(Jane and Daria hang out in Jane's room at Casa Lane. Jane taps away furiously on the keyboard of her computer, and wrinkles her nose as she reads.)

Jane: (turning to Daria) Hey, Dar?

Daria: (lays with head hanging off Jane's bed as she eats cookie dough) What?

Jane: Those guys on PPMB are doing the 'are they gay or aren't they?' thing again?

Daria: Again...?

Jane: Yeah, and this English guy is really getting detailed on the subject!

Daria: England. Isn't that the place where back during the Victorian era, they were so repressed that they put covers on table legs because they thought bare legs would arouse people, and yet, something like a quarter of the women in London made money as prostitutes?

Jane: That's just an urban legend! Now, if you want to get serious about British debauchery - what was it that the fat guy who kicked Hitler's ass said about their navy and bullwhips?

Daria: That was Churchill. He said - well, there's debate on that - that traditions in the Royal Navy consisted of 'rum, sodomy and the lash'.

Jane: Hey - that kinda sounds like my first weekend in college.

Daria: You wish. Sounds more like the bridal shower once one of the Fashion Club fiends gets married.

Jane: I'm thinking Stacy.

Daria: I can see that.

Jane: Oops - I was mistaken. The guy was Australian. (beat) I was looking at this beer commercial on-line from down there. They showed this HUGE army cannon-

Daria: 'Howitzer', Jane.

Jane: No, Daria, that cannon WAS pretty big. (Daria cringes.) Anyway, the thing fires, and the caption reads, 'Penis Enlargement.'

Daria: What do you expect from a country where 'down in the bush' can mean one of two things?

Jane: That Australian women are all bisexual?

Daria: And then, nobody would date you if you went there. (beat) An Australian man who's prudish about sex.

Jane: Yeah, I guess he checked 'with everyone' when it came to vote 'JerkChoices'! (Jane smiles.) They have wallabies, hot Australian men, great surfing, hot Australian women, a world of stuff trying to kill you, prawns and they produce a quarter of the world's uranium. (pause) WE GOTTA GO.

Daria: Jane, the spiders are big enough that I could ride on one. No thanks.

Jane: Can't handle a little Australian?

Daria: To hear them talk, there's no such thing as 'a little Australian'.

Jane: Oh, now I GOTTA go.

Daria: Horn dog.

Jane: (surprised) they have them, too? Cool!

(Jane uses the trackball to move about on the screen.)

Jane: You haven't asked me why I changed over to a trackball from a mouse.

Daria: I assumed that you liked it better.

Jane: Aren't you going to suggest that it helps me keep my fingers limber - gives them extra exercise and greater strength?

Daria: Why would I think that?

Jane: (cheerful) You know, for sex! Hot, sticky, finger-wiggling and waggling sex with so much squealing and screams that it'll get an Academy Award nomination for Best Sound!

Daria: (lifting her head) That's like saying that the reason why i open and close so many books is to toughen up my palms so I can more effectively spank someone's bottom!

Jane: That's the spirit! (pause; purring seductively) But... that's not the only reason you've toughened up your hands, is it?

(Daria rolls over and sits up on the bed.)

Daria: Should I throw things at you now, or actually wait for you to speak?

Jane: Ooooh, fiesty!

Daria: You know, those people are entirely too fixated on sex.

Jane: Not all of them. Some of them have their heads on straight.

Daria: They're thinking about pizza?

Jane: And there's one girl that's just like you! She hangs around books all of the time, she wears glasses, she has an evil sense of humor and can write a good story or two, and-

Daria: (her eyes going wide) No.

Jane: She does!

Daria: Don't say it.

Jane: BIG fan!

Daria: Shut up-!

Jane: She likes-!

Daria: Shovel and used prom gown.


Daria: (blushing fiercely) Quiet, you!

Jane: Shall we tell everyone just what a secret chocolate freak you really are?

Daria: Dump you down a deep well.

Jane: Tell everyone how you're 'cuckoo for 'Choco-Poppers'?

Daria: Feed you to horny goldfish.

Jane: You know, the only reason why I forgave you for kissing Tom is because he told me that he'd been eating those Sprungli Swiss chocolates with his mom, and he'd had a couple just before you got in the car. (beat) With that much high-grade creamy, chocolaty goodness in the air, you couldn't help but to have a 'Quinn moment' and stick your tongue down his throat!

Daria: (reaching for a pillow) 'Quinn moment?'

Jane: Yeah - when you do something incredibly stupid and still obviously expected, because you're a girl.

Daria: I don't do that!

Jane: Shall I bring out my 'Big Book of Daria's 'Quinn Moments' - starting when you lost the ability to speak when you first met Trent?

Daria: Um, well, I - oh, bite my roll of cookie dough!

Jane: (smirking) You need to grasp tightly upon the concept of 'no shame whatsoever'. After you do that, then, you be surprised at what you can grasp tightly upon! (beat) Come on, Dar - someday, even you will marry... or at least have a relationship that'll entail frequent showering, and washing your sheets every morning.

Daria: EWWWWWWWW! (pause: both her and Jane's eyes go wide.) I mean - 'ew.'

Jane: That's cool, Daria. We were dishing on those PPMB fans who read too much into our sex lives - and I think that we can keep doing that instead of talking about - wait, did something just happen here?

Daria: Thank you, Jane.

Jane: Gracias, amiga.

(Daria leans back, and Jane smirks as she looks up at the repaired webcam to her computer, which has recorded the entire conversation.)

Jane: (V.O.) Daria's 'Quinn moment' - number 137. (pause.) Heh, heh, heh. Just wait until I show THIS at her bridal shower someday...



A 'Daria' fic by Brother Grimace




14 Sept 2010