"RAECHAEL 101" by Saffron (intothenight@crashedandburned.co.uk) (Synopsis: Daria feels threatened when a skater-punk songstress arrives at Lawndale and appears to take an interest in Trent.) (Author's disclaimer: The characters represented are entirely fictional. If any of them resembles you in any way, shape, or form, don't bug me about it, as it is purely coincidental.) (Daria is sitting on the living-room couch on a Saturday evening, watching TV) ANNOUNCER: What happens when extraterrestrial beings mate with porno stars? Half-human sex machines, next on 'Sick Sad World'. (Quinn walks in, sits down beside her sister, picks up the remote and changes the channel) DARIA: Hey, I was watching that! QUINN: Sorry, Daria, but I have to watch the Miss United States pageant for Fashion Club. We're going to debate on the evo--, uh, metamorpho--, um, progress of the swimsuit competition. DARIA: How thought-provoking. (The phone rings. A disgruntled Daria answers it) DARIA: Joe's Pool Hall, Chief Eight-ball speaking. JANE: Hilar, Daria. DARIA: Thanks, Jane. JANE: Listen, it's Amateur Night at the Sub-Machine Lounge. Trent and Mystik Spiral are playing. You wanna come? DARIA: Why would I want to go out and listen to a bunch of hormone-infested bands play off-key when I could stay at home with my beloved sister, watching wholesome, Midwestern baton-twirlers who have been nipped and tucked to within an inch of their lives parade back and forth? PAGEANT CONTESTANT (twirling hair around one finger): And, my like, greatest wish would be for global peace. That would be really, like, great. JANE: So we'll pick you up in ten minutes? DARIA: Please. (Cut to the front of Daria's house. Trent and Jane have just pulled up) TRENT: Hey, Daria. DARIA (flustered, but able to hide it): Hey. JANE: I think I'll let you two lovebirds sit up front. (She crawls into the backseat) DARIA: Care to say that to my AK-47? JANE (in a hick tone): Ne'er mind. (They take off) DARIA: Pardon my asking, Trent, but why are you playing Amateur Night? I thought you guys were big enough to headline. TRENT (chuckles): Thanks. Tonight they're having a "Battle of the Bands" contest judged by some scout from Voodoo Records. The finalists play again next week, and the winner gets a recording contract. Me and the guys figure this could be our big break. JANE: Isn't that sweet, Daria? Naive optimism. (Daria covers her mouth) TRENT: Hey, I think we've got as much of a chance as any of those other bands. Don't you, Daria? DARIA: Uh, sure, I guess. TRENT: I mean, our sound is like an acquired taste. Maybe this record guy has it. And then once the masses get a taste of Mystik Spiral. . . JANE: All those lonely nights will be over. (Daria and Trent both turn around to look at Jane, who grins) (Inside the Sub-Machine Lounge, which is crammed with people and noise, we see Daria and Jane seated at a small table near the stage) DARIA (shouting to be heard over the din): Nice atmosphere, huh? JANE (shouting back): Beats a drafty warehouse! DARIA: When are they coming on? JANE: They're supposed to be first. (As if on cue, Mystik Spiral walks onstage and picks up their instruments as the emcee takes over the mike) EMCEE: And now, our first band in the running for the Voodoo Records contract. . .the one and only Mystik Spiral! (He leaves. Trent takes the mike amid applause) TRENT: Uh, hey, everyone. Thanks for coming out tonight. (Mystik Spiral proceeds to do a three-song set, including "Ow! My Nose", Jane's birthday song, and that quintessential piece, "Ice Box Woman". Meanwhile, a guy in a suit with slicked-back hair pulls up a seat at Jane and Daria's table. All his attention is focused on the band and, occasionally, on a pad of paper which he scribbles notes) JANE (whispering): Psst. Daria. DARIA (staring dazedly at Trent): Hmm? JANE: Can you tear your eyes away from my dreamboat brother for one second? DARIA (blushing): What is it? JANE: I think that's the record exec. (Gestures to him) DARIA: All right, Jane. What's up your sleeve? JANE: Nothing. I just thought we should, you know, maybe put in a few good words for them. DARIA: Um, Jane, I'm not real big on giving gratuitous praise. It makes me feel like Quinn. JANE: Come on. For Trent. DARIA (sighing): All right. JANE (loudly enough for the exec to hear): They're really putting on a great show tonight, huh, Daria? (Nudges Daria) DARIA: Oh, yeah, they certainly have come a long way from their basement days. (The exec stares at them) JANE: And that performance of that song Trent wrote just for ME. . .(glances at exec). . .it was so moving. EXEC: You know Trent Lane? JANE: He's my brother. And, uh, her significant other. (Points to Daria, who turns flaming red) EXEC: I see. DARIA (aside to Jane): Was that really necessary? JANE: Oh, come on, Daria. I thought you'd be ecstatic. DARIA: Uh-huh. Sure. (Mystik Spiral finishes up the set and walks offstage amid cheers and claps. Jane makes a huge show out of stomping her foot and whistling) DARIA (raising a fist): Yeah. Whooo. Kick ass. (Another band takes the stage. This one consists of four guys and a girl all dressed in skater attire and with Punky-Coloured hair. They pick up their instruments as the emcee rushes back onstage) EMCEE: And now, our second band of the night. . .Scared Phunk! (The girl, who has a spiky turquoise ponytail and is wearing a tank top, Jncos, Vans, and a drain-chain necklace, takes the mike) GIRL: Remember, that's spelled P-H-U-N-K. Hey, everyone, thanks for coming out tonight and supporting us. Without you, we'd still be on the skateboard-park circuit. (Scattered claps and laughs. An anonymous yell of "Skaters suck!" comes from the crowd) (Scared Phunk immediately launches into their set, their music being a kind of cross between 311 and Machines of Loving Grace. The lead singer moshes energetically onstage as she warbles into the microphone) JANE (surprised): Hey, they're pretty good! DARIA: What happened to being Trent's cheer section? JANE: Oh, yeah. (Loudly, looking at record exec) But they're not half as good as Mystik Spiral! (The exec eyes them, but says nothing. Later, after the show is over, Trent joins Daria and Jane) TRENT: So, what did you guys think? JANE: Great. Daria especially enjoyed it. DARIA (mumbling): Shut it, Jane. JANE (pretending she hasn't heard): What's that, Daria? DARIA: I said. . .uh. . .aw, nuts. TRENT: You guys want to come backstage? There's a party. JANE: You mean this place has an actual backstage and not just a dumpster full of guitarists wasted on acid? TRENT: Yup. Pretty classy, huh? JANE: I'm game. How about you, Daria? DARIA: Do I have a choice? JANE: Of course not. (The three of them file into a small room crowded with all the other bands. Most are drinking or lighting up. There is a layer of smoke across the ceiling. "White Discussion" by Live is playing in the background. From across the room we see Trent's friend Monique waving) MONIQUE: Hey, Trent! Over here! TRENT (waving back): Hey! (To J & D) I'm going to talk to Monique. You guys going to be all right? It can get kind of rough with all these. . .(gestures around, at a loss for words) DARIA: Drunken band types around? TRENT: Right. JANE: Don't worry, Trent. Daria and I promise not to take any strange-looking substances from anyone. DARIA: Or accept any propositions that might, by some odd chance, be directed at us. JANE: Right. TRENT: Cool. See you later. (He walks away) JANE: You know, Daria, they say being jilted is one of life's most painful experiences. DARIA: Yeah. My heart is slowly and painfully coming apart. He left me for a Harpy. (Jane stifles a laugh as the lead singer of Scared Phunk approaches them) GIRL: Hey, are you guys in a band? Or are you band girlfriends? JANE (pointing to Daria): She wishes. DARIA: You must have a death wish. GIRL: So. . .? JANE: We're just here for moral support, really. Why? GIRL: Just curious. I'm the only chick singer here. Except for that Harpy over there. (Points to Monique. Jane and Daria snicker) By the way, I'm Raechael Peacock. DARIA: Hi. I'm Daria Pheasant. JANE: And I'm Jane Peahen. RAECHAEL: Hilar. DARIA: Thank you. JANE: Hey, good set back there. RAECHAEL: It was better than average, yes. Despite the fact that we win absolutely no points for originality. DARIA: Why's that? RAECHAEL: We're shameless plagiarizers. Our "Kill the Clowns" has the exact same rhythmicity as the Machines' "Limiter". DARIA: Well, we can't all be rock pioneers, can we? RAECHAEL: Right on. JANE: How old are you, anyway? You don't seem to sit well with this crowd. RAECHAEL: I'm sixteen. I go to Lawndale. JANE: So do we. But we've never seen you around. RAECHAEL: I just transferred. I got kicked out of my last school for starting a riot. DARIA: How'd you pull that off? RAECHAEL: I seized the PA system and announced that the principal was growing a secret stash of hashish in the school greenhouse. Man, you should have seen the stampede. Like lemmings to the sea. Then after we totaled the ag department, we decided to play Chinese Fire Drill in the McDonald's driveway next door. DARIA (impressed): Huh. RAECHAEL: I know this sounds very kindergarten of me, but could I hang out with you guys? I promise I won't be a liability. JANE: What the hell. It'll be useful to have an anarchist around. (At that moment, a raucous group including the members of Mystik Spiral, Monique, and several other band girlfriends barrels past the three girls on their way out the door, obviously to go out drinking) DARIA: There goes any hope of getting home tonight, staggering out the door. JANE: Dammit! I'm going to kill him. RAECHAEL: I take it your transportation's leaving to go get soused. DARIA: Yeah. Do us a favor, will you? If our pictures show up on the news tomorrow, will you tell our parents that we ran away voluntarily? RAECHAEL: I can give you guys a ride home. If you don't mind packing in with the rest of the guys in the band. (Turns away from them and yells) Hey, guys! Get over here! (The remaining members of Scared Phunk, a group of very good-looking skater fellows, file over to Raechael) JANE (immediately): I have no problem packing in. You, Daria? DARIA: None at all. (Monday morning, at Lawndale High. Mr. O'Neill's class) O'NEILL: Well, it appears we have a new student in class. (Squints at attendance card) Rae... chael. Raechael Pea--coat? (Several class members snicker. Raechael slides down in her seat behind Jane) RAECHAEL: Jesus. And you said this guy teaches self-esteem? JANE: Yeah. How to unwittingly crush it. RAECHAEL: Damn straight. O'NEILL (looking at card again): Oh, I'm sorry. How silly of me. Of course, it's Peacock. Raechael Peacock. I hope you'll make our new student feel welcome, class. JANE (eyes narrowing): Too late for that. BRITTANY: Kevin, what's a pea-coat? KEVIN: Come on, babe, there's no such word. RAECHAEL (to Daria): Was it this much fun when you arrived here? DARIA: More. At least you passed the inkblot test. O'NEILL (clearing throat): Let's get back to yesterday's discussion, all right? Raechael, we're on a psychology unit right now, discussing some of Freud's teachings. Yesterday we were talking about his views on dream interpretation. Do you have any input on this subject? RAECHAEL: Well. . .judging from the little of Freud's works that I've read, I've concluded that the guy was a sexaholic. O'NEILL (blanching): What? RAECHAEL: Freud associated every dream with sex. If you dreamed about, say, something as innocent as a herd of wild ponies running across the plains--(Daria's eyes widen slightly)--then subconsciously, you were supposedly dreaming about group sex. You see? He was a nympho. O'NEILL (flushed with embarrassment): Ah. Yes. Well. Today, we're going to start on a new topic, that being fantasies. Freud said that only dissatisfied people had fantasies. I'd like you to discuss this--(eyes Raechael with fear)--amongst yourselves, please. Ask yourselves: are you dissatisfied with your lives? RAECHAEL: Screw self-analysis. I know I'm dissatisfied with my life. I've got fantasies coming out my ass. DARIA: Now that makes for an interesting yet ugly picture. RAECHAEL: They're weird, too. I'm not naive enough to believe any of them could come true. But if they could, I'd go for the one where Nick Hexum picks me up in a Fiat and we go zooming off to the great Motel 6 in the sunset. JANE: A Fiat? You do have weird fantasies. RAECHAEL: So what do you guys fantasize about? JANE: I like to envision myself a performance artist in New York. The kind that goes into convulsions onstage. Or else tied up in a mental hospital somewhere, surrounded by children's drawings of sad clowns. RAECHAEL (laughing): What about you, Morgendorffer? Are you dissatisfied with your life? DARIA: No. I'm perfectly joyous. Give me a basket of flower petals, and I shall gladly skip about, strewing them while singing "Shiny Happy People". RAECHAEL: Okay, okay. You've made your point. So now that we've analyzed our psyches, what do we do? DARIA: Well, we could always stage another Chinese fire drill. (Later, after the bell rings, Jane, Daria, and Raechael are out in the hallway, at Jane's locker) JANE: So, did you get a callback for the Battle of the Bands? RAECHAEL: Not yet. The executive said sometime this week. DARIA: I don't suppose Trent got called back yet. JANE: I wouldn't know. I haven't spoken to him since he ditched us on Saturday. (Closes locker and turns to Raechael) You want to follow me and Daria around this afternoon? We could go to my house. RAECHAEL: As long as we don't miss "Sick Sad World". They're rerunning that episode about bestiality in the porn industry. (Daria and Jane look at each other and grin) (Later, at Jane's house) SSW HOST: So you're saying, Mr.-- PORN DIRECTOR: Slick. Rod Slick. SSW HOST: Ah, yes, Mr. Slick. You're saying that you paired one of your actresses with a nine-hundred-pound gorilla? RAECHAEL: Somehow watching this makes me feel less screwed up than I really am. (Raechael and Daria are sitting on Jane's bed in front of the TV. Jane is at her easel.) DARIA: What's really sad is, these people seem to have no clue as to how screwed up they really are. SLICK: Hey, it's harmless! And the gorilla liked it! RAECHAEL: Like the people at Lawndale? DARIA: Precisely. RAECHAEL: You're a writer, Daria. You ought to write some scathing article on how being antisocial builds character and how popularity will buy you nothing more than a few followers and maybe a Homecoming Queen crown. DARIA: But who would read it? JANE (as she paints): You could stuff it into a few copies of Waif and hand them out to the Fashion Club. Under the false heading of "Perfect Party Outfits for Popular Pubescents". DARIA: Nah. Quinn would be lost by the word "Pubescent". (There is a knock on the door) TRENT (from outside): Hey, Janey? You in there? JANE: No. (Trent opens the door) TRENT: Look, Janey, I'm sorry I ditched you on Saturday. It's just that me and the guys-- JANE: And the girls. TRENT: --wanted to go out for a little post-competition celebration. I didn't mean to blow you off. So, will you forgive me? JANE: I don't know. Would you be willing to grovel a bit first? TRENT: No. JANE (after a pause): Oh, well. I suppose that's good enough. TRENT: Hey, Daria. How's it going? DARIA (blushing): As well as can be expected. TRENT (catching sight of Raechael): Hey, wait a second. You were at Amateur Night. RAECHAEL: Guilty as charged. TRENT: You guys are pretty good. That clown-killer song of yours has a great rhythm. RAECHAEL (flushing noticeably): Uh, yeah. TRENT: You get called back yet? RAECHAEL: No. You? TRENT: Nope. JANE: Trent, don't you have something to be getting back to? I thought I heard you playing down in the basement earlier. Unless you're hiding a sea elephant down there. TRENT: Oh, yeah. Jess and I are working on adding a couple of new songs to our repetoire. DARIA: Ooh-la-la. RAECHAEL: We're trying to come up with some new stuff, too, but. . .I don't know. It seems like after that audition, our creative fires just. . .died. (Brief silence) DARIA: Much like this conversation. JANE: Trent, maybe you should go back to polluting the basement with noise now. TRENT: Oh. Yeah. Bye, Daria. (To Raechael) Oh, and good luck with callbacks. RAECHAEL: Yeah, same. (Trent leaves) DARIA: You think he got the feeling he wasn't wanted? JANE (sighs, puts down paintbrush): All right, I admit, I'm still a teeny bit (in French accent) pissed (back to normal) about Saturday. But I guess I should expect that kind of behavior from Trent. Band chicks have a weird mental pull over him. DARIA (confused, then suspicious): What do you mean? JANE: Trent Lane's emotional blueprint is composed almost entirely of pseudo-musical females. First there was Lady Cadaver, then Shoshonna from Crime in Italy. . .then that chick from the Gutters, and Shirley Tempest from Cold Shower. And then there's Monique, of course. RAECHAEL (semi-absently): I don't know. . .he seemed pretty normal and nice to me. (Daria's eyes narrow in suspicion. Later, Daria is on the phone with Jane) DARIA: I don't know. I'm probably just paranoid-- JANE: You are. DARIA: --but I definitely saw SOME sort of marked interest in his face. He couldn't take his bloodshot eyes off her. JANE: Ah-ha! You're finally ready to admit that you're enamored with my brother. DARIA: Jane, please. This is not one of those heaving-bosom novels, nor will it turn into one. JANE: Okay. But you do like him, and you're afraid that he might like Raechael. DARIA (uncomfortably): Yeah. JANE: Daria, I wouldn't worry. Band-chick charm only goes so far. Besides, she's a bit too Day-Glo for his tastes. DARIA (exhales): All right. But if it does turn into a torrid affair, you'll hang. JANE: Okay. (Pause, then assumes Quinn's voice) So now that we're through talking about boys, should we discuss the latest trends in nail polish? DARIA: Oh, brother. (The next day at school. Jane and Daria are following Raechael to her locker) JANE: So, they finally called you back. RAECHAEL: Yup. "Congratulations, Miss Pea-pod, you and your band Scared Plunk have made it to the final rounds." DARIA: Gee, that sucks. JANE: So did Mystik Spiral, to my and Trent's utter amazement. Unfortunately, after he got the call, the noise from the basement only got worse. RAECHAEL: Wow. Tell him I said congrats. (Opens locker. The inner-door decor consists of a giant 8-ball sticker, a picture of 311 and a photo of a bleached-hair skater stud with a pierced lip and a grin) JANE: Ah, who's this skateboard Adonis? RAECHAEL: Steven. My old boyfriend. And one of Scared Phunk's biggest rivals. You ever hear of Gremlin Factor? He was the bassist-slash-stage diver. Stage diving was his favorite activity. (Closes eyes, sighs) Such a fatal addiction. DARIA (shocked): You mean he was killed? RAECHAEL: No, he killed someone else, actually. Landed on some guy's head and it wound up on the pavement. Now he's in juvie and I'm flying solo. (Sighs again) That's what I get for picking the flamboyant types. Next time I'm going to find someone nice and low-key and. . . DARIA: Musical? RAECHAEL: Of course. That's one of the prerequisites of dating Raechael Suzanne Victoria Peacock. (Slams locker shut. Daria casts a narrow-eyed glance at Jane, who shrugs. Upchuck comes waltzing up) UPCHUCK: Good day, ladies. How are we on this fine Tuesday? DARIA: Suffering from PMS and likewise should be avoided. UPCHUCK (growls playfully): Feisty! (notices Raechael) And what might your name be, my aqua-haired Aphrodite? RAECHAEL: Who the hell are you? UPCHUCK (bowing): Charles Ruttheimer, at your service, madam. Anything I might do to be of service to you on your first few days here at Lawndale High? RAECHAEL: Yeah, you can get out of my face and back onto the cover of Mad magazine where you belong. (Aside to Daria and Jane) Let's get out of here. He's making me feel filthy. (After school. Jane and Daria are walking to Jane's house) DARIA: I knew it. She's got to be zeroing in on him. JANE: Come on, Daria. You have no real proof of that. Besides, Raechael's not all bad. You've got to admit, she's pretty good at insulting Upchuck. DARIA: Yeah. . .but that only earns her 10 points, tops. JANE: When did you become such a vicious man-eater anyway? Wait a second. This is like the time Quinn became a brain, right? You can't deal with someone storming in and stealing what you believe is rightfully yours. DARIA: Although I would have preferred you not used the term "vicious man-eater", yes, it's the same principle. JANE: Daria, you didn't have a problem with her until you started suspecting she was out for Trent. Personally, I don't see any potential danger. DARIA: Jane. The girl is single, in a band, and seeking a guy in a band who fits Trent's description. She is danger. JANE: Well, I still think you're overreacting. Besides, it's one thing if she shows interest in Trent. It's something else if he shows interest in her, which he hasn't done, and which I doubt he will. (Reassuringly) He's Mr. Oblivious. I'm sure he doesn't even remember her by now. (They arrive at Jane's house. Trent greets them at the door) JANE: Trent? What are you doing up at this time of day? TRENT: Couldn't sleep. Hey, Daria. DARIA: Hey. TRENT (looking past them): Hey, where's your other friend? The band chick? DARIA (narrowing her eyes): You mean Raechael? TRENT: Yeah. She seemed pretty cool. (Daria's eyes shrink to slits. Later, in Jane's room) DARIA: You still think I'm overreacting? JANE: Ah, no. So what are you going to do about it? DARIA: I'll have to sleep on it. But don't worry. I'll think of something. JANE (wringing her hands Igor-style): This should be good. (Next day at school. Daria and Jane are walking through the halls) JANE: Oh, no way, Daria. That is too harsh. Even Snidely Whiplash himself wouldn't touch it. DARIA: But you said-- JANE: I'm sorry, Daria, but I cannot accompany you on this dastardly act of vengeance. I am human, after all. I'll sit back and observe and laugh at the result, but I won't help you out. DARIA (sighing): Fine. Looks like I'll be on my own tomorrow night. We are still invited to the finals, aren't we? JANE: Of course. I wouldn't want to miss watching our teal-haired Carrie get doused with her own blood. Besides, Trent will probably need gas money. DARIA: You still have 24 hours to talk me out of it. JANE: What's wrong? Your conscience getting in the way? DARIA: Quinn says I have no conscience. JANE: And Quinn knows best. (The next night, at the Sub-Machine Lounge. Mystik Spiral is rehearsing backstage prior to the show. Jane is looking on. Daria is pacing around nervously) DARIA (thinking): How can I be doing this? She never did anything to me. Except show interest in the one and only male I harbored romantic thoughts for. (She looks around and sees the Voodoo Records exec standing nearby, taking notes) DARIA (aloud): It's now or never. (Walks over to him) EXEC (looking up): Yes? (Daria stands there for a moment. Raechael's voice echoes, "We're shameless plagiarizers." Trent's voice echoes, "Hey, where's your other friend?. . .She's pretty cool." She swallows) DARIA: Uh, sir, there's something I. . .think you should know about Scared Phunk. (The exec raises an eyebrow. Cut to the stage, a little later) EMCEE: So, now it's down to our last band, Scared Phunk. After this, Mr. Dallas will announce the winner of the Voodoo Records contract. So now, give it up for. . .Scared Phunk! (Cut to Jane and Daria at their old table) JANE (rubbing hands together): Any second now, that guy will come rushing out and disqualify them. (Daria squirms uneasily. Scared Phunk begins to perform their set without a hitch) JANE: Hey, what's going on? Shouldn't they be getting escorted off the stage now? DARIA (exhaling): I couldn't go through with it, Jane. I just couldn't stoop to that level. That kind of backstabbing is more signature of the Fashion Club or Brittany than of Daria Morgendorffer. JANE: Somehow I knew your nonexistent conscience would get in the way. DARIA: I was overreacting. So what if they like each other? It's not like Trent and I are married or anything. JANE: Personally, Daria, I can't ever see you two getting married. You're more the star-crossed, can't-live-together-or-apart types who wind up getting ripped apart by cruel destiny. DARIA: Gee, thanks. (Scared Phunk finishes their set. The executive, Clint Dallas, walks onstage) DALLAS: Good evening. We've seen an extraordinary amount of talent here tonight, and I'm sure many of these promising bands will make it to the forefront someday. Unfortunately, we only have one contract to give away. It was a tough decision, but I've finally determined that the winner of the Voodoo Records contract is. . .Scared Phunk! RAECHAEL (screaming): YES! TRENT (from backstage): Dammit! DARIA: I don't think the two of them will be running into each other's arms anytime soon. JANE: You're a noble man, Daria. DARIA: Shut up. (Shortly afterward, Daria and Jane head backstage, where Scared Phunk is in the midst of a drunken celebratory revelry) JANE: Hey, congratulations, Peavine. RAECHAEL: I'd hurt you if I wasn't so damn happy. I've got the world at my feet, a big fat record contract, a new boyfriend. . . (Jane and Daria look at each other) DARIA: New boyfriend? RAECHAEL: Yeah. Want to meet him? I think you know each other. DARIA (muttering): Oh, God. RAECHAEL: Hey! Zach! Get over here! (Joining them is the blond, pierced-eyebrow skater guy often seen in crowd scenes and who sits behind Daria in O'Neill's class.) RAECHAEL: Zach's a guitarist, too. ZACH (in monotone): Aspiring. DARIA: Whew. RAECHAEL: What's wrong? JANE: Daria was under the mistaken impression that you had it for Trent. RAECHAEL: Trent? Oh, believe me, I probably would have, if he hadn't been lacking one very important prerequisite. DARIA: What besides being low-key and a musician do you look for? RAECHAEL: Bleached hair. It's my greatest weakness. (Grins, turns to Zach) Come on. Let's get back to the band before they drink all the schnapps. (Jane and Daria wave goodbye to them before joining a rather dejected Trent and Jesse) JANE: Chin up, boys. You've got at least ten more years of trying before the love handles show up. TRENT: We were so close, Janey. I could smell it. DARIA: How could you, with all these B.O. and alcohol fumes around? JESSE: And just when we really thought we were improving, too. . . JANE: You poor disillusioned kids. Tell you what. How about Daria and I take you over to the pizza place. . . DARIA: . . .and we'll tell you the story of a good-hearted record executive who made bands around the world happy. He lived at the North Pole, and his name was Danny Goldberg. JESSE: Man, I love that story! (Daria, Trent, and Jesse walk out. Jane stops in the doorway to tie one of her boots. Monique walks up to her) MONIQUE: Where's Trent going? JANE (standing up): To celebrate his loss. MONIQUE: Why didn't he tell me? JANE: Sorry. Harpies aren't allowed. (Walks out the door, snickering to herself as she catches up to the others) DARIA: You just did something naughty, didn't you? JANE: You'll thank me someday. Let's roll. (Daria, Jane, Trent, and Jesse head off towards the great pizza place in the sunset) THE END