmmph!”


While this goes on, yet another shadowy form can be seen walking into the park. It's Eric Schrecter, Helen's boss, apparently having come directly here from his legal office. His tie is loose, his shirt unbuttoned, and his face sweaty. He holds a fax machine page in his hand, trying to read it and look around at the same time. When he walks, he appears uncomfortable, as if his underwear were riding up on him.

ERIC: Hey, is there anyone here looking for someone in a thong? Anyone? This fax says I was supposed to come here wearing a thong, and . . . huh. Maybe this was for tomorrow night. Or last night. Damn it! [walks away as bushes vibrate with extreme intensity]






Daria and Quinn hurry to the front door to answer a knocking there. They open the door—and discover Joel, holding the baby. The baby is sound asleep and covered with drool. His bottle is nowhere in sight.


JOEL: Hey, girls. Is Amy here?


Daria and Quinn blink at Joel in astonishment.


QUINN: Why aren’t you in the park?


JOEL: What park?


QUINN: The park, like the message said?


JOEL: What message?


DARIA: [looks behind Joel at the street] Is that Dad’s car pulling away, with him waving?


JOEL: Yeah. Your dad gave me a lift here. He came by the restaurant to find someone named Lindy, and he picked me up, too. I wanted to come by and make up with Amy, you know.


Daria and Quinn look at each other with white faces, then at Joel.


DARIA: Why wasn’t Dad at the park?


JOEL: I dunno. He said he was heading for the airport. Something about being late for a meeting of the Mile-High Club with Lindy, or something. He’s sure one busy fella.


QUINN: So, he didn’t get a message, and you didn’t get a message?


JOEL: No. Got some wings at Hooters, though. They were pretty good. I think they were chicken, too.


Daria leaves the front door and slowly walks upstairs.


DARIA: [calls as she goes] Chernobyl is all yours, Comrade.






Daria, wearing a “Much Ado About Nothing” nightshirt and short pants, wanders barefoot into the kitchen in the middle of a huge yawn. She opens her eyes—and jerks to a halt, staring at the kitchen table. Helen Morgendorffer and Amy Barksdale sit at opposite ends of the table; Jeffy, Joey, and Jamie surround Amy, and Tom Sloane sits by Helen’s side. All drink coffee or milk and eat doughnuts from a huge box labeled “Krispy Grease.” Everyone wears assorted mismatched clothing, mostly baggy sweat suits that appear to belong to Helen or Amy. Leaves and sticks are visible in their matted hair.


DARIA: [wide-eyed] Okay, which one of you is the Dormouse?


HELEN: [strained cheeriness] Hello, dear! Why don’t you join us?


TOM: We saved a cruller for you.


AMY: With sprinkles.


Amy’s comment causes Jeffy, Joey, and Jamie to break into snickers at a private joke.


DARIA: Tom? What are you doing here with Moe, Larry, and Curly?


TOM: Oh, I’m just . . . um . . .


JOEY: Yeah, you know, um . . .


JEFFY: We’re kind of like . . .


JAMIE: Yeah.


HELEN: [puts down her chocolate éclair and stands up] Daria, I may as well come out with it. Tom . . . what I mean to say is that, Tom and I, we . . . [sits down] . . . saved a cruller for you.


TOM: With sprinkles.


Jeffy, Joey, and Jamie again catch the giggles.


AMY: [glares at the three Js] Knock it off.


DARIA: [eyeing everyone carefully] Before this delightful talk proceeds any further, I need to go to the pharmacy and pick up an exceptionally strong major tranquilizer, unless I can use that sledgehammer in the garage to solve the problem.


HELEN: Oh, Daria, don’t hurt yourself!


DARIA: I wasn’t going to hurt me.


Footsteps are heard. Quinn (with glasses) walks into the kitchen, dressed in a Marie Curie glow-in-the-dark nightshirt and electric yellow shorts.


QUINN: ‘Morning! How is—[sees three Js, recoils]—AAAAH!!! What the hell are you guys doing here?


JEFFY: We just went through that.


JOEY: I don’t remember my part now! What do I say?


AMY: [finishes coffee and stands up] Don’t worry, dear. I’m going to wake up Joel and the baby, and then we’ll go home. I think our house is big enough for six, if we rearrange the furniture a bit.


QUINN: [initially delighted] Oh, then it worked! I knew it would wor—[confused]—for six? For six?


AMY: It was good seeing you girls. Good-bye, Helen. Good luck. [to three Js] Let’s shove off, me buckos.


Jeffy, Joey, and Jamie grab their last doughnuts, stand up, and follow Amy out of the kitchen. They are happily fixated on Amy and barely glance at Quinn as they go.




JOEY: Have fun!


JAMIE: See you somewhere next week or something!


Quinn stares wide-eyed after Amy and the three Js. Shocked, Daria watches them go, too.


DARIA: [turns to Helen and Tom] Anything else I should know before I make an emergency appointment with the school psychiatrist today?


HELEN: [nervously playing with her éclair and getting chocolate all over her fingers] Well, dear, you know your father and I are divorced, so as a result we’re not living together, and we’re not seeing each other, which means, you know, we’re free to see other people when we want, and—are you sure you don’t want a cruller?


DARIA: [steps back] Mom, you’re telling me that . . . you . . . you and Tom . . . you . . .


HELEN: Uh . . . yes.


TOM: We were hoping you and Quinn would be the bridesmaids.


Quinn emits a strangled gasp. Her eyes roll up into her head, and she crashes to the floor.


DARIA: [stares popeyed at her mother and Tom] You—


HELEN: We’re not doing anything fancy, of course, just a justice of the peace and then off to the Bahamas. Tom’s got to finish high school, and I have so much work at the office, you know, I don’t know how I’ll ever—


TOM: [puts a hand on Helen’s arm] It’s time for a vacation, Helen. You’ve earned it. I’ll use my college fund. My Uncle Bob will give me another one for Christmas.


HELEN: [smiles, to Tom] Why, thank you, dear!


Helen and Tom kiss, then Tom takes Helen’s hands and begins licking the chocolate off Helen’s fingers.


Daria backs up, staring in horror, and bumps into Quinn. She looks down briefly at her unconscious sister.


DARIA: [to Quinn] Congratulations, Einstein.


Daria flees the kitchen as Helen and Tom become more amorous.


HELEN: Oh. Oh! Oh, quick, let’s go in the living room and put Barry White! I’m in the moooooood!






Daria, dressed for school and with her backpack, walks out the front door. Jane Lane walks up the sidewalk toward her, also dressed for class.


JANE: Hey! What’s up? What’s going on? How you doing?


DARIA: My mother’s running off with your boyfriend. Other than that—


JANE: [stops, wide-eyed] What?


DARIA: Here’s the short form: My mother and Tom are getting married and flying to the Bahamas. My Aunt Amy’s taken Jeffy, Joey, and Jamie to live with her and Uncle Joel and Prince Poopalot. And Aunt Rita called a few minutes ago to say that my dad was taking her to Vegas on that airline where everyone flies in the nude. Quinn’s plan to get my parents together backfired bigger than the Watergate break-in. There’s probably a French word for it.


Jane’s shocked look fades. She shrugs and starts walking toward school with Daria again.


JANE: Well, c’est la vive. I thought something was going on last night when Tom unexpectedly ran off on me. Just got up and left. No reason at all.


DARIA: It was the whip, wasn’t it?


JANE: [stamps her foot] I knew it was too soon in the relationship.




JANE: Parents.


DARIA: Siblings.


JANE: Lawndale.


DARIA: Fanfic writers.


JANE: Exactly. [looks down sidewalk] Speaking of which . . .


A female Lawndale High School student skips gaily up the sidewalk, arm in arm with what appears to be someone in a giant possum costume wearing a thong.


KRISTEN: Oh, Pogo! You’re the dreamiest! [skips past]


GIANT POSSUM: [which sounds remarkably like Upchuck] Rrrowrrr!


JANE: [watches them leave] Hmmm. Why am I thinking of Kevin and Brittany?


DARIA: Suddenly, I feel a pressing need to think of our future. After school, you wanna help me look up some colleges in Australia that we can apply to?


JANE: That isn’t far enough away from here, but it’ll have to do.


DARIA: Right after pizza.


JANE: Done, amiga.


Daria and Jane wander away toward school. After a pause, Quinn dashes out of the house with her books, running madly after them, screaming.


QUINN: Daria! Don’t leave me here! They’re eating chocolate-chip cookie-dough ice cream off each other! Daria!









Joel sits on the sofa, watching a football game on a big-screen TV set. The living room is covered with bits of used clothing, all belonging to Joel. Joel wears a Howard Stern T-shirt, Scooby-Doo boxers, and filthy white athletic socks with holes in them, and he is drinking a Duff beer. A commercial comes on the TV at halftime.


TV ANNOUNCER: [dull monotone] Hi. My name is Luhrman. I’m the president and CEO of Hooters Family Restaurants. Starting tomorrow, Hooters will offer a free lap dance and a thong with each purchase of our Macho Nachos and Hot Wings combo. Bring the family for a great time at a great place to eat. Food, I mean. Whatever.


JOEL: Eh. I’ll stick with the American Burger.


TV ANNOUNCER: [Luhrman] And let me introduce the newest member of the happy Hooters’ family—Miss Daria Morgendorffer.


TV DARIA: Hi! I’m Daria! Welcome to . . . welcome to . . . to . . . JANE! How the HELL did you talk me into this? JANE! JANE, I’M GOING TO KI—


TV ANNOUNCER: [Luhrman] Thank you, Miss Morgendorffer. See you at Hooters.


The bedroom door opens behind Joel. Amy walks out, tying up the belt on her bathrobe, which appears to be her only apparel. She walks over and kisses Joel on top of his head.


AMY: I forgive you for saying that my butt was big.


JOEL: [watches TV] Okay.


AMY: Do it again, and you’ll sleep in the trash compactor.


JOEL: [watches TV] That’s fair.


Behind the two, Jeffy, Joey, and Jamie stumble out of the bedroom, wearing pirate costumes in complete disarray. Totally exhausted and bleary-eyed, they make their way to the sofa and collapse on the cushions next to Joel.


JEFFY: [watching TV now] Hey.


JOEY: [also watching TV] Hey.


JAMIE: [watches TV] Hey.


JOEL: [watches TV] Hey. Thanks a lot for helping Amy out with her new play. How was the rehearsal?


JEFFY: [watches TV] Incredible.


JOEY: [watches TV] Awesome.


JAMIE: [watches TV] There’s probably a French word for it.


AMY: Thanks, guys, but I think we need to work on that desert island scene a little more. Practice makes perfect! Let’s take a break and have another rehearsal in an hour, okay?


JEFFY, JOEY, AND JAMIE: [nod quickly, still watching TV] Yeah. Cool. Excellent.


JOEL: [watches TV] I think it’s great you’ve decided to become a playwright, Amy. You have so many talents and so much energy, I can hardly keep up with you!


JAMIE: [watches TV] Word.


JOEY: [watches TV] What he said.


JEFFY: [watches TV] You have no idea, dude.


A knock sounds at the door. Amy walks over and opens it, revealing a cheerful Brittany Taylor in her Hooters outfit. She holds Amy’s infant son, who snores soundly with his face buried between Brittany’s breasts.


BRITTANY: Hi, Amy! I think Joel forgot something when he left the restaurant this afternoon! [hands over sleeping baby]


AMY: [takes groggy baby, who is starting to wake up] Thanks, Brittany! Just in time for his feeding, too.


JOEL, JOEY, JEFFY, AND JAMIE: [watch TV] Hi, Brittany.


BRITTANY: Hi, guys! See you tomorrow! And remember our Macho Nachos and Hot Wings lap dance special!


JOEL, JOEY, JEFFY, AND JAMIE: [watch TV] Thanks, Brittany.


AMY: Remember to bring back the free thongs. Mine are in the laundry now.


BRITTANY: Oh! I just got off work, so you can use mine! [takes a used thong out of her pocket and hands it to Amy]


AMY: Thanks! [puts Brittany’s thong in her bathrobe pocket] I’ll wear it for our next rehearsal!


Brittany waves happily and leaves. Amy closes the door, then walks over to a rocking chair and sits down, getting her baby ready for feeding. The baby—awake now—looks up at Amy in confusion, then quickly looks around the room for Brittany.


AMY: Now, now . . . um . . . what was it . . . Dan! Dan, Mommy’s here with dinner, all for you! Which one do you want to start with?


Amy opens up her bathrobe and reveals two perky—but comparatively small—breasts. The baby stares for a moment, then rubs his eyes and looks again at Amy’s breasts with a mixture of shock, disappointment, and horror. He then looks around the room in a panic. He sees the TV set, which shows a picture of a Hooters girl waving at the TV audience in a commercial, and he holds out his arms to her in desperation.


BABY: [reaching for TV] Unh! Unh! Unh!


AMY: Joel! Dan’s starting to talk!


JOEL: [watches TV] Who?


AMY: Dan, you dope! The baby! He’s starting to talk!


JOEL: [watches TV] Cool.


AMY: [to baby] Say it! Say “Mommy”! Starts with Mmmmmmmm


BABY: [reaching for TV] Unh! Uhh-buh! Buh! Buuuuuoooobs!




BABY: [reaching for TV] Boobs! Boobs! Boooooooobs! [bursts into tears]


Fade out, just in time.






Original: 07/31/03; revised 08/04/03, 09/04/06, 09/23/06, 04/01/09