This scene, however, has none of that drama. I showed it to Roger E. Moore, and he insisted that I post it and show other fans. So if you don't like it, mail your rotten tomatoes to him!

And enjoy...

"Aunt Amy, why do you keep so much of your milk in the fridge?" asked Quinn, scrunching up her face at the sight of four baby bottles full of cream-colored liquid chilling next to her diet soda.

"In case I get the urge to slam back a couple shots of vodka. A woman can't survive on fruit juice alone, you know." Amy's words were playful, but her expression was that of someone who remembered far too many days without alcohol or any tempting substances whatsoever.

"Does drinking affect your milk that much?"

"Not if I don't mind my son puking on the furniture and filling his diapers with a stink that permeates the apartment for days. It happened once after I drank a couple of glasses of champagne. Not fun." Amy wore a pained, amused expression. "He's not too fond of caffeine and spices, either. Mostly it's just a matter of taste - it sours the milk and irritates his bowels. So it's blandness for Amy until he's on solids. Having an extra supply on hand is always good in case I stray."

"I didn't realize you had to be so careful. I thought you didn't want anything with taste because you were trying to lose your pregnancy fat."

An annoyed expression crossed Amy's face. "Well... that, too."

When Quinn scrunched up her nose at the milk again, Amy sighed. "Quinn, honey, you've seen me breastfeed before."

"Yeah, but the milk, like, went into his mouth so it was all natural and I didn't have to see it. But that... from your breasts -" Quinn's face reddened and her gestures grew wilder as she tried to articulate her thoughts. "It's like your breasts are in the fridge, or something!"

That did it. Amy could not hold back a fit of surprised laughter. Quinn watched, stunned (though not as stunned as she might have been a year ago), as her aunt guffawed and snickered and giggled and guffawed all over again. When Amy at last regained her composure, she went over to the fridge.

"Here," she said, reaching past Quinn for one of the bottles.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked, as her aunt unscrewed the top and set it aside. Amy then poured a little breast milk into her decaf coffee.

"AGH! I can't believe you just did that!" Quinn watched with utter horror as her aunt stirred her coffee until it turned light brown.

"Why not? It's not bad." Amy held the bottle toward her. "Far better than freeze-dried Coffee Mate any day. And at least I know where it came from. Don't you ever wonder how much waste goes into your-"

"La-la-la! We are not having this conversation." Quinn tried as quickly as possible to finish up her breakfast so she could flee. However, her outburst was enough to draw Daria into the kitchen, where she looked at her aunt and sister with a deadpan expression.

"Found a new way to torture Quinn? I - is that what I think it is?"

"I swear, they'll market this stuff someday at gourmet food shops. It's got a ton of vitamins and nutrients." Amy shook the bottle gently at Daria. When Daria recoiled a little, she rolled her eyes. "You two are so prudish. You must take after your mother. She would never in a million years taste breast milk."

"That sounds like a clumsy attempt to goad us," Daria told Quinn.

"Well it won't work," Quinn responded defiantly.

"Nope," said Daria.

"You know, last week your Aunt Rita said the same thing," Amy said innocently. "I never would have guessed you two had such a strong, close resemblance to her."

Daria and Quinn stared at her, then at each other.

"It worked," Quinn sighed.

"Yep." Daria went over to the cabinet and took out two glasses, which she then laid on the counter. She pushed one forward. "Okay. Breast me."

"Daria!" Quinn gasped, as Amy tried to stifle her own surprise at her niece's blunt language.

"Just say when," Amy said, tipping the bottle over the glass, so a thin stream of cream-colored milk poured in. At about an inch and a half, Daria motioned for her to stop. She picked the glass up slowly and sloshed the milk around a little. It seemed even in texture, maybe a little thicker than regular milk. Daria brought the rim of the glass to her lips, then -

"You know, I'd hate for Quinn to miss out on the excitement."

Amy poured the same amount of liquid into the other glass and pushed it toward Quinn, who spent a long time washing out her cereal bowl before taking it. She sloshed the liquid around, as Daria had, then eyed her sister before bringing the glass to her lips.

"So, which of you first?" asked Amy, brow raised, clearly amused by their discomfort.

"You go, Daria," Quinn said quickly. "Yours was poured first and you don't want it to go sour."

"But it was your twisted fascination that got us into this mess," Daria shot back.

"Fine!" Quinn barked. "Together, then."

Daria nodded. Both sisters held the glasses to their lips for an interminable amount of time, while Amy strained to hold in her laughter. Before either could go through with it, Helen breezed in to make her morning coffee.

"Hi, girls! How are things g -" Helen's eyes narrowed as she took in the scene. "That's not what I think it is. Is it?"

Daria pushed her glass toward her. Helen took it and sniffed the milk, then rolled it around a little.

"I don't remember mine being quite this pale," she said critically.

"Mom!" freaked Quinn.

Helen took a sip. "Mmm. It has a nice flavor. Must be from all those cheese fries you consume, Amy."

"Excuse me," Amy replied, a little indignant, "I just had a wonderful talk with Quinn about all the food I've cut from my diet since I got pregnant."

"What on earth made you girls want to try this stuff??"

"Oh you know your daughters," said Amy, a twinkle in her eye, "always craving the unexplored. I couldn't pour fast enough."

Helen raised a skeptical brow at her sister, but decided not to press. Instead, to everyone's surprise, she took another sip... then another. Daria and Quinn watched her intently, prepared for a violent reaction. When nothing happened, Daria at last went to the cupboard for another glass, while Quinn took hers and tipped it enough to allow a tiny bit of liquid into her mouth.

Several seconds of mouth-swishing later, she pronounced, "This isn't so bad." She took a bigger sip. "I can see why babies like it. It's kind of sweet."

"You two certainly never complained," Helen said with a wry glance.

Quinn rolled her eyes and took another sip. Daria placed her glass on the counter in front of Amy, who smirked before filling it half way.

"Hey! That's too much," Daria said crossly.

"Come on now," said Amy in a sing-song tone, "get with the program. Bottoms up."

Daria watched the cloud of smugness thicken around her aunt as she took another sip of coffee. Prickling with irritation, she took her glass and raised it slowly. "You know I was never a joiner." Then with one swift motion, she emptied the entire contents into her mouth.

Breast milk flooded every crevice, puffing out her cheeks and overwhelming Daria so much with its flavor, it was all she could do to keep from spitting it out. Amy, Helen, and Quinn stared at her expectantly, Amy's smugness replaced by vague astonishment. Daria's cheeks burned until she detected the sweet under taste that Quinn had spoken of, and was able to swallow... swallow... swallow... until finally it was all gone. Daria then looked directly at her aunt.

" It could use nutmeg."

"I'll make note of that," said Amy with a smile.

"You should thank her, Daria," Helen said, her tone amused, but firm. "That's probably the healthiest thing you've consumed all week."

Now Daria rolled her eyes. She glanced over at Amy, and they exchanged a look - a truce. At once the atmosphere in the room relaxed into one of a typical family morning. Daria and Helen went to make breakfast, while Quinn prepared to exit and Amy sipped her coffee. Just then Joel strolled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and took in the activity.

"Is that...?"

"Breast milk," the four women replied.

Joel shook his head. "Won't ask."

"You want some?" asked Amy, taking another sip of coffee.

"Nah, it's okay." Joel gave her a kiss good-morning, then wiggled his brows. "I got my fill last night."

Amy nodded blandly - when suddenly her eyes widened, and she spurted milky coffee across the counter.

"Aunt Amy??" wondered Quinn, as her aunt gagged and coughed.

Joel pounded on her back while the Morgendorffers looked on, confused and concerned... until at once Joel's meaning sank in.

Daria frowned. "He didn't just -"

"EwwWWWW!!! I so did not need to know that!" gasped Quinn, before bolting from the room.

"For heaven's sake, Amy, even Jake and I had our limits!" Helen glared at her.

"I was kidding, I was kidding!" Joel burst out, laughing a little with embarrassment as he tried to avoid his fiancé's evil eye.

"Of course you were," said Daria, before making her own exit.

"Joel?"

Recovered, Amy now spoke in an even, mildly dangerous tone. "Remember that talk we had about keeping certain humor between us because it might not translate well to other people?"

Joel smiled weakly.

"Why do I feel this sudden need for a newspaper?"