A Piece Of Daria Fanfiction By
Legalities: Daria and her pals are owned by MTV/Viacom and NOT me. There, you happy? Oh yeah! In my last fanfic I praised Daria Morgendorffer's trip to the Noggin Channel. Now in front of God and everyone, I wish to retract my previous praise. The Noggin Channel is a farce!!!
Summary: A mysterious, masked figure gets revenge on Sandi early one morning, but who is she, and what is her motive? Takes place between "Life In The Past Lane" and "Aunt Nauseam."
This was perfect. There could be no sweeter revenge...
The figure came out of the woods and began the four-block walk to Sandi Griffin's house. She knew the way so well, she could have managed it blindfolded. For two weeks now she had done nothing but plan. Over and over, she had gone over the plan until it was burned forever into her mind. A tight smile came to her lips. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall, when she wakes up! She chuckled softly. This would be wonderful.
She paused for a moment, rolling up the sleeve of the black turtleneck she was wearing, and glanced at her watch. It was five thirteen a.m. That gave her about two hours before Sandi woke up, and she planned to have the job done by then. Snapping out of her reverie, she glanced up and discovered that she was already standing in the Griffin's front yard. She smirked, and glancing around for onlookers, she dashed quickly around the house to the back door.
She dropped the small overnight bag that she had been carrying onto the steps and unzipped it. She took out a pair of black, leather gloves and a black ski mask. She pulled on the gloves and then, with a mild groan, she pulled the mask over her face. It itched like hell, but it was necessary, in case Sandi woke up. That being done, she reached into the bag once more and withdrew three items: a small, brass key, a can of spray paint, and a makeup mirror. She knew it was ridiculous, but she wanted to check herself out. She took a quick glance. She almost laughed, but caught herself. With the ski mask, turtleneck, skintight pants and black boots and gloves, she looked like she belonged on a SWAT Team!
She tucked the mirror back into the bag. Not a moment to lose, she zipped it back up and tossed it into the azalea bush next to the back steps. She crossed herself and slowly put the key into the lock and went inside. She was in the Griffin's kitchen. Putting the key into her pocket and wielding the can of spray paint like a nine millimeter, she crossed the kitchen, and had just put her foot on the bottom stair when something brushed against her leg! She jumped a little, and clamped a gloved hand over her non-visible mouth to keep from screaming. Timidly, she looked down and sighed softly. It was only Fluffy, Sandi's cat. Get a grip, she chided herself. It won't be much longer now. Think of the look on her face!
The dark-clad woman crept slowly up the stairs. Grateful for the plush carpeting on the upstairs landing, she paused a moment and slowly entered Sandi's bedroom. As expected, Sandi herself was lying facedown in her bed, snoring softly. The figure pondered the sleeping young woman for a moment and, shaking her head, crossed to Sandi's closet. It was a shame that it had to come to this, but she leaves me no choice, the intruder lamented. Slowly, ever so slowly, she slid open the closet door and searched for what she knew she would find. As she found what she was looking for, her eyes twinkled behind the ski mask. Yes, it's going to be very interesting indeed...
Ten minutes later, the back door of the Griffin house opened and the figure crept outside. She snatched up her overnight bag, and making sure that no one was nearby, began a light jog back to the forest clearing where it would be safe. Everything had gone according to plan! Nothing unexpected had been thrown at her, and in a couple of hours, Miss Sandi Griffin would be wishing that she had never been born! Ah, life was really great sometimes! She was in the clear. The masked woman entered the woods and power-walked toward the clearing. Her heart was racing and she felt a strong sense of pride as she walked the last few feet to the clearing. From here on out, it would be all aces...
A hand closed on her arm.
With a start, she tried to spin around, but the person grabbed her other arm as well. She struggled, but it was of no use. The figure behind her was taller and obviously stronger. He pulled her to him, and as she got a good look at his hands and the sleeves of his tee shirt, she relaxed. The figure behind her released her arms, and slowly brought his hands up to give her breasts a tight squeeze. It felt nice, but he didn't ask permission, so out of sheer principle she turned around and slapped him on the arm. He grabbed his arm playfully and looked at her with a fake wounded expression. She laughed softly and he rewarded her with a goofy grin and a soft, playful growl.
"So Stace, how did it go," Charles Ruttheimer the Third asked her, still grinning. "Did everything go just like I said, or what?"
Stacy Rowe burst out laughing as she pulled off the ski mask. "Oh Charles, it was perfect! She's going to lose her mind!" Stacy's grin faded for a moment and she glanced down at her boots. "I do feel bad though, Charles. Sandi's my best friend! We've been close since we were in day care together! Isn't this a little harsh?"
Charles smiled at her, and put his hand under her chin, slowly lifting her face up to look at him. "Stacy, she deserves this. You know how she treats you. She's not your close friend anymore. She proved that all these years she's been President of the Fashion Club. Maybe this will straighten her out."
Stacy looked at Charles, her lower lip quivering. "I hope so, Charles. I want her to be my friend again!" She struggled not to cry.
Charles reached over and gave her a hug. "That's your problem," he teased gently, "you're too nice."
Stacy smiled at him, her eyes moist with tears. "You're such a nice guy Charles. I'm glad that we did that magic show together, otherwise, I never would have known that there's so much more to you than...than...just," she stammered the last word, "Upchuck!"
He looked into her eyes and smiled. This was not Upchuck The Sleaze, this was kind, friendly Charles Ruttheimer, the guy that very few ever saw. "That's the nicest thing a gal ever said to me," he whispered.
They stood like that for a while, hugging, until Stacy glanced at her watch and groaned. "Charles! We've got to go! I have to get home before my parents wake up, or I'm dead!"
Charles grinned at her. "Come on then, my dear Miss Rowe, your chariot awaits!"
Stacy snorted. "Chariot?"
They hurried back to Charles' car.
Sandi Griffin awoke with a yawn. She rolled over on her back and glared at the alarm clock with unfocused eyes. God, I hate mornings, she thought acidly as she knocked the alarm clock off the nightstand with a hard push. Why can't... Then she remembered. Today was school picture day! She leapt out of bed, suddenly wide awake. School picture day was Sandi Griffin's own personal Christmas. She loved the whole idea of getting dressed up in a killer outfit and making every boy in Lawndale High School suffer! It was always a thrill to saunter down the hall and watch the guys' tongues bounce off the floor. Like her mother Linda, Sandi was a strong believer in the "Sex Is A Weapon" philosophy.
She climbed out of bed and immediately knew that something was amiss. Her door was wide open, and her cat Fluffy was sitting in front of the closet door. As Sandi stood up, Fluffy looked up at her and meowed plaintively, as if to inform Sandi that he was quite hungry. What was her door doing open? Ever since that time Fluffy had gotten into her makeup case and eaten a great deal of her foundation, Sandi had kept her door closed at night, so that the incident would never repeat itself...but here Fluffy was, in her room, with the door opened. I know damn well that CATS can't open doors, she thought. They don't have thumbs! She walked over and picked Fluffy up, gently stroking him. She walked over, deposited him in the hallway, and shut the door, totally confused.
Strange, Sandi thought.
She stretched and walked over to her closet, a cruel smile forming on her face. Just wait until Quinn sees how cute I am! I bet I have the best pictures in the entire school. Grinning, she threw open the closet door...and Sandi Griffin's resulting scream could be heard eight blocks away. As her father, Tom and her mother Linda, appeared in the doorway flanked by her grinning brothers, Sam and Chris, she held up her brand new royal blue sweater, which had been completely covered with ugly black spray paint...
End Notes: Well, what do you think? Do you like it? Do you hate it? Would you piss on it if it were on fire? I wrote this on a whim, or maybe just because I've been picturing sweet, innocent Stacy Rowe in a snug catsuit that shows off her figure. Ok, so I'm a pervert, but I'm basically harmless! While I have your attention, I would like to send thanks and lots of love to the following people: Roger E. Moore for his talent and good humor, Thea Zara for being friendly and funny (Hugs Thea!), Mman and Crusading Saint for trusting me with beta reading duties, Kara Wild for being a sweetheart, Martin J. Pollard for supporting my various mental illnesses, Mike Yamiolkoski for some interesting threads in PPMB, and everyone on the PPMB. I love you guys!