The Whole Damned Thing
or (Looking for) The Heart Of Saturday Night
Yet another DARIA fan fiction by/from/whatever Don Fields

(copyright, author's notes and other pointless babble at the end of story. WARNING: it's a long one!!)

We open with an aerial view over looking the landscape of a typical east coast suburban town with meny trees and, within it's center, a cluster of buildings and empty lots. Old travelogue music serves as BGM and a narrator chimes in after a few moments after this somber intro.

In the mists of this impossibly green and pleasant land, sleepy SUV's and quite rivers, peace has rained since the 1987 crash. For this is the county of Mike Milken and Amway Products and countless tax loopholes and the neighbor of the city of John Walters and Frank Zappa. (dramatic pause) This is Lawndale, Maryland. And here, too, it is May Day, a day that's still celebrated for over a hundred years. In parts of this urban mini-metropolis, stout humans dressed in over-priced customary dress greets the coming of the spring with folk rituals reflecting this landscapes' rich history.

This scenic shot then focuses on the "Main Street" in the center of Lawndale.

NARRATOR: (cont.)
One of the meny regional sermonizes that is celebrated is the annual return of the overdue library book.....

We now focus our attention on a faceless and nervous student walking down a sidewalk. He is carrying a book in one of his arms.

NARRATOR: (cont.)
....a small yet thrilling event that manages to captures the spirit, color and the exotic that is Lawndale.

We then see the student walk into the front entrance of the Library. A pause of silence is quickly followed by a sound of a gun being shot, a scream and a body fallen on the floor. We then cut to a group of people standing around near an intersection doing nothing but standing still, looking at whatever direction their facing.

NARRATOR: (cont.)
...and the residents in the Knoll Bixby section of this town celebrate by.....doing nothing at all.

Cut to a air view of much taller office buildings near the center of town.

NARRATOR: (cont.)
At the center of the business distract of Lawndale, the casual visitor might be fortunate enough to witness a rare treat...

Another quick cut to a shot of a mid-section of a high-rise building.

NARRATOR: (cont.)
....the annual plummet of the CEO's of the bankrupted companies.

Suddenly, we see a group of executives in suits jump out of each window and fall off the camera.

AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (fading off)

Cut to another neighborhood intersection with more people standing around doing nothing.

Meanwhile, residents near the intersection of Snowflake and Honey Lanes join the...(another shot of another area with another group standing around doing nothing)...fellow citizens of Beach and Sand Avenues in.....just hanging around a bit.

Then to an large empty field in a much larger city park.

Sport is not forsaken in these festivities. One notable activity is directly intertwined with Lawndale's most resent history.

We then see a lone and tired man stumble in range. He's wearing stereotypical sixties hippie garb. He turns behind him and sees something following him. He becomes terrified, turns and runs for dear life down the field.

NARRATOR: (cont.)
Yes, it's the annual, and very violent, lynching of the liberal hippie.

Suddenly, there is, what seems to be the entire Lawndale population, running after the hippie with torches, sharp sticks and loaded guns a'blazin', screaming. The field is suddenly filled with this motley cattle. Cut to yet another area of people standing around doing nothing.

Meanwhile, the residents of Halcyon Hills join their other exclusive neighbors (another similar shot) at Rich Grounds and the cities fire department (a shot of firemen doing nothing, while a house off in the distance is burning down to the ground) by.....doing didly squat. But why is May Day celebrated in this way?

Next is a shot of a man in glasses and a scruffy suit (SOCIOLOGIST) addressing the camera. Behind him is the hippie tied up to a post with people throwing sticks of wood around the base of the post and the hippie's feet.

SOCIOLOGIST: (over announcing and gesturing each world)
The whoooole....POINT abOUT May Day isssssszzzzz.................(a minute or two of searching for the next word).....hmmmmm......(snaps out of it) Sorry, I forgot what I was going to say.

Cut to another man in glasses and scruffy suit (ANOTHER SOCIOLOGIST) addressing the camera.

ANOTHER SOCIOLOGIST: (ditto, but more confident)
This whole POINT aBOUT May Day isssss...........Oh, yes, the POINT of these celebrations is to rejous in the offerings that this season and that you mustn't just throw it away and slack it off like some unshaven beatnik following Jack Kerouac to his drunken grave.

DARIA: (off camera)

We immediately cut to DARIA sitting at the diner table at the present day, real world Morgandorffer household. She has just been writing something (which is actually SCENE ONE) in a notebook in front of her and she had just lost track of her writing concentration by something....which turns out to be one of HELEN's questions, who happens to be sitting next to her.

I mean, seriously, I'm trying my best to understand this effort of yours to flush what little time you have to dot a few words on paper....but turning your back on a healthy career as a paralegal is like writing your own suicide note.

In that case, could you sign it for me?

Daria, the reason I took you to that Career Day at school was for you to meet Eric at the company table to showcase you (slip, followed by a quick recovery)....I mean, so he can meet you and see if you were legal material.

Mom, I would of added a footnote to my suicide note if I had to spend another minute having my blood sucked.

I'm sure YOU lost a few pints with those.....those.....

....literary vampires and magazine leaches?

Brills' Content, The Atlantic...THE NATION?! The only reason that they were there was ACLU keeps threatening Principle Li. (sighs) Sometimes, I wish you'd just wake up from your dreamy little cover of the world and join the rest of us happy and productive people. (the phone rings and she reacts quickly, to DARIA) Hold that though. (without a breath, into the phone) Helloooooooooo! ERIC! How ARE you? Nothing. Just having a pleasant chat with my daughter. Oh, nothing's wrong...she's just feeling a little 'off' today, that all.

Minus a few gallons of blood drained from your system can do that to you.

(quickly to DARIA) Daria! (back to ERIC) OH! Nothing again, Eric. What? (gets a tad unpleasant) mmm, no, Eric, she not having that time of the month....she's eighteen.

Really? Is that also the time you humans AREN'T happy and productive?

(back to DARIA) Daria! He's just being a smart-ass. (to ERIC) NOT you, my daughter.

Excuse me while I learn the ways of the jack-ass.

(to DARIA, again) THAT'S SMART-ASS....PLEASE! (to ERIC) Yes, I know asses are all the same.....

Especially if there're lawyers.

'especially if they're lawyers', I know that one, too...(shooting DARIA a look) so did Daria. Yes, she also knows the one about the 14 dead lawyers at the bottom of a lake, too.

A good start.

(quickly to DARIA) ERIC!...I mean...DARIA! If I wanted anymore of your lawyer jokes, I'll force myself to listen your Jokeman tapes...I mean, Eric's Jokeman tapes....(confusion, slip, to herself)....oh, dear...(quickly to ERIC)..what? Catholic jokes?! Well, I'm lapsed Catholic, so I......?!

How do you get a nun pregnet?

(angrily to DARIA) DARIA!! I said....(hears something from ERIC) what?! *sighs*..."dress them up as choir boys".....(now losing patents with ERIC) NO...I haven't hear 'that', I don't care to (barely regaining her composure)...I mean....I rEEEEEly don't have time to hear any....

With HELEN distracted with ERIC's punch line, DARIA carefully gets up and walks out of the dining/kitchen area. HELEN notices her move but it's too late; DARIA is out of reach and ERIC is on a roll.

HELEN: (cont.)
....I'm having a VERY important bonding-defining session with Daria and.....(desperately to DARIA) Daria! Don't leave me alone with.....(back to ERIC)...what? No, I haven't heard the one about the priest, the plumber and the gynecologists...

HELEN baries her face in her free hand. DARIA is next seen walking around the corner into the living room, looking for a clean escape to her bedroom. BUT........

JAKE: (off-camera, desperately to DARIA)

DARIA stops and sighs.

DARIA: (quietly, to herself)

We see JAKE leaning over the back of the large sofa towards DARIA. The TV is tuned a football game. There's a searching look on JAKE's face.

DARIA: (patiently to JAKE)
Yea, dad?

Who's Cyril Connolly?

DARIA: (a tab confused from this question....coming from JAKE, that is)
Wellll, he was a semi-quasi-literary critic who made British writers ashamed of themselves for abusing the Queen's language more than himself and died just in time for Monty Python to use him as a punch line.

JAKE: (relived but still troubled)
Thanks, kiddo. I needed that.....I think

I'm, no doubt, going against the sea of reason here, but...where the hell did THAT question come from?

JAKE turns around, sits on the sofa and stares at the TV set.

JAKE: (calm yet nervous)
Well, I was just sitting, minding my own business, just simply enjoying a simple game of football than suddenly came...this, this voice...from out of nowhere...

JAKE is interrupted by the TV. Seems a play has ended and the crowd is reacting to it. SPORTSCASTER calls the play.

Ooooh, interception! Boomer was looking for an opening and, at the very last possible second, was forced to make a sacrifice throw and prayed for a friendly pair of hands on the other side.....

Just then, another voice picks up the conversation. It happens to be DENNIS MILLER.

Ouch 'o Andy Rooney, babe! I haven't seen such a beating since O. J. when up against Marsha Clark. Marsha! Marsha! Marsha!

JAKE suddenly gets up and starts pointing and yelling at the TV set...but mainly at DENNIS.

JAKE: (yelling)

...and did you see the desperation, the confusion on his face, Dennis. I guess he got some crossed signals from the coaches.

No kidding, Jack! I haven't seen such confusion since George Lucas was debating weather or not to remove his name from the credits for Howard The Duck.


Um, dad. He's not even critiquing, he's just making lazy comparatives to kill dead air. That's what color commentators do.

JAKE: (turns to DARIA)
EXACTLY!! A SIMPLE football game calls for SIMPLE mindless chat! NOT a FEAKIN" history LESSON from HELL!!!

...looks like is opposition team are happier than Rick Dees when 'Disco Duck' went to number one!

JAKE turns around towards the TV, sits down, covers his ears and screams for mercy.

AUUUGH!! Anal retentive history crap and now it's (the screaming begins) OUT DATED POP CULTURE REFERENCES.....

This is DARIA's que to sneak off like she did with HELEN

JAKE: (cont.)

We then see DARIA sneaking up the stairs. She manages to reach the top and make it to the hallway towards her room without getting spotted. At least, until she's about to pass QUINN's bedroom door. Just as DARIA almost passes, QUINN's door cracks open and an arm out, grabs and pull DARIA into QUINN's room. Once inside, DARIA is face to face with a urgent QUINN.

QUINN: (urgent and slightly desperate)
DARIA! You watch 'Buffy' right?

Only when she pops up in those 'Family Affair' reruns on TV Land.

I'm SERious.

So was I.

O. k., so you don't...whatFREAKIN'ever...just tell me who's the name of the actress?

Sarah Michelle Gellar and don't ask me WHY I know that.

QUINN: (relieved)
Thank God.

I though you knew that...being the up-to-date Princess Godesszella of the household that you are.

Just double checking. I was just talking to Stacey and we couldn't figure out the name. I was helping her visualize a scene from a 'Buffy' fan fiction she was working on. SHE though it was Jennifer Love Hewitt and I though it was Rachel Leigh Cook, so we compromised and agreed on this Gellar chick.

Oh, dear. The great impass has just been avoided.

No kidding! It certainly couldn't be Rachel! GOD! How can any self-respecting young actress/model be caught DEAD in that out-of-dated cartoon movie!? You might as well flush your dignity down the toilet.

Dignity. Models. Are we aiming a little too high here?

...and Jennifer did that movie with Grandma Alien. Well, rest assure, our little Ms. Buffy will NEVER stoop so low.

Weeell, you latest little goddess is buying some knee pads pretty soon.


According to one of you Sweet 16 and a half magazine you constantly leave in the bathroom, she's doing the Scooby Doo movie.

QUINN freezes in just-about-to-freak horror. DARIA delivers the blow.

DARIA: (cont.)
As Daphine...

There a slight pause as QUINN's face freezes and fear. Then she dashes for the phone.

QUINN: (screaming)
Oh GOD! I gotta call the club, get the previsions together. The world IS ENDING!!!

CUT TO: Inside of DARIA's room, particularly the door. We hear the sound of feet running getting louder. Suddenly, DARIA, looking slightly panicky, quickly opens the door, enters the room and slams it. For a second, she leans against the door. She then looks to the side towards her desk. She grabs the chair and hoists it between the floor and just underneath the doorknob. DARIA looks slightly relieved. She walks over to her bed and sits down in front of the TV. She picks up the remote and presses a couple of buttons. The TV turns on and we hear....


A gong is heard and 'Liberty Bell March' is played. DARIA is now fully relaxed with legs now crossed, laying back with her head resting on the wall.

'Monty Python's Flying Circus'.

Ahhh, sanity.

This scene continues for a couple of seconds with DARIA relaxing over Monty Python. This scene fads into several hours later into the night, with DARIA now sleeping with the TV on. A few more seconds later, DARIA begins to shakes as if she trying to get out of a nightmare. Then she suddenly wakes up and sits up with a look of shock on her face. She's silent and staring at nothing in particular thinking back what had just happened. Then she notices the TV, it's now showing the news. A quick shot of the screen shows a railroad tracks with police and a ambulance surrounding a crossways. There's also bits and pieces of food and what's left of a vending machine. In the foreground, stands a news REPORTER.

The great Texas vending machine suicide mystery has just been solved tonight as police arrested two suspects just on the outskirts of Highland.

Then the report cuts to police are dragging BEAVIS and BUTTHEAD towards the police care. The REPORTER and the camera crew manage to cut in front of their path.

REPORTER: (cont., v. o.)
After a series of anonymous tips, the police arrest two young possible gang members. One calls himself Beavis and the other by the gang code name of 'Butthead'. We managed to get an exclusive confession from them...(to BEVIS and BUTTHEAD) Excuse me, why did you young hooligans kill all those machines?!?!

BUTT-HEAD: (calm)
...huh, because, they keep taking my money...huh-huh, so we took a fork-lift and dragged it over the tracks and waited for the train to smash the crap outta was cool....

BEAVIS: (cutting in, hypnotic, frantic)
Those BBQ pork rinds...those BBQ pork rinds...they were all calling for me. I had to break them open to make them shut UUUUUP!!

Back to first shot with the REPORTER addressing the camera.

Police stated that the suspects will be held over night for their arraignment in the morning where they will be bitch-slapped and made fun of by a local judge and whoever is near by that feels these two deserve it.

Suddenly, the TV screen goes dead. We then see DARIA with the remote in her hand and a angry look on her face. Now with the set off, DARIA hears the bleed-over from the outside world. She gets up and heads for her bedroom door. Cut to the hallway, DARIA peeps hear head in from her room to scope the scene, with QUINN's voice still ringing in from her now closed room.

QUINN: (from her bedroom)
No, Stacy. I don't think suing Archies Comics will do any good. Besides, Scooby Do wasn't made by them. It was made by Koreans.

DARIA walks to the ledge of the staircase and looks down. From here, she sees JAKE wandering around in the front room, yelling at someone over the portable phone....and so is HELEN. Both nearly missing each other amidst their preoccupied rantings.

JAKE: (into the phone)
I don't care if he did a movie with Michael Douglas and Wesley Snipes, I still want his damned home number and give him a piece of my mind. Do you hear me, operator??

HELEN: (ditto)
Eric, I've heard that preacher and the gynecologist joke for the 245th time already and I'm ready.....what...WHAT MAKES you even THINK that number 245 is any different than number 240.....

DARIA sighs and size up the situation.

DARIA: (to herself)
Great. One, I wake up from one bizarre nightmare and smack-dab into a much louder ring of hell. Two, everyone in this cage are STILL going through their self-help do-it-yourself scream therapy, and behind door number three, my escape route is cut off. Well, I better use the old reliable alternative route.

Cut to outside and in front of the house. It's well into the night. We see the window of DARIA's bedroom open. DARIA is seen attaching a large hook to the bottom of the opened window. Attached to the hook is a long rope. DARIA tosses the rope out over the edge and the end touches the driveway below. She then carefully climbs down the rope. When she finally standing on the driveway, she gives the rope a good jolt, causing the hook to fall off the window and DARIA catches it. She then bundles to all up and walks to one of the bushes on the side of the driveway and hides them behind it. Finally, DARIA makes her escape.

It's the ultra trendy, crowded and dirty strip called Dega Street. Late night. A bus is seen pulling away from a bus stop. DARIA is seen walking away from this spot.

DARIA: (to herself)
Great. The other inmate escaped, too. Well, maybe I'll find Jane here or I'll kill time by window shopping until my eyes and wallet tire and walk home until my feet tire, too. (catches herself) *sigh* While I'm at it, why don't I just keep talking to myself until my own self-pity tiers and chokes me to death.

DARIA walks down the crowded sidewalks only glancing at some of the windows. She glances through a window of a Tower Records and stops when she sees JANE inside. She's relieved to see her, but at closer inspection she notices something wrong. Through her own eyes, DARIA notices that, even through her back turned against Daria's view, JANE has opened her red jacket close to one of the CD racks (near the Michael Bolton section) and seems to be slipping a CD into her jacket. DARIA is not very pleased to witness this and storms into the store. As JANE moves to another row of CD racks, DARIA walks up to her from behind and addresses her.

DARIA: (a tad edgy, to JANE)

JANE sees DARIA and grabs her and turns her around with DARIA's back to her.

JANE: (calm and direct)
Ah! Good. You're here. Now turn and block for me.

DARIA resists JANE physical orders.

DARIA: (still edgy)
No thank you. I'm not in the mood to be a accomplice to a public Michael Bolton fetish demonstration. So why don't you put that CD back and avoid the embarrassment.

JANE turns DARIA around again.

You'd think I'd PAY 25 bucks for public humiliation. I'd rather have Trent pay me the same amount to open for him with my old ukulele. Besides, I'm NOT shoplifting. I'm DROPlifting.

DARIA: (confused)

DARIA looks over her shoulder and notices JANE grabbing a CD from her red jacket and places it between some more CD's. DARIA faces forward.

I though you ran out of 'Mystic Spyral' CD's.

Nope! Mom used the rest of them to decorate the old X-mas tree last year. This one is of a protesting necessity.

Against bands better than Trent's?

(NOTE: During the course of the reminder of this conversation, JANE continues to droplift the CD in each random rack while dragging DARIA for blockage)

Nope. The record companies, copyright owners, song publishers and their heathen lawyers and paid-off congressmen in their back pockets. This CD was made by struggling found sound collage artists in protest against all those who wish to own the words we read, sounds we listen, the aluminum to press our works....

..the air that we breath, water we flush and the poisons we eat. So what else is new, Marsha Brady. The world going down the gutter and the landlord wants the rent, big deal.

No, Daria. There are just SOMEthings that one HAS to fight for. The artist is compounded by copyright lawyers restricting us from honestly addressing the trademarked world around us. Mattel, Archies Comics, Starbucks, they all demand fake respect and we look the other way?! This whole media system all totally a one way street. Well, it's about time we FORCE it as a two way! The only way these victims of capitalism can get their music heard is by sabotaging the system like droplifting and tape trading.

But that would be money out of the artist's pockets.

On the average, a typical major label recording artist makes only a dollar per CD. The rest goes to an population of middlemen like, producers, publishers, retailers, stock holders, executives and their dope dealers and so on. Even if they do sell enough for a profit, the label will charge the artist for sneaky loopholes. People GOT to realize that they have to take back their lives from the media by DOING something about it.

Like Napster, tapes and sneaking in CD's that'll confuse rather than educate the masses...

Damn right! Build pirate radios and capture the airwaves and make it your own. Make tapes of your own music, cut out those ads and make your own art piece. Make the human race safe for artistic impulses. Preserve the need for expression at all cost for ALL time.

...and write fan fiction and make up your own elitist fandom.

JANE stops and thinks of what DARIA just said for a moment. Then goes back to the racks.

So I hadn't figured out the bugs in this anti-systems yet. Just trust me on this one, o. k.

JANE pulls DARIA out of the scene.

We're outside of Tower Records. As they exit the store, JANE gives DARIA one of her CD's just as they exit. Both walk down the crowded Daga Street.

Here, I might as well deprive someone else of their education.

DARIA reads from the back cover.

DARIA: (reading)
'This Droplift Project CD has been designed to play on your Compact Disc Audio Equipment without modification. Your ears, attention-span, and brain may require slight adjustments for maximum enjoyment of this Quality Product.' Gee, nothing says passionate artistic and social anarchy than Cliff Notes.

Hey, you being the Queen Snobzilla should pick up on the smirk of the mouth, the tongue pressed upon the cheek.

It's not comparing notes with the other dry smart-asses, it's the screams of aimless passion that's been echoing in my head all day and, now, night.

Screaming passions?! Jake and Helen forgot to close their bedroom door again?

Not out of lust, I assure you. Mainly out of blind misplaced frustration.

...oh, intentional confused passion. Aimless searching for the excuse to act like Wild Man Fisher without the artistic ambition. And you escaped for a breather?

I climbed out of the window this time as they were ALL around me.....they were even in my head.

JANE: (slightly mocking)
They gassed your room?!

Nah, Quinn's lip loss vapors didn't seep through the cracks under my door this time. After surviving separate family members with their their own levels of aimless hell, I barricaded myself in my little bunker. I then feel asleep and woke up from the echoes from my nightmare.

They're called voices in your head, Daria.

No, Jane. THIS one was a real, down to earth and it started yours truly as the center attraction and YOU as the side-kicked in the butt.

Really? By whom bravely I ask?

DARIA: (dreading)
*sigh* Me.

JANE gives a surprised look.

Really.....and it was over Tom.

JANE: (really surprised)
You mean my cute intellectual semi-frat boy who crashed The Den's 23rd 'under new management' party?! Jeez! It's not often one hears a subconscious jealousy dream on my boyfriend.

DARIA gives JANE a sharp look and JANE retracts.

A POSSIBLE subconscious jealousy dream, that is. Just keep the juicy details basic and to-the-point, so I can absorb each blow and inflame my bitchiness.

DARIA still gives JANE that look, again.


*sigh* It started out soon after you two got together. While I was getting insanely jealous of him taking you away from me, the both of you began to fall apart...

JANE: (excited)
Really. Like 'War Of The Roses'?!

As before, DARIA gives JANE the look and JANE retracts.

Armchair psychiatrists now closes her sterno pad.

You and I were still going out for pizza runs and other low-level anarchy activities, but more and more it was you and Tom with me alone in the dust, underneath all that rubble of self-doubt and isolation. It started to even out and I was just beginning to barely tolerate Tom...then you two started to get bored with each other. (dreading this part of the monologue) That's....when you asked me to dye your hair with orange stripes.

Orange stripes?! I'm the artistic slave but a fashion....

Don't ask, you told me to keep it basic.

Fare enough.

You wanted to spice things up and it was up to me to provide the spice. I ended up screwing it up and you gave it to me with both barrels.

What the hell did Bizarro Jane do to get all puffy about a botched stupid hair job?

You...I mean, Bizarro Jane accused me of trying to steal Tom away. And just as THAT hell cooled down and apologies were exchanged, Tom officially gave up on you......and....kissed me.

JANE: (taking a guess)
...and let me guess, YOU kissed back......?

After I told him I wasn't interested.....

JANE: (impressed)
WOW! Daria Morgandorffer, The Tiger Lady!

Stop it.

So your id is seething with hormons a jumpin' behind that so-called 'mask' of yours. Now I'M the jealous one.

You then stopped talking to me and went off for a retreat for the summer. What followed for me was four long months of double repeats of self-pity and isolation with a side order of humiliation. Oh, and I get 'volunteered' into being a councilor at Mr. O'Neil's summer camp with DeMartino.

Geezzz, I DO hope there's a happy ending. (bit of eagerness) You finally beat the meat out of O' Neil, right?

That's for the director's cut. Actually, there is one. I end up with Tom after a brief break-up, you and I make up and I manage to find some self-worth after escaping camp....more or less.

Soooooo....where's the angst? What about me, minus the main squeeze?

Everybody's o. k. including you and the former squeeze. It's should I put this.....all the drama and tribulations with everybody, the soap opera rollercoaster...(DARIA takes a deep breath)...all that human narcissism in full bloom. God, I am getting selfish, aren't I?

Not if you're denying your involvement in human nature. We're not more than a few I. Q.'s more and a few hairs less than the average chimp in the zoo. We are known to jump and scream for our banana, too. Thus we have divorce courts, wars, wrestlers, bullies, cosmetic commercials, COPS episodes, Pat examples of typical human aggression.

The only thing I'm denying is the impulsive need to exhibit the aggressive blood lust for the banana; in this case, the destructive impulse to make life difficult for everyone else out of habit. What about consideration, compassion and intelligence? You know, the things that separate us from the chips? So, I'm nit-picking over a fictional happy ending, but I wonder if all the warn-out emotions and just plain personal pain was worth it.

Chalk one up for learning experience?

Thus goes my selfish conspiracy down the toilet. Like the Paul Simon song goes, maybe I think too much.

Or maybe you don't make enough much noise like the rest of the chimps and you're letting the echoes from the case cloud your thoughts. Look at you and Ted. The only real excruciating moment you suffered was figuring out your self-doubt maze and finally date the guy.

DARIA: (a little annoyed)
...while maneuvering around his hard-core old-fashioned parents....

...ah, they're silly putty in your hands. You use your extra I. Q. points to toss a few dry comments to throw then off the scent and sneak round to Ted's back door to evade their paranoid peeping toms-toms. That's how you handle the screaming chimps around you; your mother's nosy relatives, Quinn's snotty friends and Jake's runny nose. It's no trouble for you because it's your nature. It's low-key, demands the brain power you can easily handle and, at the end of the day, you end up with the golden banana while the rest of the neurotic chumps wondering what the hell happened. Charlton Heston should be so damned envious.

As if Ian Flemming wrote 'Planet Of The Apes'.

With film adaptation by Quintin Tarratino.

...and who gets to play me in the movie version? Ms. Buffy?

Na. With the way the mainstream media works, it'll all be done by some hack writers and staffers slaving away at MTV.

JANE and DARIA are walking down the street where the LANE residents live on. We see the Lane household with 'The Tank' parked in front, the members of Mystik Spiral sitting/standing on the steps leading to the front door...and, to JANE and DARIA surprised reaction, a ambulance that's just pulling out. After their reaction JANE and DARIA run over to the house. Close up reveals that TRENT has guse and bandages wrapped around his cheat. He's sitting down with the rest of the Mystiks looking over him in support. JANE and DARIA run up to them.

JANE: (panicked and concerned)
Trent! What the hell happened?!?!

TRENT: (calm yet depressed)
Oh, hey, Jennie. Hey, Daria. Nothing.

JANE: (annoyed with TRENT's calm reaction)

Well, maybe nothing.

JANE: (to DARIA, slightly more annoyed with TRENT)
I knew it. They wrapped the bandages around the wrong body part.

If you're meaning my body, it's stings abit, but it's o.k. But my mood has been blown to pieces.

What? The crowd AND the bouncers were aiming for you?

I only wish.

We were doing a 'Evil Woman' cover with a grunge beat to pay off the bar tab.

JANE: (confused)

Max was having one of his caffeine addiction fits and downed a lot of coke...

MAX: (quickly interrupting and defending himself)
O. K.! I couldn't pay off the $150 tab, but so how was I to know the bartender was a big Electric Light Orchestra fan!

....and Trent had to bring out 'old reliable' to tackle the solo. So in the middle of it, Trent tripped into a Bon Jovi rift in a G diminished key. (dramatically) happened...


TRENT manages to reach behind him and pulls out to show DARIA what's left of a guitar....a burnt, plastic TOY guitar busted, slightly melted, in half with only the cheap-ass strings holding the two halves together. There a slight dramatic pause of reaction.

The old ax blew up on the high note, right on top of me.

Yea, it was such a beautiful note, too.

NICK: (wipes off a tear)
*sniff* What a heroic gesture. That old ax gave it's life for a glorious solo.

Another pause, only of morning. Except from DARIA and JANE. DARIA takes a good closer look that the has-been instrument.

Ummm. Is it me or has this turned into funeral day at Romper Room? This is a ex-toy plastic guitar.

Congrats, here's your lollipop.

But it's not just a toy guitar. It's my first guitar. Dad gave this to me from his trip from Japan on a fire hydrant photo tour when I was 5. Then, at 10, I amped it by hooking it up to an old Realistic stereo system.....

JANE: (losing her patience with TRENT)
...and you received you first electrical shock, which was followed by your first hospital visit. Trent, let it go! It's a 15 year old cheap piece of plastic.

Be careful, Trent. All sentimental connection aside, this is how fetish starts and soon you'll end up collecting Kiss.

No, Daria. You don't understand. This was the first step of my road to artistic inhibition, the signature to my hall pass to blind self-discovery. This was a part of my art, my life, my excuse...and now it's just ashes, blowing in the wind.

JANE: (even more annoyed, a hand over her face)
Oh, Dylan references, please!!

Don't worry, Jane. At least Dylan didn't burn his old guitar after he went electric.

JANE: (quickly and quietly to DARIA)
Shhh, don't give him...

TRENT: (innocently interrupts)
Hey, spread the ashes over the ocean. Like what the Vikings used to do with their befallen warriors. Cool idea, Daria.

How noble.

But what do we burn first, the toy or Trent?

I'd say YOU as you brought this idea up.


TRENT gets up with the ex-guitar in hand and announces his plans.

It's official! Let's load the Tank and let the ceremony begin.

The setting is a old pier. The Tank is parked at the base of the pier. We join in as the funeral party (the Mystics, DARIA and JANE) walk up to the end of the pier. JESSIE is holding a box with the ex-toy guitar in it. They stop at the railing and look over the ocean. Everybody is still and motionless. That is, until TRENT turns to DARIA.

Now what?


What did the Viking's do next?

JANE: (still a little upset)
They took the biggest smart-ass in the crew and dump her like garbage.

DARIA: (sharply to JANE)
Let it go, Jane.

First, you and Trent dangling over the edge, THEN I'll think about it.

Um, I saw 'The Big Lebowski' last night and they said some parting last words before spreading Danny's asses into the ocean.

DARIA: (mainly to herself)
What dose that have to....

Let go of the logic, Daria.

O. K., I'll go with that.

TRENT stares a blank face for another few moments, while leaving everybody else hanging. Until....


TRENT: (snaps out of it)

Last words...that would be YOUR department.

Oh...uh, I don't know, Jane. I feel naked without a guitar in front of me. (then looks down at the bandage, and shakes with fear) Wooooh, bad metaphor.

Why don't you do a air guitar solo? We'll just hum along if that'll make you feel better.

Yea. Maybe Kurt Cobain's last solo.

Hey, if it's going to be musical, how about, (sings) 'Beans, beans, the musical fruit. The musical fruit, the more you eat, the more you......

By then, MAX, who's standing next to NICK, elbows him hard in the ribs.

NICK: (cont.)

All eyes are on DARIA

Don't even think of asking. Having the entire Steely Dan catalog in one's CD collection dose NOT qualify me to speak any level of typical beatnik/musician lingo, especially in public.

The guys look lost. Until JANE speaks up.

JANE: looks like it's all up to me, I guess.

JANE straightens her posture and, like a great speaker or Shakespearean actor preparing to address the masses, grasps her red jacket with her right hand and raises her open left hand to demand attention. She clears her throat and speaks in a mix of beatnik lingo with Shakespearean accent. She loudly addresses the following to both the gang and what-or-whoever's out on the lake.

Hipsters, Flipsters and (she snaps her fingers rhythmically three times) Finger-popping daddies!!
Knock me your lobes,
I came to lay Caesar out,
Not to hip you to him.
The bad jazz that a cat blows,
Wails long after he's cut out.
The groovy is often stashed with their frames,
So don't put Caesar down.
The swinging Brutus hath laid a story on you
That Caesar was hungry for POWER.
If it was so, it was a sad drag.
And sadly hath the Caesar cat answered it.
Here from a pass from Brutus and other brass,
For Brutus is a worthy stud,
Yea, so they all worthy studs,
Though their stallions never sleep.
I came to wail at Caesar's wake.
He was my buddy, and he LEVELED with me.
Yet Brutus digs that he has eyes for POWER,
And Brutus is a solid cat.
It is true he hath returned with meny freaks in chains
And brought them to Rome.
Yea, the looty was booty
And hip the trays we weld.
Dose thou dig that this was Caesar's groove
For the putsch?
When the cats with empty kicks hath copped out,
Yea, Caesar hath copped out, too,
And cried up a storm.
To be a world grabber a stiffer riff must be blown.
Without bread a stud can't even rule an anthill.
Yet Brutus was swinging for the moon.
And, yea, Brutus is a worthy stud.
And all you cats were gassed on the Lupercal
When he came on like a king freak.
Three times I lay the kingly wig on him,
And thrice did he put it down.
Was this the move of a greedy hipster?
Yet, Brutus said he dug the lick,
And, yes, a hipper cat has never blown.
Some claim that Brutus' story was a gag.
But I dig the story was solid.
I came here to blow.
Now, stay cool while I blow.
You all dug him once
Because you were hipped that he was SOLID
How can you come on so square
Now that he's tripped out of this world?
City Hall is flipped
And swung to a drunken zoo
And all you cats are goofed to wig city,
(pleading) Dig me hard.
My ticker is in the coffin with Caesar,
And, yea, I must stay c-o-o-o-o-ol til it flippeth back to me.

With this monologue over, everyone is standing agape of what they just saw...especially coming from JANE. Nonchalantly, JANE goes back to her regular composure and self.

JANE: (calmly, to everyone)
Hey, it was either that or something by Maynard G. Krebs.

JESSE holds up a dingy, beaten-up shoe box in front of TRENT. TRENT reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter and flicks it underneath the box.

I'll let you throw it into the water, Jess. Being that I'm tribulized and all.

Sure thing, man.

Just then MAX holds a small boom box over his head and presses the play button. Suddenly, a somber 'Going, Going, Gone' by BOB DYLAN is heard from it's speakers.

BOB DYLAN: (singing/talking {?})
"I just reached a place,
Where the river don't bend.
Not much more to be said,
It's the top of the game.
I'm going, I'm going, I'm gone."
etc., etc., etc.,

JANE grimaces with this Dylan reference. Like a football quarterback, JESSE pulls back the throwing arm that's holding the box and is about to throw it. In quick succession, DARIA quickly cuts in...

Uh, guys? You might want to aim away....

.....not catching DARIA's little caution in time, JESSE throws a good long pass. In mid-throw, the box turns into a fiery comet....heading to a large fishing boat that's JUST passing by. The comet lands perfectly into the ship's large upright exhaust stack. Within a few quick moments, an explosion is seen coming out of the center of the boat. There's large smoke coming out of everywhere, followed by flames. The few passengers and crew on board begins to panic and end up diving into the water. Back to the pier for the obvious wide-eyed reaction shot, with the light from the flames reflecting on them. TRENT and the boys are impressed.

TRENT, JESSE, MAX, NICK: (together)

The Mystiks bandmates then pull out their own cheap Bic lighters, hold them high and flicks them on in solidarity.

JANE: (to herself)
Ooooh, god!

It's later that same night (practically 2 a.m. by now) and DARIA is seen walking up to the front door of the Morgandorffer household. She unlocks the front door and carefully opens it and peeks inside. Seeing nobody inside the dark living room, DARIA enters and closes the door behind her. Then quietly and quickly, she heads straight for the stairs. However, she's no more than three steps up until a hand touches her shoulder from behind her. She reacts.

DARIA: (frightened)

It's turn out to be JAKE sneaking up right behind her.

JAKE: (loud and triumphant)
HA! Think YOU'RE the only one who can sneak around here, ah? They didn't call me 'Sneaky Toes' Morgandorffer back at the barrics for nothing.

...followed your other nickname, 'Big Mouth Morgandorffer'.

(happily agreeing) YEA! (suddenly calms down to reality) Oh.

Which would explain your legendary court marshall record, too, Private 'Jail Birdie' Morgandorffer.

Yea. (angry) Damn overzealous impulse!!

I think I'll take to my shelter before you set up to ride the next impulsive wave. You can punish me after you wipe out.

JAKE: (happily)
You don't have to worry about that, kiddo. I finally remedied the situation and all is calm. After wasting a couple of hours yelling that the network switchboard, I finally wised up and went on the internet to look up Dennis Miller's home phone number.

DARIA: (fearing the worst)
You didn't!?

I sure as HELL did...called that snotty-potty mouth and told him off. HA! He didn't have a chance when I brought up that 'Blood Of Bordello' flick he was in! Never underestimate the power of skeletons on the old closet. That oughta carve his turkey.

I'm just glad it wasn't Billy Crystal, or you were forced to admit once again, in public, you saw 'Rabbit Test'.

...and it SUCKED, too. (angrily) I wasted three dollars on that turkey.

JAKE notice DARIA's now suspicious look at him.

JAKE: (to DARIA, calm)
Hmmm....three 1979 dollars. (pause) Inflation in those days, you see and...(pause) you just had to be there.

DARIA gets ready to go upstairs.

Amidst 'Xanadu', 'Flash Gordon' and 'The Gong Show Movie', I'd rather get stuck in a theater reeking of angst during a John Hughes film festival.

JAKE: (sympathetically)
Um, kiddo. I think I owe you an apology. If ain't weren't for my ranting, Helen's raving and god knows what Quinn getting hyper over, you wouldn't of run out of here in the first place. Sorry, kiddo.

That's o. k.. As long as you didn't bring up 'Saturn 3' again. Jane and I saw that for 'Bad Movie' night last week. Where's mom?

Well, in the middle of Eric's phone call, she got sucked into a last minute conference call with a client in Tokyo. Something about suing us pillaging Godzilla.

Such a poetic cause.

Then she was trying to pepper her conversation with some Japanese phrases like 'Sony', 'sushi' and 'beef bowl'. Then she lost all sense when she wondered into 'Hello Kitty' territory. THAT'S when I saw smoke coming out of her ears. So I guided her off to bed.

..and Quinn?

I hear her venting about Buffy from her room. So I did what you usually do when Quinn has those attacks.

Those vampires are really lost soul-stranded K-Mart shoppers and Buffy actually wears clogges off-camera.

Bingo! Ingredients for a quite nights sleep....(unsure)...provided that I stay away from the kitchen.

Don't worry, dad. It's not if mom and Quinn drink water with their chewable Flintstone Prozac. Night, dad.

Night, kiddo.

As she reaches the top of the stairs, DARIA is about to make a straight bee line to her bedroom door. However, she stops in mid-path and notices QUINN's bedroom door cracked open and the lights are still on. DARIA turns and heads towards QUINN's room to investigate. She then carefully sticks her head into QUINN's room. Inside, she sees QUINN spread eagled, face-down over her bed; positioned in such a way that one hand is touching the floor and one leg drooping of the edge. The one dangling arm still is clutching the portable phone. Her hair is a mess and there's circles under her eyes from exhaustion. From the phone, we hear STACY's rambling voice:

STACY: (panicking)
O. K., maybe they're NOT necessarily from K-Mart. Maybeeeeee they ran out of gas and were stranded in the mall parking lot and needed shelter. Kinda like those cute family of teenagers went into the hunted mansion...that's how horror movies starts right? RIGHT?!?!

DARIA pries the phone from QUINN's hand and says a quick word to STACY.

No, it begins when they begin to talk to strangers, like me.

STACY: (loud and paranoid)

DARIA calmly cuts off STACY by hanging up and puts the phone away. She then looks at QUINN. DARIA leans over QUINN to get closer. She then affectingly pets QUINN's messy hair to straighten it out a bit. After this quite moment, DARIA leaves the room. We're still looking at QUINN. In the background, we hear some sounds coming from the bathroom; first, a sound of a faucet turned on, then of water filling up a container and the faucet turned off. DARIA finally walks the room and scene with a small bowl of water. She then lifts QUINN's hanging hand off the floor and places the bowl of water underneath it and place the hand into the bowl. DARIA gets up and quietly leaves the room. It's a few minutes later and we see DARIA in her bedroom. She's already in her sleeping threads and has just made it under the covers. She takes off her glasses and shut the lights off. As she closes her eyes, DARIA mutters the following to none in particular.

If I don't drive around the park,
I'm pretty sure I'll make my mark.
If I'm in bed each night by ten,
I may get back my looks again.
If I sustain from fun and such,
I'll probably mount to much:
But I shall stay the way I am,
Because I do not give a damn.

There's another quite pause. Then echoing from QUINN's bedroom....

QUINN: (shrieking beyond human ears)

As QUINN runs out of breath, DARIA happily grins. Cut to make-believe credits and music.

DA END, DADDY-O! 8:55 p.m., 12/25/2001

DARIA characters & BEAVIS & BUTTHEAD: ( 2001/2002 MTV Networks Inc. All other characters and whatnot: ( 2001/2002 Don Fields.

The long-winded AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Well, folks! Where the HELL do I begin?! First off, if this one felt loose and disjointed, that's because parts of this tomb were from other unfulfilled Daria fanfics and under developed ideas with an underlining plot and/or meaning (I hope). The title was from another (though embarrassingly depressing) project from meny years ago. In fact, my last fic 'Somewhere Over The Edge' was another fragment from this unrooted fossil (you have to read the notes from THAT for the details). Everything else, except for the first three scenes and the last, are re-arrangements from these fossils. Why such pointless surgery?.....

Second: This is my last entry into the world of Daria Fan Fiction. As with pretty much all retiring Daria fic authors, this tide is high and it's time for me to bail ship....and not just the HMH Morgandorffer. Sure, the show is ending as I type this and the timing is there. It's just I don't see any further need or have excessive energy to look elsewhere in fandom to burn a few imaginary words on another fact that I don't watch THAT much in the first place. Guess I'm getting too old to be a fanboy.

Three: I'm getting published next year (2002), so I can stop artistically goofing and start getting goofing off. Whatever.....

O. K., now for you anal retentive freaks out there (and the generally confused), here's the run down on some of the reference points: First off, the first scene (the travelogue) was ripped off from 'The Life Of Python' set from A&E video (YOU have to figure out where). There is such a thing as 'The Droplift Project' CD. A group of productive Negativland fans from the 'Snuggles' e-mailing list put it together. For further details on this and future insane projects, swing on over to For those B-movie fans out there, you've noticed I brought up some turkeys from the late-70's, primarily from Universal Studios (they made a LOT of them during that time!). 'Rabbit Test'?! Yup, it dose exist (and good luck finding it); it's a 1979 turkey co-written and directed by Joan Rivers and it stared Billy Crystal as a pregnant man! I'm surprised that Stuttering John did ask Crystal about this?!?!

What was that balony Jane was spewing? Mark Antony's funeral oration for Julius Caesar. Eh? Well, as arranged by Richard Myrle Buckely...a.k.a. 'Lord Buckely'! Buckely was a popular traveling larger-than-life figure during those Beat generation/bohemian days of the 40's and 50's. He knew almost everybody within the scene and is considered one of those popular behind-the-scene figures. His largest contribution, however, was his club appearances and recordings of his lovingly "hipsemantic" readings of Jesus Christ ('The Naz'), Ghandi ('The Hip Ghan'), Poe, Lincoln and so on. His reading of The Gettysburg Address' is both hilarious and touching, which was typical in all of his performances, even Marquis De Sade was looked upon with strange understanding. For further poop on this great man, click on over to 'LORD BUCKELY ONLINE at (I hope).

With all the emotional upheaval some are still recovering from all that lead up to IIFY? (end of series, notwithstanding), I figured I'd take advantage of the emotions involved and apply it to the under-current plot of emotion involvement (HEY! I just found that underground plot thing I was just talking about!!!). One though and/or cheap idea lead to another and I came up with a little idea of what if Daria did continue to go out with TED (yup, THAT Ted from 'The New Kid' ep) and if she dreamed up the whole damned thing! Exciting, ain't it.

...and this marks the third time I've used Beavis & Butthead, even though I promised myself I wouldn't do it again...from the FIRST time I used B & B. Damn It!

Before this whole thing rots into internet/fandom oblivion, I better list a few friendly names: MJP from Outpost Daria, (or what's left of it), Tom Waits for that new sub-title, Alchemist for those missing Daria tapes, whatEVER's left of the Daria Fan Fiction Archive, Ms. Geek (though she never returned any correspondence, I did meet, through her, Zoogz Rift's bassist), Danny Bronstien for tolerating yours truly stepping on his toes when I first got into this mess (I did a rip from his South Park/Daria fic), all of those who responded to these scribes of mine (including CincGreen: sorry, dude, for not finishing the Millennium piece...them brain cells, ya know), Tony the Vic for the other tapes and pizza, The Molotov Cocktail Hour, Brian Eno, ELO (again), Diana Krall and Fred Lane for the background noise and to all the previous names I've thanked in past fics and pretty much everyone else who tolerated all of, on second though...tough sh*t, dip stick!!

I would like to dedicate this small scribe to Dan DeCarlo, THE creator of 'Josie & The Pussycats'. I've written about my feelings about him, the comic, the stupid movie and how Archie Comics f*cked him without the KY elsewhere (some of which are in my 'Josie' fanzine, 'JOZINE!' which you can find out more at my cheap-o site at As of this writing, DeCarlo passed away a few days ago. Sorry it ended like this, Dan....oh, hell, oh, well. Thanks and say hello to Bob Montana for us.

....and, finally, I can't let it all got without mentioning Glenn Eichler, Susie Lewis Lynn and whoever gave them the green light at MTV (Release that damned series on DVD/VHS, ya fingerf*ckers!!). Thanks for (fill in the blank)....sniff, sniff. We'll miss ya, babe!

So, in the parting words of Lord Buckely himself:
"The flowers, the gorgeous, mystic, multi-colored flowers are not the flowers of life, but people, yes, people are the true flowers of life: and it has been a most precious pleasure to have temporarily strolled in your garden"

Other canceled episodes in the 'Fake Daria Netwed' are:
'The Sound Of One Band Sucking'
'Kind Of Blue'
'Somewhere Over The Edge'
'It's The Millennium, Stupid!'
'Everything You Know Is Wrong!'
...and you can find these either at 'Outpost Daria' fan fiction section, or a bribed fan fic site near you...thank you, good day and good luck!