Author's note: This story is based on Dante's Inferno. If you have not read the original, don't worry: this is a very loose adaptation, so you should have no problem understanding it. If you have read the original, please do not complain that I left out the obscure religious allusions or the conflict between the Guelphs and the Ghibellines, or else I will create a new circle of hell just for pedants.
The day started off well. Daria slept in that Saturday morning, watched TV in her room for a while, and then wandered downstairs to the living room with a book in her hand. She was expecting a quiet, uneventful day. It wasn't.
Just as Daria had settled in on the couch and opened her book, Quinn walked into the room and frowned. "Daria, you're not going to be in here all day, are you?" she asked.
"Not the whole time. I'll be leaving for brief intervals every few hours...unless Mom and Dad finally installed a toilet in here."
Quinn wrinkled her nose. "Ewww. Look, the Fashion--I mean, Sandi, Stacy, and Tiffany are going to be here in a few minutes to discuss the latest issue of Waif."
Daria sighed. "Fine. I'll read somewhere else, then. I wouldn't want to disturb the clique-formerly-known-as-the-Fashion-Club."
Quinn smiled. "Thanks!"
Closing the book and standing, Daria walked into the kitchen and sat at her usual place at the table. She opened the book, began to read, and jumped in her seat as her father entered and began loudly pulling pots and pans out of the cupboard. "Hey, Kiddo!" he exclaimed, suddenly noticing Daria at the table. "Want to help me try out this new recipe I just found?"
Glancing at the cookbook in Jake's hand, Hot Stuff! 101 Recipes with Jalapeños, Daria groaned. There would be neither peace nor quiet there as soon as Jake decided to take his first taste of whatever he was be preparing to cook.
Shaking her head at her enthusiastic father, Daria closed the book once more and retreated back to her bedroom. She stretched out on her bed and took a deep breath before opening the book yet again.
"Daria!" Helen poked her head into the room. "This is your last summer before college! You aren't really going to spend all day hanging around the house reading, are you?"
"Apparently not," Daria snapped as she closed the book. Briefly considering the attic, she sighed and set the book aside before standing up. "I'm going for a walk." Seeing Helen about to argue, she added, "Nice, wholesome exercise. Fresh air. And plenty of opportunities for me to come out of my shell and make friends."
Helen rolled her eyes at her daughter's tone, but stood aside and let her pass. "Just be back by dinnertime," she said as Daria descended the stairs.
Closing the front door behind her, Daria turned around to see Jane standing at the end of the driveway, smirking at her. "Running away, eh, Amiga?" she asked.
Smirking back, she replied, "Only if I can find the right circus." Checking her watch, she added, "You're up early. It isn't even noon yet."
Jane's smirk turned into a wide grin as she walked up to Daria. "I found this really cool place that I think I can use for an art project."
"Art. Of course; the only thing, up to and including fire, that could possibly get you out of bed at this ungodly hour."
"I'm putting to together a piece for a BFAC scholarship. Racking up debt is one thing, but I'd like to keep most of my internal organs when I pay my tuition."
"So why do I need to come with you?"
"Moral support."
"I can think of two things wrong with that answer. So, where is this place?"
"Well..." Jane hesitated. "You remember that wormhole we found?"
Daria stared at Jane. "I thought we agreed never to speak of that wormhole again, let alone go back there."
"Don't worry; we're not going into the wormhole behind the Good Time Chinese Restaurant."
Daria relaxed. "Thank God."
"We're going into the wormhole behind the big strawberry near Cranberry Commons."
"What?!"
"I found another wormhole. It's not Holiday Island this time, it's--well, you kind of have to see it."
"No, I do not have to see it. I have to stay very, very far away from wormholes that could make my life even weirder than it already is. I'm staying here."
"You sure?" Jane turned her head and arched an eyebrow. Following her gaze, Daria saw Sandi, Stacy, and Tiffany approaching the house.
"Quinn's...um, sister, I guess?" Sandi sniffed. "You're, like, blocking the door."
"Uh, yeah," Stacy added. "It's okay for us to go in, right? I mean, we can come back later if not, but..."
As Tiffany opened her mouth to speak, Daria growled, "I'm going."
As they approached the giant strawberry, Daria tried one more time to coax some information from Jane. "You could at least give me a hint. Some kind of warning, maybe, of what I'm about to walk into?"
Jane shook her head. "You're just going to have to be surprised."
"You know I don't like surprises. Come on, just tell me what it is. Is it a world populated entirely by mutants? An alternate universe where everyone is a penguin? What the hell is in there?"
Laughing, Jane replied, "The third one."
"Huh?"
Jane shifted the strawberry and motioned her in. Taking a deep breath, Daria climbed into the wormhole, followed closely by Jane. As she stepped out into the other side, the first thing she saw was a billboard.
"Abandon all hope, you who enter here."
Daria groaned. "You have got to be kidding me."
Jane nudged her with her elbow. "See? I told you it was cool."
Daria took some time to let the view sink in. They were standing on a sidewalk that led into what she assumed was Hell's city limits. However, she saw no buildings anywhere, or anything else to indicate that this was, indeed, a city--earthly or otherwise. All she could see in the distance were various figures wandering around a barren, ominous landscape. "Jane?" she said at last.
"Yes, Daria?"
"We're in Hell."
"Kind of."
"I don't mean that in an 'Oh-my-God-life-totally-sucks' kind of way; we actually are in Hell. Literally."
"Well, not exactly. From what I've been able to figure out, it's more like a parallel universe where Lawndale is exactly like, um..."
"Hell."
"Yeah."
"And I always thought 'Lawndale is Hell' was just an expression," Daria muttered, then turned back to Jane. "Okay. And the reason we've come to a parallel universe version of a close approximation of the land of eternal torment is...?"
"Art project." Jane trotted ahead and, against her better judgment, Daria followed. They made their way down the sidewalk, passing through the scattered crowd of people meandering aimlessly about.
Glancing around at the people nearby, Daria nudged Jane. "Are you sure this is Hell? It's kind of...dull. Everyone just looks kind of bland."
Jane shook her head. "This isn't Hell. This is just Hell's waiting room."
"And these people?"
"They..." Jane paused to remember a quote. "...'lived without infamy and without praise.' I guess they're the people that just kind of existed. Here they pretty much mill around in the background for eternity."
Daria nodded. "I think I recognize some of these people. There's the kid who kind of reminds me of Shaggy from Scooby Doo. And I think I recognize that girl who looks like a burnout. Do any of them actually have names in this universe?"
"I don't know. They never really do or say anything, and I don't usually pay much attention to them. Come on, let's go."
"Go where? This place is practically deserted. If this isn't Hell, then where is it?"
"Where you'd expect, Daria," Jane replied. "Down."
Daria looked at the solid ground beneath her feet. So now we dig?"
"No." Jane pointed to a small structure at the end of the sidewalk. "We take the elevator. Duh."
Looking closer at the structure, Daria realized that what she had at first dismissed as a featureless slab of metal was indeed an elevator. A very ordinary elevator with a call button, which Jane pressed. The doors opened with a cheery "ding," and the girls stepped inside.
As the doors closed again, Daria looked at the controls. Instead of a panel of buttons as in a normal elevator, there was just a single button marked "down."
"Jane, what happens when we want to go back up?" she asked as the elevator began to descend. "How do we get out of here? And what--what is that music?"
Blaring through unseen speakers was the strangest music Daria had ever heard.
...What if, what if, what if the town blew away?
Where would the football players play?
Where would we go to shop all day?
Would we still get three months off with pay?
"Daria, if you don't stop complaining, you're going to ruin a perfectly good trip through Hell." With another cheery "ding," the elevator doors slid open again and Jane grinned at her. "First stop," she announced. "Limbo."
Looking warily at her friend, Daria pointed toward the open doors. "If I hear the words, 'how low can you go' out there, I'm not coming with you through the rest of this trip."
Jane's grin faded quickly. "Uh...Maybe we'd better skip this floor." She pushed the button again. "My back still hurts from last time, anyway," she muttered.
As the doors slid closed, Daria could hear the sound of limbo music in the distance. "I don't want to know."
It doesn't matter really what I do or wear.
I could do a half-assed job and nobody would care.
But wowing colleagues and friends is the greatest of life's ends.
So when life ends at least it ends with style and flair!
Daria groaned. "And that music is getting annoying fast."
"Ding!"
The doors opened and Jane bounded out. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Daria stepped out behind her. Pitchforks? Brimstone? Good intentions? I need to brace myself for the worst Hell can offer.
At last she opened her eyes to see nothing but a line of bored-looking people. "Has Hell become such a popular tourist spot that there's a line to get in?"
"They're not tourists. They're soon-to-be residents," Jane replied. "We're the only tourists here, which means we're going to do what tourists do best."
"Get lost and take pictures?"
"Nope. Annoy the locals. We're cutting in line."
"This isn't Six Flags, Jane. I really don't think this is a line we want to be at the front of."
"Relax; I've been here before, remember?" Grabbing her arm, Jane pulled Daria to the front of the line. "This is Minos, who assigns each person to the level of Hell they belong to."
Minos, a slender blonde girl who appeared to be the same age as Jane and Daria, pointed to one of the people in line. "Okay, you're kind of sinful, but not as sinful as he is, so I won't put you too far down." Twirling a lock of hair around a finger, she pointed to someone else. "You're medium sinful, but since you've been hanging out with some of the major sinful types I'll put you a little lower." Pointing to the next person, she continued, "You're just sinful enough to be here, so--" At that moment she noticed Jane and Daria and frowned. "You guys weren't sinful enough to get invited. What are you doing here?"
"Looking for my handbasket," Daria replied just before Jane elbowed her in the ribs.
"Just passing through," Jane explained. "We'll be gone before you know it."
"All right, but you have to wear these passes while you're here." Minos handed them each a card with a cord tied to it, long enough to put around their necks.
After they'd put the passes on, Daria read hers. "'Non-damned.' That's the nicest thing I've ever been called."
With a sniff and a toss of her hair, Minos waved them past and continued her work. "You're sinful, but not really sinful enough to go more than a few levels down, so..."
"Okay," Daria said as they walked. "So what's in this level, anyway?"
"My favorite," Jane responded with a smile. "The lustfuls."
"The--" Daria turned to Jane, only to see that she was already heading toward a few of the level's more attractive occupants. "Oh, great," she groaned. "Looks like I'm going to be here for awhile. I should have brought a book." She frowned in Jane's direction. "Or a cold shower."
Trailing behind her friend, Daria looked around. Everyone in the area was flirting with everyone else. Occasionally someone would glance nervously over their shoulder or freeze with an ear tilted upwards, as though listening for something.
"Hey there, sweet thing," a young man with slicked-back hair and an air of desperation purred as she walked by. "Someone better call the police, 'cause you're da bomb!"
Daria stopped dead and glared at him. "Boom." He backed off quickly.
Continuing to make her way toward Jane, Daria mused, "For Hell, this isn't really too bad. It seems more like a cheesy singles bar than--"
"Helloooooo, Second Circle!" Everyone in the area winced and covered their ears with their hands as a van screeched to a halt nearby. A loud, annoying voice bellowed, "This is Zeeeeee 666!"
Two men emerged from the van, holding microphones. "I'm Bing!" shouted one of the men.
"I'm the Spatula Man!" cried the other.
"And we're insane in the inferno!" they finished together.
The two deejays approached a nearby couple who had wrapped themselves around each other. As they leaned in to kiss, Bing shoved his microphone in their faces. "Hey there, lovebirds!" he bellowed. "Which one of you wants a free T-shirt?" They tried to wave him away, but he persisted. "All you have to do is tell us what makes you insaaaaane in the inferno!"
"Talk about eternal torment," Daria mused. "That would kill anyone's libido." She turned to see Jane, who was continuing the pursuit, apparently oblivious to the racket. "Okay, almost anyone." Daria pulled on her elbow to get her attention. "Jane, it's getting really irritating in here. Can we move on now?"
"What?" Jane turned to see the deejays. "Oh, them. Can't you just tune them out for a few more minutes?"
"Are you kidding me? They've only been here for two minutes and already I've got a major headache. And what about that art project you dragged me down here to help you with?" Crossing her arms, she asked, "What is it going to take to get you out of here?"
Jane opened her mouth to reply, then caught sight of something a short distance away. "That," she answered, raising her hand to point.
Before Daria could even turn around to look, an all-too-familiar voice spoke. "Well, hello there, gorgeous ladies. Might I interest the two of you in a game of... rowr...strip Twister?"
"We're leaving," Daria said matter-of-factly. Jane was already sprinting toward the elevator.
Both girls sighed in relief as the elevator doors closed behind them. "Remind me; what part of this trip through Hell was supposed to be fun?" Daria asked as Jane pressed the "down" button again.
...No need for a surgeon general's warning. Morning...
Morning!
It's morning, morning, morning in the 'burbs!
"Ding!"
Jane and Daria emerged from the elevator to see a room filled with stacks of pizza boxes. "Let me guess," Daria said. "This is the level where people with heartburn are punished?"
Jane shook her head. "Gluttons."
Daria frowned. "And living in a room full of food is punishment for gluttons...how, exactly?"
"Watch."
After a moment, a large, muumuu-clad woman whom Daria recognized as Mrs. Johanssen shuffled toward one of the boxes. As she reached for a slice, several people in animal costumes emerged from hiding.
"Come on!" one of them cried.
"Sing with us!" chirped another.
"This old man, he played one," they began. After pausing to gesture for Mrs. Johanssen to chime in, they continued, "He played knick-knack on my thumb!"
Mrs. Johanssen pulled back in dismay, but kept her eyes on the pizza.
"With a knick-knack, paddy-whack..." They paused again. "Join in!" one of the animals urged.
Finally, Mrs. Johanssen turned around, defeated, and abandoned the pizza. "You damn furballs are just lucky it's not chocolate, or else you'd really be in trouble," she muttered after glaring over her shoulder at them.
Daria shuddered. "Eternity with the Pizza Forest singers. Something that'll really make them suffer, all right."
Jane nodded. "We should keep moving."
"Are you actually getting nervous, Jane?"
"No, they just kicked me out last time I was here."
"Couldn't control your pizza addiction?"
She shook her head. "I tried singing with them. Three verses of 'Old MacDonald' later, those friendly woodland critters were chasing me out of here at gunpoint." Jane sighed. "Everyone's a critic."
"Come on, Jane. This may be Hell, but there's a limit to the amount of torture anyone can endure."
Jane smirked. "Okay, then. Do you want to try to get some pizza or move on to the next circle?"
"I want to go back to Lawndale." Daria shook her head. "How wrong does that sound?"
"Sorry," Jane said in a tone that really didn't sound very sorry. "You saw the elevator: we can go forward or stay here, but there's no going back."
Nervous, Daria sighed and turned back toward the elevator. "Then down we go."
I got a foot on the gas and a hammer in my head
Thinking 'bout my girls and the ways they might be dead.
They should be safe at home and warm and by the fire
Instead of warming up to sing in that heavenly choir.
Gah, gah, damn it!
This time the "ding!" coincided with the sound of Daria's head beating against the wall of the elevator.
"Fourth circle; home of the greedy and extravagant," Jane said as they exited. "See anyone you recognize?"
Daria looked around for a moment, and then smiled. "That's Ms. Li. For the first time, I'm glad that you dragged me down to Hell." She looked closer. "What is she doing?"
Ms. Li was perched on top of a tall, neon green and yellow soda machine, cowering from a group of dogs that were barking and leaping all around her. They were surrounded by a fence, which prevented her escape. She frequently took sips from a can in her hand, and upon finishing it she hurled it toward the dogs in frustration. "I'm not a damn bomb!" she screeched.
"She gets to spend eternity surrounded by all of her favorite things," Jane explained. "Bomb-sniffing dogs, Ultra Cola, and the Secure Fence Shock 100."
"So all of that crap is finally being put to good use. Good." Daria continued to look around at the random assortment of greedy people in the area, all being tormented by the objects they'd wasted money on. Suddenly, she gasped. "That's my aunt Rita!"
Jane pointed. "Is that a lighted disco floor she's chained to?"
"Looks like it." Daria leaned forward slightly, listening. Burn, baby, burn... Disco inferno! "Sounds like it, too."
"Make it stop!" Rita sobbed. "Please, just make it stop!"
Daria shook her head. "My mom would give up her cell phone to see this. Too bad I didn't bring a camera."
Jane laughed, then shrugged. "Oh, well. Moving on?"
Daria took one last look around before they returned to the elevator. "Yeah. If I have to listen to any more disco music, I'll probably throw myself on the Secure Fence Shock 100."
The big, wet rainstorm's over.
We're happy we're still here.
The big, wet rainstorm's over.
The end came very near...
Daria gritted her teeth. "On second thought, maybe that music wasn't so bad."
"Ding!"
"Lead the way," Jane said as the doors opened.
"I thought you were the tour guide," Daria complained as she stepped out. "Why do--" The words died on her lips as she got a good look at the fifth circle.
The first thing she noticed was the T-shirts. Each person was wearing either a yellow or blue T-shirt, with the people in yellow sitting in a group on the left and the people in blue on the right.
"There's something very familiar about those shirts," Daria muttered, suddenly feeling very uneasy. "Both of them." Turning to Jane, she asked, "Is Hell running out of space? Why are there two different groups here?"
Jane pointed to the people in yellow first. "Those are the wrathful." Next she pointed to the people in blue. "And those are the slothful. It's supposed to be a 'two sides of the same coin' kind of thing. I think."
"Okay," Daria replied. Before she could say anything more, she was interrupted by a man standing in front of the yellow-shirted group. Mr. O'Neill, she realized.
"Okay, campers!" he cheered. "Before we start our sing-a-long, how about we all take turns sharing why each of us feels so gosh-darn..." He hesitated and lowered his voice as though saying a bad word as he finished, "...angry?"
The "campers" just glared at him. After a few moments of silence, O'Neill chuckled nervously and pointed randomly at someone. "How about, um, you?"
The man stood up, revealing himself to be Jake. "I'll tell you why I'm angry," he answered, mimicking O'Neill's cautious use of the word. "It's because I'm stuck in this crappy circle full of crappy sing-a-longs and crappy people until the end of crappy time!"
O'Neill smiled and clasped his hands together. "Well, that definitely sounds like something we can talk--"
Ignoring him, Jake rolled his eyes as his rant gained momentum. "You know, I wanted to go to Purgatory, but nooooo! That damn devil decided I had to come here instead." He shook his fist and yelled at the ground beneath his feet. "Well, guess what, you spiteful old jerk? I'll show you! You won't keep ol' Jakey in here forever! You hear me down there? As soon as I finish my lanyard I'm out of here!"
"That's right, Jake!" Anthony DeMartino leaped out of his chair and punched the air with a grin. "Why am I wasting my time sharing my feelings--which no one, including me, cares about--when I could be doing something much more worthwhile? Like cleaning the lint out of my navel!" He sat back down and crossed his arms. "And if we're having another sing-a-long, then I at least want some Annette Funicello songs."
"Now, Anthony," O'Neill admonished. "You know that your falsetto only makes everyone else angrier."
DeMartino slouched down in his seat. "Lousy Hell," he grumbled. "At least they get to go on a hike." He glared in the direction of the group wearing blue shirts.
Daria looked over to see that the blue group was now trudging along in a slow-moving shuffle that did, indeed, vaguely resemble a hike. Most looked only half-awake, but at the front of the group bounded an overly enthusiastic Skip Stevens.
"Come on!" he called out. "I want to see fewer sloths and more grizzlies! What, are you guys hibernating? Just three more laps around the circle, and then we'll play the watermelon game again!"
Daria noticed Trent lagging near the back. As the "campers" passed nearby, she heard him muttering, "...where I roast in my shell, if I don't get a nap, then I'll probably snap..."
She raised an eyebrow at Jane. "Even in Hell, he's coming up with song lyrics," she commented.
Jane nodded. "But he's not the only one."
As he marched on, Skip began singing, "We'll never escape you, dear old Camp Slothful." Some of the other hikers tonelessly joined in, "You're with us in torture and anguish more awful."
"Had enough yet?" Jane asked.
"And then some," Daria replied. "Let's go. I'd rather not be here when the Color War starts."
Our families and friends...
Busy saving their rear ends...
May have overlooked an absent teen or two.
But by now they're catching on that two well-liked kids are gone...
And I'll bet that someone's even missing you.
"Is it me," Jane asked, "or do those singers sound kind of familiar?"
"Ding!"
As the elevator doors opened at the sixth circle, Jane held out an arm to stop Daria. "Hold on," she warned. "This level can be a little...strange."
"Of course," Daria retorted. "Because the rest of Hell has been completely normal."
"I'm serious," she insisted. "Just brace yourself."
Daria followed Jane out of the elevator but kept her eyes on her friend. "All right, so what am I bracing myself for?"
"The heretics."
"That doesn't sound so bad. I thought you were going to say we were going into a Hot Topic or something. So, what exactly are the heretics?"
Jane thought for a moment. "They maintain a view of reality that's so different from our own that, um..." She shuddered. "It can be terrifying."
"For example?"
Jane pointed. "Well, you see that guy?"
Turning to look, Daria saw a room full of unfamiliar people suffering under their own individual torments. The man Jane was referring to, inexplicably wearing a ranger's uniform, was trapped in a patch of thorns. "I see him."
"He had you time-travelling and swinging around like Spider-Man."
"I can think of weirder things."
"He also made us rabbits." Jane smirked. "You actually looked kind of cute."
"Okay, now that's twisted."
"Oh, and you see that one over there?"
Daria looked. "The one trying to reach the--is that a penguin?" As they watched, the man strained, reached, and jumped to try to catch a small penguin suspended just out of his grasp.
"Yeah, and yeah," Jane answered. She began counting off points on her fingers. "Let's see, I was a pixie, you were a cockroach, and Quinn was the Messiah."
"What?!"
"And those are just the highlights. Trust me; you don't want to see the rest of his stuff."
"Okay. What about him?" Daria pointed to a grimacing man trapped in a large purple costume. "The one in the McDonald's character outfit?"
Jane coughed. "Uh, he had this one...Well, it was a little...You sort of..." Finally she shook her head. "Look, never mind. You'd really rather not know about it."
"What could--" They were suddenly interrupted by a man screaming as he ran past, chased by swarms of angry insects. "Um, what's with the bug guy there?"
"In his version, we're all incredibly happy and well-adjusted."
Daria turned to stare at her in shock. "Jane, that's too far. We've got to get out of here. Now."
"Right behind ya."
I can show that I care.
I can cry, I can share.
Got my brain in a sensitive whirl.
But please tell me why
Being such a modern guy
Makes me feel like a bearded girl!
"I don't know how many more of these songs I can take," Daria muttered.
"It's not so bad," Jane commented. "I think it's actually kind of catchy."
"Ding!"
Daria peeked out of the elevator and saw a peaceful-looking field dotted with trees and bushes. She could even swear she heard birds singing. Unnerved, she grabbed Jane's lapels. "All right," she warned. "Any weird surprises this time? Anything else that's going to make me freak out?"
Eying her wild eyes and shaking hands, Jane replied, "Yeah, wouldn't want you to freak out."
Daria let go but kept her gaze on Jane. "Seriously. Tell me."
"Don't worry," Jane reassured her. "The seventh circle is pretty straightforward." As Daria stepped out, she added, "But you should probably be ready to duck."
Hearing that warning, Daria stopped in her tracks--which was fortunate, because it meant she avoided colliding with a group of boys running past the elevator at top speed.
"You suck! You suck!" one of the boys screamed at another.
"You suck!" the boy screamed back before the first boy tackled him. The second boy managed to get him into a headlock, but a third boy leaped on top of both of them and started punching wildly.
"Let me guess," Daria said to Jane. "The circle of the violent?"
"Yup. Meet Sam and Chris Griffin, and Brian Taylor."
The fighting immediately stopped as a shrill voice began to screech, "That's enough, you...you, future men!" The boys took off running again as Janet Barch chased after them, shaking her fists.
Daria smirked. "Well, I see what the guys' punishment is here, but what about--"
"It's time to duck now!" Jane suddenly exclaimed, pulling Daria down to the ground with her just as several projectiles flew past.
A few moments later, Daria heard a few "thunks" as well as the sound of several people crying out in surprise and pain. "Those paintball thingies hurt!" someone shouted.
Daria and Jane stood up again. "Right on time," Jane commented.
"Wait," Daria said. "We're in Jim's Paintballing Jungle?"
"Or something very similar to it, yes," Jane replied.
"Figures. I always thought that place felt like Hell. Turns out it was the other way around."
Jane smirked. "There's no Great White Shark to visit this time, though. But speaking of fraud..."
I always knew that I would die in Nowheresville.
But I didn't think I'd die there quite so soon.
Hey, this is like that video, "When Scary Storms Kill!"
Will being dead wreck my afternoon?
"...this is the eighth circle, home of the fraudulent."
"I can't believe you waited this long just to finish that sentence," Daria muttered.
"It's called dramatic license," Jane replied, jabbing her in the side with her elbow. "Now shut up and look around."
All Daria could see was chaos. A few yards away, a smooth-talking car salesman was trying to sell a new Vexer to Claude and Romonica. Unfortunately for him, they were more interested in critiquing Dr. Shar's most recent look, which was beginning to resemble a Picasso painting.
Elsewhere in the area, Earl and Barbara were offering "homemade" cupcakes--still in the manufacturers' packaging--to Terry Barry Barlow. He, in turn, was trying to convince them that he could fly them out of Hell in a hot-air balloon if they'd let him handle the franchising for their products.
Meanwhile, Ms. Manson was counseling the bellboy Bobby Stewart, whom she kept referring to as Billy. She was explaining that her Rorschach test indicated his computer hacking was a result of low self-esteem, while he was insisting that his uncle owned Hell and could get her an upgrade at no extra charge.
"It's really crowded in here," Daria remarked. "Why are there so many more people here than in...Hey, I think most of my mom's law firm is here!"
Jane nodded. "Yeah, I think they're building a new wing for the lawyers to create some breathing room in here. Those guys mostly mill around, trying to file lawsuits against each other."
Before Daria could respond, an unseen loudspeaker crackled to life. "You...too...can learn...to stop...being...fr--frauda--frad--to stop...lying," a vacant voice drawled. "Being...honest...is...important. Honesty...is very..."
Daria and Jane never heard the rest of the broadcast, as it was drowned out by the agonized screams all around them.
Holding her ears, Jane yelled, "Ready to leave?"
"What?" Daria yelled back.
"I said, are you ready to leave?"
"No, I can't believe it. I guess Tiffany must be brain-damaged no matter what reality she's in."
Jane shook her head and just pointed to the elevator. Finally understanding, Daria nodded and they reentered it.
Today I'll be the perfect working wife and mother.
Today I'll show my clients that this man is strong.
But, oh, today's booked up like every other.
I'll probably tell my clients that they're right and I am wrong.
"Ding!"
Daria stepped out as soon as the doors opened. "Last circle, right?" she asked. "So which one is this?"
"Traitors."
Daria smirked as she mused, "'It's a nice day, isn't it...for a traitor.'" Turning to Jane, she explained, "According to some people, I probably belong..." Her voice faltered as she saw Jane's expression. "...here."
Jane's eyes were completely blank as she stared at Daria. "You know how the traitors are punished here?" she asked in a tone that chilled Daria's heart.
Unable to speak, Daria only shook her head.
"They get dunked repeatedly in vats of Autumn Barley Blonde hair dye."
Daria tried to laugh, but Jane only continued to stare through her with cold eyes.
"This is where the traitors go, Daria," she continued, taking a step closer. "The ninth circle of Hell. The people who betrayed their countries. Their families. Their best friends." The last three words were spoken nearly as a hiss.
Barely able to breathe, Daria could only utter a quiet "Eep!"
"'I kissed your boyfriend. I kissed Tom. I didn't mean to,'" Jane mimicked. "Well, guess what? Betrayal is betrayal, and it's time for you to pay."
Frozen in place, Daria only stared at Jane in terror.
"This is where you belong. The ninth circle, where you'll spend the rest of eternity in undying torment." She raised an eyebrow, but her eyes remained emotionless. "Undying. Dye. Get it?" Her face reverted back to icy malice, and she snatched Daria's 'non-damned' pass from around her neck. "Goodbye, 'amiga'."
Suddenly, Jane lunged at Daria, her features twisted into an expression of pure rage. Daria threw herself backward, covering her head with her arms. "I'm sorry, Jane!" she screamed. "I'm so sorry! I never meant to hurt you, I swear it!"
"And...cut!"
Daria lowered her arms in confusion to see Jane holding a remote in her hand. She aimed it toward a nearby wall, where Daria noticed a mounted video camera. Jane pressed a button on the remote, and a red light on the camera turned off. Turning back to Daria, she held out a hand to help her up.
Flinching slightly as Jane moved toward her, Daria stared at her friend for nearly a full minute in shock. "You..." She finally said, then stopped. "What..." Again, she paused to try to make sense of the situation. At last she settled on, "Huh?"
"Jeez, which circle did you leave your polysyllabic words in?" Jane asked. "In answer to the question you're trying to ask, I set up a video camera the last time I was here and brought you down here to film my BFAC scholarship submission."
Shaking her head in confusion, Daria replied, "So... I was your art project?"
"Performance art. I'm thinking of calling it, 'Daria's Guilt Trip through Hell'. Or maybe 'Jane and Daria's Bogus Journey.' I figure once I do some editing and fit this into the rest of the footage I've got from this place, it should be pretty cool. Maybe I'll see if I can get Trent to record his 'Betrayal' song for the soundtrack." She frowned, thinking. "On second thought, I'd probably better not depend on him to compose music for an art project, right? Remember the time he--" Jane looked back at Daria. "Are you going to sit there all day?"
Sighing, Daria finally stood up. "Okay. So you found this wormhole to Hell, set up an elaborate art project involving me, deception, and a video camera, lured me down here, and inflicted intense psychological torture on me...all for the sake of a scholarship application?"
"Uh, yeah."
Daria reflected for a moment. "All right, Allen Funt. Pizza?"
"Thought you'd never ask." Jane began gathering her video equipment.
Looking back at the elevator, Daria asked, "So how do we get out? Click our heels together and say, 'There's no place like the parallel dimension of Lawndale that's slightly more tolerable than this one'?"
"Of course not. That would be silly." Jane pointed. "We'll take the escalator."
"Right," Daria replied. "Because the ski lift is under repair." As they approached the escalator, she asked, "But it can't be that easy to get out of Hell, can it? I mean, what we run into...uh, you know, the guy in charge?"
"What?"
"The devil. Satan. Lucifer. Hades. Scratch. Old Pitchforky. Whatever you want to call him."
"Her, actually," Jane replied with a smirk. "And she's a bit tied up at the moment." She nodded her head to the side as they stepped onto the escalator.
As they began to rise, Daria saw a middle-aged blond woman in a too-skimpy-for-her-age red mini dress, pacing and rubbing her temples. "I am Luce, as in Luce," she muttered to herself. "I am Luce, as in Luce."
"So all her talk about me being 'the anti-teen'... I wonder..." Daria murmured as they continued up the long ride to the surface. After a minute or so, her eyes widened slightly. "How long does this escalator take to get to the top?"
"A few more minutes," Jane answered. "Why? Is your motion sickness starting to--" She turned back to look at Daria and chuckled. "Never mind; that's a very green 'yes'." Peering up toward the ceiling, she added, "Think you can hold on a little longer?"
Daria lurched over the side of the escalator in response. Jane flinched at the retching sounds, but then smiled as she heard the anguished shrieks of "Luce" far below as the contents of Daria's stomach found a target.
"Edgy," she commented. Daria only groaned.
At last they reached the top, emerging just behind the elevator at the surface "waiting room" area. They ignored the still-meandering figures around them and stepped through the wormhole to find themselves next to the giant strawberry once again.
"Feeling better?" Jane asked.
Daria nodded, then peered at the strawberry with mild curiosity. "So, is Purgatory in that statue at the Village Green?" she asked. "Paradise, I suppose, would be in the Tommy Sherman Memorial Goalpost?"
She looked at Jane, who now had a smile on her face. "You know," Jane said slowly. "Maybe we should check--"
"No!" Daria held up a hand. "Pizza. No more wormholes. No more parallel dimensions. No more bizarre elevator music. Just normality." She glanced around. "Or as close as we can get to normal around here, anyway."
Jane sighed. "You're no fun." Seeing that Daria refused to give in, she shrugged and they began walking in the direction of Pizza Prince. As they walked, Jane started to hum. Before long, she was singing quietly.
"They must be worried."
Daria glanced sideways at Jane. "Stop it."
"They're probably distressed."
"I'm serious. Cut it out."
"They must be worried." Jane was singing more loudly now.
"I'm warning you, Lane."
"It's causing them unrest."
Groaning at the off-key performance, Daria said, "We're done with Hell. No more torment now, please."
"They must be worried." Now Jane was singing at full volume. Finally, Daria turned on her heel and began walking back in the other direction. Jane stopped singing and called out, "Where are you going?"
"I'll take my chances in the ninth circle."
Laughing, Jane chased after her. "All right, I'll stop!" As Daria slowed down, she added, "And I'll pay for the pizza!"
Daria smirked and turned back to her friend. "Deal."
"Great," Jane said as they began walking again. "And maybe later we'll look for Purgatory."
As Jane began humming again, Daria shook her head. "I'm already there."