_The Look-Alike Series_ Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit Season 2, episode 10: "The Blind Leading the Blunt" prose adaptation by Austin Loomis ACT 1: FOUR EYES BLIND Here's how to tell apart the two nightspots in downtown Lawndale where Mystik Spiral play most of their gigs: McGrundy's Brew Pub is the one on Main Street with the faux-Irish decor and the Shovel Full o'Onion Rings, while the Zen is the one on Dega Street with the faux-abandoned- warehouse decor and the dance floor full of mutants. As Daria Morgendorffer and Jane Lane were making their way backstage, they heard voices. Don't worry -- this isn't *that* kind of a story. These voices belonged to their friends and relatives, the members of Mystik Spiral, who were back in the dressing rooms. "Max, are you out of your freaking *mind?*" Lynn Cullen fairly outgrabe. "I am not *wearing* that!" "Oh, come on, Lynn!" Max Tyler insisted. "You'd look like a real criminale! What about stage presence? What about teasing the audience? What about showing off your tattoo?" Whatever Little Drummer Boy might think of the shark on her left shoulder blade, Lynn had a better idea. "What about radical nasal surgery with a stiletto heel?" "Hey, you guys, cool it," Jane's older brother Trent intervened. "Lynn doesn't have to wear anything she doesn't want to." A brief pause. "But it *would* look hot." "Isn't that *cute?*" Jane smirked. "He's coming to her defense." "Have I told you lately that I hate you?" steamed Daria. They reached the backstage area in time to see Lynn sticking a strappy stiletto heeled shoe into a large shopping bag. "Ooh! Interesting! What else is in there?" Lynn grabbed the bag closed. "Nothing for your eyes." "Spoilsport." Daria decided to intervene. "When are you guys on?" "We've gotta wait for Merlin's Terriers to show," Trent rasped. "They're opening." _I've heard better band names from the freaks on Internet message boards._ Underscoring once again that great minds think alike, especially when they're look-alikes, Lynn said, "I've heard better band names from the freaks on Internet message boards." Daria looked at her. "But at least we're not openers anymore." "Oh yeah," Daria snarked. "You guys have hit the big time now." * * * Daria and Jane stood on the edge of a mosh pit, watching people thrash around to a much-distorted version of Terrorvision's "Discotheque Wreck" -- the bass feed was up way too high, and they couldn't hear the lyrics at all. A.P. McIntyre wandered over and looked at Daria dubiously, then walked the rest of the way over to her. "Um...hey, Erudite Emerald," he led off. "Um...hey," she replied. "Look, are we, I don't know, still going? 'Cause you never said, but the last time I got that look you gave me Monday I didn't get spoken to for two weeks." Daria had to think about her boyfriend's question a moment. "I...guess we're still going." He sounded dubious, but seemed mollified for the time being. "Great. Thanks for letting me know." Daria raised an eyebrow but decided to say nothing. A.P. stepped between her and Jane and nearly made a move to put an arm around her, but checked it nervously. "Well," Art-Smart Scarlet observed, "looks like Merlin's Terriers are a hit." "Despite the fact that they sound like someone replaced their guitar strings with wet noodles," opined Daria. "Oh, that's just the sound geek." A.P. looked over his shoulder to where a very bombed-looking young man with scraggly brown hair and a bad complexion was munching on a bagel and doing something that looked vaguely like electronics operation on the sound boards. "Um...I guess monkeys save on wages." "Here's the damn monkey. He likes pumpernickel. I'm going to go get a mocha." If that was geek humor, then Daria and Jane got it about like Quinn gets abstract art. They looked at him as if he'd grown an extra head. "What?" Just then, a large burly lout shoved his way past Jane and A.P., trying to get to the mosh pit. He saw Daria standing in his way and shoved her to the floor. "*Ow!*" she cried out. Jane and A.P. looked at each other for a moment. Then they made double fists, left hand clutching right, and both hit the lout at once -- Jane connected with the back of his head, and the Psycho-Maverick got him right in the small of the back. He screamed once and went down. Jane and A.P. headed over to Daria, Jane carefully bringing her fireman's boots down *hard* on the lout's wrist as she stepped over him. "You okay, Daria?" she quickly queried. "I can't find my glasses." Jane and A.P. looked forward, where they could just see Daria's glasses on the edge of the mosh pit for a brief shining moment before someone kicked them and they went skittering into the pit itself. "Um..." A.P. tried to decide how to break it to her. Jane decided there was no point telling her the whole story. "We don't see them either. They must have gone into the pit." Daria sighed loud and long. "Perfect." * * * Daria, Jane and A.P. were sitting at a table, Daria looking miserable. "Well, so much for seeing the rest of the week out at Lynn's. I'm going to have to go home and con money for new glasses out of Mom." _And after that whole blow-up, going home is *not* an experience I'm looking forward to._ "Maybe they didn't get crushed," A.P. suggested. "Yeah," Jane snarked, "maybe they just got kicked around a little by big boots and we'll find them at the foot of the stage, completely intact." Lynn, Trent and Max approached the table, accompanied by Jesse Moreno and Nick Campbell, the other members of Mystik Spiral. Lynn held out a hand containing the mangled remains of Daria's glasses. "Lose something?" "We found 'em at the foot of the stage," Trent rasped. "See?" Daria replied with a joviality she didn't really feel and probably wouldn't have shown if she had. "We were *all* right." "Bummer," observed Jesse. "Drinks?" "Let's not get into trouble with management," Lynn replied. "Make mine a Coke...with a twist of lemming, please." Dead silence greeted this Python reference. "What?" "Oh, never mind." "Anyone else?" Nick confirmed. At the general negative noises that ensued, Jesse, Nick and Max took off, presumably bar-wards. "Hey, want to see if you can use mine?" Lynn took off her glasses and held them out to Daria. The look-alike took the proferred eyewear dubiously. "We *can't* have the same prescription." She put them on and blinked a few times. "I stand corrected." "You can hang onto them for the rest of the night, at least." "Won't you need them?" "I don't wear them on stage anyway. I can't see a thing *with* them up there because of the stage lights. I wear these." She pulled out a pair of prescription sunglasses and put them on. "See? Though blind, I still can see -- at least under heavy stage lighting." "Oh, that reminds me," A.P. piped up, "did you see the sound geek?" "Do not talk to me about the sound geek." She sighed. "What circus did they get him from, anyway?" An idea struck her. "Hey, Trent, can I talk to you?" She hauled Sir Naps-a-Lot out of hearing range, and Daria, Jane and A.P. looked after the duo. "Five..." A.P. counted grimly, "four...three...two...one..." The three at the table winced slightly as Trent's voice, vicious and loud, carried to them. "*I am NOT letting that PUNK do our sound geeking!*" "We have paranoia." * * * Later, the band was on stage, doing a rendition of the Offspring's "All I Want." Trent stared out at the crowd with an angry grudging respect. Daria, Jane and A.P. were standing behind the sound board. A.P. was sound geeking after all. "You have to respect someone with that kind of manipulative talent," Daria allowed as. "Or at least someone who looks good in a leather bra." Jane held up the shopping bag. "I couldn't resist a peek." "That's just sick," A.P. observed. Daria looked at the stage, where Lynn and Trent were singing the final chorus in harmony, with a complicated mixture of emotions -- confusion, sadness, and a little jealousy. After the drinking game, they'd dropped the subject of Lynn's confession, for their own safety, leaving her to decide when to raise it again (probably around the same time Hell's first ski resort started soliciting time-shares), but now she knew what had happened between those two at New Year's. It shouldn't hurt this much. She was *over* Trent, dammit. Then again, she'd thought that after she'd seen him going off on his date with Monique. "o/~ Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah! o/~" * * * The next morning, Daria staggered into the kitchen of Morgendorffer Home Base, in her normal nightwear of scrub-shirt and boxers, without her borrowed glasses, and nearly fell over in shock. That figure in jeans and a T-shirt, sitting at the table, calmly eating breakfast, looked a lot like Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer to Daria's blurry eyes. "Damn. My vision is worse than I thought." The figure spoke, and if it *wasn't* Helen, then Daria's hearing must be starting to go as well. "Well, good morning, Daria!" "Um...what are you doing here?" "Well, when you came home last night and told me you needed new glasses, I got on the phone to Eric and arranged to take today off so I could go with you. We'll make a day of it!" "Last night? But I got in at..." She decided that was dangerous territory to get into. "...never mind." Then something registered. "You took the day off? The *whole* day? Why?" "Can't a mother show an interest in her eldest daughter's...?" Daria's skepticism must have shown on her face, judging from the way Helen stopped in her tracks. "Oh, all *right,* I thought it would be a good excuse for us to have a bit of a talk about last weekend." _Not an experience *I've* been looking forward to. And if you have, *you* need therapy more than I ever could._ "And if I refuse to go?" "You get your glasses on your own...with your own money." "Blackmail." "Incentive." Daria sighed. _I'm probably going to regret this. But what else is new?_ ACT 2: THE MEMORY REMAINS Jane opened the front door of Casa Lane and blinked sleepily at Lynn. "Huh?" she bleared. "Rehearsal." "Nuh-uh. Once they got to the basement, it was naptime for the Spiral." Lynn raised an eyebrow. "Slacking again, huh?" She brushed past Jane. After a moment, Jane shut the door and stood by it for another moment. She heard heavy boots thumping down the basement stairs, then a moment's silence...followed by the hum of an amp turned on extremely loud. She covered her ears. Good idea, as it turned out. The roof was nearly blown off the house by the sound of a guitar doing a "dive-bomb" effect, then hammering out Nirvana's "Breed." Just over it, she could hear the indignant, pained screams of four Mystik Spiral members. * * * Helen's SUV pulled up in the front of the RxPlex. "Glasses in an hour?" Daria muttered. "Well, if you refuse to wear your contacts for long periods..." "I told you, they burn my eyes!" Nonetheless, they went into HourGlasses (yes, another drebley name), where Daria browsed through the frame selection as her mother watched her hopefully. Finally, Helen decided to take a hand, picking up a pair of narrow wire-rims. "What about these ones?" Daria glared and kept looking for her goal. "Or these?" Translucent green oval frames. Glare. "Or what about these?" Cat's eye black frames. "Looks like something out of Grease." "Daria, what *are* you looking for?" "Frames like my old ones." Helen had never sounded more like her younger daughter than when she replied -- and Helen talking like Quinn is a sight for sore ears. "*Daria*...it's so like you not to take the opportunity to expand your horizons a little. I mean, wouldn't it be...wouldn't it be *fun* to try a new look?" "I don't like fun." Helen sighed. "Daria, if you could just stop being so narrow- minded about this..." "My mind is as wide as a forty-acre field. That doesn't mean I'm going to change it." "Daria, we *all* need a change sometime..." Daria had been saving her next shot for a special occasion. She decided this qualified. "Like you did, eighteen years ago?" Helen went pure white. Daria kept looking. A saleslady approached -- her nametag identified her as BETH. "May I help you?" "I'm looking for frames that are something like these." She showed Beth her driver's license. Beth winced at the typically embarrassing picture, then studied it a bit. "I'm sorry, miss, but we haven't had frames like these in stock for nearly five years. It's amazing you got yours as recently as you did." "I didn't. I've been using the same frames for some time. But they got wrecked, so I need them replaced." "Well, perhaps you could try a different look!" "Look, that's not what I'm after. Could you just show me what you have in stock that's the closest you can get to my old frames?" Beth frowned, obviously thinking. "Well...I suppose there's always these ones..." She went to a dusty shelf toward the back of the shop, then came back to the front with her find. For a moment, when she saw the frames, Daria was shocked, but then it gave way to resignation. "You're just not done dumping on me yet, are you," she muttered in God's general direction. * * * Jane sat on the basement steps, smirking quietly to herself. In the background, she heard voices. "Look," Lynn insisted for the Nth time, "even if I *did* want to change my stage outfit -- and let me make it clear right now that I don't -- I would not wear *that.* The only person I can think of wearing that is a _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ cast member." "Aw, come *on!*" Max pleaded. "It'd look *really* hot!" "Trent, did they ever try to do this to *you?*" "Um...no. But I wouldn't look good in a corset and short skirt." Jane smirked harder as she heard Lynn sigh. * * * Cranberry Commons was practically across the street from the RxPlex, so while the glasses were being ground, Daria and Helen went over to its food court. That's how they came to be sitting across from each other in a booth, playing with their food, not talking for awhile. At length, Helen decided to break the silence. "I think those new frames will look *great* on you, sweetie! I mean, the slightly smaller lenses bring out your face more!" "Shame. I was hoping for something more like the mask of Zorro look." "But Daria, if people can see more of your face, they might be more...receptive to you! I mean, hiding behind those glasses of yours means no one knows what you're thinking!" "And that's a bad thing why?" "Daria..." She sighed. "Never mind, Daria. I was only trying to compliment you..." "For making a choice I was forced into by the whims of the fashion industry. I don't need you to make me feel better." "No, I suppose you don't. You don't need me for *anything,* do you." "Excuse me?" _I didn't think I was *that* self-sufficient._ Helen seemed genuinely sad. "I guess I'll have to admit to being a bit frightened of you over the years. I mean, you're so much not... not like what anyone would expect from a child of mine and Jake's." "You mean not like Quinn." "I guess that's one way to put it. And I guess I tried to force you into that mold. I just wanted to make sure you belonged...but that isn't your way, and maybe I should have respected that a little more -- encouraged you in what you wanted instead of trying to make you fit into my idea of a daughter. I've probably disappointed you quite a lot. And it probably doesn't help but...I'm sorry." Daria looked at her mother, with no expression. And she found herself remembering a number of things. They all illustrated what she'd said to Jane as the prodigal Lanes scattered to the four winds again and Trent and Jane prepared to head home, about "I guess no matter what type of parents you have, they will inevitably end up driving you crazy." [She remembered the height of the "family togetherness nightmare" as Jane had called it, when Amanda Lane had shown up on the doorstep of Morgendorffer Home Base. "Why, Amanda!" Helen had said. "I guess you've come to claim your children." "Are they here?" Amanda, it turned out, had been looking for a way to get her house back from the simultaneous return of her husband, their three elder sproggen, and the grandchildren. And she'd known to go to Helen for help.] [Daria remembered walking back from Pizza King after the post- withdrawal spree, and Lynn commenting on Kate Cullen's parenting style, which made Helen look involved. "Well, once Mom thinks I'm adequately settled into what she laughingly calls home and what I refer to as convenient daughter storage space, you won't see her for dust."] [She remembered A.P. bringing her home to meet his parents. Carol McIntyre's Valium kept her so vague and detached, she made Amanda look like Helen on the personality front. "Ah, you're the girlfriend he keeps talking about. Nice to meet you at last. Would you like to stay for dinner? It's stew, so there's plenty." "Mom," A.P. had reminded his maternal unit, "I told you about this day before yesterday -- staying for dinner is the main reason Daria's here."] [She remembered her brief, doomed fight against the Iron Maiden's attempt to smuggle cheerleading practice into gym class. Jane had been somewhat impressed. "So Helen actually supported you on this gym class thing?" "Her vestigial sense of right and wrong was acting up again. What does your mother think about it?" "I don't know. When she gets back from the painted desert, I'll ask her if she had a vision."] [And finally, she remembered that creative writing assignment when her mother had turned out to know so much about her after all. "Daria, the easiest thing in the world for you is being honest about what you observe. What's hard for you is being honest about your wishes. About the way you think things should be, not the way they are. You gloss over it with a cynical joke and nobody finds out what you really believe in....If you really want to be honest, be truthful about what you'd *like* to happen. There's a challenge."] Daria kept this interior monologue to herself. All any outside observer would have seen was that her deadpan expression went slightly thoughtful...then turned into one of those Mona Lisa smiles. "Well... maybe you weren't as bad as all *that.*" Helen looked up at her changeling daughter, stunned. "In fact...sometimes...you're a pretty damn good mom, all things considered." Helen could hardly believe her ears. "You...never said *anything* like that to me before. You...you really *mean* that?" Daria nodded...and Helen burst into tears. "Mom? Come on, Mom, not in public. Mom, people are looking at us really strangely. Mom? I was being *nice,* dammit..." With a sigh, she patted Helen on the back. "There, there. It's...okay." * * * Later -- not enough later for her liking, but this isn't even an ideal Universe, let alone a perfect world -- Daria stood at Casa Lane's front door. Very faintly, from the basement, she could hear Mystik Spiral doing their version of Pearl Jam's "Rear View Mirror." Her hand reached out and rang the doorbell. A moment later, Jane opened the door and poked her head around. "So how went the -- what the *hell?*" Daria knew what her friend must think of the new glasses, because it was about what she was thinking herself. The "closest thing" they'd had to her old frames were frames almost exactly like Lynn's -- just rounder and consequently slightly larger, and in gunmetal grey instead of silver. "Hell. An accurate description." * * * Up in Jane's room, Jane was sitting on a chair looking at Daria, who in turn was lying on the bed in her "something eating at my soul" pose. "Okay; to make a long story short, you reduced your mother to tears of joy and removed yet one more difference between you and your evil twin, all in one day. That's quite an achievement." "It could be worse. I keep telling myself it could be worse." As if on cue, Lynn entered the room. "Hey, Daria. How did the glasses shopping...?" Daria sat up. The matching glasses actually seemed to lessen the difference in their facial shapes. There was a pause as they stared at each other for a long moment. Daria decided to break the silence before it got uncomfortable beyond measure. "Um...surprise?" "That's one way of putting it. So now what?" "I kind of thought we'd go on with our lives..." "Yes...Go on with our lives. But without even taking advantage of this situation while we can?" Jane raised an eyebrow. Daria and Lynn looked at each other with nearly identical _ah, what the hell_ expressions. * * * The next morning, the students watched Tim O'Neill rush into his English class. "Um...I'm terribly sorry for keeping you waiting. I..." Then he got his first good look at the class. Then he looked for his roll book -- missing. Then back at the classroom. Then he backed slowly toward the door, eyes wide. He stepped out the door slowly -- it shut quietly. Then everyone heard a sob and footsteps running like hell. This reaction had been occasioned by Daria and Lynn, who were both wearing left-side parts in their hair. Neither was wearing her jacket; instead, they both wore black T-shirts and blue jeans. A.P. reached into his lap and pulled out the roll book with a mischievous grin. "That was almost satisfying," Daria observed. "Maybe a bit too easy," Lynn countered. "Fish. Barrel. Smoking gun." "So this is now a study hall?" A.P. checked. The two girls each raised an eyebrow at him, and he grinned one of his most devious grins. ACT 3: EYE Daria, Jane and Lynn were walking home on the streets of Lawndale. The look-alikes were still in their matching outfits. "So what's the final score?" Jane asked. "Well, we're not a hundred percent sure," Daria confessed. "Remember, we don't have all of our classes together." "But the Penny Puncher did have slight problems..." Lynn allowed as, "especially when we switched seats the third time." "And I don't think Ms. Morris is ever going to ask me to spike a volleyball again." Jane winced, remembering. "No. I doubt it. Did you hear anything about Nicole?" Lynn reassured her. "I pulled it -- I only bloodied her nose. She won't be joining that Brooke girl in the nasal relapse ward anytime soon." A moment of silence. "You're not...going to keep this up, are you?" Daria and Lynn, in that eerie unison they achieve sometimes, replied, "Keep what up?" Jane shuddered. "No, that's just plain scary." Daria and Lynn turned around and gave her a matched set of slightly evil smirks. "*What's* scary?" "Guys, that's creepy. Can you stop the unison now?" "We're not doing it on purpose." "Um...I'm going for a run. One of you call me when you've regained what little sanity you had to begin with." And she jogged off. Daria and Lynn looked at each other with no expression. "That was cruel," Daria admitted. "We should be ashamed of ourselves," added Lynn. A second's pause...and they both smirked. "I think we've milked this for everything it's worth." "Hmm. Wonder if anything else'll change because of this." "I really don't think anyone's going to notice my new frames... well, apart from for the obvious reasons." "If you say so. Look, I'd better get home. Mom's expecting me to have a brief meal with her before she hits the lonesome trail again." "Where's she going now?" "I'm pretty sure she told me...but I don't recall. I sometimes wonder if she just throws a dart at a map of the world. I guess I'll know the day she tells me she's doing PR work in the Bering Strait." With that, Lynn walked off. Daria raised an eyebrow. * * * At the Morgendorffer dinner table, Helen was beaming at Daria. Jake was hidden behind the _Sun-Herald_ as usual. Quinn was looking at her sister closely. "You know," said Narcissa, "those glasses look really good on you. They're not so...blocky. You know, if you wore clothes that accentuated your figure as well as those glasses accentuate your face, maybe you could get yourself a better boyfriend than that...that *thing* you're seeing." Jake emerged from his paper. "I don't know, Quinn. I like that young man...Andy, right?" Daria was ever so slightly impressed that her mother's husband had remembered A.P.'s name, even if he didn't know that Andrew Philip McIntyre much preferred to be addressed his initials. "Close enough." "And at least *he's* not in some sort of a cult!" As one voice, Daria and Quinn replied, "Ted's *not* in a *cult,* Dad!" In vain, they suspected -- after Jake and Helen's first encounter with his parents, Ted DeWitt-Clinton would probably always be "Brother Ted" to Jake. "Yeah, yeah, try to put one over on ol' Jake. *Never* tell little *Jakey* the truth -- he's too *sensitive* to be able to *handle it! Dammit,*" his voice rose to a roar, "*why didn't he trust me? Why didn't he treat me like a man?* "Jake," Helen pleaded with him, "please calm down!" "Remember your blood pressure!" Quinn piped up. "Honestly, Dad, we're all telling you the truth." Daria managed not to look at Helen when she said this. Helen, at least, had the good grace to blush a little. Jake had one of his mood swings. "Oh, are those new glasses? You look *great,* Kiddo!" He turned thoughtful. "Though you look kind of familiar..." He got it. "That girl! That little friend of yours!" Daria rolled her eyes. After making Jake faint the first time he clapped eyes on her (with a cry of "Oh my God, we *did* have twins"), Lynn tended to avoid Morgendorffer Home Base, and in fact, to the best of Daria's recollection, her look-alike had yet to encounter Helen. "Now that you're wearing glasses that don't hide your eyes quite so much," Quinn yammered on, "maybe you'll *listen* to me about eye makeup! And really, Daria, dark grey with that outfit? That's...just *wrong!*" _If any deities are listening,_ Daria thought, _could you strike me deaf?_ * * * The next day in the Lawndale High cafeteria, Jane, Lynn and A.P. were just sitting down, looking dubiously at something reddish on their trays -- allegedly chili, but who trusts a cafeteria lady? -- when they heard Daria approaching. I say they "heard her approaching" because she was calling behind her, "For the last time, I do *not* want makeup tips for the visually challenged!" She settled onto the bench next to A.P. with a sigh. "God, don't Quinn and her now much-expanded entourage *ever* give up?" "Not even in death, Daria," Jane informed her. "They're hyenas," added Lynn. "What," A.P. boggled, "they laugh a lot?" Lynn sighed. "Yes, but that's not what I'm getting at. Obviously biology is the once science you don't do." "Hey, I'm fine with animals! I'd just rather cut 'em open to see how they work than name 'em!" "Hyenas are scavengers...but they'll hunt if they sense weakness." Jane further elaborated. "They see your switch to lightweight frames as the start of something...fashionable." "The first step to no glasses at all. After all, they've seen you in contacts." "Yeah..." Daria shrugged, "well...I'm going to have to get it through to them somehow that this was not a matter of choice." She thought about that a moment. "I don't think I'm hungry anymore." With that, she got up and left. Jane, Lynn and A.P. looked after her. Jane looked at Lynn...and then at A.P...and one could nearly *see* the light bulb manifesting above her head. "A.P...you have the tools to work with plastics, right?" "Yeah..." A.P. suspiciously confirmed. "We're going to your house after school. I have an idea." * * * In her room, Jane looked at an old picture and made a very careful, very detailed sketch from it. In an upstairs corridor of McIntyre Central, wisps of smoke were curling under and around one of the doors. Fred McIntyre appeared with a cordless phone in his hand and hammered on the door. A.P. opened the door a crack, allowing more smoke to billow out, and blinked at him through fogging safety goggles. Fred held out the phone. A.P. looked at it, then looked at his father, then shrugged and shut the door again. In her padded room, Daria hung up the phone, a bit hurt and confused. In her own dark and mysterious room, Lynn went through a folder. At length she pulled out a smaller envelope, shrugged, and put it in her pocket. Jane, Lynn and A.P. were in the gang's booth at Pizza King, chatting quietly. On the table between them was a small box. When they saw Daria approaching, Jane swiftly grabbed the box and hid it under the table. Daria looked at all three of them suspiciously. They all gave her overly innocent looks back. Lynn's Merc pulled into a parking space in front of the RxPlex, and the Purple Peril stepped out, bearing the box and the envelope. * * * Daria walked down the school hall...and stopped dead in her tracks. Tied to her locker were one purple balloon, one red balloon and one blue balloon, along with a banner reading HAPPY CRAPPY RE-BIRTHDAY. She frowned and moved to her locker. When she opened it, she saw a small box on the bottom shelf with a note attached. "`Eyesight to the blind," she read aloud. "`And we're not just talking about you. From the Flack- Jacket Mafia.'" She picked up the box and opened it. Nestled in cotton was an exact replica of her old glasses. Underneath the frames was one of those glasses cords you see librarians wearing sometimes. She heard a familiar male voice from behind her. "So...you like 'em?" She turned around and saw the sheepish looks on the faces of her fellow Jacketeers. "Is this why you've been avoiding me?" "There was a lot of stuff to do," Lynn confessed. "Jane did all the design work," Jane smirked, "A.P. did the actual construction of the frames," he bowed, "and all I did was provide the prescription and the hard-earned." "And we melted down your old frames and used them to make the new ones," Jane added. "We thought it would be fitting." Daria thought she got it, but there were still some things in need of clarification. "And `Eyesight to the blind...and we're not just talking about you'?" "Ask her." A.P. gestured to Lynn. "Went so far over my head I couldn't even see it." "There were none so blind," the Peril explained, "as those in school who would not see that you weren't changing to suit their ideas of fashion. So those will help them see you aren't conforming as well as helping you...well, just see." "And the librarian cords?" Daria now wondered. Jane grinned mischievously. "Well, you *do* plan on watching Mystik Spiral play again, don't you?" Daria raised an eyebrow. * * * Daria came into the kitchen and sat down. Jake was behind the paper. Helen was leafing through papers. Quinn, leafing through _Waif_, looked up and rolled her eyes. "Oh, *Daria!* You got those ugly old glasses *back!* And you were doing so *well!*" Jake looked up. "Oh, hi there, Kiddo!" Helen looked up at Daria, raised an eyebrow, then shrugged with a small smile. "Where'd you get those? I thought they were defunct." "Mom, *please,*" Quinn pouted, "even I know that `funk' used to mean a cool thing, and those glasses are *not* a cool thing." Daria and Helen's eyes met, and they smirked a little. "It's amazing what you find if you look," Daria shrugged. "Perhaps I can find *you* a clue, Quinn." Quinn scowled. * * * In Jane's room, as Metallica's "The Memory Remains" played, Jane was painting Daria and Lynn as Siamese twins -- both looked disgruntled. The real Daria was sitting at the foot of the bed, reading _Brave New World_. The real Lynn was jotting down notes. "Sounds like you've got Helen horsewhipped," Jane observed. "I like to think of it more as obedience training," Daria shot back. "Do a bad thing and spend a considerable amount of time fawning at my feet." "So you've forgiven her," Lynn suggested. "Mmm...no. Not exactly." "Phew. For a moment there I thought you had gone soft." "So what was the outcome on the Mystik Spiral debate on your stage outfit?" "Undecided," Jane reported. "But Max's last suggestion earned him a black eye." "Just don't ask." Lynn looked at the TV. "Oops. Show's back on." She grabbed the remote and muted the music, then turned the TV volume up. The familiar theme music played...and the screen showed Daria and Lynn, in their identical outfits, smirking at each other. The announcer was talking in his usual over-enthusiastic tone. "Forget Dolly -- these carbon copies are anything *but* sheepish! Send in the clones, when _Sick, Sad World_ returns!" Daria and Lynn looked at each other in something like horror. Jane burst out laughing. In unison, the look-alikes agreed, "Oh, hell." ADAPTOR'S NOTES Has McGrundy's ever actually appeared on the show? The Monkeybagel document(s) cannot be described or explained without spoiling the full experience. Only http://www.monkeybagel.com can make itself clear. It's like Louis Armstrong said about jazz: if you have to ask, you'll never understand. "Drebley" is defined in the notes to my adaptation of "Trick or Trent" (blatant plug). Obligatory legal blap: Daria Morgendorffer was created (as were the rest of the Lawndale characters) by Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis Lynn, and she and her neighbors are copyright 1993, 1997, 2000 MTV Networks, a Viacom company. (As Michelle Klein-Haess has pointed out, work-for-hire sucks the yolks from ostrich eggs.) Monty Python quotes and characters are copright 1970, 2000 Python (Monty) Pictures Ltd. They are here used, without the permission of their creators or owners, in the not-for-profit context of fan-fiction. The characters of Lynn Cullen and A.P. McIntyre are copyright 1999, 2000 Janet "Canadibrit" Neilson, as is this storyline, which was adapted by Austin Loomis (to whom the prose format version is copyright 2000) with permission. All other characters, locations and incidents (of which I don't think there are any, actually) are either imaginary or used fictitiously. Any coincidence of names is regretted, and any resemblance to persons living, dead, undead, or wandering the night in ghostly torment is either purely satirical or not my fault. As a "substantially transformative" derivative work, this story is protected by the Supreme Court's decision in re Campbell v. Acuff Rose Music. It may be freely redistributed as long as this copyright notice is maintained intact, but may not be in any way redistributed for profit without the permission of the legal owners of all concepts involved. The present author hereby gives permission for any and all keepers of Daria fanfic pages to archive this work (as if I could stop them). Any publication of this story for profit without the express written permission of Austin Loomis, Janet Neilson and MTV Networks (like any of that'll happen, especially the last) is strictly prohibited, and violators, if I ever decide to track them down, will be strung up by the thumbs, beaten about the head and shoulders with a free-range carrot, and then handed over to corporate lawyers who will do terrible things to them. On purpose. Austin, and good day.