Get ready, you're goin' to a funeral, Daria-style. Hope y'all enjoy it.

Have fun watching the new episodes, I know I will!

Summary: Daria bugs the hell out of Quinn at their great aunt's funeral,
and afterward.

First off, let me say that I love the TV show just the way it is, and
have tried to be as true as possible to it here, keeping the general
style and plotline in the direction the show's writers seem to have
their minds set on. You won't find the start of any outrageous story
arcs, new major characters or departures in style from the "Daria" we
all know and love. Please let me know how close I got. (And if you're
from MTV, I should mention I'd love to do this for a living. C'MONNNN,
I wrote a WHOLE FRIGGIN' *SEASON* here, what more do you people WANT?!?!?)

Well, here we are at last. Fanfic #13. By my count, that's a whole season.

I thought I'd quiet things down a bit after two really intense back-to-back
scripts ("No Picnic" and "Driven Wild"), to focus instead on the very basic
concept of how Daria fits into her family (if at all). A couple of
previously unseen characters this time, and I hope I got 'em right. Guess
we might just see soon enough. One more character of my own invention.

Despite the setting, I tried desperately not to end this one on a thoroughly
depressing note... though it is a little morbid. If you liked Daria's
twisted campfire story in "Teachings of Don Jake" you'll enjoy this one.

I'll make one promise up front. This script will most certainly *not* end
with the words "To Be Continued". I swear.

About the choice of music in this one: I thought I'd use the setting to
play something a little quieter, some classical and the kind of ambient
new-agey stuff I normally listen to when I'm not doing fanfics.

(...la la LA la la...)

Daria in "Alienation Legacy"

Written by
C.E. Forman (ceforman@worldnet.att.net)

BEGIN ACT 1.

(Black screen, with the words "Thirty Years Ago..." in white Daria-script
lettering. Pause, then:)

DISSOLVE TO:

INT.: AN EXTRAVAGANT, SPACIOUS LIVING ROOM.

(Sound of doorbell, and a girl in her late teens, with long brown hair,
rushes in from another room. She's dressed in full hippie getup -- a
flower-patterned blouse with vest, long pants in psychedelic colors,
peace-sign necklace, flowers in her hair, the works. Slung over her
shoulder is a single backpack.)

HIPPIE GIRL: (To a large chair, its back to the camera.) God, you could at
least get the door!

VOICE FROM CHAIR: (Female, young.) Why? It's never for me.

HIPPIE GIRL: (Shakes her head, sarcastic.) God, you are such a trip.

(Slow pan downward from the top of the chair, to show another girl, clearly
several years younger, with her face buried in "Ethan Frome".)

VOICE: This from the walking abstract art.

(The girl ignores this remark, gets the door. It's a group of her friends,
dressed similarly, two guys, one girl. From the van left revving out front,
we hear:)

(MUSIC: "Aquarius", Fifth Dimension.)

ONE GUY: (Kisses her, obviously a boyfriend. He looks oddly familiar, too.)
Ready? (Notices the girl in the chair.) Hey, this your kid sister?

(The hippie girl doesn't answer. She's clearly embarrassed of her younger
sibling.)

BOYFRIEND: (To girl in chair.) Whatcha readin' there, kiddo? (Lifts the
book out of her hands when she doesn't answer.)

VOICE FROM CHAIR: Hey!

BOYFRIEND: (Looks at book.) Hey, far out!

(One of the other girls leans over the side of the chair, extends a hand.)

OTHER GIRL: Hi. I'm Willow. Who are you?

VOICE FROM CHAIR: (Not thrilled to be making introductions.) Amy.

WILLOW: Amy?

AMY: (Voice from chair, drips with sarcasm.) Ooh, very good.

WILLOW: You sure don't talk much, do you?

(Amy doesn't answer this either. Another girl enters, goes up to the first.
This newcomer is perhaps a year, year and a half younger, blonde, and dressed
more conservatively in a sweater and bell-bottom jeans.)

BLONDE GIRL: (To the hippie girl, her sister.) Mom wants you upstairs, now.

HIPPIE GIRL: Tell Mom to get her ass down here and tell me herself.

MOTHER'S VOICE: (Other room.) I heard that, young lady!

AMY: (From chair, tugs on hippie boyfriend's sleeve.) Excuse me?

MOTHER: (Enters, a tall, matronly woman.) And just where do you think
*you're* off to?

HIPPIE GIRL: I told you, my friends and I are going on the road. Not that
it's any of *your* business.

MOTHER: Young lady, while you're living under this roof, *everything* you do
is my business, and you'll abide by our rules!

HIPPIE GIRL: (Angry.) I'm in college now, Mother, I'm not a child anymore!

MOTHER: Then stop acting like one!

BOYFRIEND: Whoaaa, mellow out there--

MOTHER: (Cuts him off.) *You* shut up! (Takes her first good look at him.)
And get a haircut, just *look* at you!

AMY: (Again, tugs on boyfriend's sleeve.) Excuse me...

BLONDE GIRL: (Amused, to boyfriend.) Are *you* my sister's new boyfriend?

HIPPIE GIRL: (Right back at her.) Oh, like you're one to talk, you're on
what, your third this month?!

AMY: (Stands, and we finally get a look at her. Shoulder-length dark hair,
wavy but otherwise unremarkable. Plain blouse and skirt... and large
glasses with round frames.) Excuse me, can I have my book back now?

HIPPIE GIRL: (To her boyfriend.) Dammit Jake, will you give her the stupid
book, and let's go!

JAKE: (Realizes he still has it.) Huh? Oh, right, sorry! (Hands it back.)

MOTHER: Now get out of my house, all of you!

JAKE: (Sudden mood swing, chants:) Hell no, we won't go! Hell n--

HIPPIE GIRL: Jake, shut *up*! (Pushes him and her other friends toward the
door.)

MOTHER: (Grabs her daughter by the arm.) Except you, young lady, you're
staying right here. And we're going to have a long talk when your
father gets home.

HIPPIE GIRL: I'm not gonna *be* here when Dad gets home!

(And she's out, ignoring all protests from Mom. The blonde girl looks smug,
Mom likes her better now. In the midst of all the commotion, Amy plunges
back into her book.)

MOTHER: (Off-screen, yells after the elder sister, as Amy reads.) I can't
*wait* 'til you have kids of your own someday!

CUT TO:

(Black screen, with the words "Present Day".)

DISSOLVE TO:

INTERVIEWER: (In blue power suit. To man seated in studio. Pretend-shock,
for dramatic effect.) ...And just like that, your pastor banned
the entire congregation from his parish, fire and brimstone,
the whole nine yards?!

ANNOUNCER: (Voice-over. SSW logo appears.) The excommunication revival:
An angry congregation speaks out! "Sick, Sad World" has the
whole story, right after this!

(TV-switched-off effect, and we're in--)

INT.: DARIA'S ROOM. AFTERNOON, SATURDAY.

(Jane is master of the remote. Daria's ceiling-watching.)

DARIA: So did you miss me?

JANE: You'd better believe it. I had to be alone and friendless all by
myself. So, you wanna do something?

DARIA: We are doing something.

JANE: Wanna log onto the sci-fi chatroom and pretend to be time travelers
again?

DARIA: Nah.

JANE: Prank-call Kevin and see if we can trick him into giving us his Dad's
credit card number?

DARIA: Nah.

JANE: Cut down Quinn in front of all her friends?

DARIA: (Beat.) Okay.

JANE: (Smiles.) You never tire of the classics, do you?

CUT TO:

INT.: LIVING ROOM.

(Quinn has the Fashion Club and the J's over. The girls occupy the couches,
forcing the guys to sit on the floor, but they don't mind. They're all
gathered at Quinn's feet.)

JAKE: (Passing through.) You kids help yourself to anything in the fridge,
okay? Think there's still some of my famous stir-fry left in there!

QUINN: (Looks half-ill at the mere mention.) Umm, we'll be fine, Dad.

TIFFANY: Do you have any rice cakes?

JOEY: Can I--

JEFFY: --get you anyth--

JAMIE: --ing, Quinn?

(Joey gives Jeffy a dirty look, and they both give one to Jamie.)

QUINN: Yeah, a soda sounds good. With ice. See if there's any of those
little cubes left, I don't like the big ones as much.

(The three J's trip and push each other in an effort to get Quinn's soda
first. Sandi and Tiffany look disgusted. Quinn starts, horrified, as she
hears Daria's voice behind her:)

DARIA: How many butlers does any one person need?

QUINN: (Turns, angry.) Get *out* of here!

(Daria sits down on the couch recently vacated by JJ&J. Jane stands on the
sidelines and smirks, Springer-style.)

DARIA: And how's Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth today?

SANDI: (To Daria.) What are you *doing* in Quinn's house?

DARIA: Excuse me? I live here.

QUINN: (Quickly, to avert suspicion.) No you don't.

DARIA: Is this some kind of orgy? Can we join in too?

QUINN: (Exasperated.) God, will you stop trying to pretend you *belong*
here? (Sees Sandi, decides she'd better drive this home.) You're
not even part of this family!

DARIA: (Shows a little anger.) Quinn, as much as it embarrasses you to
admit it, I happen to be your si--

QUINN: (Yells, cuts her off.) MO-OOOMMMMMM! Daria's bugging me againnn!

HELEN: (Bad timing for Daria, she's already coming down the stairs, in a
rush.) Daria, leave your sister and her friends alone!

DARIA: But--

HELEN: Come on. (Grabs her eldest daughter's arm, drags her upstairs. She
shoots a look Jane's way, and she follows.)

STACY: (Writing the whole scene down in her Fashion Club notebook.) How do
you spell "orgy"?

SANDI: (Picked up immediately.) Quinn? What did your Mother mean when she
said, "your *sister*"?

TIFFANY: Yeah. We all heard it.

QUINN: (OhmyGod!) Umm--

CUT TO:

INT.: UPSTAIRS HALLWAY.

HELEN: (Lecture.) Young lady, you either go outside or stay in your own
room, but don't bother Quinn and her friends! You caused enough
trouble the last two days, and I'm tired of this attitude!

DARIA: *My* attitude? What about Quinn's? (Eyes narrow.) And yours?

HELEN: (Flinches, just a mite, recovers.) Daria, I don't have time to get
into this right now, I just missed two days of work and I haven't
even *begun* to catch up yet! I'll have a talk with you later!

JANE: (Watches Helen going back downstairs.) Whoa. She's still mad, huh?

DARIA: So it would appear.

JANE: And you're not even going to tell me what you did?

DARIA: (Sighs.) It's a long story.

JANE: Well, seeing how our primary source of entertainment just got cut...

DARIA: (Sees her point.) All right, if I must...

FLASHBACK-DISSOLVE TO:

INT.: KITCHEN. EVENING, TUESDAY.

(Jake's standing on a chair by the wall, fiddling with the clock, humming a
pleasant little tune as he does so. Helen takes a package of frozen lasagna
out of the freezer, hugs Quinn, who's slipped in for a soda. The phone
rings, and Helen puts the lasagna on the counter, answers.)

HELEN: (All-sugar.) Hellooo? (Almost immediately, she sours.) Rita.
What is it?

(Up on the chair, Jake gets an "uh-oh" face. Quinn realizes it's not for
her, heads out as Daria enters.)

HELEN: (On phone.) ...Oh my... (Pause.) And you've gone and made all the
arrangements yourself, I presume? (Beat.) When, and where?

(Daria peers over Helen's shoulder, sees her mother drawing a caricature of
Aunt Rita with big knives stuck in her.)

HELEN: Well, I'd love to, Rita, but I'm on three big cases right now and
with such short notice I really can't spare-- (Suddenly alarmed.)
She *is*? (Beat.) Well yes, of *course* she's her sister but I'd
just assumed...

(Clattering sounds. Both Helen and Daria turn to see pieces of the clock
all over the floor. Jake gets a dirty look from Helen.)

HELEN: (Cont'd.) Rita, don't you say a damn *word* to her! We'll be there!
(Beat.) Yes! Good-*bye*! (She slams it back on the hook, then turns
to her husband.) Jake, what are you *doing*?!

JAKE: (Mutters as he tries to put it back together.) The stupid hands fell
off again... [*]

[*] Thanks to Mike Quinn, whose "Delayed Reactions" provided the inspiration!

DARIA: (This doesn't bode well.) Still picking fights with Aunt Rita?

QUINN: (Enters with a now-empty soda can, notices the sharp change in moods
since she was here last.) Jeez, what happened? Did someone *die* or
something?

HELEN: Yes. (More annoyed than really upset.) Your great aunt Eleanor.

(Quinn looks shocked, she was joking.)

HELEN: The funeral's in Leeville. Visitation Thursday night, cremation
Friday morning.

JAKE: She's being cremated?

DARIA: (Deadpan.) Don't forget the marshmallows.

(This gets a chuckle out of Jake, but Helen doesn't think it's funny, and
her glare makes certain both her husband and eldest daughter know this.)

DARIA: Too bad we've got school those days. (Maybe too obvious:) And don't
forget those big cases of yours, Mom. Work before family, right?

HELEN: (No-question tone.) We're going, Daria. Rita's already made it
clear she'll be there, and I'll be *damned* if I let her upstage me
in front of Mother!

JAKE: (Now he *really* looks scared.) Your mother??

QUINN: (Raised eyebrows.) Grandma Barksdale's coming?

DARIA: Are they fumigating the mansion or something?

HELEN: (Still on her own spiel, trying to justify it.) ...besides, the firm
does offer bereavement time as a benefit, so I might as well use it...

QUINN: (Hopeful.) Can I get a new outfit for this?

(Still on the chair, Jake drops the screwdriver again, this time on his
foot. He yelps, clutches it, and ends up tipping the chair over, landing
on the floor.)

JAKE: (Screams.) *AHHH*, HELENNN! MY *BACK*!!

HELEN: (Thinks he's trying to weasel out of it, turns her eyes up.)
Nice try, Jake.

FLASH-FORWARD TO:

EXT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE, SIDEWALK. SATURDAY.

(MUSIC: "Duende", Delerium.)

JANE: So wait, so you didn't *want* to go? I'd think you of all people
would relish the chance to see the dead body of another family member.

DARIA: Aunt Ellie's not the one I would've chosen. I'd much rather see
"cousin Quinn" on full display.

JANE: (Doesn't miss the bite in her tone.) It really bugs you when she
calls you that, doesn't it?

DARIA: What bothers me is that she's so shallow she's convinced *my*
appearance has an adverse effect on *her*. And with those
superficial, petty airheads she chooses as her friends, it
probably does.

JANE: So getting back to the story, what's so bad about Grandma Barksdale?

(As they walk off the edge of the screen, zoom in on the living room window.
Quinn's watching nervously to make sure they're really leaving.)

QUINN: (Still mid-explanation to Sandi.) ...so, you see, it's really more
of a stupid *nickname* than anything else. My mom just thinks it's
cute to call her that, plus I think it makes her feel better since
she doesn't have any real family of her own. (Hopeful.) See?

SANDI: (Defensive, hint of snideness.) God, Quinn, I was just *asking*.
I didn't want your cousin's whole life story, or whatever. (But she
sees she's onto something, gets that crafty smile.)

QUINN: Well sometimes she just makes me so *mad*, I just can't stand it!
(Little foot-stamp on the word "mad".)

SANDI: (Points.) You know, Quinn, when you get all mad and stuff, you get
these *creases* in your forehead.

TIFFANY: (Agrees.) Yeah. They look really *bad*.

(Cut to JJ&J, listening in from the kitchen.)

JOEY: Quinn's really strong, putting up with Daria like she does.

JAMIE: *I* think she's cute even when she's mad.

JEFFY: Shut up, Jamie!

(Back to the Fashion Club.)

SANDI: (Amused.) What do you care what a weirdo like her does, anyway?

QUINN: (Incensed.) I don't! But you don't hafta live with her every day of
your life! She didn't humiliate *you* in front of everyone!

STACY: (Sympathy for Quinn.) OhmyGod, what did she *do*?

FLASHBACK TO:

EXT.: FUNERAL HOME, LEEVILLE. EVENING, THURSDAY.

(A two-story Victorian-style home with parking all around. The
Morgendorffers get out of the car, one by one. Jake looks nice in a dark
suit. Helen's in a version of her jacket/skirt combo, black but otherwise
identical to her red one. Quinn, for once, wears an appropriate-length
skirt and doesn't show any midriff.)

QUINN: (Admires her clothes.) I've gotta hand it to you, Daria, you really
know how to pick a good funeral outfit.

(Freeze the action onscreen.)

STACY'S VOICE: (Voice-over, from present.) Does "humiliated" have one "L",
or two?

QUINN: (VO, from present.) Two, I think.

SANDI: (VO, from present, snotty.) Too bad your "sister", I mean *cousin*,
is gone. We could ask *her*.

QUINN: Look, you guys wanted to hear this, can I just get *on* with it?!

SANDI: By all means, Quinn.

(Resume action onscreen.)

QUINN: (In flashback.) I like yours, too. It really says, "I'm miserable."

DARIA: This is what I always wear, Quinn. (Zoom out to show she's still in
the green jacket/black skirt. Except, we notice, she also has on the
little diamond-shaped pendant she wore on her previous show.)

QUINN: Whatever. For once you actually look normal. (Beat.) Now just don't
do or say anything to embarrass me. God, I hope this isn't totally
depressing.

DARIA: Why don't you ask the funeral director for a job prepping corpses?
It'd be like doing makeovers.

QUINN: (Suspicious, but can't tell for sure.) Are you making fun of me?

DARIA: Constantly.

HELEN: (Warning.) Behave yourselves, girls.

CUT TO:

INT.: FUNERAL HOME, FOYER.

(MUSIC: "Longing", Haymo Doerk. [E-mail me if you've heard of this guy!])

(Rita and an tall, elderly matron of a woman, extravagantly dressed, greet
the arriving Morgendorffers.)

RITA: Helen, you made it! (She gives Jake the cold shoulder, as before.)

HELEN: (Hint of hostility, but she is trying to hide it.) Of course I did,
Rita, I told you on the phone we would.

JAKE: So Rita, how's Paul? (Looks around.) Is he here?

(Rita's face crumples, she bursts into tears. Apparently she and Paul broke
up recently, and she's far from over it.)

JAKE: Aww, damn... (Cringes, turning contritely to Helen for his berating.)

(But Helen ignores him, instead putting on a scheming look, like she's now
got something to use against her sister. The matronly woman comforts Rita
momentarily, then sends her off with a backward glance.)

WOMAN: Poor Rita. She must be taking Ellie's death very hard. (Sweeping
gesture, encompasses the home. Proud.) She organized this entire
affair herself, you know.

HELEN: (Shortly.) Yes, Mother, she made certain to mention that.

(Seeing where this is going, Jake slinks away, not wanting to get entangled.
Daria puts on an "oh, God" face.)

GRANDMA BARKSDALE: I paid for the casket, of course. (Notices her daughter's
tone.) Now don't you be jealous, Helen. We would have
asked you to help, but I know your little law career takes
up so much of your time...

HELEN: ("*Little* law career"?!) I'll have you know I put aside possibly
three of the most important cases of my career to be with--

GRANDMA B: (Doesn't hear, she's noticed the girls.) Ohh, Quinn looks
absolutely *lovely*!

QUINN: (Perky as ever.) Hi, Grandma!

GRANDMA B: (Wraps her arms around her, gives a squirming Quinn a wet, sloppy
kiss on the cheek.) A little princess, just like Rita at her age!

(Helen slow-burns, her mother still thinks of Rita as "the pretty one".)

QUINN: (As soon as her arms are free, produces compact, looks in the little
mirror.) Ewww, she smeared my makeup!

HELEN: (Whispers, intently.) *Shhh*, Quinn!

GRANDMA B: And little Daria! (Does the cheek-pinching thing, making Daria
cringe.) Just *look* how grown-up you are now!

DARIA: (Sardonic.) You don't know the half of it.

GRANDMA B: So sophisticated with those glasses, that dour expression...
Is that the necklace I gave you?

DARIA: (Lifts pendant.) Actually, this is a cyanide pill.

HELEN: (Whispers.) *Daria*!

GRANDMA B: (Hands on her granddaughter's shoulders.) Why, you're just the
splitting image of Eleanor!

DARIA: What, is she sixteen too?

GRANDMA B: SixTEEN! Has it been that long? My goodness, Helen, I'd think
the least you could do is bring my granddaughters to visit me
more often, don't you think?

HELEN: (Anxious to get away.) Excuse me, Mother...

DARIA: (Also anxious to get away.) Excuse *me*...

(She squeezes past them and stops, seeing someone else she recognizes even
with his back partway turned.)

DARIA: Lerman?

LERMAN: (Turns. Absolute monotone.) Oh, wow. Someone actually remembered.
(Beat.) You're Daria, right?

DARIA: (Surprised he remembers too.) Yeah.

LERMAN: (Absolute monotone, sardonic.) Wow. It *must* be love.

(...la la LA la la...)

(COMMERCIAL LEAD-IN: Split-screen, young Amy and young Daria on the couch
with their aunts.)

END ACT 1.

(COMMERCIAL: I first heard of the ad for the "Daria" season premiere today,
as I write this. So I thought I'd watch a little MTV and see if I could
catch it. Obviously MTV does not consider the promotion of "Daria" a top
priority. Keeping in mind that I was actually paying *attention* to the
commercials, here's what all I had to sit through before I finally saw it:
CastleVania, Doritos, "Blast from the Past" movie, 7Up and the Soft Drink
Syndicate, Wendy's Monterey Ranch Chicken Sandwich, "She's All That",
WinterFresh Gum from Wrigley's, CastleVania *again*, "Message in a Bottle",
plug for "Fanatic", *CastleVania*!!!, Doritos, Wendy's Monterey Ranch
Chicken Sandwich, Aussie hair-care products, Clairol, "She's All That",
a plug from my local cable service but the sound was so bad I couldn't
even understand it, a local car dealership, plug for "The Blame Game",
CastleVania GOD DAMMIT I AM SO *SICK* OF THAT FUCKING THING, Wendy's
Monterey Ranch Chicken Sandwich, the Nike Alpha Project, WinterFresh Gum
from Wrigley's, the movie "Jawbreaker", some new Volkswagen, the Navy,
CastleVania, and *THEN* they finally showed it!)

(Now if you'll excuse me, I feel like getting a Monterey Ranch Chicken
Sandwich from Wendy's, and maybe some Doritos to go with it, and then,
I can't explain it, I just have this uncontrollable urge to buy an N64
so I can play CastleVania.)

BEGIN ACT 2.

RETURN TO:

EXT.: FRONT DRIVEWAY TO A LARGE, STATELY MANOR.

(MUSIC: Hendrix, "Purple Haze".)

CUT TO:

INT.: SPACIOUS LIVING ROOM, FROM ACT 1.

(Amy is lying on the couch on her side, looking moody. Rita paces about, on
the verge of a fit.)

RITA: (Freaking.) Mom, come *onnn*! Amy'll be *fine*! Rusty's probably
wondering where I *am*!

MOM BARKSDALE: (Calls from next room.) Be patient, sweetie, Aunt Eleanor
will be here soon, then we'll get left.

AMY: What's the hurry, you'll probably break up with him before the night's
over.

RITA: Shut up!

(Doorbell. Rita grabs it almost immediately.)

RITA: Mommmm, she's here! Can we go now?!

MOM BARKSDALE: (Emerges, hurries past Amy.) Eleanor, thanks for coming on
such short notice, I'll be back if I ever find where Helen
took off to. Amy, you be good for Aunt Eleanor.

(And they're out, leaving Amy. As Aunt Eleanor approaches, she pulls her
legs up to make room for her. The camera is at Amy's lying-down height, so
we don't get to see Eleanor's face.)

AMY: Hi, Aunt Ellie.

ELEANOR: Just Ellie.

(Dissolve to later in the evening, close-up of the TV, broadcasting a NASA
feed.)

TV: (Neil Armstrong's voice, crackly with static.) Houston, Tranquility
Base here. The eagle has landed.

AMY: (Deadpan.) Yay.

ELEANOR: (Deadpan.) I've never been more thrilled in my life.

(We sense the rapport between them.)

FLASH-FORWARD TO:

INT.: FUNERAL HOME. EVENING, THURSDAY.

(MUSIC: "Eternal Return", Constance Demby. The third movement, "Return".)

(Close-up of Amy's veiled face. She stands before the open casket, solemnly,
surrounded by flowers and subdued lighting. She doesn't cry or show any
strong emotion, but we can sense she's feeling a strong loss... though she
chooses to handle it her own way, rather than following the rest of the
family's lead. We don't actually get to see into the casket.)

HELEN: (Hugs Amy, who doesn't return it.) There you are, Amy. How are you
getting along?

AMY: (Dry.) I'm still breathing, Helen.

HELEN: (Shakes her head.) Oh, Amy... (Helen turns away, looks at the
casket.)

DARIA: (Pleased to be in the company of a relative she likes.) Hi, Amy.

AMY: (Turns, lifts the veil, the famous smirk. Nods toward the coffin.)
Here, I'll move her mouth, you do the voice.

GRANDMA B: (Shocked that Amy's making jokes at a time like this.) Amy!
That's *terrible*!

AMY: What? She doesn't care. She'd laugh if she still could.

DARIA: (To Helen.) She's not spinning in her casket, is she?

HELEN: Daria!

AMY: Hey, everybody says these things are more for the survivors, anyway.
So I say let's enjoy ourselves a little, right Daria?

DARIA: (Smiles.) You can't spell "funeral" without "fun".

QUINN: (Comes up, shielding her face.) Aunt Amy? Can I borrow your veil?
Grandma smudged my makeup, I just need it so I can get to the ladies'
room and touch it up without anyone seeing me like this.

(Amy removes the veil, hands it wordlessly to Quinn.)

QUINN: Thanks.

AMY: (Turns, to Daria.) Well. Nice to see her when she's sober.

CUT TO:

EXT.: PIZZA PLACE. SATURDAY. (PRESENT DAY.)

(MUSIC: "Connected", Stereo MCs.)

CUT TO:

INT.: PIZZA PLACE.

(The Fashion Club at their usual booth. The J's watch from a nearby table.)

STACY: (Looking at notes.) Okay, next order of Fashion Club business:
Last meeting Tiffany suggested taking up a petition to eliminate
mandatory showers after gym class because they wash off our mascara.
All in favor?

ALL F.C.: Aye. (Quinn glances nervously at the establishment's door.)

STACY: Opposed?

(None.)

STACY: (Writing.) So the proposal passes with an anonymous vote of four to
nothing.

QUINN: (In the Js' direction.) Umm, guys? Joey, Jeffy, Jamie? Do you
mind checking on our order? Make sure Tiffany's doesn't have any
crust this time.

TIFFANY: Yeah. Those big bubbles look really gross, like zits.

JOEY: No problem, Quinn!

JEFFY: Anything for you, Quinn!

JAMIE: (Last straw.) Dammit, Quinn, for the last time, my name is *Jamie*!

(The other two J's gasp. Jamie's just spoken harshly to Quinn.)

QUINN: (Indignant.) That's what I *said*!

JAMIE: (Realizes it, apologizes profusely.) Sorry, Quinn, force of habit,
it'll *never* happen again I *swear*, *please* forgive me! (Crawls
on his knees to her, begging.)

QUINN: Fine, what-*ever*, just *go*! (Points.)

JOEY: Nice going, *Jamie*! Now she's mad at us!

JEFFY: (Corrects.) She's mad at *you* guys.

(They're off. Again Quinn shoots a glance at the door.)

SANDI: (Notices.) What do you keep looking at, Quinn?

QUINN: Nothing! Just... would you guys mind if I hide under the table if
Daria and her weird friend show up?

SANDI: God, why are you like *obsessing* about your sister?

QUINN: (Snaps.) Well you would too, if she ruined your life like she did
mine! (Catches it.) And she's my *cousin*, Sandi!

SANDI: (Nods, little smile.) Of course.

FLASHBACK TO:

INT.: FUNERAL HOME. EVENING, THURSDAY.

(A trio of teenage girls stands in front of Great Aunt Eleanor's casket, all
crying. We recognize them as the three other bridesmaids from "I Don't".
[I've taken the liberty of making up names for them, since I can't very
well refer to them as "bridesmaids" here.])

SIMONE: (The one with shorter hair.) She's not even my side of the family,
but... oh, it's just so *sad*! (Sobs.)

DAPHNE: Don't feel bad, Simone, she's in a better place now. Right, Lucinda?

LUCINDA: (The one with dark, back-length hair.) She looks so peaceful.

LERMAN: (Standing with Daria.) Of course she does. She's been freed from
the earthly burden of listening to you.

(The three girls regard Lerman and Daria askance, then take a few steps
away.)

DARIA: (Admiration.) Nice one.

LERMAN: (Toneless, expressionless.) Thanks.

(Cut to Helen and Grandma Barksdale, greeting guests in the foyer.)

GRANDMA B: (Looking at Jake across the room, vaguely critical.) Looking at
him, Helen, it's hard to believe that's the same hippie boyfriend
you married all those years ago.

HELEN: (Irked, Grandma B's getting to her.) Yes, Mother, he has settled
down a lot in the 23 years we've been together. (Under her breath.)
You can give it a rest now...

GRANDMA B: Hmmph. Once a hippie, always a hippie, I say.

HELEN: For your information, *Mother*, Jake happens to be a good provider
and a good *father* to the girls! (Shoots a pointed look at Rita,
who's just returned, as she drives this last point home.)

RITA: Helen, please...

GRANDMA B: Now Helen, there's nothing wrong with admitting you made a mistake
and starting over.

(Jake starts to come over, then sees what's transpiring and thinks better
of it, takes a sudden interest in reading the little cards on the flower
arrangements.)

HELEN: (Bites back.) You mean like *Rita* does every six months? Is *that*
why she's the favorite?!

GRANDMA B: (On the defensive.) Oh, come now, you're not *still* on that
whole unfairness jag, are you?

RITA: Helen, *don't*! Leave her alone!

AMY: (Arrives, intercepts, amused expression.) My my my, what is it this
time, Rita? You and Helen still trying to tear each other down in
front of Mom?

GRANDMA B: Amy, why do you always have to *say* things like that?

AMY: (A little bitterness detectable.) Because they're true?

(Cut to close-up of Daria, sending distaste-filled eyes at Quinn, who's
busy spreading her popularity over Daphne, Lucinda and Simone. They're all
seated among the several rows of chairs set up for visitors. Lerman sits
next to Daria, staring vacantly.)

QUINN: --so Sandi Griffin pretty much asked me to be vice-president of the
Fashion Club right away. Sandi's like my best friend and probably
the prettiest girl in the whole school. The Fashion Club's in charge
of setting dress standards for popular peop--

(Freeze the action onscreen.)

SANDI: (VO, from present, highly doubtful.) You didn't *really* say that
about me, now did you, Quinn?

QUINN: (VO, from present, way too friendly.) Of *course* I did, Sandi!
I *always* say nice things about you guys!

SANDI: (VO from present, evil little purr.) Rrreally?

QUINN: (VO, insists.) *Yes*!

(Resume action onscreen.)

QUINN: (Back to flashback Quinn.) --le, it's a really big responsibility.

LUCINDA: (Points, Daria and Quinn.) So are you two sisters?

QUINN: (Quickly.) Oh, no, Daria's um, a foreign exchange student, she's
just staying with us for awhile.

SIMONE: Really? (To Daria.) Where are you from?

DARIA: Lawndale. It's in Antarctica.

DAPHNE: I really like your outfit, Daria. It's perfect for the occasion.

DARIA: Mm. Thanks.

QUINN: I helped her pick it out! That's the sort of thing I normally do.

SIMONE: (Turns, to Daria.) You sure don't talk very much, do you?

QUINN: (Anxious to keep it that way.) Um, Daria's the strong silent type.

LERMAN: (Monotone, doesn't even turn his head) Still water runs deep.

SIMONE: Huh?

DAPHNE: (Trying to open her up.) So Daria, what have you been up to, since
Brian and Erin's wedding?

DARIA: (Sighs, reverts to the old defense mechanisms.) Oh, mostly serving
back-to-back life sentences.

(Quinn just *cringes*, looks like she wants to slip away.)

LERMAN: (Plays along.) Show them your prison tattoo. (To other girls.)
It's really cool.

LUCINDA: (Shocked, believes her.) Oh my God. What were you in for?

DARIA: Six counts of first-degree murder.

DAPHNE: (Eyes wide.) Then what are you doing back out?

DARIA: (Utter bull.) My parents have a lot of influence, they sprung me
so I could make the funeral. But half the people here are undercover
officers, watching in case I try to escape.

LERMAN: (Points to Jake.) See that guy? He's in charge of the SWAT team
waiting out front.

QUINN: (Disgusted that they're buying into Daria's crap.) Oh for crying out
loud, that's my *Dad*!

SIMONE: (Impressed.) Wow, your Dad's a SWAT team commander?

(Quinn stands with a little "Ugh!" grunt of disgust, storms off.)

(Cut to Helen with Rita, Amy and Grandma Barksdale.)

GRANDMA B: I've got to hand it to you, the girls are very well-behaved.
(Remembering how Helen and Rita used to fight.) You two would've
been trying to claw each others' eyes out at something like this.

RITA: Oh, well, Erin's always minded her P's and Q's, so I guess I must've
done *something* right. (Significant look at Helen here.)

HELEN: (One-up mode.) Yes, Rita, but you never had the challenge or raising
two at once, and doing *that* right, I might add--

(Just then, Quinn comes stomping up.)

QUINN: MOMMM! Tell Daria to stop embarrassing me in front of everyone!
(Beat.) Hi, Grandma!

(Grandma Barksdale's reaction tells Helen that Rita wins this round. Amy
looks like "get me the hell out of here".)

(Cut to Daria, Lerman and the girls. Erin and her husband Brian are also
present now.)

DARIA: So, Brian, you still work for the government?

ERIN: (Whispers.) Shh, you're not supposed to talk about it!

DARIA: (Straight-faced, casual.) Have they told you what really happened
at Roswell?

BRIAN: (Smiles, shakes his head.) Nothing, Daria. I can assure you.

LERMAN: (Monotone.) Ooh, you *are* good.

HELEN: (Comes up, noticably angry, takes her daughter's arm.) Daria, we
need to talk. Now.

LERMAN: (To the girls, as Daria goes.) Uh-oh. Guess someone found all the
blood downstairs.

(Daphne, Lucinda and Simone, aghast, whisper amongst themselves.)

(Cut to a side hallway, out of earshot of the other guests. Helen scolds
Daria:)

HELEN: (Hisses -- would yell but somebody'd overhear.) Daria, what has
gotten *into* you?!

DARIA: Nothing. This is how I always act, remember?

HELEN: (Her what's-*wrong*-with-you tone.) The one time it's *okay* for
you to be gloomy and sullen, and you're making jokes and teasing your
sister!

DARIA: And your point is?

HELEN: Quinn and Erin are behaving themselves, why can't you? (Dead-serious
tone.) You don't get another warning: *Don't* make a scene!

DARIA: (Coolly.) You mean don't follow your example?

HELEN: (Too obvious.) What does that mean?

DARIA: You and Aunt Rita. Am I making you look bad in front of Grandma, is
that what you're really worried about? I see what you're doing, Mom,
I'm not a child anymore.

HELEN: (Irritated.) Then stop *acting* like one! (Helen mentally kicks
herself, realizing she just sounded exactly like her own mother.)

(Cut to another part of the home. Amy rounds a corner, bumps into Lerman.)

AMY: Oh, excuse me.

LERMAN: (Absolute monotone.) That's okay. My fault.

AMY: Have you seen my niece around anywhere? (Realizes he doesn't know who
that is.) About yay tall-- (Holds hand up to about five-two, five-
three.) --brown hair, glasses?

LERMAN: You mean Daria?

AMY: (Remembers.) That's right, you know her.

LERMAN: (Flat.) I like Daria. She makes me laugh. (He doesn't.)

AMY: I'll bet Helen's probably just chewing her out for being herself again.
She'll be back shortly.

LERMAN: Mmm. In the meantime, would you care to engage in the variety of
mind-numbing small talk particular to this type of occasion?

AMY: Sure.

LERMAN: Or better yet, let's go explore the basement. Perhaps we'll find
some embalming fluid we might ingest.

(Amy raises a leery eyebrow, uncertain whether this boy is joking.)

LERMAN: (Realizes this, after a moment.) Sorry. Sometimes my attempts at
humor tend to be overly subtle.

(MUSIC: "Halcyon & On & On", Orbital.)

FLASH-FORWARD TO:

INT.: PIZZA PLACE. AFTERNOON, SATURDAY.

(Daria and Jane enter, in mid-conversation.)

JANE: Wow, so Helen read you the riot act?

DARIA: She was under a lot of stress. Grandma Barksdale has that effect
on her.

JANE: (Interrupts, points.) Hey, isn't that--?

DARIA: (Sees too, calls.) Hiii, sis!

(Instinctively, Quinn turns and looks, and the rest of the Fashion Club
follows.)

QUINN: (Winces.) Oh no...

SANDI: "Sis"?

QUINN: (Starts.) What? Um, no, see, I just recognized that droning voice,
is what startled me. (Calls, to Daria.) Ha ha, very funny, *cousin*!

(Daria scowls again, then gets the famous smile as she decides she's going
to have some serious fun with this.)

FLASHBACK TO:

EXT.: MOTEL, LEEVILLE. NIGHT.

(MUSIC: "Watermark", Enya.)

CUT TO:

INT.: MOTEL ROOM.

(Overhead shot of the four Morgendorffers in bed. Jake and Helen are
together, leaving Daria and Quinn to share the other king-size. Close-up
of Helen, who tosses and turns.)

(Dissolve into dream sequence. Helen enters the gates of heaven, led by
Saint Peter.)

HELEN: So what exactly do I do?

SAINT PETER: Anything you like.

HELEN: When do I meet my assistant? I do get one, don't I? Someone who'll
coordinate appointments, scan intrusive calls for me...?

SAINT PETER: (Good-natured chuckle.) Helen, we don't have any of those
things here. This is *your* time now. Enjoy yourself. You've
earned it.

(Pete leaves Helen, who sits on a chair made of cloud and looks around for
something to do. Finding nothing, she fidgets and quickly breaks out in a
sweat--)

(Shatter the dream. Helen sits bolt-upright in a cold sweat, gasping.)

(MUSIC: "4:02", Global Communication.)

(Pan left to Jake, also tossing and turning. Dissolve into dream sequence.
Jake walks through heaven, scanning unfamiliar faces, until one voice stops
him in his tracks.)

VOICE: Son?

JAKE: (Turns.) ...D-dad?

(Jake looks into the eyes of his deceased father, clad in white. Of course
the angle is from over Mad Dog's shoulder so we don't get to see his face.)

"MAD DOG": (Choked up.) Son, I-I'm... I'm so sorry... for the way I treated
you and your mother... Can you ever forgive me?

(Jake runs to his father with open arms, they embrace...)

(...and Jake knees him in the groin.)

JAKE: (Victorious little cry.) *Ha*! (Viciously kicks "Mad Dog", who's
dropped, lying on his side in tremendous pain. Punctuates words with
kicks.) *I've* been *waiting* a *long* time for *this*, you *rotten*--

(A group of nearby archangels run up and pry Jake away, but he continues to
thrash in an effort to break free. Heaven dissolves, and Jake finds himself
surrounded by fire and brimstone.)

JAKE: (More whiny than anything else.) Aww, *dammit*! (Shakes his fist
overhead.) I'LL GET YOU YET, OLD MAN!! I'LL GET YOUUUUUUUUUUU!...
(His words echo through hell's caverns.)

(Shatter the dream. Jake sits bolt-upright in a cold sweat, gasping.)

(Pan left to Daria in the other bed, she tosses and turns as well. Dissolve
into dream sequence. Daria lies in a casket, wearing her favorite outfit.
Trent, in *his* favorite outfit, approaches the casket. Sound is muted,
except for his footsteps and voice, which ring out in a somber, hollow echo.)

TRENT: Hey, Daria.

(Pause. Trent apparently can't think of anything else to say, and steps to
the side.)

(Andrea pauses over Daria's body briefly, then turns away, without uttering
a syllable.)

(Arm in arm, Kevin and Brittany show up.)

KEVIN: (Starts as he sees Daria.) Oh, man! The mortician didn't do a very
good job on her, Babe!

BRITTANY: Uh, Babe? That's what she *always* looked like.

KEVIN: (Remembers now.) Ohyeah! Cool!

(They move out of the way, making room for Upchuck.)

UPCHUCK: (Voice tinged with melodrama.) Ahh, farewell, Daria my sweet!
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you!

(A single tear falls from his eye. Then, with a furtive glance around him
to make sure no one's looking, he reaches toward Daria's lifeless body.)

DARIA: (Voice, as if calling down from heaven.) Don't even *think* about
it, Upchuck!

UPCHUCK: (Startled, but quickly regains his pseudo-suave demeanor.)
Ooohh-h-h-h, even in death she's feisty! (Disobeys, reaching
for the zipper on Daria's jacket...)

(Shatter the dream. Daria sits bolt-upright in a cold sweat, gasping.)

[You will notice, of course, that I resisted the very strong temptation to
throw in Beavis and Butt-Head as well. Your gratitude is implied.]

(Pan left to Quinn, sleeping soundly. Dissolve into dream sequence. Quinn
lies in a pink casket surrounded by flower arrangements as far as the eye
can see. Everything is bright and sunshiney. In front of the casket, Joey,
Jeffy and Jamie argue.)

JOEY: *I* get to be Quinn's pallbearer!

JEFFY: No, she wanted *me* to!

JAMIE: I called it first!

(The argument descends into a fistfight. Close-up of Quinn in the casket,
then dissolve back to the bedroom. In her sleep, Quinn smiles.)

(...la la LA la la...)

(COMMERCIAL LEAD-IN: Quinn storming off, during the visitation.)

END ACT 2.

(COMMERCIAL: Here it is. The very *last* commercial of my 13-fanfic run.
...
...
...
...And God *DAMN* I wish I had a better joke to use in it!)

BEGIN ACT 3.

RETURN TO:

(Black screen, with the words "Eleven Years Ago..." in white Daria-script
lettering. Pause, then:)

DISSOLVE TO:

INT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE, LIVING ROOM, HIGHLAND.

(The old Morgendorffer house, as seen in "Rain on Your Parade". Daria is
lying on the couch on her side, looking moody. A young Quinn stomps about,
on the verge of a fit.)

LITTLE QUINN: (Freaking.) Mommy, come *onnn*! Daria'll be *fine*! I'm
gonna be late and then I won't *win*!

HELEN: (Calls from next room.) Be patient, sweetie, Aunt Amy will be here
soon, then we'll get left.

LITTLE DARIA: What's the hurry, you'll probably lose to some two-year-old
in diapers anyway.

LITTLE QUINN: Shut up!

(Doorbell. Little Quinn grabs it almost immediately.)

LITTLE QUINN: Mommmm, she's here! Can we go now?!

HELEN: (Emerges, hurries past Daria.) Amy, thanks so much for coming on
such short notice, I completely forgot Quinn's "Little Miss Highland"
pageant, there's food in the fridge, we'll be back around nine.
Daria, you be good for Aunt Amy. (Over her shoulder.) JAKE, WILL
YOU PUT THAT STUPID PAPER AWAY, WE'RE *GOING*!!

(On command, Jake's out in a flash. And the family files out, leaving
Daria. Amy approaches and sits beside her. Similar to the shot at the
start of Act 2, the camera is at Daria's toddler-level, so we don't get to
see Amy's face.)

LITTLE DARIA: Hi, Aunt Amy.

AMY: Just Amy.

(Dissolve to later in the evening, close-up of the TV, footage of a
presidential address.)

REAGAN: (On TV, microphone test, doesn't know it's already on.) My fellow
Americans, I am pleased to tell you I just signed legislation which
outlaws Russia forever. The bombing begins in five minutes.

(Show Amy and little Daria on the couch, their reactions.)

LITTLE DARIA: (To the TV.) Excuse me?

AMY: He's finally snapped.

ANNOUNCER: (Cuts off the president's words. Over-the-top.) Is the
President in the early stages of a degenerative mind disease?!
What connections exist between Nintendo and the Challenger
explosion?! And just how close are we *really* to Orwell's
dystopian vision?! Find out, on the world premiere of "Sick,
Sad World", the bold new documentary show critics are calling
"thoroughly contemptible", and "definitely worthy of its name"!
Coming up next!

(Daria and Amy settle back to watch.)

FLASH-FORWARD TO:

EXT.: CHURCH.

(Close-up of sixteen-year-old Daria, then zoom out to the Morgendorffer
family, in the same funeral attire as before, proceeding up the front steps.)

HELEN: (To Jake, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.) You look tired,
honey. What's the matter, didn't sleep well?

JAKE: (Glum.) I had that dream again, Helen, with my father. This whole
thing's bringing back *his* funeral.

HELEN: Oh... (Puts a comforting arm on his shoulder.) Well if you're going
to start shouting, let me know and we'll go outside, okay?

QUINN: (Accusing.) Daria kept kicking me in her sleep.

HELEN: Oh, now sweetie, I'm sure she didn't mean it...

(Almost imperceptibly, the corners of Daria's mouth turn up.)

CUT TO:

INT.: CHURCH.

(The minister -- and the funeral's in Leeville, so we can use the one from
"I Don't", I just *love* him! -- delivers the eulogy. As he talks, slowly
pan across the front pews, showing characters' reactions.

MINISTER: (Not a priest!) ...But we should not be sad Eleanor is gone, no,
this is not a time for loss...

(Helen exchanging cold looks with Rita, as Grandma B's holding Rita close
but not Helen.)

MINISTER: ...this is a time for love! And Eleanor most certainly was loved.

(Helen snatches away the paper Jake, seated next to her, has been reading.)

MINISTER: ...Not with the kind of special love between a man and a woman...

(The "bridesmaids" sobbing, Quinn looking like she's getting tired of
listening to them.)

MINISTER: ...a beautiful, voluptuous woman...

(Daria and Amy ignoring the minister's crap, passing a GameBoy back and
forth.)

MINISTER: ...but the love of a warm, caring family...

(Dissolve to a short time later. Grandma Barksdale speaks.)

GRANDMA B: Eleanor was a woman with a sharp... (Thinks for a moment of how
to describe it.) ...*quirky*... sense of humor. This was how
she faced life, and these are the memories we'll always have of
my... sister... (Obviously having been embarrassed by Eleanor
through life, just as Amy embarrassed Helen, and Daria embarrassed
Quinn, she adds: ...though technically, she *was* only a half-
sister...

(This doesn't set well at all with Amy.)

(Dissolve, later. Amy's up front, sharing her thoughts on the recently
departed.)

AMY: Ellie had a song she asked me to play at her funeral...

(Smiling, Amy loads a CD into the church's sound system.)

(MUSIC: Theme from the "Star Wars" Trilogy, full blast, echoing through
the church.)

(Mixed reactions from the congregation. Most of the family and friends from
Helen's side get appalled looks, but Daria and the older women who knew Aunt
Eleanor smile.)

CUT TO:

EXT.: ROAD.

(The funeral procession. Zoom in on the Morgendorffer car.)

JAKE: (Impatient, honks horn.) C'mon, let's *go*! What the hell's the
holdup?!

HELEN: *Jake*!

JAKE: (Remembers where he is.) Oh... right. Sorry, Helen.

DARIA: Just relax, Dad. You get to run a red light up here.

JAKE: (Eager, that's kinda neat.) Really?

CUT TO:

INT.: CREMATORIUM.

(MUSIC: "All Souls Night", Loreena McKennitt.)

(Without dialogue, slow pan across the faces of the family, illuminated
only by the orangish light of the crematory. Most stand solemnly, but the
"bridesmaids" bawl their eyes out, of course. Amy and Daria are at the end,
and the incinerator light reflects off the lenses of both their glasses, and
off the third pair, held in Amy's hands, once Eleanor's. The camera stops,
lingers on them.)

DARIA: Did you bring the marshmallows?

DARIA'S VOICE: (VO, interrupts, from present.) Ex-*cuse* me?

(Cut the music, freeze the action, and--)

FLASH-FORWARD TO:

INT.: PIZZA PLACE. SATURDAY.

(Daria's interrupted Quinn in the middle of telling the story, and both look
annoyed with the other. The Fashion Club looks shocked.)

QUINN: And she was like, "Did you bring the marshmallows?" Like they were
gonna roast them over the fire or something!

DARIA: Quinn, I never said that. (To Jane, who looks more surprised that
Daria *didn't* say it.) Really, I didn't.

QUINN: You did too! And my Dad laughed but my Mom got all mad.

DARIA: That was Tuesday, I made a joke about it right after Aunt Rita called.

QUINN: (Irritated.) Well, whatever! But I knew you said it, and I *do*
remember what you did *next*!

CUT TO:

INT.: PARISH CENTER.

(The funeral dinner. Food is arranged on a long side table, potluck-style.
Close-up on Daria, Lerman, Quinn and the girls. Daria scans the crowd.)

QUINN: (Notices.) What do you keep looking at?

DARIA: Nothing. You know, Quinn, nobody likes a tattletale.

QUINN: (Still mad about last night.) Nobody likes *you*, Daria!

DARIA: Aww, stop it, you're breaking my heart.

(Jake comes over with a plate of food.)

JAKE: (Sits by Daria.) Hiya, kiddo! Hope you don't mind, but your Mother
told me to come over and keep an eye on you.

(Daphne, Lucinda and Simone look at one another nervously. They still
believe Jake is the SWAT commander here to watch the murderous Daria.)

DARIA: Dad? Have you seen Aunt Amy anywhere?

LERMAN: (To Jake.) Sir? Have you ever shot anyone before?

JAKE: (Answering Daria's question.) Hmm... (Looks.) Nope, can't say I
have. I'll let you know if I do, though.

(Simone thinks he's answering Lerman's question, freaks at how casual he
seems about the topic.)

(Helen, Rita and Grandma Barksdale at a nearby table.)

HELEN: (To Grandma B.) ...I mean, sure, Jake and I have always gotten by on
our own, and I did work my way through four years of law school, but
it would've been nice to have a *little* help once in a while.

GRANDMA B: Oh, Helen, you were always the independent one--

RITA: (Hurt.) And I'm not, is that what you're saying? I can't take care
of myself and Erin, is that it?

HELEN: (Twists the knife.) Well, considering how you've always gotten by
on Mom's money...

GRANDMA B: I don't believe you ever once asked me for help, Helen.

HELEN: (Bitter.) You could have offered.

(Back to Daria and company.)

DARIA: (Deadpan, stares, without blinking.) --See, once you sever the vocal
cords, the victim can't scream and attract attention. (Takes a bite,
the other girls look nauseated.) After that I usually inflict
multiple stab wounds to the chest, then suck the air out of the lungs
through the punctures.

(Quinn, just *mortified*, buries her head in her arms and tries desperately
to become invisible. Jake, as usual, doesn't even notice what's going on.)

DARIA: ...At least that's what all the police reports say. I never remember
any of it myself.

(The girls look ill, cover their mouths. Daphne and Lucinda are bone-white,
and Simone looks like she's about to faint.)

DARIA: (Stands.) Speaking of which, I'd better go take my medication. It
helps keep the psychosis down. (She heads off.)

DAPHNE: (Swallows hard.) Oh... my... God...

LERMAN: (Deadpan, to the girls.) Careful. Don't do or say anything that
might set her off.

(Of course this only disturbs them more. Daria overhears, turns back, fixes
them with a blank gaze across the room. Noticing, the girls quickly avert
their eyes.)

LERMAN: And don't stare. That's the worst thing you can do.

(Daria turns away, smiling. Quinn is *pissed*.)

CUT TO:

INT.: CHURCH.

(MUSIC: "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring", J.S. Bach.)

(Daria peers inside and sees Amy, still seated up front. The lights have
been turned off since the funeral, but some sun filters in through the
stained-glass windows, and a few stray candles flicker. Amy turns her
head, hearing Daria's approach.)

DARIA: (Quietly.) Hi. Thought I might find you here.

AMY: (After a moment.) I can't stand watching them anymore. (Beat.) Have
you ever felt like you don't even belong in this family?

DARIA: Since I was born?

AMY: Three decades, Daria. (But more to herself than to Daria.) Thirty
years, and nothing's changed. Helen and Rita are still at each other's
throats, trying to outdo each other in front of Mom, who still
completely ignores me... Sometimes I wonder how I made it this long.

DARIA: (Sits.) I'll bet Aunt Ellie had a lot to do with that.

AMY: (Ponders.) Yes. Yes, she did. (Smiles.) She was great. We'd
smartass back to everyone, and half the time they'd never even know it.
Nothing they did could get to us. They never knew her like I did.
Now I wonder... how I'll go on.

DARIA: You could just give in and shoot them all now.

(Amy laughs, appreciating Daria's sense of humor. Daria forces herself to
laugh a little, too. Just a little.)

DARIA: I wish I could've known her.

AMY: I wish you could have, too. (Beat.) Can I... ask you for a few
minutes by myself?

DARIA: (Understands, gets up to go.) Sure.

AMY: (Smile, hand on her favorite niece's arm.) You're very strong, Daria.

DARIA: I have to be, to survive in this family.

(Jump-cut to Daria, leaving. As she reaches for the door handle, she's
surprised to see the door suddenly pull open, and Jake and Brian standing
there.)

JAKE: (Equal surprise.) Oh, hiya, kiddo. (Beat.) Mind if we hide out in
here too?

CUT TO:

EXT.: A LAW OFFICE SOMEWHERE.

(MUSIC: "Time of Your Life (Good Riddance)", Green Day. [Hey, I hadta stick
it in here somewhere!])

CUT TO:

INT.: LAW OFFICE.

(Slow pan across eager faces -- Helen, Rita, Grandma Barksdale, Amy and
Daria together, the other friends and family -- as we Eleanor's voice.)

ELEANOR'S VOICE: ...being of sound and disposing mind and memory, do
hereby make, publish and declare this to be my Last Will
and Testament.

(Cut to a close-up of Eleanor's face, we finally get to see her. White
curls down to her shoulders, eyes behind round lenses regarding the family
before her, half-closed. Slow zoom out, showing the television on which
the videotaped will is being presented.)

ELEANOR: (Puts on the same smirk we've seen Daria use time and again.
Sardonic, barely disguised.) To my wonderful *half*-sister...no
doubt that's the term you used at my eulogy... I leave my funeral
and cremation expenses, no doubt you've already paid for them,
money always was your primary goal in life.

(Grandma Barksdale looks ill.)

ELEANOR: To my nieces Helen and Rita, since you'd just fight over whatever
I left you anyway, I choose to leave nothing.

(Helen and Rita join Grandma B in looking ill.)

ELEANOR: (Continues.) No doubt the two of you have been competing with
each other through this whole affair, trying to make yourselves
look good to my *half*-sister, in an effort to acquire her money...
Which brings us to my favorite niece, and the only one in this
loony family I could ever relate to... Amy Barksdale. Amy, I'm
leaving you my entire estate.

(Seeing Helen's temper flare, Jake cowers.)

HELEN: (Outraged.) This is a joke, right?! Well I'm not going to stand
for it! I'll petition the court, we'll go through this word by word,
frame by frame!

RITA: Oh, just shut *up* Helen, we're all sick of listening to you!

HELEN: God, you're such a crybaby, Rita, you always have been!

RITA: I am *not*!

HELEN: (Vicious.) *Paul Meyerson*, Rita!

(At the mention of her ex-boyfriend's name, Rita tears up. Helen looks
triumphant.)

GRANDMA B: Helen! That's no way to talk to your sister!

HELEN: Now you listen, *Mother*, I will talk however I damn well please--

ERIN: Aunt Helen...

(The whole family breaks out in a shouting match.)

LERMAN: (Absolute monotone.) Oh, good. I was hoping something like this
might transpire.

(Cut to under the table, where Jake and Brian hide.)

BRIAN: God, this family's nuts!

JAKE: Tell me about it.

(Back to a shot encompassing the whole room, then close-up on Amy and Daria.)

AMY: Ellie would've enjoyed this.

DARIA: (To Amy.) It's hard to respect your elders when they act less mature
than you do.

AMY: (Stands, motions Daria to follow.) C'mon, let's get out of here before
everyone turns on us.

(Cut to Quinn and the "bridesmaids", mid-conversation.)

LUCINDA: You mean she's *not* a convicted killer?

QUINN: *No.* She was making it all up, she barely even does *anything*!

DAPHNE: Oh my God...

(The three whisper among themselves, as in "I Don't".)

SIMONE: (Suddenly suspicious of Quinn.) Have *you* been lying to us too?

QUINN: No!

DAPHNE: (Doesn't believe her.) You're *not* really Fashion Club vice-
president at your school, are you?

QUINN: (Insists.) I am too! Just because my stupid sister told you a
bunch of lies, that doesn't mean *I*--

(Freeze the action onscreen.)

SANDI: (VO, from present.) Your *sister*?!

(Fade back to the present--)

INT.: PIZZA PLACE.

(--to find the Fashion Club, especially Sandi, giving Quinn perplexed looks.)

QUINN: (Not sure why.) What?

SANDI: You just called her your *sister*!

TIFFANY: Yeah. We all heard it.

QUINN: (Quinn is horrified. She got so caught up in her venting, she
completely forgot whom she was telling the story *to*!) Er, um,
that is, I...

To Be Continued

[Ha! Gotcha, didn't I? Just kidding, read on:]

(Quinn continues to stammer out an explanation. Daria and Jane, having
noticed, exchange smirks, get up, move toward the exit.)

QUINN: (Trying desperately to cover her goof.) ...well you see, my Mom and
Dad did kind of like adopt her, so, um, legally I guess now she is
*sort of* my sister. But, um, we're still not like *biologically*
related or anything!

SANDI: (Condescending look, for lying to her.) Sure, Quinn.

QUINN: It's true! You can ask my M--... my *Dad*!

CUT TO:

EXT.: PIZZA PLACE.

(Daria and Jane head back home.)

JANE: Well, I for one am damn impressed. You totally humiliated her without
even doing a thing.

DARIA: I don't *have* to do anything to make a fool out of Quinn. (Beat.)
By the way, don't tell anyone about my inheritance, okay? I don't
need any more "friends".

JANE: (Remembers the *last* time Daria had lots of money.) Mum's the word.

DARIA: All in all, I'd rank Ellie's funeral as one of the happiest days of
my life. (Counts off.) I cut Quinn down big-time, spent some quality
time with Amy and Lerman, told a bunch of lies to a bunch of stupid
people who believed them, and got to see the rest of my family
depressed.

JANE: (Smiles, shakes her head.) Somethin' about your family, Daria.
They're a pain in the ass, but they're sure fun to torment.

DARIA: It's like Amy put it:

FLASHBACK TO:

EXT.: LAW OFFICE.

(MUSIC: "Prism of Life", Enigma. From the start. Faintly at first.)

(Amy and Daria emerge from the building. Amy carries an urn holding Aunt
Eleanor's ashes.)

DARIA: (VO, from present.) "You can't choose your relatives"--

AMY: (Mid-sentence.) --but you can choose which ones to leave out of your
will. [*]

[*] Thanks to Peter Guerin, for letting me borrow this line from his fanfic,
"One Man's Trash". (Not "Misery Senshi", as I originally thought. Sorry
'bout the confusion, Peter.)

(The shouts and arguments of their family are diminished as the door swings
closed behind them.)

DARIA: (Approvingly.) You've still got it, Amy. (Looks back at the law
office.) But you'll probably end up even more alienated from them
once the dust settles in there.

AMY: Hey, whatever brings them closer together. That's our place, Daria.
That's always been our place.

(They walk quietly for a little while.)

AMY: Life is short. You have to enjoy it. Even if that means pissing off
the rest of your family. (Looks about.) Speaking of which, do you see
your grandmother's Rolls around here? (Holds up the urn, smiles.)
Before she died, Ellie asked me to dump these all over the seats.

DARIA: I'll bet she's looking down and smirking at them right now.

AMY: I've got two words for you, Daria.

DARIA: (Mona Lisa smile.) Are they "cheese fries"?

AMY: (Likewise.) Indeed they are.

(The camera lingers on Amy and Daria walking away, talking. Kick up the
volume on the background music.)

AMY: (Looks her up and down.) I must say, I do like that outfit.

DARIA: (Admits.) Quinn picked it out.

AMY: (Surprised to hear this.) Excuse me?

(Dissolve between closing shots of the three stories' characters walking
away in pairs: Amy and Eleanor. Daria and Jane. Amy and Daria. Then a
fourth: An early-30s Daria with a young niece at her side, a daughter of
Quinn's. The family legacy continues.)

(Fade to black. Continue the music through the credits.)

(...la la LA la la...)

(CREDITS AND CUTE LITTLE RENDERINGS OF THE CHARACTERS.)

THE END

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay, first off, I'll explain the "Star Wars" music. See,
whenever my own father watches one of the movies he likes to blast the theme
really loud. Several years back, he asked me to play the theme song at his
funeral, probably because I'm the only one in the family he could count on
to actually go through with it. And I plan on it. (That's all.)

This one, I think, reads better the second time through, once you already
know how the three parallel plots are resolved and can spot the little
nuances you might miss the first time. I know it's probably a bit of a
letdown after "Driven Wild", but in its own quiet little way, it says quite
a lot about our main character.

Part of Amy's childhood flashback was originally destined for "Quinntet":

DARIA: A family legacy of alienation and pessimism?
AMY: (Proud.) It goes back six generations.

--but got cut for space before even being fully written. Here I've
expanded it into a sort of third parallel plot. (Yes, I save all my
rejected scenes.) The nightmare scenes, with each Morgendorffer envisioning
his/her own funeral, were something I wrote awhile back as an exercise and
just kind of kept around until I found a full-length script to use them in.
(That's a fancy way of saying "padding".)

Nitpicking the "Daria" timeline: Okay. Try and follow. Helen is 46 or 47
years old (she's caught herself in "College Bored" and "The Daria Hunter"
before letting it slip out completely). Counting back from 1997, the year
"College Bored" first aired, she was born in '50 or '51.

For the first scene, I use "thirty years ago" to mean 1969, since it's now
1999 (for the moment ignoring the apparent non-aging of the characters over
the last two seasons). This was necessary because I wanted Helen to be 18
or 19, and thus old enough for college, which presumably is where she met
Jake. In "That Was Then", it's mentioned that Helen, Jake, Willow and Coyote
spent an August 1969 night in jail. Fortunately, the moon landing took place
in June that year, when Helen would indeed be out of school. It's a tight
fit, but it works.

(Oh, and in case you were wondering, no, I did *not* watch the "60's"
miniseries on... whatever channel it was on. Did I miss anything good?)

What's odd is that, while they supposedly left Willow and Coyote in 1973 (in
"That Was Then", 1998, Helen said it'd been 25 years, do the math), the two
didn't get married until 1975, though (from the wedding vows in "The Daria
Diaries"). So that leaves a curious two-year gap.

Daria, by my count, was born in 1981 (subtract her current sweet-16 from
1997, again ignoring the non-aging). So she was 5 or 6 in '86, the opening
scene of Act 3. Reagan made that absolutely classic quote in 1984, but I
figured it was good enough to use two years later. Same with the Orwell
reference. Having Quinn in a pageant when she's only 4, and the premiere
of "Sick, Sad World" (now 12 years running!) were just me bein' cute.

Umm, that was way more than you wanted to hear, wasn't it?

I made some other assumptions for this one. The bridesmaids are either
friends of Brian's or Erin's, or distant relatives on Daria's side. Probably
not people you'd expect to see at a great aunt's funeral, but I needed them
so here they are. I'm guessing the Morgendorffers are Christian since Daria
celebrated Christmas on "Beavis" and in their comic-book spin-off. And I
have absolutely no evidence that Helen's the oldest and Amy's the youngest,
it just worked for the story.

I also assume the two elderly women in the "Pinch Sitter" flashbacks are
not both of the girls' grandmothers, as the show's never actually come out
and said so. My characterization of Grandma Barksdale, while almost
certainly incorrect, was based on clues dropped in "I Don't" and the show's
two books. Neither of the two women in the flashback seem to fit. That
just leaves the grandmother in the "Diaries" photo, who I'd say is from
Jake's side. (There's been no indication in the show that she's yet joined
"Mad Dog" in the afterlife.) As for where Grandpa Barksdale is...

...well, that's what future fanfics are for, right?

Finally, just let me say I've thoroughly enjoyed the last six months, but
with new episodes of the *real* show starting just around the corner, I'm
taking a six-month hiatus. If MTV gets that long between new episodes,
then so do I, and I am *exhausted*. The rest of the fanfic community will
just have to take over. Three things to keep in mind: Food is unnecessary.
Sleep is unnecessary. Going to the bathroom is unnecessary but gets really
disgusting after a couple of days, so you should probably keep in the habit
for that one.

In the meantime, I plan on catching up on that mountain of unread fanfic
by the rest of the "Daria" authors. If you've written any lately ("lately"
being like the last 3 months) you'll probably be hearing from me. I send
comments on every story I read. If you really wanna lay a guilt trip on
me, send me a mail and tell me what I've been missing out on. During the
mid-season break I may be doing one or two collaborations with other
authors, and I have a "South Park" fanfic that may or may not get done.

With the real show's third season, your Daria withdrawal symptoms should
gradually subside. But if you still feel you need a fix, here's what I
recommend: Once a day Monday through Friday, preferably at the same time
every day, open up and read one of these 13 fanfics of mine. Start with
"Lotto Nonsense" and work your way forward. Follow a similar schedule
for the weekends, but stick an extra random script in there now and then.
Repeat until you have them all memorized, then go into a newsgroup or chat
room and bitch about how the hell much longer is it gonna be before I do
some more, dammit! B-> Vigilantly keep up the fic-a-day reading. Then
every once in a while, skip one to simulate MTV pre-empting the show and
then screwing up the order.

Aww, damn. That probably made 'em mad, now they're not gonna hire me. B-)

A few acknowledgments and recognitions, if you will:

First and foremost, to Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis, for creating this
wonderful show in the first place. I know sometimes we forget this, but
every piece of fanfic ever written would never even exist if it weren't
for these two's tireless perseverance toward producing something watchable
for MTV to air.

To all of the writers, artists and voice actors who have contributed their
talents to the show. These are the people who make the "Daria" we all know
and love. They deserve a round of applause.

To Martin Pollard, Michelle Klein-Hass, and Peter Guerin, who in addition
to providing a home for my work at their "Daria" sites ("Outpost Daria",
"Lawndale Commons" and "Mark Zero Fan Fiction", respectively) have been
my best online friends for the last six months. Thanks again, guys!

To everyone who sent words of praise and encouragement. There are far too
many for me to mention everyone, but here are the biggies (and I apologize
if I left you out): Danny Bronstein, Rachel Brooks (who sent me the first
feedback I ever got!), Elizabeth ("NuitCoeur", sorry, don't know your last
name), Invisigoth Gypsy, Daryl Sawyer, Elizabeth Thaler, and Michael R. Wells
(aka "Mitch"). Some weeks your mail was the one thing that kept me going.

And to all the Misery Chicks and Misery Guys out there: Until we meet again,
may you all continue having low esteem for everyone else.

-- C.E. Forman
February 15, 1999

One last thing: Those of you who've read the whole run, if you could let me
know which episode(s) were your favorite and least favorite, and why, along
with any favorite scenes, lines, etc., it'd help me figure out what avenues
to explore when I start up again.



Anybody got any fan art based on my fics? If so, you can send it to:

C.E. Forman
6823 N. TerraVista #706
Peoria, IL 61614
U.S.A.

I'd love to see it, and Martin Pollard will probably put it up on his
Outpost Daria site. E-mail is good too, JPEGs, GIFs or bitmaps work best.

[Disclaimer: "Daria" and all related characters are trademarks of MTV
Networks, a division of Viacom International Inc., and are used here
without permission for the purpose of fan fiction. I suppose if you
represent MTV's legal department you could sue, but think about it,
what's it really going to get you? I mean, *I* sure don't have any
money, and there's like fifty other people writing these fan stories,
so you might as well just live with it and maybe learn to appreciate
the fact that your show has such a loyal, dedicated legion of fans who
care enough to write things like this. Of course, you *could* just
hire us and that'd solve your problem nicely too.]

[This "Daria" fanfic story is copyright 1999 by C.E. Forman but may be
distributed freely in unaltered form to fans of "Daria" everywhere,
provided the author's name and e-mail address remain intact. Thank
you, and good night.]


--
C.E. Forman ceforman@worldnet.att.net
Ye Olde Infocomme Shoppe http://netnow.micron.net/~jgoemmer/infoshop.html

1