[Episode #13 of "Lost Season #1".] Summary: Daria bugs the hell out of Quinn at their great aunt's funeral, and afterward. First off, let me say that I love the TV show just the way it is, and have tried to be as true as possible to it here, keeping the general style and plotline in the direction the show's writers seem to have their minds set on. You won't find the start of any outrageous story arcs, new major characters or departures in style from the "Daria" we all know and love. Please let me know how close I got. (And if you're from MTV, I should mention I'd love to do this for a living. C'MONNNN, I wrote a WHOLE FRIGGIN' *SEASON* here, what more do you people WANT?!?!?) Well, here we are at last. Fanfic #13. By my count, that's a whole season. I thought I'd quiet things down a bit after two really intense back-to- back scripts ("No Picnic" and "Driven Wild"), to focus instead on the very basic concept of how Daria fits into her family (if at all). A couple of previously unseen characters this time, and I hope I got 'em right. One more character of my own invention. Despite the setting, I tried desperately not to end this one on a thoroughly depressing note... though it is a little morbid. If you liked Daria's twisted campfire story in "Teachings of Don Jake" you'll enjoy this one. I'll make one promise up front. This script will most certainly *not* end with the words "To Be Continued". I swear. About the choice of music in this one: I thought I'd use the setting to play something a little quieter, some classical and the kind of ambient new-agey stuff I normally listen to when I'm not doing fanfics. (...la-la LA la la...) Daria in "Alienation Legacy" Written by C.E. Forman (ceforman@worldnet.att.net) BEGIN ACT 1. (Black screen, with the words "Thirty Years Ago..." in white Daria-script lettering. Pause, then:) DISSOLVE TO: INT.: AN EXTRAVAGANT, SPACIOUS LIVING ROOM. (Sound of doorbell, and a girl in her late teens, with long brown hair, rushes in from another room. She's dressed in full hippie getup -- a flower-patterned blouse with vest, long pants in psychedelic colors, peace-sign necklace, flowers in her hair, the works. Slung over her shoulder is a single backpack.) HIPPIE GIRL: (To a large chair, its back to the camera.) You could at least get the door! VOICE FROM CHAIR: (Female, young.) Why? It's never for me. HIPPIE GIRL: (Shakes her head, sarcastic.) God, you are such a trip. (Slow pan downward from the top of the chair, to show another girl, clearly several years younger, with her face buried in "Ethan Frome".) YOUNG GIRL IN CHAIR: This from the walking abstract art. (The hippie girl ignores this remark, gets the door. It's a group of her friends, dressed similarly, two guys, one girl. From the van left revving out front, we hear:) (MUSIC: "Aquarius", Fifth Dimension.) ONE GUY: (Kisses her, obviously a boyfriend. He looks oddly familiar, too.) Ready? (Notices the girl in the chair.) Hey, this your kid sister? (The hippie girl doesn't answer. She's clearly embarrassed of her younger sibling.) BOYFRIEND: (To girl in chair.) Whatcha readin' there, kiddo? (Lifts the book out of her hands when she doesn't answer.) VOICE FROM CHAIR: Hey! BOYFRIEND: (Looks at book.) Hey, far out! (One of the other girls leans over the side of the chair, extends a hand.) OTHER GIRL: Hi. I'm Willow. Who are you? VOICE FROM CHAIR: (Not thrilled to be making introductions.) Amy. WILLOW: Amy? AMY: (Voice from chair, drips with sarcasm.) Ooh, very good. WILLOW: You sure don't talk much, do you? (Amy doesn't answer this either. Another girl enters from another room, goes up to the first. This newcomer is perhaps a year, year and a half younger, blonde, and dressed more conservatively in a sweater and bell-bottom jeans.) BLONDE GIRL: (To the hippie girl, her sister.) Mom wants you upstairs, now. HIPPIE GIRL: Tell Mom to get her ass down here and tell me herself. MOTHER'S VOICE: (Other room.) I heard that, young lady! AMY: (From chair, tugs on hippie boyfriend's sleeve.) Excuse me? MOTHER: (Enters, a tall, matronly woman.) And just where do you think *you're* off to? HIPPIE GIRL: I told you, my friends and I are going on the road. Not that it's any of *your* business. MOTHER: Young lady, while you're living under this roof, *everything* you do is my business, and you'll abide by our rules! HIPPIE GIRL: (Angry.) I'm in college now, Mother, I'm not a child anymore! MOTHER: Then stop acting like one! BOYFRIEND: Whoaaa, mellow out there-- MOTHER: (Cuts him off.) *You* shut up! (Takes her first good look at him.) And get a haircut, just *look* at you! AMY: (Again, tugs on boyfriend's sleeve.) Excuse me... BLONDE GIRL: (Amused, to boyfriend.) Are *you* my sister's new boyfriend? HIPPIE GIRL: (Right back at her.) Oh, like you're one to talk, you're on what, your third this month?! AMY: (Stands, and we finally get a look at her. Shoulder-length dark hair, wavy but otherwise unremarkable. Plain blouse and skirt... and large glasses with round frames.) Excuse me, can I have my book back now? HIPPIE GIRL: (To her boyfriend.) Dammit Jake, will you give her the stupid book, and let's go! JAKE: (Realizes he still has it.) Huh? Oh, right, sorry! (Hands it back.) MOTHER: Now get out of my house, all of you! JAKE: (Sudden mood swing, chants:) Hell no, we won't go! Hell n-- HIPPIE GIRL: Jake, shut *up!* (Pushes him and her other friends toward the door.) MOTHER: (Grabs her daughter by the arm.) Except you, young lady, you're staying right here. And we're going to have a long talk when your father gets home. HIPPIE GIRL: I'm not gonna *be* here when Dad gets home! (And she's out, ignoring all protests from Mom. The blonde girl looks smug, Mom likes her better now. In the midst of all the commotion, Amy plunges back into her book.) MOTHER: (Off-screen, yells after the elder sister, as Amy reads.) I can't *wait* 'til you have kids of your own someday! CUT TO: (Black screen, with the words "Present Day".) DISSOLVE TO: INTERVIEWER: (In blue power suit. To man seated in studio. Pretend-shock, for dramatic effect.) ...And just like that, your pastor banned the entire congregation from his parish, fire and brimstone, the whole nine yards?! ANNOUNCER: (Voice-over. SSW logo appears.) The excommunication revival: An angry congregation speaks out! "Sick, Sad World" has the whole story, right after this! (TV-switched-off effect, and we're in--) INT.: DARIA'S ROOM. AFTERNOON, SATURDAY. (Jane is master of the remote. Daria's ceiling-watching.) DARIA: So did you miss me? JANE: You'd better believe it. I had to be alone and friendless all by myself. So, you wanna do something? DARIA: We are doing something. JANE: Wanna log onto the sci-fi chatroom and pretend to be time travelers again? DARIA: Nah. JANE: Prank-call Kevin and see if we can trick him into giving us his Dad's credit card number? DARIA: Nah. JANE: Cut down Quinn in front of all her friends? DARIA: (Beat.) Okay. JANE: (Smiles.) You never tire of the classics, do you? CUT TO: INT.: LIVING ROOM. (MUSIC: "This Is How We Do It", Montell Jordan.) (Quinn has the Fashion Club and the J's over. The girls occupy the couches, forcing the guys to sit on the floor, but they don't mind. They're all gathered at Quinn's feet.) JAKE: (Passing through.) You kids help yourself to anything in the fridge, okay? Think there's still some of my famous stir-fry left in there! QUINN: (Looks half-ill at the mere mention.) Umm, we'll be fine, Dad. TIFFANY: Do you have any rice cakes? JOEY: Can I-- JEFFY: --get you anyth-- JAMIE: --ing, Quinn? (Joey gives Jeffy a dirty look, and they both give one to Jamie.) QUINN: Yeah, a soda sounds good. With ice. See if there's any of those little cubes left, I don't like the big ones as much. (The three J's trip and push each other in an effort to get Quinn's soda first. Sandi and Tiffany look disgusted. Quinn starts, horrified, as she hears Daria's voice behind her:) DARIA: How many butlers does any one person need? QUINN: (Turns, angry.) Get *out* of here! (Daria sits down on the couch recently vacated by JJ&J. Jane stands on the sidelines and smirks, Springer-style.) DARIA: And how's Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth today? SANDI: (To Daria.) What are you *doing* in Quinn's house? DARIA: Excuse me? I live here. QUINN: (Quickly, to avert suspicion.) No you don't. DARIA: Is this some kind of orgy? Can we join in too? QUINN: (Exasperated.) God, will you stop trying to pretend you *belong* here? (Sees Sandi, decides she'd better drive this home.) You're not even part of this family! DARIA: (Shows a little anger.) Quinn, as much as it embarrasses you to admit it, I happen to be your si-- QUINN: (Yells, cuts her off.) MO-OOOMMMMMM! Daria's bugging me againnn! HELEN: (Bad timing for Daria, she's already coming down the stairs, in a rush.) Daria, leave your sister and her friends alone! DARIA: But-- HELEN: Come on. (Grabs her eldest daughter's arm, drags her upstairs. She shoots a look Jane's way, and she follows.) STACY: (Writing the whole scene down in her Fashion Club notebook.) How do you spell "orgy"? SANDI: (Picked up immediately.) Quinn? What did your Mother mean when she said, "your *sister*"? TIFFANY: Yeah. We all heard it. QUINN: (OhmyGod!) Umm-- CUT TO: INT.: UPSTAIRS HALLWAY. HELEN: (Lecture.) Young lady, you either go outside or stay in your own room, but don't bother Quinn and her friends! You caused enough trouble the last two days, and I'm tired of this attitude! DARIA: *My* attitude? What about Quinn's? (Eyes narrow.) And yours? HELEN: (Flinches, just a mite, recovers.) Daria, I don't have time to get into this right now, I just missed two days of work and I haven't even *begun* to catch up yet! I'll have a talk with you later! JANE: (Watches Helen going back downstairs.) Whoa. She's still mad, huh? DARIA: So it would appear. JANE: And you're not even going to tell me what you did? DARIA: (Sighs.) It's a long story. JANE: Well, seeing how our primary source of entertainment just got cut... DARIA: (Sees her point.) All right, if I must... FLASHBACK-DISSOLVE TO: INT.: KITCHEN. EVENING, TUESDAY. (Jake's standing on a chair by the wall, fiddling with the clock, humming a pleasant little tune as he does so. Helen takes a package of frozen lasagna out of the freezer, hugs Quinn, who's slipped in for a soda (and who winces). The phone rings, and Helen puts the lasagna on the counter, answers.) HELEN: (All-sugar.) Hellooo? (Almost immediately, she sours.) Rita. What is it? (Up on the chair, Jake gets an "uh-oh" face. Quinn realizes it's not for her, heads out as Daria enters.) HELEN: (On phone.) ...Oh my... (Pause.) And you've gone and made all the arrangements yourself, I presume? (Beat.) When, and where? (Daria peers over Helen's shoulder, sees her mother drawing a caricature of Aunt Rita with big knives stuck in her.) HELEN: Well, I'd love to, Rita, but I'm on three big cases right now and with such short notice I really can't spare-- (Suddenly alarmed.) She *is?* (Beat.) Well yes, of *course* she's her sister but I'd just assumed... (Clattering sounds. Both Helen and Daria turn to see pieces of the clock all over the floor. Jake gets a dirty look from Helen.) HELEN: (Cont'd.) Rita, don't you say a damn *word* to her! We'll be there! (Beat.) Yes! Good-*bye!* (She slams it back on the hook, then turns to her husband.) Jake, what are you *doing?!* JAKE: (Mutters as he tries to put it back together.) The stupid hands fell off again... [*] [*] Thanks to Mike Quinn, whose "Delayed Reactions" provided the inspiration! DARIA: (This doesn't bode well.) Still picking fights with Aunt Rita? QUINN: (Enters with a now-empty soda can, notices the sharp change in moods since she was here last.) Jeez, what happened? Did someone *die* or something? HELEN: Yes. (More annoyed than really upset.) Your great aunt Eleanor. (Quinn looks shocked, she was joking.) HELEN: The funeral's in Leeville. Visitation Thursday night, cremation Friday morning. JAKE: She's being cremated? DARIA: (Deadpan.) Don't forget the marshmallows. (This gets a chuckle out of Jake, but Helen doesn't think it's funny, and her glare makes certain both her husband and eldest daughter know this.) DARIA: Too bad we've got school those days. (Maybe too obvious:) And don't forget those big cases of yours, Mom. Work before family, right? HELEN: (No-question tone.) We're going, Daria. Rita's already made it clear she'll be there, and I'll be *damned* if I let her upstage me in front of Mother! JAKE: (Now he *really* looks scared.) Your mother?? QUINN: (Raised eyebrows.) Grandma Barksdale's coming? DARIA: Are they fumigating the mansion or something? HELEN: (Still on her own spiel, trying to justify it.) ...besides, the firm does offer bereavement time as a benefit, so I might as well use it... QUINN: (Hopeful.) Can I get a new outfit for this? (Still on the chair, Jake drops the screwdriver again, this time on his foot. He yelps, clutches it, and ends up tipping the chair over, landing on the floor.) JAKE: (Screams.) *GAHHH*, HELENNN! MY *BACK!!* HELEN: (Thinks he's trying to weasel out of it, turns her eyes up.) Nice try, Jake. FLASH-FORWARD TO: EXT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE, SIDEWALK. SATURDAY. (MUSIC: "Euphoria (Firefly)", Delerium.) JANE: So wait, so you didn't *want* to go? I'd think you of all people would relish the chance to see the dead body of another family member. DARIA: Aunt Ellie's not the one I would've chosen. I'd much rather see "cousin Quinn" on full display. JANE: (Doesn't miss the bite in her tone.) It really bugs you when she calls you that, doesn't it? DARIA: What bothers me is that she's so shallow she's convinced *my* appearance has an adverse effect on *her*. And with those superficial, petty airheads she chooses as her friends, it probably does. JANE: So getting back to the story, what's so bad about Grandma Barksdale? (As they walk off the edge of the screen, zoom in on the living room window. Quinn's watching nervously to make sure they're really leaving.) QUINN: (Still mid-explanation to Sandi.) ...so, you see, it's really more of a stupid *nickname* than anything else. My mom just thinks it's cute to call her that, plus I think it makes her feel better since she doesn't have any real family of her own. (Hopeful.) See? SANDI: (Defensive, hint of snideness.) God, Quinn, I was just *asking*. I didn't want your cousin's whole life story, or whatever. (But she sees she's onto something, gets that crafty smile.) QUINN: Well sometimes she just makes me so *mad*, I just can't stand it! (Little foot-stamp on the word "mad".) SANDI: (Points.) You know, Quinn, when you get all mad and stuff, you get these *creases* in your forehead. TIFFANY: (Agrees.) Yeah. They look really *bad*. (Cut to JJ&J, listening in from the kitchen.) JOEY: Quinn's really strong, putting up with Daria like she does. JAMIE: *I* think she's cute even when she's mad. JEFFY: Shut up, Jamie! (Back to the Fashion Club.) SANDI: (Amused.) What do you care what a weirdo like her does, anyway? QUINN: (Incensed.) I don't! But you don't hafta live with her every day of your life! She didn't humiliate *you* in front of everyone! STACY: (Sympathy for Quinn.) OhmyGod, what did she *do?* FLASHBACK TO: EXT.: FUNERAL HOME, LEEVILLE. EVENING, THURSDAY. (A two-story Victorian-style home with parking all around. The Morgendorffers get out of the car, one by one. Jake looks nice in a dark suit. Helen's in a version of her jacket/skirt combo, black but otherwise identical to her red one. Quinn, for once, wears an appropriate-length skirt and doesn't show any midriff.) QUINN: (Admires her clothes.) I've gotta hand it to you, Daria, you really know how to pick a good funeral outfit. (Freeze the action onscreen.) STACY'S VOICE: (Voice-over, from present.) Does "humiliated" have one "L", or two? QUINN: (VO, from present.) Two, I think. SANDI: (VO, from present, snotty.) Too bad your "sister", I mean *cousin*, is gone. We could ask *her*. QUINN: Look, you guys wanted to hear this, can I just get *on* with it?! SANDI: By all means, Quinn. (Resume action onscreen.) QUINN: (In flashback.) I like yours, too. It really says, "I'm miserable." DARIA: This is what I always wear, Quinn. (Zoom out to show she's still in the green jacket/black skirt. Except, we notice, she also has on the little diamond-shaped pendant she wore on her previous show.) QUINN: Whatever. For once you actually look normal. (Beat.) Now just don't do or say anything to embarrass me. God, I hope this isn't totally depressing. DARIA: Why don't you ask the funeral director for a job prepping corpses? It'd be like doing makeovers. QUINN: (Suspicious, but can't tell for sure.) Are you making fun of me? DARIA: Constantly. HELEN: (Warning.) Behave yourselves, girls. CUT TO: INT.: FUNERAL HOME, FOYER. (MUSIC: "Longing", Haymo Doerk. [E-mail me if you've heard of this guy!]) (Rita and an tall, elderly matron of a woman, extravagantly dressed, greet the arriving Morgendorffers.) RITA: Helen, you made it! (She gives Jake the cold shoulder, as before.) HELEN: (Hint of hostility, but she is trying to hide it.) Of course I did, Rita, I told you on the phone we would. JAKE: So Rita, how's Paul? (Looks around.) Is he here? (Rita's face crumples, she bursts into tears. Apparently she and Paul broke up recently, and she's far from over it.) JAKE: Aww, damn... (Cringes, turning contritely to Helen for his berating.) (But Helen ignores him, instead putting on a scheming look, like she's now got something to use against her sister. The matronly woman comforts Rita momentarily, then sends her off with a turn of her head.) WOMAN: Poor Rita. She must be taking Ellie's death very hard. (Sweeping gesture, encompasses the home. Proud.) She organized this entire affair herself, you know. HELEN: (Shortly.) Yes, Mother, she made certain to mention that. (Seeing where this is going, Jake slinks away, not wanting to get entangled. Daria puts on an "oh, God" face.) GRANDMA BARKSDALE: I paid for the casket, of course. (Notices her daughter's tone.) Now don't you be jealous, Helen. We would have asked you to help, but I know your little law career takes up so much of your time... HELEN: ("*Little* law career"?!) I'll have you know I put aside possibly three of the most important cases of my career to be with-- GRANDMA B: (Doesn't hear, she's noticed the girls.) Ohh, Quinn looks absolutely *lovely!* QUINN: (Perky as ever.) Hi, Grandma! GRANDMA B: (Wraps her arms around her, gives a squirming Quinn a wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek.) A little princess, just like Rita at her age! (Helen slow-burns, her mother still thinks of Rita as "the pretty one".) QUINN: (As soon as her arms are free, produces compact, looks in the little mirror.) Ewww, she smeared my makeup! HELEN: (Whispers, intently.) *Shhh*, Quinn! GRANDMA B: And little Daria! (Does the cheek-pinching thing, making Daria cringe.) Just *look* how grown-up you are now! DARIA: (Sardonic.) You don't know the half of it. GRANDMA B: So sophisticated with those glasses, that dour expression... Is that the necklace I gave you? DARIA: (Lifts pendant.) Actually, this is a cyanide pill. HELEN: (Whispers.) *Daria!* GRANDMA B: (Hands on her granddaughter's shoulders.) Why, you're just the splitting image of Eleanor! DARIA: What, is she sixteen too? GRANDMA B: SixTEEN! Has it been that long? My goodness, Helen, I'd think the least you could do is bring my granddaughters to visit me more often, don't you think? HELEN: (Anxious to get away.) Excuse me, Mother... DARIA: (Also anxious to get away.) Excuse *me*... (She squeezes past them and stops, seeing someone else she recognizes even with his back partway turned.) DARIA: Lerman? LERMAN: (Turns. Absolute monotone.) Oh, wow. Someone actually remembered. (Beat.) You're Daria, right? DARIA: (Surprised he remembers too.) Yeah. LERMAN: (Absolute monotone, sardonic.) Wow. It *must* be love. (...la-la LA la la...) (COMMERCIAL LEAD-IN: Split-screen, young Amy and young Daria on the couch with their aunts.) END ACT 1. (COMMERCIAL: I first heard of the ad for the "Daria" season premiere today, as I write this. So I thought I'd watch a little MTV and see if I could catch it. Obviously MTV does not consider the promotion of "Daria" a top priority. Keeping in mind that I was actually paying *attention* to the commercials, here's what all I had to sit through before I finally saw it: CastleVania, Doritos, "Blast from the Past" movie, 7-Up and the Soft Drink Syndicate, Wendy's Monterey Ranch Chicken Sandwich, "She's All That", WinterFresh Gum from Wrigley's, CastleVania *again*, "Message in a Bottle", plug for "Fanatic", *CastleVania!!!*, Doritos, Wendy's Monterey Ranch Chicken Sandwich, Aussie hair-care products, Clairol, "She's All That", a plug from my local cable service but the sound was so bad I couldn't even understand it, a local car dealership, plug for "The Blame Game", CastleVania GOD DAMMIT I AM SO *SICK* OF THAT FUCKING THING, Wendy's Monterey Ranch Chicken Sandwich, the Nike Alpha Project, WinterFresh Gum from Wrigley's, the movie "Jawbreaker", some new Volkswagen, the Navy, CastleVania, and *THEN* they finally showed it!) (Now if you'll excuse me, I feel like getting a Monterey Ranch Chicken Sandwich from Wendy's, and maybe some Doritos to go with it, and then, I can't explain it, I just have this uncontrollable urge to buy an N64 so I can play CastleVania.) BEGIN ACT 2. RETURN TO: EXT.: FRONT DRIVEWAY TO A LARGE, STATELY MANOR. (MUSIC: Hendrix, "Purple Haze".) CUT TO: INT.: SPACIOUS LIVING ROOM, FROM ACT 1. (Young Amy is lying on the couch on her side, looking moody. Young Rita paces about, on the verge of a fit.) RITA: (Freaking.) Mom, come *onnn!* Amy'll be *fine!* Rusty's probably wondering where I *am!* MOM BARKSDALE: (Calls from next room.) Be patient, sweetie, Aunt Eleanor will be here soon, then we'll get left. AMY: What's the hurry, you'll probably break up with him before the night's over. RITA: Shut up! (Doorbell. Rita grabs it almost immediately.) RITA: Mommmm, she's here! Can we go now?! MOM BARKSDALE: (Emerges, hurries past Amy.) Eleanor, thanks for coming on such short notice, I'll be back if I ever find where Helen took off to. Amy, you be good for Aunt Eleanor. (And they're out, leaving Amy. As Aunt Eleanor approaches, she pulls her legs up to make room for her. The camera is at Amy's lying-down height, so we don't get to see Eleanor's face.) AMY: Hi, Aunt Ellie. ELEANOR: Just Ellie. (Dissolve to later in the evening, close-up of the TV, broadcasting a NASA feed.) TV: (Neil Armstrong's voice, crackly with static.) Houston, Tranquility Base here. The eagle has landed. AMY: (Deadpan.) Yay. ELEANOR: (Deadpan.) I've never been more thrilled in my life. (We sense the rapport between them.) FLASH-FORWARD TO: INT.: FUNERAL HOME. EVENING, THURSDAY. (MUSIC: "Eternal Return", Constance Demby. The third movement, "Return".) (Close-up of Amy's veiled face. She stands before the open casket, solemnly, surrounded by flowers and subdued lighting. She doesn't cry or show any strong emotion, but we can sense she's feeling a strong loss... though she chooses to handle it her own way, rather than following the rest of the family's lead. We don't actually get to see into the casket.) HELEN: (Hugs Amy, who doesn't return it.) There you are, Amy. How are you getting along? AMY: (Dry.) I'm still breathing, Helen. HELEN: (Shakes her head.) Oh, Amy... (Helen turns away, looks at the casket.) DARIA: (Pleased to be in the company of a relative she likes.) Hi, Amy. AMY: (Turns, lifts the veil, the famous smirk. Nods toward the coffin.) Here, I'll move her mouth, you do the voice. GRANDMA B: (Shocked that Amy's making jokes at a time like this.) Amy! That's *terrible!* AMY: What? She doesn't care. She'd laugh if she still could. DARIA: (To Helen.) She's not spinning in her casket, is she? HELEN: Daria! AMY: Hey, everybody says these things are more for the survivors, anyway. So I say let's enjoy ourselves a little, right Daria? DARIA: (Smiles.) You can't spell "funeral" without "fun". QUINN: (Comes up, shielding her face.) Aunt Amy? Can I borrow your veil? Grandma smudged my makeup, I just need it so I can get to the ladies' room and touch it up without anyone seeing me like this. (Amy removes the veil, hands it wordlessly to Quinn.) QUINN: Thanks. AMY: (Turns, to Daria.) Well. Nice to see her when she's sober. CUT TO: EXT.: PIZZA KING. SATURDAY. (PRESENT DAY.) (MUSIC: "Connected", Stereo MCs.) CUT TO: INT.: PIZZA KING. (The Fashion Club at their usual booth. The J's watch from a nearby table.) STACY: (Looking at notes.) Okay, next order of Fashion Club business: Last meeting Tiffany suggested taking up a petition to eliminate mandatory showers after gym class because they wash off our mascara. All in favor? ALL F.C.: Aye. (Quinn glances nervously at the establishment's door.) STACY: Opposed? (None.) STACY: (Writing.) So the proposal passes with an anonymous vote of four to nothing. QUINN: (In the Js' direction.) Umm, guys? Joey, Jeffy, Jamie? Do you mind checking on our order? Make sure Tiffany's doesn't have any crust this time. TIFFANY: Yeah. Those big bubbles look really gross. Like zits. JOEY: No problem, Quinn! JEFFY: Anything for you, Quinn! JAMIE: (Last straw.) Dammit, Quinn, for the last time, my name is *Jamie!* (The other two J's gasp. Jamie's just spoken harshly to Quinn.) QUINN: (Indignant.) That's what I *said!* JAMIE: (Realizes it, apologizes profusely.) Sorry, Quinn, force of habit, it'll *never* happen again I *swear*, *please* forgive me! (Crawls on his knees to her, begging.) QUINN: Fine, what-*ever*, just *go!* (Points.) JOEY: Nice going, *Jamie!* Now she's mad at us! JEFFY: (Corrects.) She's mad at *you* guys. (They're off. Again Quinn shoots a glance at the door.) SANDI: (Notices.) What do you keep looking at, Quinn? QUINN: Nothing! Just... would you guys mind if I hide under the table if Daria and her weird friend show up? SANDI: God, why are you like *obsessing* about your sister? QUINN: (Snaps.) Well you would too, if she ruined your life like she did mine! (Catches it.) And she's my *cousin*, Sandi! SANDI: (Nods, little smile.) Of course. FLASHBACK TO: INT.: FUNERAL HOME. EVENING, THURSDAY. (MUSIC: "The Dreaming Tree" by the Dave Matthews Band.) (A trio of teenage girls stands in front of Great Aunt Eleanor's casket, all crying. We recognize them as the three other bridesmaids from "I Don't". [I've taken the liberty of making up names for them, since I can't very well refer to them as "bridesmaids" here.]) SIMONE: (The one with shorter hair.) She's not even my side of the family, but... oh, it's just so *sad!* (Sobs.) DAPHNE: Don't feel bad, Simone, she's in a better place now. Right, Lucinda? LUCINDA: (The one with dark, back-length hair.) She looks so peaceful. LERMAN: (Standing with Daria.) Of course she does. She's been freed from the earthly burden of listening to you. (The three girls regard Lerman and Daria askance, then take a few steps away.) DARIA: (Admiration.) Nice one. LERMAN: (Toneless, expressionless.) Thanks. (Cut to Helen and Grandma Barksdale, greeting guests in the foyer.) GRANDMA B: (Looking at Jake across the room, vaguely critical.) Looking at him, Helen, it's hard to believe that's the same hippie boyfriend you married all those years ago. HELEN: (Irked, Grandma B's getting to her.) Yes, Mother, he has settled down a lot in the 23 years we've been together. (Under her breath.) You can give it a rest now... GRANDMA B: Hmmph. Once a hippie, always a hippie, I say. HELEN: For your information, *Mother*, Jake happens to be a good provider and a good *father* to the girls! (Shoots a pointed look at Rita, who's just returned, as she drives this last point home.) RITA: Helen, please... GRANDMA B: Now Helen, there's nothing wrong with admitting you made a mistake and starting over. (Jake starts to come over, then sees what's transpiring and thinks better of it, takes a sudden interest in reading the little cards on the flower arrangements.) HELEN: (Bites back.) You mean like *Rita* does every six months? Is *that* why she's the favorite?! GRANDMA B: (On the defensive.) Oh, come now, you're not *still* on that whole unfairness jag, are you? RITA: Helen, *don't!* Leave her alone! AMY: (Arrives, intercepts, amused expression.) My my my, what is it this time, Rita? You and Helen still trying to tear each other down in front of Mom? GRANDMA B: Amy, why do you always have to *say* things like that? AMY: (A little bitterness detectable.) Because they're true? (Cut to close-up of Daria, sending distaste-filled eyes at Quinn, who's busy spreading her popularity over Daphne, Lucinda and Simone. They're all seated among the several rows of chairs set up for visitors. Lerman sits next to Daria, staring vacantly.) QUINN: --so Sandi Griffin pretty much asked me to be vice-president of the Fashion Club right away. Sandi's like my best friend and probably the prettiest girl in the whole school. The Fashion Club's in charge of setting dress standards for popular peop-- (Freeze the action onscreen.) SANDI: (VO, from present, highly doubtful.) You didn't *really* say that about me, now did you, Quinn? QUINN: (VO, from present, way too friendly.) Of *course* I did, Sandi! I *always* say nice things about you guys! SANDI: (VO from present, little purr.) Rrreally? QUINN: (VO, insists.) *Yes!* (Resume action onscreen.) QUINN: (Back to flashback Quinn.) --le, it's a really big responsibility. LUCINDA: (Points, Daria and Quinn.) So are you two sisters? QUINN: (Quickly.) Oh, no, Daria's um, a foreign exchange student, she's just staying with us for awhile. SIMONE: Really? (To Daria.) Where are you from? DARIA: Lawndale. It's in Antarctica. DAPHNE: I really like your outfit, Daria. It's perfect for the occasion. DARIA: Mm. Thanks. QUINN: I helped her pick it out! That's the sort of thing I normally do. SIMONE: (Turns, to Daria.) You sure don't talk very much, do you? QUINN: (Anxious to keep it that way.) Um, Daria's the strong silent type. LERMAN: (Monotone, doesn't even turn his head.) Still water runs deep. SIMONE: Huh? DAPHNE: (Trying to open her up.) So Daria, what have you been up to, since Brian and Erin's wedding? DARIA: (Sighs, reverts to the old defense mechanisms.) Oh, mostly serving back-to-back life sentences. (Quinn just *cringes*, looks like she wants to slip away.) LERMAN: (Plays along.) Show them your prison tattoo. (To other girls.) It's really cool. LUCINDA: (Shocked, believes her.) Oh my God. What were you in for? DARIA: Six counts of first-degree murder. DAPHNE: (Eyes wide.) Then what are you doing back out? DARIA: (Utter bull.) My parents have a lot of influence, they sprung me so I could make the funeral. But half the people here are undercover officers, watching in case I try to make a break for it. LERMAN: (Points to Jake.) See that guy? He's in charge of the SWAT team waiting out front. QUINN: (Disgusted that they're buying into Daria's crap.) Oh for crying out loud, that's my *Dad!* SIMONE: (Impressed.) Wow, your Dad's a SWAT team commander? (Quinn stands with a little "Ugh!" grunt of disgust, storms off.) (Cut to Helen with Rita, Amy and Grandma Barksdale.) GRANDMA B: I've got to hand it to you, the girls are very well-behaved. (Remembering how Helen and Rita used to fight.) You two would've been trying to claw each others' eyes out at something like this. RITA: Oh, well, Erin's always minded her P's and Q's, so I guess I must've done *something* right. (Significant look at Helen here.) HELEN: (One-up mode.) Yes, Rita, but you never had the challenge or raising two at once, and doing *that* right, I might add-- (Just then, Quinn comes stomping up.) QUINN: MOMMM! Tell Daria to stop embarrassing me in front of everyone! (Beat.) Hi, Grandma! (Grandma Barksdale's reaction tells Helen that Rita wins this round. Amy looks like "get me the hell out of here".) (Cut to Daria, Lerman and the girls. Erin and her husband Brian are also present now.) DARIA: So, Brian, you still work for the government? ERIN: (Whispers.) Shh, you're not supposed to talk about it! DARIA: (Straight-faced, casual.) Have they told you what really happened at Roswell? BRIAN: (Smiles, shakes his head.) Nothing, Daria. I can assure you. LERMAN: (Monotone.) Ooh, you *are* good. HELEN: (Comes up, noticably angry, takes her daughter's arm.) Daria, we need to talk. Now. LERMAN: (To the girls, as Daria goes.) Uh-oh. Guess someone found all the blood downstairs. (Daphne, Lucinda and Simone, aghast, whisper amongst themselves.) (Cut to a side hallway, out of earshot of the other guests. Helen scolds Daria:) HELEN: (Hisses -- would yell but somebody'd overhear.) Daria, what has gotten *into* you?! DARIA: Nothing. This is how I always act, remember? HELEN: (Her what's-*wrong*-with-you tone.) The one time it's *okay* for you to be gloomy and sullen, and you're making jokes and teasing your sister! DARIA: And your point is? HELEN: Quinn and Erin are behaving themselves, why can't you? (Dead-serious tone.) You don't get another warning: *Don't* make a scene! DARIA: (Coolly.) You mean don't follow your example? HELEN: (Too obvious.) What does that mean? DARIA: You and Aunt Rita. Am I making you look bad in front of Grandma, is that what you're really worried about? I see what you're doing, Mom, I'm not a child anymore. HELEN: (Irritated.) Then stop *acting* like one! (Helen mentally kicks herself, realizing she just sounded exactly like her own mother.) (Cut to another part of the home. Amy rounds a corner, bumps into Lerman.) AMY: Oh, excuse me. LERMAN: (Absolute monotone.) That's okay. My fault. AMY: Have you seen my niece around anywhere? (Realizes he doesn't know who that is.) About yay tall-- (Holds hand up to about five-two, five- three.) --brown hair, glasses? LERMAN: You mean Daria? AMY: (Remembers.) That's right, you know her. LERMAN: (Flat.) I like Daria. She makes me laugh. (He doesn't.) AMY: I'll bet Helen's probably just chewing her out for being herself again. She'll be back shortly. LERMAN: Mmm. In the meantime, would you care to engage in the variety of mind-numbing small talk particular to this type of occasion? AMY: Sure. LERMAN: Or better yet, let's go explore the basement. Perhaps we'll find some embalming fluid we might ingest. (Amy raises a leery eyebrow, uncertain whether this boy is joking.) LERMAN: (Realizes this, after a moment.) Sorry. Sometimes my attempts at humor tend to be overly subtle. (MUSIC: "Halcyon & On & On", Orbital.) FLASH-FORWARD TO: INT.: PIZZA KING. AFTERNOON, SATURDAY. (Daria and Jane enter, in mid-conversation.) JANE: Wow, so Helen read you the riot act? DARIA: She was under a lot of stress. Grandma Barksdale has that effect on her. JANE: (Interrupts, points.) Hey, isn't that--? DARIA: (Sees too, calls.) Hiii, sis! (Instinctively, Quinn turns and looks, and the rest of the Fashion Club follows.) QUINN: (Winces.) Oh no... SANDI: "Sis"? QUINN: (Starts.) What? Um, no, see, I just recognized that droning voice, is what startled me. (Calls, to Daria.) Ha ha, very funny, *cousin!* (Daria scowls again, then gets the famous smile as she decides she's going to have some serious fun with this.) FLASHBACK TO: EXT.: MOTEL, LEEVILLE. NIGHT. (MUSIC: "Watermark", Enya.) CUT TO: INT.: MOTEL ROOM. (Overhead shot of the four Morgendorffers in bed. Jake and Helen are together, leaving Daria and Quinn to share the other king-size. Close-up of Helen, who tosses and turns.) (Dissolve into dream sequence. Helen enters the gates of heaven, led by Saint Peter.) HELEN: So what exactly do I do? SAINT PETER: Anything you like. HELEN: When do I meet my assistant? I do get one, don't I? Someone who'll coordinate appointments, scan intrusive calls for me...? SAINT PETER: (Good-natured chuckle.) Helen, we don't have any of those things here. This is *your* time now. Enjoy yourself. You've earned it. (Pete leaves Helen, who sits on a chair made of cloud and looks around for something to do. Finding nothing, she fidgets and quickly breaks out in a sweat--) (Shatter the dream. Helen sits bolt-upright in a cold sweat, gasping.) (Pan left to Jake, also tossing and turning. Dissolve into dream sequence. Jake walks through heaven, scanning unfamiliar faces, until one voice stops him in his tracks.) VOICE: Son? JAKE: (Turns.) ...D-dad? (Jake looks into the eyes of his deceased father, clad in white. Of course the angle is from over Mad Dog's shoulder so we don't get to see his face.) "MAD DOG": (Choked up.) Son, I-I'm... I'm so sorry... for the way I treated you and your mother... Can you ever forgive me? JAKE: Dad! (Jake runs to his father with open arms, they embrace...) (...and Jake knees him in the groin.) JAKE: (Victorious little cry.) *Ha!* (Viciously kicks "Mad Dog", who's dropped, lying on his side in tremendous pain. Punctuates words with kicks.) *I've* been *waiting* a *long* time for *this*, you *rotten*-- (A group of nearby archangels run up and pry Jake away, but he continues to thrash in an effort to break free. Heaven dissolves, and Jake finds himself surrounded by fire and brimstone.) (MUSIC: "See You in Hell", Grim Reaper.) JAKE: (More whiny than anything else.) Aww, *dammit!* (Shakes his fist overhead.) I'LL GET YOU YET, OLD MAN!! I'LL GET YOUUUUUUUUUUU!... (His words echo through hell's caverns.) (Shatter the dream, cut the music. Jake sits bolt-upright in a cold sweat, gasping.) (MUSIC: "4:02", Global Communication.) (Pan left to Daria in the other bed, she tosses and turns as well. Dissolve into dream sequence. Daria lies in a casket, wearing her favorite outfit. Trent, in *his* favorite outfit, approaches the casket. Sound is muted, except for his footsteps and voice, which ring out in a somber, hollow echo.) TRENT: Hey, Daria. (Pause. Trent apparently can't think of anything else to say, and steps to the side.) (Andrea pauses over Daria's body briefly, then turns away, without uttering a syllable.) (Arm in arm, Kevin and Brittany show up. Yes, Kevin has his football.) KEVIN: (Starts as he sees Daria.) Oh, man! The mortician didn't do a very good job on her, babe! BRITTANY: Uh, babe? That's what she *always* looked like. KEVIN: (Remembers now.) Ohyeah! Cool! (They move out of the way, making room for Upchuck.) UPCHUCK: (Voice tinged with melodrama.) Ahh, farewell, Daria my sweet! This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you! (A single tear falls from his eye. Then, with a furtive glance around him to make sure no one's looking, he reaches toward Daria's lifeless body.) DARIA: (Voice, as if calling down from heaven.) Don't even *think* about it, Upchuck! UPCHUCK: (Startled, but quickly regains his pseudo-suave demeanor.) Ooohh-h-h-h, even in death she's feisty! (Disobeys, reaching for the zipper on Daria's jacket...) (Shatter the dream. Daria sits bolt-upright in a cold sweat, gasping.) [You will notice, of course, that I resisted the very strong temptation to throw in Beavis and Butt-Head as well. Your gratitude is implied.] (MUSIC: "Crystal Tears", Kitaro.) (Pan left to Quinn, sleeping soundly. Dissolve into dream sequence. Quinn lies in a pink casket surrounded by flower arrangements as far as the eye can see. Everything is bright and sunshiney. In front of the casket, Joey, Jeffy and Jamie argue.) JOEY: *I* get to be Quinn's pallbearer! JEFFY: No, she wanted *me* to! JAMIE: I called it first! (The argument descends into a fistfight. Close-up of Quinn in the casket, then dissolve back to the bedroom. In her sleep, Quinn smiles.) (...la-la LA la la...) (COMMERCIAL LEAD-IN: Quinn storming off, during the visitation.) END ACT 2. (COMMERCIAL: Here it is. The very *last* commercial of my 13-fanfic run. ... ... ... ...And God *DAMN* I wish I had a better joke to use in it!) BEGIN ACT 3. RETURN TO: (Black screen, with the words "Eleven Years Ago..." in white Daria-script lettering. Pause, then:) DISSOLVE TO: INT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE, LIVING ROOM, HIGHLAND. (MUSIC: "The Book of Love", Air Supply.) (The old Morgendorffer house, as seen in "Rain on Your Parade". Daria is lying on the couch on her side, looking moody. A young Quinn stomps about, on the verge of a fit.) LITTLE QUINN: (Freaking.) Mommy, come *onnn!* Daria'll be *fine!* I'm gonna be late and then I won't *win!* HELEN: (Calls from next room.) Be patient, sweetie, Aunt Amy will be here soon, then we'll get left. LITTLE DARIA: What's the hurry, you'll probably lose to some two-year-old in diapers anyway. LITTLE QUINN: Shut up! (Doorbell. Little Quinn grabs it almost immediately.) LITTLE QUINN: Mommmm, she's here! Can we go now?! HELEN: (Emerges, hurries past Daria.) Amy, thanks so much for coming on such short notice, I completely forgot Quinn's "Little Miss Highland" pageant, there's food in the fridge, we'll be back around nine. Daria, you be good for Aunt Amy. (Over her shoulder.) JAKE, WILL YOU PUT THAT STUPID PAPER AWAY, WE'RE *GOING!!* (On command, Jake's out in a flash. And the family files out, leaving Daria. Amy approaches and sits beside her. Similar to the shot at the start of Act 2, the camera is at Daria's toddler-level, so we don't get to see Amy's face.) LITTLE DARIA: Hi, Aunt Amy. AMY: Just Amy. (Dissolve to later in the evening, close-up of the TV, footage of a presidential address.) REAGAN: (On TV, microphone test, doesn't know it's already on.) My fellow Americans, I am pleased to tell you I just signed legislation which outlaws Russia forever. The bombing begins in five minutes. (Show Amy and little Daria on the couch, their reactions.) LITTLE DARIA: (To the TV.) Excuse me? AMY: He's finally snapped. ANNOUNCER: (Cuts off the president's words. Over-the-top.) Is the President in the early stages of a degenerative mind disease?! What connections exist between Nintendo and the Challenger explosion?! And just how close are we *really* to Orwell's dystopian vision?! Find out, on the world premiere of "Sick, Sad World", the bold new documentary show critics are calling "thoroughly contemptible", and "definitely worthy of its name"! Coming up next! (Daria and Amy settle back to watch.) FLASH-FORWARD TO: EXT.: CHURCH. (Close-up of sixteen-year-old Daria, then zoom out to the Morgendorffer family, in the same funeral attire as before, proceeding up the front steps.) HELEN: (To Jake, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.) You look tired, honey. What's the matter, didn't sleep well? JAKE: (Glum.) I had that dream again, Helen. With my father. This whole thing's bringing back *his* funeral. HELEN: Oh... (Puts a comforting arm on his shoulder.) Well if you're going to start shouting, let me know and we'll go outside, okay? QUINN: (Accusing.) Daria kept kicking me in her sleep. HELEN: Oh, now sweetie, I'm sure she didn't mean it... (Almost imperceptibly, the corners of Daria's mouth turn up.) CUT TO: INT.: CHURCH. (The minister -- and the funeral's in Leeville, so we can use the one from "I Don't", I just *love* him! -- delivers the eulogy. As he talks, slowly pan across the front pews, showing characters' reactions.) MINISTER: (Not a priest!) ...But we should not be sad Eleanor is gone, no, this is not a time for loss... (Helen exchanging cold looks with Rita, as Grandma B's holding Rita close but not Helen.) MINISTER: ...this is a time for love! And Eleanor most certainly was loved. (Helen snatches away the paper Jake, seated next to her, has been reading.) MINISTER: ...Not with the kind of special love between a man and a woman... (The "bridesmaids" sobbing, Quinn looking like she's getting tired of listening to them.) MINISTER: ...a beautiful, voluptuous woman... (Daria and Amy ignoring the minister's crap, passing a GameBoy back and forth.) MINISTER: ...but the love of a warm, caring family... (Dissolve to a short time later. Grandma Barksdale speaks.) GRANDMA B: Eleanor was a woman with a sharp... (Thinks for a moment of how to describe it.) ...*quirky*... sense of humor. This was how she faced life, and these are the memories we'll always have of my... sister... (Obviously having been embarrassed by Eleanor through life, just as Amy embarrassed Helen, and Daria embarrassed Quinn, she adds:) ...though technically, she *was* only a half- sister... (This doesn't set well at all with Amy.) (Dissolve, later. Amy's up front, sharing her thoughts on the recently departed.) AMY: Ellie had a song she asked me to play at her funeral... (Smiling, Amy loads a CD into the church's sound system.) (MUSIC: Theme from the "Star Wars" Trilogy, full blast, echoing through the church.) (Mixed reactions from the congregation. Most of the family and friends from Helen's side get appalled looks, but Daria and the older women who knew Aunt Eleanor smile.) CUT TO: EXT.: ROAD. (The funeral procession. Zoom in on the Morgendorffer car.) JAKE: (Impatient, honks horn.) C'mon, let's *go!* What the hell's the holdup?! HELEN: *Jake!* JAKE: (Remembers where he is.) Oh... right. Sorry, Helen. DARIA: Just relax, Dad. You get to run a red light up here. JAKE: (Eager, that's kinda neat.) Really? CUT TO: INT.: CREMATORIUM. (MUSIC: "All Souls Night", Loreena McKennitt.) (Without dialogue, slow pan across the faces of the family, illuminated only by the orangish light of the crematory. Most stand solemnly, but the "bridesmaids" bawl their eyes out, of course. Amy and Daria are at the end, and the incinerator light reflects off the lenses of both their glasses, and off the third pair, held in Amy's hands, once Eleanor's. The camera stops, lingers on them.) DARIA: Did you bring the marshmallows? DARIA'S VOICE: (VO, interrupts, from present.) Ex-*cuse* me? (Cut the music, freeze the action, and--) FLASH-FORWARD TO: INT.: PIZZA KING. SATURDAY. (Daria's interrupted Quinn in the middle of telling the story, and both look annoyed with the other. The Fashion Club looks shocked.) QUINN: And she was like, "Did you bring the marshmallows?" Like they were gonna roast them over the fire or something! DARIA: Quinn, I never said that. (To Jane, who looks more surprised that Daria *didn't* say it.) Really, I didn't. QUINN: You did too! And my Dad laughed but my Mom got all mad. DARIA: That was Tuesday, I made a joke about it right after Aunt Rita called. QUINN: (Irritated.) Well, whatever! But I knew you said it, and I *do* remember what you did *next!* CUT TO: INT.: PARISH CENTER. (The funeral dinner. Food is arranged on a long side table, potluck-style. Close-up on Daria, Lerman, Quinn and the girls. Daria scans the crowd.) QUINN: (Notices.) What do you keep looking at? DARIA: Nothing. You know, Quinn, nobody likes a tattletale. QUINN: (Still mad about last night.) Nobody likes *you*, Daria! DARIA: Aww, stop it, you're breaking my heart. (Jake comes over with a plate of food.) JAKE: (Sits by Daria.) Hiya, kiddo! Hope you don't mind, but your Mother told me to come over and keep an eye on you. (Daphne, Lucinda and Simone look at one another nervously. They still believe Jake is the SWAT commander here to watch the murderous Daria.) DARIA: Dad? Have you seen Aunt Amy anywhere? LERMAN: (To Jake.) Sir? Have you ever shot anyone before? JAKE: (Answering Daria's question.) Hmm... (Looks.) Nope, can't say I have. I'll let you know if I do, though. (Simone thinks he's answering Lerman's question, freaks at how casual he seems about the topic.) (Helen, Rita and Grandma Barksdale at a nearby table.) HELEN: (To Grandma B.) ...I mean, sure, Jake and I have always gotten by on our own, and I did work my way through four years of law school, but it would've been nice to have a *little* help once in a while. GRANDMA B: Oh, Helen, you were always the independent one-- RITA: (Hurt.) And I'm not, is that what you're saying? I can't take care of myself and Erin, is that it? HELEN: (Twists the knife.) Well, considering how you've always gotten by on Mom's money... GRANDMA B: I don't believe you ever once asked me for help, Helen. HELEN: (Bitter.) You could have offered. (Back to Daria and company.) DARIA: (Deadpan, stares, without blinking.) --See, once you sever the vocal cords, the victim can't scream and attract attention. (Takes a bite, the other girls look nauseated.) After that I usually inflict multiple stab wounds to the chest, then suck the air out of the lungs through the punctures. (Quinn, just *mortified*, buries her head in her arms and tries desperately to become invisible. Jake, as usual, doesn't even notice what's going on.) DARIA: ...At least that's what all the police reports say. I never remember any of it myself. (The girls look ill, cover their mouths. Daphne and Lucinda are bone-white, and Simone looks like she's about to faint.) DARIA: (Stands.) Speaking of which, I'd better go take my medication. It helps keep the psychosis down. (She heads off.) DAPHNE: (Swallows hard.) Oh... my... God... LERMAN: (Deadpan, to the girls.) Careful. Don't do or say anything that might set her off. (Of course this only disturbs them more. Daria overhears, turns back, fixes them with a blank gaze across the room. Noticing, the girls quickly avert their eyes.) LERMAN: And don't stare. That's the worst thing you can do. (Daria turns away, smiling. Quinn is *pissed*.) CUT TO: INT.: CHURCH. (MUSIC: "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring", J.S. Bach.) (Daria peers inside and sees Amy, still seated up front. The lights have been turned off since the funeral, but some sun filters in through the stained-glass windows, and a few stray candles flicker. Amy turns her head, hearing Daria's approach.) DARIA: (Quietly.) Hi. Thought I might find you here. AMY: (After a moment.) I can't stand watching them anymore. (Beat.) Have you ever felt like you don't even belong in this family? DARIA: Since I was born? AMY: Three decades, Daria. (But more to herself than to Daria.) Thirty years, and nothing's changed. Helen and Rita are still at each other's throats, trying to outdo each other in front of Mom, who still completely ignores me... Sometimes I wonder how I made it this long. DARIA: (Sits.) I'll bet Aunt Ellie had a lot to do with that. AMY: (Ponders.) Yes. Yes, she did. (Smiles.) She was great. We'd smartass back to everyone, and half the time they'd never even know it. Nothing they did could get to us. They never knew her like I did. Now I wonder... how I'll go on. DARIA: You could just give in and shoot them all now. (Amy laughs, appreciating Daria's sense of humor. Daria forces herself to laugh a little, too. Just a little.) DARIA: I wish I could've known her. AMY: I wish you could have, too. (Beat.) Can I... ask you for a few more minutes to myself? DARIA: (Understands, gets up to go.) Sure. AMY: (Smile, hand on her favorite niece's arm.) You're very strong, Daria. DARIA: I have to be, to survive in this family. (Jump-cut to Daria, leaving. As she reaches for the door handle, she's surprised to see the door suddenly pull open, and Jake and Brian standing there.) JAKE: (Equal surprise.) Oh, hiya, kiddo. (Beat.) Mind if we hide out in here too? CUT TO: EXT.: A LAW OFFICE SOMEWHERE. (MUSIC: "Time of Your Life (Good Riddance)", Green Day. [Hey, I hadta stick it in here somewhere!]) CUT TO: INT.: LAW OFFICE. (Slow pan across eager faces -- Helen, Rita, Grandma Barksdale, Amy and Daria together, the other friends and family -- as we Eleanor's voice.) ELEANOR'S VOICE: ...being of sound and disposing mind and memory, do hereby make, publish and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament. (Cut to a close-up of Eleanor's face, we finally get to see her. White curls down to her shoulders, eyes behind round lenses regarding the family before her, half-closed. Slow zoom out, showing the television on which the videotaped will is being presented.) ELEANOR: (Puts on the same smirk we've seen Daria use time and again. Sardonic, barely disguised.) To my wonderful *half*-sister...no doubt that's the term you used at my eulogy... I leave my funeral and cremation expenses, no doubt you've already paid for them, money always was your primary goal in life. (Grandma Barksdale looks ill.) ELEANOR: To my nieces Helen and Rita, since you'd just fight over whatever I left you anyway, I choose to leave nothing. (Helen and Rita join Grandma B in looking ill.) ELEANOR: (Continues.) No doubt the two of you have been competing with each other through this whole affair, trying to make yourselves look good to my *half*-sister, in an effort to acquire her money... Which brings us to my favorite niece, and the only one in this loony family I could ever relate to... Amy Barksdale. Amy, I'm leaving you my entire estate. (Seeing Helen's temper flare, Jake cowers.) HELEN: (Outraged.) This is a joke, right?! Well I'm not going to stand for it! I'll petition the court, we'll go through this word by word, frame by frame! RITA: Oh, just shut *up* Helen, we're all sick of listening to you! HELEN: God, you're such a crybaby, Rita, you always have been! RITA: I am *not!* HELEN: (Vicious.) *Paul Meyerson*, Rita! (At the mention of her ex-boyfriend's name, Rita tears up. Helen looks triumphant.) GRANDMA B: Helen! That's no way to talk to your sister! HELEN: Now you listen, *Mother*, I will talk however I damn well please-- ERIN: (Pleading.) Aunt Helen... (The whole family breaks out in a shouting match.) LERMAN: (Absolute monotone.) Oh, good. I was hoping something like this might transpire. (Cut to under the table, where Jake and Brian hide.) BRIAN: God, this family's nuts! JAKE: Tell me about it. (Back to a shot encompassing the whole room, then close-up on Amy and Daria.) AMY: Ellie would've enjoyed this. DARIA: (To Amy.) It's hard to respect your elders when they act less mature than you do. AMY: (Stands, motions Daria to follow.) C'mon, let's get out of here before everyone turns on us. (Cut to Quinn and the "bridesmaids", mid-conversation.) LUCINDA: You mean she's *not* a convicted killer? QUINN: *No*. She was making it all up, she barely even does *anything!* DAPHNE: Oh my God... (The three whisper among themselves, as in "I Don't".) SIMONE: (Suddenly suspicious of Quinn.) Have *you* been lying to us too? QUINN: No! DAPHNE: (Doesn't believe her.) You're *not* really Fashion Club vice- president at your school, are you? QUINN: (Insists.) I am too! Just because my stupid sister told you a bunch of lies, that doesn't mean *I*-- (Freeze the action onscreen.) SANDI: (VO, from present.) Your *sister?!* (Fade back to the present--) INT.: PIZZA KING. (MUSIC: "Santa Cruz", Fatboy Slim.) (--to find the Fashion Club, especially Sandi, giving Quinn perplexed looks.) QUINN: (Not sure why.) What? SANDI: You just called her your *sister!* TIFFANY: Yeah. We all heard it. QUINN: (Quinn is horrified. She got so caught up in her venting, she completely forgot whom she was telling the story *to!*) Er, um, that is, I... To Be Continued [Ha! Gotcha, didn't I? Just kidding, read on:] (Quinn continues to stammer out an explanation. Daria and Jane, having noticed, exchange smirks, get up, move toward the exit.) QUINN: (Trying desperately to cover her goof.) ...well you see, my Mom and Dad did kind of like adopt her, so, um, legally I guess now she is *sort of* my sister. But, um, we're still not like *biologically* related or anything! SANDI: (Condescending look, for lying to her.) Sure, Quinn. QUINN: It's true! You can ask my M--... my *Dad!* CUT TO: EXT.: PIZZA KING. (MUSIC: "Scaredy Cats and Egomaniacs", Imperial Drag.) (Daria and Jane head back home.) JANE: Well, I for one am damn impressed. You totally humiliated her without even doing a thing. DARIA: I don't *have* to do anything to make a fool out of Quinn. (Beat.) By the way, don't tell anyone about my inheritance, okay? I don't need any more "friends". JANE: (Remembers the *last* time Daria had lots of money.) Mum's the word. DARIA: All in all, I'd rank Ellie's funeral as one of the happiest days of my life. (Counts off.) I cut Quinn down big-time, spent some quality time with Amy and Lerman, told a bunch of lies to a bunch of stupid people who believed them, and got to see the rest of my family depressed. JANE: (Smiles, shakes her head.) Somethin' about your family, Daria. They're a pain in the ass, but they're sure fun to torment. DARIA: It's like Amy put it: FLASHBACK TO: EXT.: LAW OFFICE. (MUSIC: "Prism of Life", Enigma. From the start. Faintly at first.) (Amy and Daria emerge from the building. Amy carries an urn holding Aunt Eleanor's ashes.) DARIA: (VO, from present.) "You can't choose your relatives"-- AMY: (Mid-sentence.) --but you can choose which ones to leave out of your will. [*] [*] Thanks to Peter Guerin, for letting me borrow this line from his fanfic, "One Man's Trash". (The shouts and arguments of their family are diminished as the door swings closed behind them.) DARIA: (Approvingly.) You've still got it, Amy. (Looks back at the law office.) But you'll probably end up even more alienated from them once the dust settles in there. AMY: Hey, whatever brings them closer together. That's our place, Daria. That's always been our place. DARIA: I'll bet she's looking down and smirking at them right now. (They walk quietly for a little while.) AMY: Life is short. You have to enjoy it. Even if that means pissing off the rest of your family. (Looks about.) Speaking of which, do you see your grandmother's Rolls around here? (Holds up the urn, smiles.) Before she died, Ellie asked me to dump these all over the seats. DARIA: And after that? AMY: I've got two words for you, Daria. DARIA: (Mona Lisa smile.) Are they "cheese fries"? AMY: (Likewise.) Indeed they are. (The camera lingers on Amy and Daria walking away, talking. Kick up the volume on the background music.) AMY: (Looks her up and down.) I must say, I do like that outfit. DARIA: (Admits.) Quinn picked it out. AMY: (Surprised to hear this.) Excuse me? (Dissolve between closing shots of the three stories' characters walking away in pairs: Eleanor and Amy. Amy and Daria. Then an early-30s Daria with a young niece at her side, a daughter of Quinn's. The family legacy continues.) (Fade to black. Continue the music through the credits.) (...la-la LA la la...) (CREDITS AND CUTE LITTLE RENDERINGS OF THE CHARACTERS.) THE END AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay, first off, I'll explain the "Star Wars" music. See, whenever my own father watches one of the movies he likes to blast the theme really loud. Several years back, he asked me to play the theme song at his funeral, probably because I'm the only one in the family he could count on to actually go through with it. And I plan on it. (That's all.) This one, I think, reads better the second time through, once you already know how the three parallel plots are resolved and can spot the little nuances you might miss the first time. I know it's probably a bit of a letdown after "Driven Wild", but in its own quiet little way, it says quite a lot about our main character. Part of Amy's childhood flashback was originally destined for "Quinntet": DARIA: A family legacy of alienation and pessimism? AMY: (Proud.) It goes back six generations. --but got cut for space before even being fully written. Here I've expanded it into a sort of third parallel plot. (Yes, I save all my rejected scenes.) The nightmare scenes, with each Morgendorffer envisioning his/her own funeral, were something I wrote awhile back as an exercise and just kind of kept around until I found a full-length script to use them in. (That's a fancy way of saying "padding".) Nitpicking the "Daria" timeline: Okay. Try and follow. Helen is 46 or 47 years old (she's caught herself in "College Bored" and "The Daria Hunter" before letting it slip out completely). Counting back from 1997, the year "College Bored" first aired, she was born in '50 or '51. For the first scene, I use "thirty years ago" to mean 1969, since it's now 1999 (for the moment ignoring the apparent non-aging of the characters over the last two seasons), 30 being a nice round number. This was necessary because I wanted Helen to be 18 or 19, and thus old enough for college, which presumably is where she met Jake. In "That Was Then", it's mentioned that Helen, Jake, Willow and Coyote spent an August 1969 night in jail. Fortunately, the moon landing took place in July that year, when Helen would indeed be out of school. It's a tight fit, but it works. (Maybe it works *because* it's such a tight fit.) What's odd is that, while they supposedly left Willow and Coyote in 1973 (in "That Was Then", 1998, Helen said it'd been 25 years, do the math), the two didn't get married until 1975, though (from the wedding vows in "The Daria Diaries"). So that leaves a curious two-year gap. Daria, by my count, was born in 1981 (subtract her current sweet-16 from 1997, again ignoring the non-aging). So she was 5 or 6 in '86, the opening scene of Act 3. Reagan made that absolutely classic quote in 1984, but I figured it was good enough to use two years later. Same with the Orwell reference. Having Quinn in a pageant when she's only 4, and the premiere of "Sick, Sad World" (now 12 years running!) were just me bein' cute. Umm, that was way more than you wanted to hear, wasn't it? I made some other assumptions for this one. The bridesmaids are either friends of Brian's or Erin's, or distant relatives on Daria's side. Probably not people you'd expect to see at a great aunt's funeral, but I needed them so here they are. I'm guessing the Morgendorffers are Christian since Daria celebrated Christmas on "Beavis" and in their comic-book spin-off. And I have absolutely no evidence that Helen's the oldest and Amy's the youngest, it just worked for the story. I also assume the two elderly women in the "Pinch Sitter" flashbacks are not both of the girls' grandmothers, as the show's never actually come out and said so. (Plus we saw Jake's mother in Season 3.) My characterization of Grandma Barksdale, while almost certainly incorrect, was based on clues dropped in "I Don't" and the show's two books. Neither of the two women in the flashback seem to fit. That just leaves the grandmother in the "Diaries" photo, who now seems to be a great-grandmother. As for where Grandpa Barksdale is... ...well, that's what future fanfics are for, right? A few acknowledgments and recognitions, if you will: First and foremost, to Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis, for creating this wonderful show in the first place. I know sometimes we forget this, but every piece of fanfic ever written would never even exist if it weren't for these two's tireless perseverance toward producing something watchable for MTV to air. To all of the writers, artists and voice actors who have contributed their talents to the show. These are the people who make the "Daria" we all know and love. They deserve a round of applause. To Martin Pollard, Michelle Klein-Hass, and Peter Guerin, who in addition to providing a home for my work at their "Daria" sites ("Outpost Daria", "Lawndale Commons" and "Mark Zero Fan Fiction", respectively) have been my best online friends for the last six months. Thanks again, guys! To everyone who sent words of praise and encouragement. There are far too many for me to mention everyone, but here are the biggies (and I apologize if I left you out): Danny Bronstein, Rachel Brooks (who sent me the first feedback I ever got!), Elizabeth ("NuitCoeur", sorry, don't know your last name), Invisigoth Gypsy, Daryl Sawyer, Elizabeth Thaler, and "Mitch". Some weeks your mail was the one thing that kept me going. And to all the Misery Chicks and Misery Guys out there: Until we meet again, may you all continue having low esteem for everyone else. -- C.E. Forman February 15, 1999 One last thing: Those of you who've read the whole run, if you could let me know which episode(s) were your favorite and least favorite, and why, along with any favorite scenes, lines, etc., it'd help me figure out what avenues to explore when I start up again. Would you like to be updated when I release new "Daria" stories and get sneak previews of what I have in store just around the corner? If so, send an e-mail and ask to be put on my "Daria" fanfic update list. This won't cram your mailbox full, I promise. One update a week at most. Also let me know if you want to receive new stories by e-mail, or just the announcements. Anybody got any fan art based on my fics? If so, you can send it to: C.E. Forman 6823 N. TerraVista #706 Peoria, IL 61614 U.S.A. I'd love to see it, and I'll gladly forward a copy to Martin Pollard for Outpost Daria. E-mail is good too, JPEGs, GIFs or bitmaps work best. [Disclaimer: "Daria" and all related characters are trademarks of MTV Networks, a division of Viacom International Inc., and are used here without permission for the purpose of fan fiction. I suppose if you represent MTV's legal department you could sue, but think about it, what's it really going to get you? I mean, *I* sure don't have any money, and there's like fifty other people writing these fan stories, so you might as well just live with it and maybe learn to appreciate the fact that your show has such a loyal, dedicated legion of fans who care enough to write things like this. Of course, you *could* just hire us and that'd solve your problem nicely too.] [This "Daria" fanfic story is copyright 1999 by C.E. Forman but may be distributed freely in unaltered form to fans of "Daria" everywhere, provided the author's name and e-mail address remain intact. Thank you, and good night.]