(some pointless SOUTH PARK/DARIA crossover fan fiction)
By Don Fields (
(Based on the characters from 'South Park and 'Daria'
and also based on...excuse me, ripped off from the fan fiction 'One
Band Town' by Danny Bronstien)

(Copyright notices and author's notes at the end)
WARNING: First off, this is my first fan fiction and, second, this story
contains some rather strong words and obnoxious ideas, but since we're dealing
with 'South Park' here, this goes without saying. Good Luck!)

We open on a mid-sized outdoor amphitheater next to a farm, much like original
Woodstock. A concert is already in progress. The band, named 'Spiral Trap', is
playing generic rock/grunge/punk material. The banner draped in the backdrop on
the stage reads: 'COWFEST '99'! A Celebration Of South Park's Mascot and the
Provider of Our Local Leather Underwear Industry!'. Suspended over the
mid-section of this banner, there's a cheap and really BAD paper mache figure of
a happy decapitated cow's head. The theater is so close to the field that not
only can you see the cows roaming from behind the stage, they have wondered onto
the stage and into the theater itself. The band is wrapping up their set. The
lead singer (BRAD) finishes and addresses the crowd.

BRAD: (yelling into the mike)
Thank you and Goodnight, Cleveland!!!

A quick shot of the audience reveals that only near ten of the 250 seats are
filled. All of them are men and just about asleep. Only the cows outnumber the
paying crowd. There's only a sound of a one pair of hands wildly clapping. Back
to the band as they play their last note.

Uh, dude....this is South Park...

BRAD: (shocked)
WHAT?!?! AGAIN!?!?!

Back to the sleepy audience and we find out where that lone pair of clapping
hands belong to. It's CARTMAN who's making the noise from his front row seat.
Seated next to him are KYLE, STAN and KENNY. The trio don't share CARTMAN's
enthusiasm and is left sitting and staring at him in disbelief. CARTMAN is
standing on his seat and wildly applauding.

CARTMAN: (yelling)

I don't know why you're so worked up some sweat over some lame-o band, dude?

HEY! Bite me, you weakling! Spiral Trap kicks major grade-A ass!

Cartman, if whale's had anatomically correct penises, the guys would be sucking
on it overtime. Just because you cousin is the lead singer doesn't mean the
band is the greatest band since porn.

...and look at the crowd!

Another shoot of the audience yawning and the cows falling asleep.

They must be tired from following the band all over the place because they're
the few, the proud, the loyal who will go anywhere, at anytime to hear this
great music!

They're only here to see the stripper who's the opening act.

...and he's the band's roadie.

We go back to the stage. The band is packing up their equipment. Then walking
from the right stage, a grown slightly overweight man in Victoria Secret bra &
panty is seen helping the band pack. Obviously, he's too big and hairy (among
other things) for the outfit. Once he reaches center stage, the crowd notices
him and wildly applause.

CROWD: (standing and yelling)

CARTMAN get totally pissed with this reaction. He leaps on his feet and on his
seat, addressing the crowd.

CARTMAN: (yelling)
HEY!! What the (bleep)ing hell is wrong with you homo rat bastards!?!? Some
great music was offered to you ungrateful freaks on a silver platter from the
GODDAMN gods and you're getting a chubby from some retarded Ron Jeremy in
panties! What about the GOD! DAMNED! MUSIC!?!? Are you gonna let the man control
our music that way? I mean, do you think Bruce Springteen was thinking about a
man's pimply chest when he wrote 'Born To Run'? Did David Bowie fantasizes about
some guy's hairy butt when he came up with 'Space Oddesy'? HELL, NO!!!...

KYLE: (to STAN and KENNY, calmly)
Other than that last line, which I totally agree with..(angrily)...what the
flaming HELL is he talking about??

KENNY: (in his usual muffled voice)
(Translation: "Ah, he's just jerking off like the rest of those hard on's.")

Save your breath, guys. He's rolling off the deep end on this one.

CARTMAN continues his rant uninterrupted.

CARTMAN: (cont.)
....These guys are busting their balls to give you the best music you wussies
ever have in your pathetic life. The only difference between you spuds and the
cows is that the cows show their appreciation by sacrificing! We give them hay
and a nice stretch of land to crap on and they give us their flesh for our
hamburgers and their skin for our leather underwear. They don't call it fair
trade for nothing!

The last few lines gets a reaction from the cows

COWS: (looking at each other in shock)

CARTMAN: (cont.)
....I personally challenge any breathing creature who dares to question this
great band's musical authority to my face RIGHT NOW and tell me that these guys
aren't the greatest butt kicking leather ass rockin' bastards to walk on the
face of this clump of dirt. (no reaction) Well, I'm waiting, you losers!!

However, before anyone can react, a small herd of cows manage to make their way
between the front row seats and the stage, knocking CARTMAN off his seat and
trample him. He yells from the floor.


It's later in the day and we're at the office of the MAYOR of South Park. She is
reading the local newspaper with the headline banner screaming "ANOTHER COW
KILLING RAMPAGE ENGULFS 'COW FEST'!!!". She is sitting at her large desk.
Standing across from her are her two assistant/TOADIES.

MAYOR: (angry)
Another stamped?! This is the third time at this festival. Can anything be done
to subdue this rambunctious crowd?!

Well, actually. your honor, it's the other way around...

MAYOR stands up turns and faces the window behind the desk for dramatic effect.

This is NOT helping the good name of South Park. I was hoping that this
'CowFest' would bring out the local color to show to the world what we really
can offer: our huge population of cows, giving of themselves the dairy products
we all eat and drink and their hides for our leather underwear.

TOADIE #2: (quietly to #1)
I thought leather came from.....

TOADIE #1: (to #2)
SSSSSHHH.....(to MAYOR) Your honor, maybe the cows aren't the problem. It's
probably the music that's causing the rampage.

Yes! You know allot of these new bands play their material backwards live now.
You can actually hear those subliminal messages in person

MAYOR turns to the TOADIES in disgust.

Oh. PLEASE!? Who's going to be just plain stupid enough to simply believe such a
moronic reason to drop the band?

MAYOR and the two TOADIES spend 15 seconds looking at each other.

MAYOR: (a slight sigh of relief)
*sigh* Well, we're too far into this festival to write it off now. O.K., drop
them and rebook one of the earlier acts. Who played Tuesday?

TOADIE #1: (checking his clipboard)
Ahhh,.....Spiral Trap.

Nope, Wednesday?

TOADIE #2: (ditto like Toadies #1)
Spiral Traps


Spiral Traps.

MAYOR: (a hint of desperation)
Last night?

TOADIES #1 & #2: (in unison)
Spiral Traps!

MAYOR: (upset)
Please don't tell me that's all the local color we were able to get?!

Well, there's the 'South Park Farting Polka Band'.

MAYOR slumps into her chair, defeated

*sigh* Never mind. We'll just have to contract outside for help. We'll need
somebody who can fill in tomorrow night PLUS who's different, exciting,
energetic and, most importantly, cheap.

I do have a connection in Denver who might get somebody down here by tomorrow.

Are they good and cheap?

You bet!

TOADIE #1: (to #2)
Do they play backwards?

I doubt it. If they were satanic, I'm very sure they'd be up front about it and
play at a normal speed.

MAYOR: (relieved and happy)
Book 'em!!

We open at the front of JANE's house. DARIA is approaching the front door and
presses the doorbell button. The chimes sound either like a line from a obscure
Philip Glass composition, a base line from a Residents tune, or they just forgot
to repair the chimes again. JANE answers the door and has a cordless phone in
her hand.



DARIA enters and JANE closes the door behind them.

So what's the emergency? Normally, you call ahead to see if I was home or awake.

I did but (glancing at the phone in JANE's hand) I can see you're busy.

Oh, sorry. It's Summer. Normally she writes to us whenever she feels like it,
but when she bumps into a stray phone and actually use's it, it calls for a
leanthy celebration.

When Quinn doesn't look at one, we break out the six-pack ourselves. Look, can I
hide out here for a while?

Sure. In fact, you're just in luck. Trent, Jessie and the rest of the Mystiks
are in the rehearsal dungeon warming up for their micro-mini-tour. The music
should soothe your nerves from the usual family bonding and bruising.

Right now, the sound of a hammer rhythmically pounding on a human skull would
probably do the trick.

Now be careful there. Don't let your family force you into a another Dahmer fit.
Let me just wrap it up with Summer here and I'll join you in the dungeon. O.K.?

Fair enough.

The next shot is the house basement, a.k.a. "the Dungeon", where TRENT, JESSIE
and two other unnamed Mystik members are practicing. As DARIA enters, the group
is at a tail end of a song and it's a big finish with JESSE closing it out with
a noisy monster guitar solo. DARIA sits on a nearby beaten old sofa watching the
action unnoticed. In her own low-key way, DARIA is enjoying what she hears and
sees. A half a minute later in this barrage, JESSE hits a big Neil Young-style
note and causes his amp to explode, sending sparks and smoke everywhere. The
music stops and the coughing begins.

JESSE: (upset, in his usual calm self)
*cough*! *cough* ....and I just bought this!

TRENT: (usual calm self)
*cough* You gonna half to expect that when you buy used amps from the Salvation
Army. *cough* Don't worry. Ain't nothing more that some soldering paper clips
and duck tape that couldn't fix it.

DARIA applauds. TRENT finally notices her.

TRENT: (surprise)
*cough* Hey, Daria! *cough* Didn't see you come in. (kidding) I hope that was a
sincere response.

Believe me. This is a rare moment of shear honesty. It was soothing, especially
the explosion. It made me want to whip out the BIC blow torch.

I will no doubt take that as a compliment. *cough* (sincere) Thanks.

JANE walks in to talk to TRENT but is stopped by the smoke.

Hey, Trent (hits the smoke) *cough* What the...*cough*...Who died here, Keith
Moon?! *cough* Marlboro Man, Summer's on the phone and wants to talk you.

TRENT: (even more surprised)
Summer? On the phone? For Me?! Will freak accidents ever cease.

TRENT exits up the stairs, leaving the band to clean up and JANE and DARIA to

Well, Logan, what's the reason of sanctuary this time? Family court? Improvised
parent group therapy? Dad burning dinner tonight?

Extermination. Unfortunately, it has nothing to do with a mafia contract.

Oh, darn.

They found a larger number of roaches than usual in our house. Not only did they
find our frozen lasagna supply but they managed to dig a tunnel from there to
the rest of the house. Since my bedroom is above the kitchen, Quinn naturally
insisted that it was my pizza crust collection underneath my bed that caused the
migration and Mom and Dad believed it. Then the inspector came and found out
that they were actually hitting on Quinn's winter make-up surplus stocked piled
in her closet. Now, EVERYbody is turning this bug deal into this American
Gladiator competition between spasmodic 'us and six-legged 'them'. (pauses) Now
there's two more mysteries I just don't want to know the connection between;
Quinn's make-up rituals and the cockroaches' eating habits.

JANE: (starts to rant off)
I'm sorry, but I just can see what's this 'big mystery' deal is about! It's
nothing more than spoiled whining middle/upper class babies crying in their
unrecyclible diapers about nature leaving a turd in their Starbucks coffee cup.
IT'S NATURE!! IT HAS A MIND OF IT'S OWN! (she's on a roll) It doesn't give a wet
slop if they leave mud on your Nike sneakers. Nature's only concern is eating,
sleeping and crapping for the next day of survival...pure survival! Do you think
nature cares about the next 'Star Wars flick?....Do THEY worry if painting their
ant hill Pepto-Bismol Puke Pink is going to impress the anteater just before the
monster eats them?! HELL! NO! Just leave them alone in their own little world!
Just leave THEM alone and they'll leave YOU alone and all be in peace. What's
the big freaking deal?! Leave nature alone!

Not if they prefer their natural jones for Mayballine #134 Spring Pink lipstick
over old pizza crust.

JANE gives DARIA's retraction a brief thought.

Hmmm...I see your point. Yea, nuke them little freaks to Armageddon.

They're going to fumigate the house this weekend. Which means the Holiday Inn
for the family and sharing a Holiday In Hell suite with Quinn for me. I'm all
packed but everybody else is still panicking on what fabrics they can pack that
will die from the toxic fumes.

TRENT walks in.

We just got our first gig for our tour! Summer got us booked to some outdoor
festival gig in South Park, Colorado.

'South Park'? Sounds familiar...

Should be. Sick Sad World has done twelve episodes from that dump so far this

So? That'll only add atmosphere to the performance.

Just like adding Muzak to the last supper at Jonestown.

...but the gig is for tomorrow, so we better make plans to leave tonight.

That means we better get 'The Tank' ready. It's gonna eat a lot of gas on a long
road trip like this.

Yea. (eyes towards JANE and DARIA) I can't imagine where we're going to get the
extra gas money.

JANE:(takes the hint)
Daria and I can chip in if you guys takes us along. (to DARIA) Won't we?

DARIA: (caught totally off guard)

Solid. We'll be shipping out as soon as we load up the tank.

TRENT, JESSIE and the boys drop their instruments and heads up stairs leaving
JANE and DARIA behind. JANE is smiling and DARIA is mad.

DARIA: (angrily)
Waaaaaait a damned minute! "WE"?! What make you even consiplate the mere notion
that I'm going to spend a weekend in a crowded van filled with semi comatose
musicians and exploding equipment WITH a guy whom I like but whom doesn't even
have enough consciousness to know that I'm breathing, THEN play groupie in a
town where COPS was inspired, ONLY to witness another reckless variation of

JANE: (directly to DARIA)
Methinks about a reckless weekend sharing a cubby hole with Mary Kay Stepford
AND a Hotel Hell filled with professional psycho yuppies.

DARIA pauses and thinks about JANE's rebuttal.

Aw, hell. I'm beginning to see YOUR point, too. (pauses again) I hate you.

JANE: (smiling with satisfaction)
Thank you.

We open on a shot of 'The Tank' rolling down a major highway. The tank itself is
a long old rusty Dodge van with 'Spiral Mystik' spray painted on the side.
Inside, TRENT, at the wheel, and JESSIE are sitting up front, DARIA and JANE in
the passenger seats, and the equipment and the rest of the Mystik at the very
back. The members are dead asleep, sandwiched between the top of the speakers,
amps and whatnot and the ceiling, with their arms and leg dangling off the
sides. Everybody is wearing thick jackets. For you BGM freaks out there, Tom
Waits' 'Mule Variations' is blasting from the tape deck. DARIA is staring out
the window at the mountains lost in her own thoughts. JANE glances back at the
sleeping arrangements behind her and turns to TRENT.

Hey, Trent. Are you SURE those guys will be O.K. back there?

A mark of a true musician is his ability to sleep at any given opportunity.
Eyeball dexterity as we call it. Dedication to ones instrument soaks up a lot of
energy, so you need to rejuvenate it wherever and whenever you get the chance.

Oh, so THAT means you're not going to fall asleep at the wheel on us this time.

That's why you and Daria are here for, to keep us awake with some
conversation...or whatever.........

The last time that plan was supposed to work, we almost had a collision with a
ditch despite the fact you had The Ramones, MC5's, Capt.Beefheart AND Zoogz Rift
blasting on the deck.

Jane, you're an artists, too. You and I need the same amount of rest.........

JANE: (cutting TRENT off)
...but I'm stationed in ONE spot, NOT moving at 90 m.p.h. while fighting the
subconscious temptation to add a bigger dent to the van's collection from a
truck coming at me from the other side of the highway.

It's noting more than a simple challenge in life, my dear friend.

JANE give up on TRENT and gives a big sigh of defeat...and frustration.

*sigh* When I get around to learn to drive, remind me to avoid any musicians
walking down a sidewalk so I don't have to fight the temptation to put a dent on
his rock of a brain.

DARIA is still preoccupied in her thoughts and doesn't reply.

Amsel Adams?

No response again, so JANE lightly kicks one of DARIA's knee caps. This action
snaps DARIA out of it.


Hey! make some noise to keep my brother awake so he doesn't end up killing us
and I don't have to kill him.

DARIA:(not fully awake)

DARIA goes back to her mountains and JANE awaits.

Very good, but could you breath a little louder?

*sigh* Sorry, I'm just preoccupied. I'm looking for a piece of acreage to build
my log cabin. I just made a huge deposit in my Montana Cabin Fund.

Ah, you bargained your way out.

I managed to blackmail mom with her 1969 arrest record and Quinn with her other
stock pile. It was easy, but, now, thanks to my damned conscious, I'm begging to
get this quizzy feeling that it was TOO easy. Everyone around was making a big
deal and effort over this bug invasion and, here am I, casually bailing out on

So? You got lucky by catching them with their khakis down.

.....and disappointed in them, too. I expected them to put up a fight with my
act of mutiny, but nothing happened. Mom always drove me nuts about putting
personal words into action, and, in turn, I expected them to do the same, but
lately they're becoming more lethargic than me. Now, this disappointment I have
with this family is eating me up like those roaches in my house. It's the usual
practicing what you preach commandment that's gone to hand basket hell. Does
that mean that everything that my parents teach me means nothing at any giving
moment? Does these lessons matter to me in the long run? Does it really matter
at all?....*sigh*...It has taken my entire life that I can now say that I've
practically given up on, not only my own people, but for mankind in it's
entirety. I can only address myself as a singular human being now.

DARIA makes a dramatic pause. JANE, however, is going through the last two lines
from DARIA's speech in her mind and is mouthing some of those words.

(whispering to herself)".....singular human being now".....(to DARIA) Bravo
Channel had 'Slacker' on last night, didn't they?


Daria! I know you well enough to know that when you get caught up in this little
moral mind loop, you start to quite that professor from 'Slacker' like those
damned Tarantino freaks. I know you got your own way of dealing this round of
'Family Feud', but please don't go 'Trekkie' on me.

DARIA: (upset)
Excuse me.

O.K., O.K., I'll stop bickering you on your choice of copyrighted words. But
listen, they're your own flesh, blood and hair color, but we're really talking
about here is two very different outlooks. Mom, Dad and The Pink Scrunchy
Monster are all stuck in their own collective narrow perception. Thus while THEY
read the comics with a highliner, YOU, on the other end of this perception
scope, are adventurous enough to blindly join your like minded freaks for a
weekend excursion to Mt. Trailer Park.

....and you're getting around to....

You can love them as a family, but don't expect them to be forced to eat their
Taco Bell dinner at the Algonquin Table with you. (pointing at DARIA to stress
her point) So you better get use to it. It's nothing more than just a simple
challenge in life, my dear friend.

JUST then we see an aerial shot of the Tank quickly swerve towards the side of
the road. A couple of cars close by honk their horn in protest. Just as quickly,
the Tank is back in it's original lane. Quick cut back to the van where
everybody is a bit shaken, excluding the sleeping Mystics and TRENT, who is, not
only wide awake, has a sloppy big smirk on the side of his face. JANE leans over
to TRENT and tries to yell into his ear.

JANE: (at the top of her lungs)

TRENT: (calmly)
.....only a simple challenge, my dear sister....

We are inside of an old barn with some musical equipment and related items, lots
of hay and some cows inside. This happens to be Spiral Traps rehearsal room and
H.Q. The members are relaxing, except BRAD who's reading the "POSITIVELY THE
VERY LAST LATEST EDITION" of the local rag with the screaming head line:
"'SPIRAL TRAPS' FALL FROM UNDER THEMSELVES!!". He's NOT taking this very well.

BRAD: (yelling at the paper)
We've been replaced?!?!

TRAP #1: (calmly)
Well, it ain't the first gig we lost this week.

BRAD: (cont.)
....from 'CowFest'?!?!

TRAP #1:
Oh, that one.

TRAP #2: (to BRAD)
Easy, man. Give it a few days and it will all blow over and they'll forget about
the fist fight with the cows.

BRAD: (cont.)
...replaced by temps!?!?

TRAP #2: (taking this news seriously)
Temps?! Wow, they're serious this time!

BRAD: (to the rest of the band) out-of-town scabs, ya knobs!! They're getting outside help to infiltrate
our territory! THEY'RE kicking us out of our own TURF!!!!

Oh, if that never happened before; like when Stigg got those pigs
drunk and they tried to have sex with the dogs at last years 'PorkFest' AND
Sheriff Barbradey came after us with a gun.

TRAP #2:
...and we only got away with it because the sheriff forgot the bullets.

Stuff it, Stigg! This is different! It's not just the farmer and the off spring
this time, it's the whole damned local government that's giving us the heave and
forcing us out for cheaper labor. This action goes against union rules!

We got a union?

BRAD: (trying to remember something from the top of his head)
Page 125, Section 14 says "Thou shall not tread upon ones...." No. "One mustn't
let thy unholy club managers....." Ummmm, "If thou forced they.....Huhhhh

TRAP #1: (to TRAP #2)
Thou art getting' mighty confused.

A quick shot of the ROADIE (still in his panties outfit) with his arms around a

Rule #14: "A out of town band can't enter and perform in the hometown band's
territory without written permission or a musical mano a mano."

TRAP #2:
...the HELL was that?!

He's our union rep. Fellow South Park bar band members! If we are to remain a
self-respecting cover band in good standing, we MUST fight for what's-left of
our fair name, our bars AND our arts festivals. We must seek revenge against
those who tread upon our turf. They WILL drink the black sperm of our collective
vengeance by making sure that this heathen band doesn't even make it to see the
spotlight that's so rightfully ours! Ralph! (pointing to the ROADIE) Fill out
those complaint forms, while we take care of our "guests"....(dramatic pause and
BGM)....for good.

BRAD then bellows out a diabolical mad scientist/Vincent Price laugh. He
suddenly stops and notices something is wrong. He then starts to yell at RALPH,
the roadie.

RALPH!! Get your overweight limbs off that cow right NOW of I'll circumcise you
with a weed whacker! FILE THOSE PAPERS!!

A quickie shot of RALPH who's about to kiss a very nervous cow. Both have lip
stick and garder belts on.

Damn! (to the cow) Sorry, honey, but duty calls.

We open inside a darkened cheap motel room with twin beds and a TV set bolted on
the wall. This place is a few thousand steps below Motel 6. We join in just
before a MOTEL MANAGER opens the door and turns on the ceiling light. He enters,
followed by JANE, DARIA, TRENT and JESSIE. The MANAGER is wrapping up his little

.....and now, here's your crash pad. Now, before we go any further, I've been
getting the same damned question from you nosy costumes over and over; so I'll
answer it right now. (points to the lighting fixture) You see that light
fixture? It's NOT a camera! Got it?

Then way is it moving?

The MANAGER takes a closer look at the fixture.

Hmmm, must be the roaches humping the light bulb again. OH! Before I forget,
tonight's free porn night on the old tube. So knock yourselves out, kiddos!

MANAGER quickly leaves and slams the door behind him.


....just like Norman Bates with testosterone...

JANE notices the two beds.

JANE: (in mock surprise)
WHAT do we have here?! Two beds and there's only four of us! Looks like we have
to pair up here! Let's see...Jesse and me in one bed and....

Just before JANE can finish the next obvious word, DARIA gives JANE a sharp jab
to her ribs.


That's cool. You girls can take both the beds, Jesse and I can take the floor.

Yea, we'll get the sleeping bag from the tank.

What about the sleeping twins?

Nah, Jesse's amp is still smoldering. It should keep those guys warm overnight.

JESSE and TRENT exit for the bags.

DARIA: (to JANE, who's sitting down on one of the beds)
Do they usually have sleeping bags in the tank?

Oh yea. According to Trent's rant-filled musician credo, a real musician are so
used to sleeping on the floor that it's practically their "third home", just
below the toilet bowl. Plus, the bags come in handy when they play 'Bang The

I though they weren't into that scene?

Of course not. But the serious moody Marrison types like Trent seems to attract
those mindless horny Pamela Anderson, Jr. types, or in this town's case, the
Tanya Hanrding hell spawns, and that usually pisses off the regular bar bands.

....and Trent Morrison then turns the bimbos down in front of the grunts to show
them the importance of being "true" musicians thus impressing their girlfriends
even more.

Thus rubbing their useless rock 'n screw game in the grunt's collective faces.

...and that's when the fights begin.

Actually, that's when Trent makes a hasty exit leaving the grunts confused and
stumped and the bimbos totally lonely and end up blowing the bo-hunks anyway.
Hey! Who said groupies had standards?

Certainly not the raodies who come through this town.

JANE: hungry? I saw a greasy spoon on the way down here. All this sleazy
talk is making me hungry to see where these groupies work off hours and off
their knee pads.

Sure. All in the name of urban archeology and a burger.

We open with a shot of 'The Tank' parked in front of the greasy spoon in
question, 'THE OILY FORK'. We see some arms and legs sticking out of the van's
window. Obviously, these limbs belong to the 'sleeping twins'. Inside, we find
(in order) JESSE, TRENT, JANE and DARIA sitting at a table waiting for their

You know, if those twins stay in that van any longer, their spinal cords are
going to turn into pipe cleaners. WAIT! Don't tell me. Spinal dexterity, right?

Exactly. These little 'inconveniences' are to toughen the musician up for the
long mean road ahead.

Sleeping in the back of the van, cheap fast food, angry club owners, bouncers
using you equipment as punching bags, crashing at an unknown fan's pad at 3 a.
m., transvestites hitting on you, smelly groupies,......

Most wanna-be musicians can't even muster enough guts to survive their first
flying beer bottle. You don't go on the road because you want to, you have to.
The road is the musician's boot camp.

Good, I'll try to remember THAT, too, when the twins wake up in screaming pain
from the speed bumps.

The waitress arrives with their orders and places them in front of the gang.

Remember, Jess. Save some on the side from the guys.

Check. Oh, man. This grub is gonna feel sooooo good.

I'm starved to the ribs.

JESSE and TRENT are very eager to eat. They both grab for their utensils and are
ready to seriously chow down. Suddenly, they look dizzy and drowsy. Then both
fall over the table and landing their faces into their plates and begin to
snore. Bits of their dinner are scattered all over the table from the impact.
JANE and DARIA just sit and witness with very little surprise as if they were
expecting it. JANE then reaches into her backpack leaning next to her, pulls out
a Polaroid camera and takes a picture of TRENT.

I'm working on a collage piece of Trent's sleeping habits.

DARIA: (gets an idea)
Hmmm. I still have those Polaroid's of Quinn's make-up experiments. You do

CUT to just outside the dinner. CARTMAN, STAN, KYLE and KENNY are walking down
the sidewalk. They're in the middle of a conversation/argument. They have just
heard the news and CARTMAN is pissed off and is ranting away with the rest of
the boys trying to ignore him.

Damn it! What's has been happening to our town?!?!?! Corporate America is taking
over our main streets! Our coffee shops replaced by Starbucks! Greasy spoons by
EconoLube! Porn shops by Hustler Hollywood! Now, our local....

STAN can't take it anymore. He stops and turns around to face CARTMAN to cut him
off by yelling at him.

STAN: (yelling)
'Corporate', my ass, Good Year blip butt! You're spewing that liberal crap just
'cos you're pissed off that your stupid cousin got replaced by a better band.

....and how would you know that they're better?

Dude, Milli Freakin' Vanilli is better...even after the suicide, they can still
kick you cousin's ass.

Well, ain't that a bunch of homo CRAP! That band's probably one of those new-age
wimpy tree hugging' homo bands. 'Mystik Spirals'?! What kind of rock 'n roll
name is that?! I could kick them in what's left of their nuts! They so gay that
if any women likes them, they're dykes!

KYLE glances to the side and notices the Mystik van just behind them. He is
pleasantly surprised.

O. K., flammer! Here's your chance to fart your brains out! (he points the van
out to everyone) THAT don't look like no hippie-ass VW van to me!

All see the van and all, but CARTMAN, are impressed.

WOW! That's GOT to be a hard rockin' band behind the wheel of that piece of

That's fake rust! It's a cover so they can go through this town without getting
their asses kicked by the bums.

By this time, the rest of the gang has ignored CARTMAN and his little protesting
and has gone to get a closer inspection of the van. STAN is looking at the back
bumper which has the largest concentration of rust of the whole van.

Check out the rust collection in this poor bastard!

STAN rubs the rust and, after a few wipes, the bumper falls off and hits the

STAN: (impressed as hell)
Kick Ass!

We then hear KENNY mumbling/screaming from out of the shot. The remaining trio
goes to the other side of the van to investigate. They find KENNY swinging on
one of the arms sticking out of the window. STAN and KYLE are more impressed
than ever and CARTMAN is confounded.

KYLE: (pointing at KENNY)
HEY! They got their own drugged out roadies! (to STAN) If this ain't rockin',
I'm walkin'!

CARTMAN: (scrapping for more excuses)
Uh...they're probably passed out from the honey incense....

STAN: (seriously to KYLE)
O.K. it's now time for the ultimate proof. Help me up to the window.


KYLE stands underneath the window and hoisting STAN up to the window. STAN looks
around a bit and suddenly finds what he is looking for. He leaps off KYLE on to
the ground elated.


STAN: (exited)


STAN: (loudly)

STAN, KYLE and KENNY cheer happily and begins to chant.

STAN, KYLE and KENNY: (chanting)
Bang The Groupie! Bang The Groupie! Bang The Groupie!

CARTMAN really feels left out now and makes one last ditch effort.

CARTMAN: know, those gay hippies like to have animal sex outdoors and...

KENNY interrupts. From his high advantage point, he sees something inside the
dinner that grabs his attention.

(Translation: "Hey, guys! Inside the dinner! Groupies Ahoy! Groupies Ahoy!")

STAN and KYLE turn and runs up to the dinner window to see what KENNY has seen
and spots DARIA and JANE at eating their dinner. The guys are digging on this,
excluding CARTMAN, who's trying to hide it.

Out of town groupies!

This rocks!! Check out the chick in the red jacket. I'll bet that dominatrix
really knows how to fry their bacon!

The one in the green jacket looks pretty cool!

She looks pretty homely, dude.

STAN: (angry to CARTMAN)
HEY! Howard Stern says that homely disturbed chicks puts out edgy nasty sex!

Really? Wow!!

Cover me, man! I'm going in!

Right behind you, dude.

They are about to enter the dinner, leaving CARTMAN and KENNY behind. CARTMAN
gives it one more stab.

OH! Go ahead! Chase some out-of-town piece of ass and turn your back on our
local prostitute and culture.......

STAN and KYLE stop and turn and face CARTMAN.

STAN and KYLE: (yelling)
Shut up, chubby chaser!!

Both turn and proceeds to enter the dinner. CARTMAN fells rejected and gets

CARTMAN: (to himself or anybody else within listening distance)
Betrayed by my own friends. Oh, the disillusionment that surrounds me. The world
has turned it's collective back on me. The sky might as well fall on top of me
and end this isolated pain that I'm.....AAAUURRGGHH!

Just then, KENNY let's go of the arm and falls on top of CARTMAN. Unhurt (as
CARTMAN broke his fall), KENNY eagerly gets up and follows STAN and KENNY into
the dinner. CARTMAN is left laying on the ground.

CARTMAN: (angrily)
AH! That does it! Round two has just started!!

We're back into the dinner with JANE and DARIA eating their dinner and TRENT and
JESSE resuming their nap. DARIA is slowly eating and playing with her food
meaning that, once again, she's preoccupied and JANE, once again, notices this
and watches her. After a half a minute, DARIA stops and notices JANE studying
her. Another moment passes as both are looking at each other.


Nothing. I'm trying to figure out what lines I should use from that Smurf/Scooby
Snacks scene to lighten this uncomfortable moment.

Sorry, no 'Slacker' moment here, Taratino freak. The problem I'm currently
consiplating is little more simplistic.

How your kidney's can absorb this greasy mush?

No. We've been in this town for a couple of hours and we haven't been accosted
by overly curious bored hick or officer yet.

JANE: (looking around them)
Well, at the risk of coming off as Michael Jackson, we do kinda stand out around a animated way.

Like they were done by second graders and we're handled by animation school

More like trying to figure out which side took the bad acid. Hmm. Could of been
worse. We haven't been arrested by the Blue Meanies.

THAT is what's bothering me. Any moment now we will obnoxiously pointed out by
the general drunken populous and end up on Sick Sad World.

Maybe you're the one who has 'The Fear'. You ought to go on more trips like this
with us more often. Go out and go mano a mano with the outside world. Maybe you
won't feel so bad when you find bigger freaks out here than the ones Lawndale
makes us out to be.

Just then STAN, KYLE and KENNY show up at their table and addresses JANE and

HI! You're new here, right? Are you the crew sluts??

JANE is a little caught off guard by this greeting. DARIA is not.

Nice trip, Sunshine. Now hand over the Readi Whip. (to the boys) Are you with
the Larry Flynt's Welcome Wagon?

Before this can be answered, the guys notices TRENT and JESSIE. The impression
are in overdrive!

WOW! Are those guys the band?!

They gotta be! Smell that body order!

No, that's just the smell of the burnt burger colliding with his oily hair.

STAN: (becoming slightly disappointed)
You mean he's not zonked out from a cocaine binge?!

No. He's on leave from Ronald McDonald's McRehab House and he's going through a
Big Mac withdrawal.

KYLE: (faith restored)
In rehab?! Even better!

STAN: (ditto)
Yea! Stories of all-night banging, bozzin' and shootin' up kick ass!!

HUUuuudhfka lkjjdfoiyh fffftrrtthui (translation: 'Come On! Are you hoes or

JANE: (to the guys, offended)
Is that little pimp calling us hoes?

KENNY is shocked that anybody outside of the South Park circle understood him.
This goes unnoticed by everyone else.

Well, seeing that you stand out around here, you're out of town...

...and that van out there looks like a piece of crap with the amps and drugged
out roadies, you must be the new band playing at CowFest tomorrow night....

CARTMAN finally catches up with everybody and cuts in with his observation.

.....and that there's a 'I screw deer's' bumper sticker on the back, you must be
one of those flower sniffing tree-humping (screaming now) HOMO COMMUNIST FREAKS

Suddenly, STAN grabs KENNY by the arm and swings him around with great strength
and hits CARTMAN hard, the impact sends CARMAN across the floor and loudly
crashes against a wall at the other side of the dinner. KENNY is returned to his

Sorry, dude! I just couldn't take Cartman's crap anymore.

NNNNaaaaaaa (translation 'It's cool, dude.')

Now, that you greeted us with the ancient Three Stooges tribal greeting dance,
the answer to your inquiry is Yes, we're out of town, Yes, this is the band for
tomorrow nights concert....

....and No, we're not tree licking Lesbian sluts. We're working undercover for
'Sick Sad World' following this band to see if the dreaded Spinal Tap disease is

Exploding drummers??!!

Exploding fans.

KYLE: (not believing it)
Oh, bull! Cartman's cousin's band went through three drummers that way. Stan's
got the pictures from the last drummer. (to STAN) Dude, show them the pictures.

STAN pulls out a small stack of pictures from his jacket pocket and gives them
to DARIA. JANE looks over DARIA's shoulder for a peek.

JANE: (interested)
EEE-O! That's disgusting!

I never would of though that brain fragments could blend in with florescent

CARTMAN struggles back to the table.

CARTMAN: (angrily)
HEY! Are you showing the sluts those dead drummer pictures?!

So what's it to ya, commie?!

(angrily to CARTMAN)...and they're not even sluts! (sheepishly to JANE & DARIA)
Are you sure you're not sluts?

No! It's just a cover.

BULLCRAP! You're just being sarcastic, you plaster penis pusher! I ought to
know. These damned hard on's (pointing to his "friends") gives it to me all day.

That's just too easy to even think about, dude.

REALLY? So they pitch and you RECIEVE?

STAN, KENNY and KYLE laugh. CARTMAN is, of course, insulted.

That was cool!


That's NOT what I meant?! You're no different than these peons!

You mean you don't wear protection?

STAN, KENNY and KYLE laugh again. CARTMAN is.....ah, you get the idea.

Striiiiiiiike Two!!

Ah, screw you, bastards! I'll just ignore all of you!

CARTMAN turns his back with arms crossed and waits for everybody to be

So, where you guys from?

The seventh circle of Hell.

Actually, we're from Lawndale, Connecticut.

Connecticut?! That's hell?!

CARTMAN is talking out loud as his back is at the group trying to disrupting
their conversation.

CARTMAN: (loud)

Only if you consider the E ticket to hell littered with rich white trash snobs
talking like Thurston Howell, smelling of stale champagne, teenage girls with
more paint chips on their surface than the Titantic.

Treating 'The Stepford Wives' like Rocky Horror.

...and littered on both sides of Highway Styx, there's the sea of lawn
ornaments, Petmol Bismol Puke Pink painted houses and 'The Dawn Of The Dead'
mini-shopping malls as far as your blood shot eyes can see.


Yuck! I see what you mean!

Could of been worse. You could of been from Harrisburg, PA.

What makes THAT a hellhole?

The national headquarters of Pat Buchanan For President.

Everybody, except CARTMAN, shivers in fear.



Before CARTMAN is finished here, KENNY nudges STAN and holds out his arm towards
him. STAN gets the hint, grabs KENNY by the arm and, as before, slams KENNY into
CARTMAN, sending CARTMAN back across the other side of the dinner with a loud

Thanks, dude.

Not to seem too obvious here, but what's wrong with the human bowling ball?

Oh, outside of being a natural born pisser, his cousin is in the band you guys
just replaced.

They're called 'Spiral Traps'.

JANE: (sarcastically)
HOW original!!

DARIA: (holds up the photos)
Ah! Hence the exploding drum sticks.

Oh! There's way more where THAT came from!

DARIA: (interested)

So, what do you do for local color outside of the exercising your little S&M

Ah, ain't much other than laughing at 'Spiral Trap'.

Dude, don't forget about the polka band!

You're standard Lawrence Welk ranch type?

Nope! These guys are different! 'The South Park Farting Polka Band'

A siren (or a bell) is then heard and a waitress comes up to the table and hands
each one a gas mask.

It's Fridays night, dearies. It's practice night.

STAN, KENNY and KYLE put theirs on without question. JANE and DARIA are a little

Should I bother to ask?

JANE and DARIA put theirs on. We then see a "banquet room" far to the other side
of the dinner. A group of men in traditional "polka" outfits stand in a circle,
are preparing to practice without any instruments. The LEADER of the group
address the band.

LEADER: (to the Band)
O.K., boy-o's. Let's start off with the 'Beer Pissing Polka'!

The band turns to face each other, inner circle. Then they bend over, drop their
drawers and, with serious look of consitration on their faces, begins to fart
loudly and rhythmically a polka tune. Brown mist is filling the upper half of
the room and it creeps into the main dinner area. Those who are sitting near the
rooms entrance and without the masks are screaming in horror and tries to
escape, including CARTMAN, who JUST happened to land near the entrance.

CARTMAN: (yelling with red eyes and face)

Uh Huh. This doesn't look good.

His flashback is going to trigger a psychotic reaction?

Nah. I can see the knockwursts and beer from here. Looks like the band is going
to have a serious jam tonight.

We go back to the Banquet Room with the band practicing hard. One band member is
sweating major bullets while he solos. He suddenly lays out a fart to big and
intense that flames are coming out of his butt, causing the gas fumes in the
room to catch on fire. The reaction is messy. The members' butts and the room
are engulf with flames. The employees invade the room with fire extinguisher.
The practice is over. everybody removes their masks.

Ahhh, the sweet smell of success.

The smell of the burning flesh of future Gong Show contestants.

We cut to a few minutes later. We see KENNY and JANE "talking" together.
Actually, both have a large cups of coke and are taking larger gulps before they
speak. Though this technique, both are able to communicate through 'Belchises',
that act of talking and belching simitainiously. As we join in, JANE takes a
large serving of her drink.

JANE: (through 'Belchese')

KENNY takes a big gulp of his own

KENNY: (ditto)

JANE and KENNY share a good laugh. Meanwhile, at the other side of the table,
DARIA, STAN and KYLE are off on their own conversation. DARIA is looking through
more photos from STAN's collection.

....and THAT one was from when we saved the town from the vegetarian martins. We
had to load the guns with the kangaroo mean from McDonalds to do the job.

...and the photo after that one is Cartman when he shot himself in the mouth
with the gun. We had to drag his sorry fat ass to the hospital to give a high
power colonic. The body count from THAT alone was more than the invasion.

These are interesting, but do you guys got anything more....conceptual?

Hmmmm...let's see. (he reaches in his jacket pocket and pulls out a couple more
photos and gives it to DARIA) How's this?

DARIA looks at it and is surprised.

Are these butt checks and....

...and the UFO satellite sticking out the middle? Yup, THAT was when some UFO's
were trying to contact the local cows and implanted their communication
satellite into those butt cheeks.

...and dare I ask whom these cheeks belong to?

Just then, CARTMAN come up to the table. He is slightly burnt from the flames
and has band-aids all over him.

Good damned fart machines. I'd force them to a battery acid calonic if I have
the chance.

Hey, maybe the Chamber Of Commerce should designate his butt as a point of

Yea, South Parks version of the Eiffel Tower.

STAN and KYLE share a good laugh.

What? HEY! Are you showing photos of that satellite up my butt again?! My butt
is MY business!!

....and the interest of E.T., too.

STAN and KYLE laugh again.

These would be an interesting addition to my "UFO Romantic Mistakes & Crashes
Archive" site.

That's yours!?

Sure. I think I can make copies of "Best Of Animal Mulling" Vol.13 & 14 for
trade just for these two pictures.

The tapes that were pulled of the shelf?!

...with the seals humping the boats at Fisherman's Wharf?

...and those pigeons attacking those teenagers for feeding them chunks of
cocaine?! Sweeeet!!

Well? Cartman's pretty "little" profile for the angry animals?

Aaaah, well. I have to think about it. I don't think I want to show my handsome
posterior to all chicks to enjoy on the web so soon and.....

YOU got yourself a deal!

HEY! That's my butt, ya pimp!

HEY! It's his (pointing to STAN) negative!

Don't blow this trade! You want to watch those tapes as much as we do! So shut

Suddenly, there's a loud slam coming from the dinner's front door. Everybody
(excluding TRENT and JESSIE, of course) looks towards the door. It's WENDY
TEASTERBURGER, Stan's "sorta" girlfriend, who had just made a loud entrance and
she looks mighty pissed. Cue dramatic intro BGM. She marches up to the table and
eyes STAN.

So THAT'S where you and the boys have been. Fooling around with these
out-of-town groupie sluts behind my back! How dare you, ya cheating bastard!!

Speaking of angry animals...

What the hell are you talking about? These gals aren't sluts. There body guards
for the new band tomorrow. (to DARIA and JANE) Are you sure you guys aren't
sluts? I don't want to get screwed on this one.

We're no more sluts than your friend is a walking megaphone.

Watch your (bleep)ing hole you call a (bleep)ing mouth, you (bleeeeep). I know
how to fight for my man against (bleeeep)ing whores like you.

DARIA is getting a little mad herself with WENDY.

Excuse me, Lambchop.........

SHUT THE (bleeeeeeep) UP, YA (bleeeeeeep)ING WALKING (bleeeeep)ING TAMPON! One
more (bleeeeeep)ing word out of that (bleeeep) of yours and I'm gonn-(bleeeep)-a
knock the (bleeep) teeth from that that hairy (bleep) and drop kick your
(bleep)ing ass for a (bleep)ing field gold over your (bleeeep)ing grave! You
goddamed (bleeeeeeeeeep)ing stinking (bleep)!! By the time I'm finished with
(bleep) you, YOU won't be able to (bleep) (bleep) and (bleeeeeeeep) to grow hair
over that (bleep) you call a (bleep)ing (bleep), you GODDAMNED (bleeeeeeeep)ing
(bleeeeep)ed (bleeep)-th freaking (bleep) stupid

KYLE nervously turns to a more nervous STAN.

Whoa, dude! My gut tells me she means it this time. She even said 'freaking'.
CARTMAN: (quietly to STAN)
My five bucks says it's Wendy on this catfight

DARIA gets ready for her side of this debate

DARIA: (sternly at WENDY)
Listen here, Joan of Ass! IF you WERE to actually attempted to touch me with
that little piece of fat YOU call a tongue, I would highly suggest you stick it
out of your brain nestled between your butt cheeks and use it WISELY. You can
cuss, swear and demonstrate your vocabulary FINESSE to your cow chip of a hearts
delight but if you try to challenge me in this debate with your uniquely DRY
wit, I will have to scrape the walls with your shattered brain cells with my
verbal boot. And THEN, after I pull your heart out to feed the rats in this
restaurant, you'll pry for the hounds of hell to chase your decapitated soul to
oblivion than having yours VERY truly sewing your lips shut with my razor-sharp
words. However, your pleading would be for all for not as I'll end this
CONSTRUCTIVE debate by using your blood to clean the trail of your oily residue
you just slimed in here and laugh as your brain horrifyingly begs for mercy as I
use your COLORFULLY chosen words as a butcher knife and write my name all over
these walls for those who are foolish enough to stick their withered tongue were
(putting more weight on the last few words) IT....DOESN'T....BELONG!

There a quite yet tense pause over the table. JANE looks at DARIA, who's giving
WENDY the very evil eye and STAN, KYLE, KENNY and CARTMAN looking between DARIA
and WENDY. WENDY's face is suddenly engulfed with fright and, after a beat, she
screams and runs the HELL out of the dinner!

WENDY: (loud!)

Cue dramatic BGM for her exit. You can hear the door slam behind her. Now, all
eyes are on DARIA. JANE is surprised and the South Park gang are impressed as
hell, including CARTMAN!

.....the HELL.........?!?!


Boy, you took that 'mano a mano' deal to your heathen black heart, didn't ya!

Now hand over the price money, Vince McMahon.

Cut to a few minutes later, it's outside of the entrance of the dinner.
Suddenly, DARIA and JANE walk out and both are holding the door open. KENNY,
STAN and KYLE are carrying still-sleeping TRENT over their heads through the
door and towards the van.

You guys don't really have to do this.

We could of dragged the guys in ourselves.

Hey, it's the least we can do after you scared off Wendy from kicking our asses.

...besides, Cartman is doing the dragging.

We then see CARTMAN barely dragging the larger JESSE through the door. He's NOT
have a good time with this chore.

Ooooft....AUgh! I said I was sorry and paid off my damned bet!

Stop yer whining, Lord of Fat Ass.

..or Daria and her hunchbabe here will write her name with your fat blubber all
over the ground as a doorstep for the foolish mortals who enters her gates of
flesh eating hell!

JANE opens the van door.

JANE: (to the guys)
Well, you guys can do thy majesty's bidding by throwing the corps in the back.

KENNY, STAN and KYLE manage to throw TRENT in the van, followed behind by the
struggling CARTMAN with his catch!

OOOoofft. UUUungh! You can carve you initials on my ass later, just help me get
this muscle-bound fairy in the van.

CARTMAN is pulling JESSE from inside the van now. The rest of the guys kicks
give JESSE a kick causing JESSE to fall on top of CARTMAN.

OUCH! YOU (bleeeeping) BASTARDS!!!!

The guys laugh. We cut to JANE and DARIA. JANE give the keys to DARIA.

Here. You drive us to Hotel Hell. Being that your reputation is light speeding
past you damned soul with these guys, you might as well impress them with your
patented Barretta U-turn.

We open to the traditional SICK SAD WORLD opening logo. The ANNOUNCER dose the
honors in his usual frantic pace and tone.

It's the latest trend amongst Hollywood's hottest actress! They're dropping
their dreamboats for creeps! That's right! The losers are winning out! Don't
believe us? Well, just listen to these starlets!

What follows are a quick series of vox pox of various popular faceless actresses
delivering their lines with a straight and passionate face. Romantic music is
playing in the background.

When my date blows his nose in his handkerchief.....and he looks at it,...I
can't say no.

Blackheads drive me wild!

Pimples on his back sends my heart racing!

When I know a guy over 40 and still lives with his mother, I can't help myself.

Acme guns my motor.

I think it's SO cute when guys misses the toilet.

I'm a push over for loose dentures.

A guy who sneezes in his hand....and wipes it on his

If you want to get to first base with me honey, spit when you talk!

I wouldn't kick Dan Quyale out of bed.....

While this last ACTRESS leers longer at the camera, the ANNOUNCER cuts in.

...but first,...the latest threat to the arteries of the heart of America!

Cut to a farmer walking to a large barn filled with cows. Cue the usual
pulsating S. S. W. music.

ANNOUNCE: (cont.)
...what usually starts out for the typical Heartland farmer as a routine morning
milking chore....

We see the farmer walk into the barn.

ANNOUNCER: (cont.)
....turns into udder terror in the hands of death....

A loud cow squeal is heard.

COW: (total shock)

ANNOUNCER: (cont.)
....make that, COLD hands, especially when the chilly morning hands are from the
innocent farmer and the deliver of death are from the avenging cows!!

We then hear the farmer yell in bloody pain and see his body parts flung out the
door. A sound of an angry cow and limbs ripped apart.

FARMER: (off camera)

Cut back to the swirling 'Sick Sad World' logo

ANNOUNCER: (cont.)
The REAL mad cow disease! NEXT WEEK on SICK SAD WOOOORLD!

We pull back and see we've been watching this on the motel TV. Someone turns the
set off. The next shot is DARIA with the remote sitting on the bed in the motel
room. It's the next day, near afternoon. JANE walks up to DARIA in her sleeping
outfit with her hair all messed up.

Looks like it's finally my turn for the shower. Where's the sleeping duo?

They're down at the Tank comparing neck and spinal fractures with the Twins.

I hope big brother cleaned up after himself in the bathroom. I BETTER not find
globs of food from his hair in the tub....again. (DARIA looks inquisitive) DON'T
ask! (she walks off towards the bathroom) Now don't have another case of the
fear until I come back.

JANE goes into the bathroom and closes the door. DARIA gets up and walks towards
the window. She studies the view from their second story motel window: the
parking lot, the busy highway, the mountains, the burnt out trailer park across
the street, the 25 ft. tall statue of Paul Bunyon with a big rifle in one hand,
a six pack in the other, a dead dear over one of the shoulders and sporting a
bra in front of a 24 hour "liquor and gun" shop next to the park, NEXT to a used
trailer lot, ect. She feels a little uncomfortable with the surroundings and,
again, lost in her own thoughts. She doesn't notice TRENT suddenly walking up
beside her.

DARIA: (quietly to herself)
Thanks for a continent to be spoiled and poisoned. Thanks for the American
Dream, to vulgarize and falsify until the bare lie shines through......for
probation and the war on drugs...

... and thanks for a nation of finks. This place hasn't settled well with you,

DARIA is surprised by TRENT's presents and snaps out of her thoughts.

OH!? Well, this place does bring out the drunken angry beatnik in me.

I felt like that when I first went to places like this for our first tour. Away
from home, faced with a whole new world to deal with, contending with a new set
of vibes, little local customs to learn, feeling totally out of place, not
knowing exactly WHAT I was doing in this stink hole.

There's a difference?

I wasn't used to places like this until the passion from my music convinced me
that I was doing the right thing. If ever I needed to get my music out to the
people, I would have go out of my ownself and get the hell out to places like
this and get the job done. It may not mean much for now, but in the long run,
I've felt that I was accomplishing something very important, spreading this
music of mine EVERYwhere far beyond my cold dark basement and experience with
this life has to offer. (stares out the window) THAT's what I see when I look
out at views like this, Daria, (points to the window), a challenge for the true

All I see out there is where Quinn's children will have their first drink
followed by their first display of public vomiting.

TRENT laughs and, of course, coughs at DARIA's little joke and places his hand
on her shoulder.

Don't let this scene bring you down. When you least expect it, you just may find
out more about yourself than you ever imagined, even in a dump like this...just
like I did.

JESSE: (out of view)
Hey, guys! Come here!

TRENT leaves DARIA to meet JESSE. DARIA takes one last glance out the
window...until she sees something that catches her eyes with a tinge of fear:
the sight of a SICK SAD WORLD van pulling up in the parking lot and the crew
climbing out. She walks off and meets the group near the front door. Joined with
JESSE and TRENT is JANE, who's all dried off and dressed for action.

That was quick.

JANE: (to DARIA, with a bit of pride)
One of the few benefits of having clay in your bloodstream from teething it
during your infancy is that it makes it easy to sculpture your hair quickly in
JUST the right places.

JESSE hands out small cans of fruit juice to the gang.

JESSE: (to everyone)
I don't know how you guys feel about this trip so far, but I, for one, am
feeling pretty good about this gig. This is the first major out-of-town gig and
I'm ready to tackle that crowd!

The humans or the bovines?

(holds up his can) So I propose a toast. To the spirit and the gusto of facing
and taking on the ocean of the unknown face to face. I can see to great guitar
solo reflecting this awesome moment in history!

Damn Right, Jess!! (raise his can) I see some lyrics describing the
uncompromising determination in diving into that human swill AND surviving to
tell the tale. I think I'm going to call the song '(I Licked) The Arm Pit Of

(raises her can)...and I'll follow the example of my older sibling and Egore and
lift my warm can of artificial flavored fruit water to toast this hunting moment
as well. I can see a velvet collage piece: orange velvet background with bits of
roadkill, crushed beer cans, used condoms and stolen baseball cap pins
representing the psyche of middle American rural groupies.

(kinda lifts her can) I'll mark this auspicious occasion in my report for Mr.
DeMartino's class: 'Smelly Utopian Hick Communities Built On Rotting Teeth'.

DARIA pauses and then notices everyone is smiling at her as she, in her own way,
is caught up in the mood. DARIA feels uncomfortable with this, too.

DARIA: (mumbling to herself)
....or the beginning of deep emotional scares whenever I smell fried pork rinds.

We're now back stage at 'CowFest' outdoor amphitheater. TRENT is looking from
behind a large amp an notices the crowd (humans and bovines counting) pilling
in. To his amazement (and the concert organizers), it's a sold out crowd! He
looks little nervous but doesn't let everyone know it. JESSE, JANE, DARIA and
the rest of the Mystik members walk up from behind and talk to him.

Ready for the big show, big boy?

JESSE takes a peek out at the large bustling crowd himself.

Wow! That's a lot of big people out there. This is the largest audience we've
ever played.....(a look of shock comes over his face) and they're all sober!

A voice from the audience is heard. Sounds like an old REDNECK.

REDNECK: (yelling)

Well,....most of them.

Ah. Don't sweat it, guys. They probably end up enjoying the show. I guess they
heard enough of that Hee Haw house band that they'll be shocked with the
Mystiks, drop their beer and actually HEAR the music for a change.

...And even if the natives do get restless, at least, you have an escape route
through the field behind the stage. A true musician ALWAYS has a back-up plan.
Right, Trent?

Spoken like a true warrior...

Will you please knock off with the viking references until AFTER we're
hospitalized?! (to DARIA) Come on, Daria. The carnage is about to start and I
want a damned good view when it goes down. (to the Mystiks) Good luck, guys.
We'll warn you when the beer bottles start to fly.

DARIA: (to the Mystiks)
Good luck, guys....THEY are going to need it.

TRENT, JESSE and the Mystiks say their good-byes. DARIA and JANE disappear. As
soon as they're gone, a deep yet cheerful voice booms out of nowhere. The
Mystiks looks where it's coming from. It belong to CHEF. He approaches the group
with a babe (or two or three) on each side.

CHEF: (happily to the Mystiks)
WELL, hello, boys!! You must be the out-of-town band everybody's here to see.

TRENT: (extends his hand to CHEF)
Mystik Spiral. I'm Trent, the leader.

CHEF: (shaking TRENT's hand)
Great to meet you, Trent. I'm Chief! I'm, what you'd might say, the official
welcome wagon for any rock 'n roll band passing through our fare fine pinkin's
of a town of South Park. My job is to greet the bands, size 'em up and explain
our local rules of 'Bang The Groupies' here. So there won't be any
misunderstanding. O.K.?

Uuuh, well...we don't....

CHEF: (oblivious)
Fine. Well, here's the way it's set up. I got my own sable of fine women I must
satisfy with my sweet loving' on a regular basis, so they're obviously off
limits. Now with this town growing, there's a new batch of these wonderful
species of female to inspect, so you boys will have to give me a chance to break
them in so they're also no-man's land, in my bedroom (laughs at his
own joke as do his chicks) Heh, heh, heh.....


CHEF: (cont.)
Now for the ones with, say....missing teeth and fingers, varicose vanes on their
faces, overweight with three chins, orange know, the...unusual forms
of womanhood. They are yours 'cos, you know, they need all the fine loving' they
can get and I'm just too busy with these statuette wonders. So as a benefit to
the less fortunate citizens of this town, I'll just leave the rest to you. What
the hell, you know? Spread the wealth of sharing, I always says!


CHEF: (cont.)
But then after seeing those two chicks you brought along for this gig, I see you
know what I'm talking about.

TRENT: (a little upset from this)
Excuse me...........

CHEF: (cont.)
Now, I know you boys are into this grunge/goth cockamamie heebie jibbie stuff,
but I wonder if you play a request for me and my dates. You boys know 'The Theme
From Shaft'?

TRENT: (now beyond confusion)

CHEF: (cont.)
Wellll, that's O.K., guys. As long as you don't play that damned-candy-assed
Barry White crapola. That fat black-butt bowling ball can sweat up enough fluids
to fill up all the toilets in New York subway station bathrooms all he wants, he
STILL can't get any where near the notes as well as ME! Hell, I got funky with
Dionne Warwick and all that HE got is a big FAT ass. If he ever have the
strength to lift his blimp body over his dates, they'd need a crowbar to scrape
the poor flattened chick off his pimply chest. PLUS that wide-cargo hippo butt
can't even play any instruments!

CHEF catches himself and TRENT is thunderstruck.

....where was I? OH, YEA! So, remember, boys! The grade A meat is my property
and everything else in the meat locker is yours to poke. Remember the golden
rule of groupies: You can yank 'em, crank 'em but don't stay around to thank
'em! Have a great show, Trent!

CHEF and his giggling babes leave. The Mystik are dumbfounded!

TRENT (to JESSE, slightly dazed)
Jess? What the hell just happened?

Back to the seating audience. JANE and DARIA are walking to their front row
seats. They see that CARTMAN, STAN, KYLE and KENNY are seated next to theirs.

CARTMAN, STAN, KYLE and KENNY: (to JANE and DARIA) (simultaneously)
Hey, Jane! Hey, Daria!

Both JANE and DARIA sits down. The guys are on JANE's side and a rancher and his
cow are seated next to DARIA.

Hey, guys!

DARIA reluctantly studies the rancher and his cow. Sure, the cow is seated next
to him, but she notices that the rancher is holding one of the cow's front hoofs
and there's a bracelet around the hoof. The rancher has a big smile on his face.
DARIA is fighting her curiosity. After a while of this silent study, the RANCHER
finally notices DARIA and starts to talk to her.

Hello, ma'am.

DARIA: (uncomfortable)
Uh, hi.

Your new here, right?

DARIA: (getting a little edgy with this question)

Sorry. No offense. It's kinda rare to meet anybody from the outside of this
town. You know, these town folk can be so narrow minded. When I first moved
here, NOT too many of these nosy people didn't take kindly to me and my cattle.

The other ranchers didn't like your method of raising cattle?

RANCHER: (pleasantly surprised at DARIA's blind guess)
EXACTLY! I mean, these guys yell abuses, whip these lovely honeys until they're
blue and such...just plain mistreat them. MY method is to treat these wonderful
creatures with LOVE, comPASSION and respect. Hell, they're practically members
of my own family!!

I....see. Do you, BY any chance, raise sheep as well?

I sure do! They're my extended family!!


The RANCHER goes back to waiting for the show. DARIA is still glancing dreading
the obvious. Suddenly, the RANCHER turns to DARIA and holds up his hand holding
the cows hoof and it's bracelet to show her.

We're naming out first offspring.....

DARIA: (quickly cuts him off)
SORRY I asked!

Blown off, the RANCHER shrugs it off and goes back to his little world. DARIA
puts her hands over her face in disbelief and regret. JANE, who was listening
in, leans over to DARIA.

JANE: (quietly to DARIA)
Enjoying the local color?

...the same way I like to study of color of puke....

Back up on stage, the MAYOR walks up to a microphone to address the crowd but is

(yelling at someone off the stage) Is this stupid thing on? Come on, you morons.
I can't spend all day being cooped up in this pig sty with these retards!! (then
notices the mike was on, then looks sheepish) OH! Esteemed citizens of South
Park! How lucky we are that this town managed to survive from this monumental
event in one piece! Here, on the last day of 'CowFest', we finally come through
with our promise to offer you the best that this town can offer in local musical
color. (pauses, no response from no one) O.K., so they're out of state....but
they live close enough to catch our legendary influence and (loudly to excite
the crowd) THAT'S NOT BAD. (nada) O.K. NOT THAT BAD!!!

No response from the audience.

I presume being a typical polictian, she is going to take her sweet ass time?

(to JANE) Yup, but not for long. (to the guys) Ready?


As the sun rests over the ending of this fest, we should feel proud that this
event's success will translate to the outside world our TRUE character and
invests in what's left of our industry.

While the MAYOR announces this shpell, KYLE, KENNY and CARTMAN whips out their
own peashooter, takes a deep breath, aims it at the MAYOR and shots a dart at
her. Bingo! All three darts hits her squarely on the center of her forehead.

MAYOR: (cont.)
An industry that sustained our fair town through the depression and the dreadful
health food scare....

Then, the MAYOR is suddenly sleepy and falls off the front of the stage and hits
the ground with a loud thud! THIS gets the big happy response from the audience.
DARIA and JANE applauds.

You are what you vote for, but you got to hand it to them, they do have SOME
sense of priority.

We then go to the field behind the stage. It's almost empty other than some
large stacks of hay and some scattered cows. Suddenly, behind one the more
larger stacks, we see four heads pop out from behind it. Actually, they're
terribly made costume cow's heads. These figures lift the heads half way to get
a clear sight. It happens to be the four members of 'Spiral Traps' dressed in
cow costumes. One of them being, of course, BRAD. He looks determined and ready
for action, unlike the rest of the members.

O.K., you knobs. They're almost ready to hit the stage. NOW is the time to jump
in and put the cuboosh on this commie BBQ party. You know the plan. Mid way
through their first number, we sneak up from behind in these disguises, jump on
the stage and kick their ass in front of everybody. Then the whole cows will see
what true pussies they really are and they'll join in.

TRAP #2: (quietly to STIGG)
But what about the people?

(to TRAP #2) Shhhhh....(to BRAD)What about Barbrady? You think he'll remember
the bullets this time?

Stop sucking your thumb, baby! Ralph will sneak in and distract Barbrady.
Remember, no matter what happens, DON'T talk, just moo your brains off. It'll
confuse everyone, including the police and they won't know who we are. Let's

The 'Traps' pull the cows heads back over their heads and move around the pile
of hay and proceed towards the stage, making really bad moo calls.

Moo. Moo? Mrrrrr. MMMmmmooo. MMOO! MoMoMoMoMoMo. mo? etc.,

Soon after the 'Traps' exits from the shot, five more heads pop up from a near
by hay stack, just behind the one the 'Traps' were hiding in. They, too, have
badly constructed cow costums. They lift their masks from their faces to reveal
that they are the surviving members of 'The South Park Farting Polka'. They have
bandages all over their faces and they're not looking too happy either. Their
leader (SVEN) is the first to some fractured English/Eastern European

Alvight, you sloobs know der plan. Ve'll sneak up to da stag' with these couws
make-up and half-way trough deir first nomber, ve joomp up on to da stage and
gib it to zem. Noboy pushes uz offt da local zpotlight wit'out a fight. Lez

Vat did you say, Sveen? I couldn understand vat your sayink?

SVEN: (angrly to #1)
Knock oof da wizcracks, zmart ash...un't doon't forget to muuu!

MEMBER #1: (to himself)
Vat joke?!

The Polka band pull the cow head back over the head and, like the Traps before
them, precedes to move carefully towards the stage, doing bad cow

Muuuuu! MuMuMuMu. mUmUmUmU. Der MUUUOOOOCH. mau?! etc.,etc.,

Back to the stage, the Mystiks are quickly setting up as the CHIEF runs up to
the mike to introduce them.

...and while our honorable mayor recuperates, it IS my grand pleasure to
introduce the REAL main feature of this whole cow mumbo jumbo. Ladies and
Gentlemen, get off your collective cracker ass and give up, but not too much,
ladies, to....THE MYSTIK SPIRALS!!

The band is ready and the crowd applauds. Trent approaches the mic and addresses
the crowd.

Hello. We're Mystik Spiral. Though we're thinking of changing our name by the
end of this set. So your guess is sure as hell as good has ours.

The Mystik lean into their first number, an oldie of thier's called 'Behind My
Eyelids'. The audience and the cows are immediately eating it up.

Wow! Depressing songs kick ass! I wonder if he's gonna do a Kurt Cobain on

Admit it, blubber butt. This stuff gives your cousin's band the boot up the

CARTMAN: (trying hard not to show his enjoyment)
...uh, would've been better if Brad and his boys are here to prove

HA! Bull(bleep)! They're probably doing a Michael Hutchence without beating the

What DO you know?! Trent and the boys are already the big hit with cows AND the

DARIA: (something is bothering her)
Good for Trent but bad for my instincts. This event is going off TOO smoothly.

JANE: (a little prissy)
Damn it, Daria! Lighten up! Nothing...I repeat NO DAMNED THING is going to
happen! Those Spiral Trap nimrods are probably drinking their sorrows away with
Bubba Cola.

Back on the stage, Sheriff BARBRADY is standing guard on the side of the stage.
Suddenly, RALPH slides up next to him in his special pink panty outfit. RALPH
tries to make eye contact in a seductive, yet careful low-key manner as not to
attract outside attention; i.e.: winking, moving his hips, blowing kisses, etc.
BARBRADY turns his head and notices RALPH. RALPH winks his eyes and BARBRADY
just stands there staring at him from behind his sunglasses showing no emotion
other than raising his eyebrow for a couple of moments. RALPH is getting
uncomfortable. Suddenly, BARBRADY brakes the ice.

BARBRADY: (genuinely curious)
Are those Victoria Secrets?

RALPH: (caught totally off-guard by the question)
Uhh....why...yes, these are.....?

How much do you weight? 200? 250?

Actually, I'm 260.

BARBRADY: (happily)
What a coincidence!! That's MY weight! I've been looking for an assemble just
like THAT! Do they have a special section in the store for fat people?

RALPH: (pleasantly)
No. I had this specially fitted.

Really?! I didn't know that?!

While this banter and the loud concert is proceeding according to plan, BRAD and
the TRAPS are by now at the foot of the back of the raised stage and are about
to carefully climb up. Of course, they don't even know nor see the POLKA BAND
immediately behind them and the BAND hasn't noticed the TRAPS either! The TRAPS
climb onto the stage without any notice nor trouble and are about to make their
move. POLKA BAND are getting ready, too. They stop just short of the stage, turn
around and drop their pants, exposing their bare butts to aim upwards to the
stage. SVEN barks out the order.

MEAN!! Begin too conzintrade un't, on my mark, starz wit za gazz!!

BRAD barks his orders to his troops.

This is IT!!...Move fast!!!

Only JANE and DARIA notices what's going on behind TRENT and the band.

DARIA: (calmly to JANE)
Jane, between my apprehensions and your track record of perception, we could
easily bring the end to the world.

OH, so now not only are we freaks, but also the anti-Christ?...ah, what the
hell. If you're going to have a goal in life......

Before they can do anything, the domino series of events begins very swiftly!
SVEN gives the orders....

SVEN: (yelling)



The signal is given and the POLKA boys begin to fart heavily, creating an large
thick ugly dark brown cloud. It soon rises upward and onto the stage. The TRAPS
are caught in it's path and begin to turn blue and choke! JUST then, JESSE
starts to whale on a guitar solo and, as before, his amp explodes, spreading
sparks all over the place, especially RIGHT where the TRAPS and the cloud are
and starts a large explosion. The TRAPS, some parts of the back stage and the
POLKA BAND are on fire!

TRAPS: (collectively, in pain)

POLKA BAND: (ditto)

The TRAPS split up and begin to recklessly run all over the stage. Koas has
officially begun! The crowd reacts in horror and begins to run around, too.
BARBRADY and a surprised RALPH suddenly notices the activity.

This wasn't supposed to happen?!?!?!

No kidding!..(he whips out his gun)...Good thing I remembered to load my gun!
Get off the stage you delinquent cows!!

BARBRADY shoots three bullets, one of them hits a TRAP member and he falls on
the left pole that holding up the left side of the large 'COWFEST' banner,
forcing it to lean towards the audience. BARBRADY pulls the trigger a couple
more times but it just clicks.

BARBRADY: (urgency)
Oh, my GOD! I ran out of bullets (to RALPH) Run for your life!

BARBRADY pushes RALPH off to safety. However, RALPH ends up bouncing off the
right banner post and it, too, leans towards the audience. The center banner
post is still up but it's stretching heavily from the weight.

WAIT! I think I got more bullets back in my squad car. (to whomever within an
earshot) Now DON'T anybody move until I come back.

BARBRADY runs off leaving behind the carnage. By this time, the POLKA MEMBERS
have ran onto the stage aimlessly running around in pain and in flames, even
some of the surviving TRAP members manage to make it to the seats. The audience
are also running around in horror (see the final parade scene from Animal House
and you get the general sense here). In fine tradition, TRENT and the boys
continue their set with eyes passionately closed; totally oblivious to the
hostile surroundings.

CARTMAN: (impressed)
WOW! Even my cousin can't top this!!

Shut up, fatass! Someone's trying to sabotage the concert.

I could of....

O.K, Nostradamus, you earned your paycheck.....

The loud sound of stretching clothing material and bending metal cuts off this
conversation. CARTMAN, KYLE, STAN, KENNY, JANE and DARIA look up and notices the
center banner pole is giving way to the pull of both sides of the polls. With
the fake cow's head dangling just center and in front, this looks like a
slingshot effect that's about to happen and it's aimed down at their front
seats! The group senses this.






.....fake cow brains! THIS is our cue....

They start to move out of the way. However, (wait for it....) KENNY, who's
sitting at the center of the row, is unable to move quickly out of the way. The
center pole collapse, the banner catches the cow's head and, with a louder thud,
slams the head right on Kenny, creating a 20ft. hole right where he was.
Everyone is horrified.


KYLE: (pointing at the hole)

KYLE can't find the reason to yell at the wreckage. He stops, looks around and
notices the RANCHER and his cow. He goes over to the cow and yells and points at


He then kicks the cow.

STAN: (to CARTMAN, pointing at the stage)
Hey, dude! Isn't THAT your dumb ass cousin?

All eyes are on a flaming cow figure blindly running amok between the MYSTIK
members. It's BRAD's face that is clearly seen through the now-charred cow head.

CARTMAN: (totally shocked)
WHAT THE.....?! BRAD!? What the hell is that cow (bleep)er doing up there
running around like a gay cow?! He's bringing disgrace to my family's

What reputation?

CARTMAN: (to STAN, catching that last line)

Suddenly, BRAD accidentally bumps hard into TRENT and JESSE causing all three of
them to fall of the stage and land on the concrete floor just in front of the
gang, with BRAD landing on top of them. This get a serious reaction of shock and
anger from JANE and DARIA. BRAD gets up and starts to frantically run up the
aisle. DARIA then looks determined. She turns around to face the RANCHER and
grabs his coil of rope attached to his belt.

Excuse me while I borrow your bondage toy.

An dramatic excerpt from 'Billy The Kid Suite' begins to play as BGM while DARIA
uncoils the rope and, like any fair cow poke, begins to make a lasso. She moves
to the bottom of the aisle, twirls the lasso over her head and takes careful aim
as BRAD is nearly at the top of the aisle steps. DARIA throws the lasso and
catches BRAD by the neck. With one mighty pull, the rope snags VERY tightly
around the neck (causing his eyeballs to bulge and face turning red, a.k.a. Tex
Avery-style) and is pulled off his feet. This causes him to bounce down landing
on various parts of his body on each step with more pain.

OOOCH! (another step) OUCH! (another step) OOFTH! (another step) EEE!! (and so

With each landing, his fire goes out. JANE is standing behind DARIA helping her
reel BRAD in. The guys are behind them coiling the rope. BRAD finally lands just
in front of DARIA, bloody face first. DARIA then jumps and lands VERY hard on
top of BRAD, knocking the wind out of him.

BRAD: (in even more pain, and short of breath)

DARIA then grabs the rope from the gang and begins to tie BRAD's arms and legs
together behind his back like a cowboy in rodeo. Done!...and there's much


While the guys jump and holler for joy, DARIA stands up and puts her left boot
on top of BRAD's head. JANE stands right behind her and places her hand on
DARIA's right shoulder. Both smile at BRAD and then at each other with the
satisfaction on a job well done.

Enjoyed the view?

Best seat in the house!

We see a shoot of the crowd yelling and screaming at the concert with smoke and
flames covering the background, like the last scene from Animal House. We then
hear the voice-over of that British REPORTER from Sick Sad World.

REPORTER: (v.o.)
THIS was the scene today at South Park's yearly 'CowFest'. Like the burning bush
from biblical times, these supernatural biblical bovines came to this
once-peaceful concert to deliver an important message of hope and charity.
Suddenly, these combustible cows were greeted with loud hideous music and an
restless police force.

Cut to a POV of a shaking TV camera near the stage trying to avoiding the
chaotic cows and crowds. Suddenly, Officer BARBRADY pops up from nowhere waving
his gun.

BARBRADY: (very happy)
LOOK EVERYBODY!!! I found more bullets!! (notices the scene around him and
becomes upset) HEY! You started without me! I said NOT to do anything until I
got back! Looks like it up to me to get everything under control!

BRADY starts aimlessly shooting his gun around. One of the stray bullets hits
the cameraman. We then see the close up of the concrete floor and BARBRADY's


Ooops! Sooooorry!

Cut to the Sick Sad World REPORTER standing in front the charred outdoor

Order was restored when Wild Kingdom officials shot the cows and the chief of
police with tranquilizer guns but not before the entire amphitheater was burn
down to the ground and the officials from insurance agency arrested the mayor
reckless planning. Standing with me are just a few of the survivors from this

CARTMAN, KYLE and STAN walk into the shot. The REPORTER turns to face the guys.

REPORTER: (cont.)
Tell me please, how DID you young innocent boys survived this horrific hellhole

The REPROTER hands her microphone towards the boys. Naturally, CARTMAN is first
to hog the spotlight.

WELL, see, when I discovered these commie hell spawns invading OUR American
soil, I knew I had to spring into action like any full red blooded John Wayne
off-spring. Luckily, I brought my handy rope along (a caption suddenly appears
at the bottom of the screen reading: 'ERIC CARTMAN: Suffered head injuries') and
I easily managed to lasso these bolvie bastards and tie them with just my teeth.
Yup, all me!

STAN: (angrily at CARTMAN)
BULL(bleep)! You didn't do it! A friend of ours roped the leader down while you
getting tangled by her rope!!

CARTMAN: (ditto at STAN)
(bleep) YOU!!! Our ropes were getting tangled!

REPORTER: (to CARTMAN, confused)
But, what about these 'hell spawns' you were just described to us?

Oh, they weren't 'hell spawns', there were just a band of musician losers
dressed up as cows who accidentally sat themselves on fire.

CARTMAN: (putting up a front to the REPORTER)
BUT I swear, they were grunge hell spawns!!!

KYLE: (letting CARTMAN verbally have it)
That was just your dumb-ass cousin, you butt lick!

NO, HE ISN'T MY COUSIN!! (melodramatically) Our family found him in an alley
next to a crack house sucking on a tail pipe for practice. We felt sorry for the
little retard, so we adopted him out of the goodness of our.....

KYLE and STAN start to cuss CARTMAN with double barrels. CARTMAN retracts with
more of the same. Bleeps galore and the screen is turned off. Turns out to be
the motel TV set. This time, it's JANE who is lounging on the bed and watching
the set. DARIA is sitting on the next bed. TRENT is sitting at the table. He has
a bandage on his forehead.

Looks like it's the other way around. It's Quinn's influence that spreading like
the plague.

Just what the world needs...another social disease. That's probably why Brittany
Spears is a millionaire and Debbie Gibson is carrying Donald Trump's baby.

"Loud Hideous Music"?! *sigh* If we had make-up, they could of called us a KISS
tribute band!

JESSE walks in the room from outside. He, too, has a bandage on his forehead.

Well, the guys are tucked in with the stuff and ready to roll.

JANE: (gets up)
Good! The sooner we get out of this COPS episode the better.

This place is even getting to you too, eh?

Hey, you got your own lactose level and so do I.

JESSE: (looks out to the side of the door)
...and looks like we got our own going away party...

JANE, DARIA and TRENT walk outside with JESSE to discover CARTMAN, KYLE, STAN
and CHEF who's just standing by the door. Both groups greet each other.

Well, how's our Annie-Gonna-Kick-Some-Prime-Ass, today?

O.K., I'm just getting' ready to lasso some dead beat dads.

Good. I here on official business. As the Mayor is locked up and all, I've been
volunteered to give to you...

CHEF walks up to DARIA and gives her a mid-sized plaque with a gold key.

CHEF: (cont.)
....this token of appreciation from the citizens of South Park for your prime
example of pointless courage and reckless determination in the apprehension of
those dumb-ass morons from totally destroying our 'CowFest' and etc., etc., so
on and get the idea.

TRENT: (happy for DARIA)
Wow! A key to the city!

Actually, it's not to the city, it's the key to the port-a-pots in this town.
Believe me, in this town of backed-up septic tanks and cracked pipes, this is
far better than that FAKE piece of crap.

DARIA: (deadbeat)
Happy Happy Joy I have something to hang over the fireplace.

Cut to the parking lot. The group are climbing down the stairs to the parking
lot and to The Tank. All is cheery...UNTIL the group walks up to The Tank!
Blocking their path are the TRAPS! The TRAPS members are all in various forms of
badges, trusts and crutches. BRAD himself is in a wheelchair just about covered
head to toe with his limbs in casts. STIG is barely standing up with two
crutches and wearing a neck brace that doesn't allow him to look straight
ahead...just skyward. The two other member are in similar restrictive outfits.

Holly crap! It's Cartman's dumb-ass cousin and his retarded rejects!

How did they post bail so soon?!

We sold Ralph into the while slave market! Ha! Ha! Though you'd never taste my
sperm of vengeance so SOON, didn't you!!

JANE: (annoyed, to DARIA)
What's WITH this town and these descriptions?!

From reading the backs of porn tapes?

Sorry, Daria! If I knew that this crap was going down, I'd bring some rope.

Not to worry. (looks sternly at BRAD) Some nice LONG battery cables will do

NOT until I state my case! Trent! Union rule #14 states that any outside band
that enters and play a gig inside a local bands turf must get permission OR face
a musical challenge....and since I didn't get diddle squat from you. I challenge
YOU to a duel!!

Oh, knock off the ego trip! It's not his fault that he ended up in your stupid
backyard. Someone else booked the show!

Yea, the dominatrix is right! You should be dumping on that mayor instead of
yelping your butt off on us. Damn it, Brad! First, you start banging cows and
now this! Your pissing me off!!

While this exchange to going on, TRENT reaches into his back pocket and pulls
out his battered copy of the 'Musician's Union Handbook' and looks through it.

Calm down everybody. The cowpoke is right. It's right here in smeared ink. (to
BRAD) O.K., big guy. I'll except your little challenge. But I'm only doing this
just to knock that cow chip off your shoulders and to show you that music is the
ONLY thing that matters, instead this political crap that YOU seem to be a slave

Yea, whatever, hippie!

...and it BETTER be an instrument I know how to play...NO cheating or it's Annie
Oakley and her battery cable. Got it.

O.K. (to STIG) Stig! Where's the guitar?

Ahhh, boss. You think you can tackle a guitar in your position?

Are you saying I can't!! Why you stupid...

BRAD tries to point at STIG but he can only freely move his fingers as his arms
are in casts. BRAD realizes what STIG is suggesting.

BRAD:(calmly to himself)
Oh, I see. (out loud) Keyboards!

Dude, we're a bar band! We don't know keyboards.

Then what the hell CAN I play???!!

One of the other members manages to put in BRAD's right hand a pair of drum
sticks. He doesn't like the prospects but he forges ahead with great yet
desperate bravado.

All right, buddy! You better hope you've brushed up one on the old skins...

...percussion, Brad.

SHUT UP!! (to TRENT) The duel is under way!

BRAD then positions the sticks in his exposed hand and begins to hit on the
nearest object that he can reach...the side of The Tank. Unfortunately for BRAD,
all that he can muster is mere off-tempo tap of the van's surface. BRAD grunts
as he tries harder but it only gets worse.

Dude, this is beyond sad.

We might as well just cap the bastard right now and get it over with.

JESSE: (upset)
Hey! He can't do that to The Tank! Only WE can!

Don't worry, Jess. Hand me the sticks.

Hold on, Trent. (pulls out and opens up her backpack) I've got something here
that will give you a richer note.

Back to BRAD's pathetic drum solo. TRENT walks up with his hands behind his


OH! YOU want to jump the gun, eh? Be my guest, loser! Sooner YOU start the
SOONER I'll win!

Thank you.

TRENT then whips out two large and very long house paint rollers.

HEY! Those aren't instruments!

Sure they the hands of Harry Porch and Tom Waits.

TRENT begins to do his drum solo...on BRAD's leg and for the cymbal effects, he
careful taps on STIG's neck brace.

BRAD and STIG: (almost rythicly)
Och! Ouch! Eee! Oft! Augh! Ugh! Eef! Aaa! Etc., etc.,

TRENT stops and address the crowd.

Any requests for the encore?

Zappa's The Black Page!

The hard version.

TRENT dives into the drumming with much greater speed and precision. This time
using BRAD's exposed toes for a xylophone effect. As before, BRAD and STIG moan
rhythmically in pain. The gang applauds wildly as TRENT finishes off. He takes a
bow and walks aside. CARTMAN steps in.

Thank you, Mr. Lane! Kick ass Keith Moon impersonation. (to BRAD)..and now for
the exacusion! Brad Quintin "Dumb-Stupid-Freakin'-Ass" Cartman, you have
breathed your last breath, you have sighed you last sighed. You have been
convicted of bad choice of DATES, bringing shame to our family reputation.....

STAN: (yelling out of shot)
You DON'T have......

Shut up or I'll kick your ass with my gable! (back to BRAD)....and general
assholeism. The proper punishment will now take place. Look pretty for the
reaction shot, cowhumper!


CARTMAN unlocks the brakes in BRAD's wheelchair and gives a good kick. The
wheelchair quickly starts to move and picks up STIG and rolls further down out
of the parking lot and on to the highway. He rolls further into a trailer
park/gas station down the block, hits a gas pump and it explodes. The other TRAP
members chase after them....barely.

A bit anti-climatic, if you asked me.

I just want to wrap this crap up in time for Celebrity Deathmatch! Tonight's
gonna be that Buffy chick verses Sabrina. I've got ten bucks on Sabrina!

It's a repeat. Buffy wins it by chopping Sabrina's limbs off and feeds the head
to the hounds of hell.

CARTMAN: (shocked)
WHAT?!?! NOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo!!!!

COOL! You owe us ten bucks each, cash cow!

Well, now that the funs over. Let's move! (to JESSE) Throw me the keys, Jes.

JESSE throws the van keys at TRENT, but JANE grabs them in mid-air.

Ooooooh, no, you don't! I'm NOT going to risk another round of your
sleep-driving. (gives the keys to DARIA) Here, Daria. You'll have to be our Ben
Hur on the way back. I got to baby-sit JESSE and the equipment from the

Before DARIA can react any further, JANE grabs JESSE and disappears into the van
with TRENT.

Well, now! Looks like you got yourself a little support group for that old
romance problem of yours, huh?

Excuse me. I don't did.....?

When you been nurturing the garden of love as long as I have, you develop a
natural instinct to, shall I say, sniff out distinct smells and see were the
weeds of disenchantment are going to sprout. Any good immigrant gardener will
tell ya, you have to stay one step ahead of these weeds and (romantically) nip
it in the bud.....

In other words, you prefer having sex with flowers.

CHEF: (oblivious) (..and cue the seductive BGM, too...)
Daria. you don't need to become a weed, your buds are about to bloom under the
sun rays of love. Of course, you need JUST the right timing but if you wait too
long, Cupid's little stinger will go into the next succulent bud for his sweet
nectar and you'll be stuck with diddly......

KYLE interrupts and the BGM grinds to a halt.

Ah, Chef. I just saw Barry White pulling in his Rolls Royce and he's wearing his
smoking jacket.

CHEF: (snaps out of it and becomes pissed)
Say WHAT?!?! I told that retarded romeo that if he EVER rolls that burnt weenie
sandwich he calls a libido into MY turf, they gonna need a skyscraper crane to
pull my size 13 boot out of his 134 inch butt!! (urgently to DARIA) Sorry, hon.
I gotta run! Remember what I said, if you want that nectar, grab 'em by
shavink'ter! Later, everybody!

CHEF runs off.

DARIA: (to the guys)
Thanks, guys.

Sure, babe!

Well, I guess this is OFFICIALLY good-bye. Thanks for putting up with us...for
what it's worth.

Are you kidding? It was a blast!!

Hell, yea! It's not too often we get any REAL cool people passing by around

Well, let me know when they do.

Daria, we're talking about you.

DARIA: (surprised and slightly suspicious)
....for a girl, right?

No! Cool period. Actually, you're more than cool, you're a asskicker!

Asskicker?! Don't I have to take steroids for such a title?

Ah, you guys just saying that to get in her pants!

Knock it off, Flabmaster 2000! Admit it. If it wasn't for her and her cool
friends, we wouldn't seen such a whalin' concert, you wouldn't known about your
cousin's sick-o perversion and suffered the humiliation of getting out butts
kicked in public by a girl...

AND we were on SICK SAD WORLD! How can that NOT freakin' suck, dude?! Thanks to

TRENT sticks his head out of the passenger window and notices what's going on
with DARIA.

DARIA: (uncomfortable)
Thanks, guys, but I'm not into this hero worshipping stuff.

Daria, I know we're just a bunch of easily impressionable sheep heads but I
learned something VERY special this weekend! The world may love a popular
person, but it's the asskicker we ALL want to be. The popular person may make us
feel at one with shopping malls and top 40 music and put numbing joy into our
empty heads and hearts; but it's the asskickers that really inspires us with the
feeling of resolve and a sense of determination. It's the asskicker that teaches
us how to stand up for our ideas, to fight back against those that would like to
squash our beliefs and trivialize our dreams...especially, when the store
refuses to sell us the new Rob Zombie C. D.

Yea! Take away the stuff like Menudo comeback CD, the Waif Magazines and baggy
pants away and what do ya got?...people like Republicans, movie executives, MTV
programmers and Cartman...


KYLE: (cont.)
...but NOT for me, Daria. When I wake up at 40 and realize all the mistakes I've
made that lead me to where I am, I'll want to say to myself, 'Well, at the
least, I kicked some butt before the worms make a lunch buffet out of me'.

You know what we REALLY learned from you today?

STAN, CARTMAN and KYLE: (in unison with the finger firmly displayed)

DARIA is astonished and TRENT smiles and sticks his head back into the Tank.

We see The Tank rolling down the same major highway as before, only heading back
east. It's the middle of the night. Inside, It's JANE and JESSE in the back seat
and TRENT and, in the drivers seat, DARIA up front. All are wearing their
jackets like before. JANE is sitting where DARIA and staring out the same
window and is shivering a bit from the cold. TRENT turns to JANE.

TRENT: (concerned)
You O. K.. Jennie? You look cold.

Don't worry. I'll think of something.

JANE glances over to JESSE. He is sound dead asleep. JANE reaches over and
carefully, lightly gives a tug on his jacket. Like a freshly cut tree, JESSE
falls on to his side and his upper body lands on JANE's lap. JANE smiles, puts
her arms on JESSE and goes to sleep. Up front, DARIA looks for a clear radio
signal on the deck. Suddenly, she finds one.

This is WZRD-FM in Chicago. It's midnight and that means it's time for 'Over The
Edge' with Don Joyce from Negativland. Tonight's program, 'The Willsaphone
Stupid Show CD Release Party'.

Ah, good. Some peaceful noise for a change. (to TRENT) No offense.

None taken. This has been one HELL of a weekend. Our first major out of town gig
and it turns into one of those stupid rock 'n roll wrestling TV shows. A little,
MORE organized set of sounds would be nice right about now.

...without the reckless cussing. I better stay away from Martin Sorcesse films
for awhile. I need some time to recuperate.

TRENT: (smiles)
...and megaphones, too?

What?!....Oh, that! Jane told you about that debate at the cafe, didn't she?

Well, I think she did say something about a 'verbal mano a mano between Flo and
Fran Lebowitz'....whoever they are...

Aaah, Jane and her cultural references.

TRENT: (carefully curious)
Sooooo, how did YOU make out this weekend, Daria?

DARIA: (unhappily)
Me? Are you kidding? All I tried to do was stay out of the demolition derby BUT
the monsters kept pulling me in and took me through Mr. Springer's Wild Ride.
All I got was various levels of spontaneous humiliation. Bottom line: the usual

I guess I didn't get a chance to thank you for what you did at the concert.

DARIA begins to blush and tries to hide it.

DARIA: (mumbling)
....ummmm, thanksyourwelcomebutnotnowI'mdrivingo.k....

...and those kids really looked up to you.

...O. K., Trent. I can see which ditch this conversation is headed in. I'm just
not the type of person who boasts about ALMOST saving a civic P. R. concert from

I'll give you that. However, you have to admit the fact that those kids were
mighty impressed the way you handled the situation.

...and I'm not the type of person who ALSO boasts about the growth on my
shoulder either.

Daria, you don't have to be a egomaniac to personally recognize that you did
good this weekend. You gave those guys a damned good example to follow their own
dreams and kick some major ass to those bastards who want to squash your hopes.

DARIA gets TRENT little message and smiles to TRENT.

Sounds like those wiennerheads inspired you, too.

Stan's rant really kicked started the lyrics of that '(I Licked) The Armpit Of
Life' piece I've been mapping out in my head. Though it's going to be a pain to
figure out which under arm deodorant brand name we could use that won't get us

DARIA goes back to the road and TRENT gets ready to go to sleep.....


Yes, Trent?

TRENT: (half a sleep)
'To those humans in whom I have faith, I wish suffering being forsaken;
sickness, maltreatment, humiliation. I wish they should not remain unfamiliar
with profound self contempt, the torture of self mistrust and the misery of the
vanquished. I have no pity for them because I wish them the only thing that can
prove today whether one is worth anything or not; that one endures'.

DARIA: (truly touched)
....and remember, the passion for destruction is also a creative passion.

No more then a half a second has passed when JANE leaps forwards between DARIA
and TRENT and, with her hands over her ears, screams in horror at the top of her

JANE: (yells)

Like before, we get a aerial view of the Tank briefly swerving almost off the
road and back into it's original lane. Back to the inside where EVERYBODY is
TOTALLY WIDE awake (including the unnamed MYSTIK members), JANE has the bit of
the case of 'Fire-In-The-Eyes'.

JANE: (cont.)

....there's good influences and then there's the 'Tarritino Freaks'.

DA CREDITS with Tom Waits' 'Made In Japan' played over it.
....and DA're welcome...

...and now for the all important, yet totally pointless, COPYRIGHT NOTICE:
'Daria' characters: (c)1999 MTV Network Inc., 'South Park' characters: (c) 1999
Comedy Partners Inc., and everything else (for what it's worth) (c)1999 Don
Fields (with apologize to Danny Bronstien, of course). Any Daria sites that's
interested in downloading this can do so as long as there is no alterations and
credit is given.

Since I'm new in this Fan Fic deal and this is my first offering to the hungry
masses (pro and con), I'll keep these notes brief. First off, I became a full
fledge Daria fan late last year and wasn't into any TV show for many billions of
years (with a possible exception of MST3K). Through trail and error, I bumped
into Outpost Daria's monolithic fan fiction selection and, to keep this
pointless babble short (again), I found myself not only reading Mr. Bronstien's
fine 'One Band Town', but coming up with a version of this crossover plot of my
own. Competition? Blind Boredom? You make the call. After four months of trying
to scribble little lines out amidst work, from my own lack of writing
discipline, outside artistic endeavors and other personal projects, this piece
is unfolded upon you for your you clean up after yourself. I
hope Mr. Bronstien doesn't mind...TOO much.

Second Note: Cultural references seems to be VERY obnoxiously popular with
largely animated shows of late (blame The Simpsons for that). Thankfully,
'Daria' is not dependent on this tool like a crutch and, when used, it doesn't
get in the way of the stories and character development. This (and many other
Fan Fics) are no different, though I tried not to heavily rely on them. So, for
you reference freaks out there, the following are just a sample of what I
'borrowed', in no particular order: 'Slacker' (the more obvious one), John
Water's 'Pink Flamingos', Bill Hicks, Mike Judge and William S. Burroughs.
Everything else you'll have to look up or make up all on your own. One sample I
will admit I totally ripped off was the 'Model Dating Loser' bit. It was lifted
from the unaired TV special called 'Mr. Mike's Mondo Video' hosted by SNL's
legendary writer/performer, Michael 'Mr. Mike' O'Donoghue. If you though that
bit was horrific, you should seen the lines I DIDN'T use. This 'bit' was just
TOO good to pass up for a Sick Sad World story...and I wouldn't be surprised if
the show itself does a variation of this, too. Oh, yea, that 'Over The Edge'
deal? It's Negativland's long running weekly radio show of audio abuse/found
sound/collage, originating from KPFA-FM Berkeley, CA and there IS a WZRD in
Chicago that plays excerpts from the old shows once a month. Check out the
band's web site for more information.

Finally, I better thank a few people before this hell is over: First off, to
Glenn Eicher and Susie Lewis for maintaining this fine show despite the
heartburn generously provided by MTV and their programmers, Outpost Daria and
The Daria Fan Fiction Page that intimidated me into this, Martin Pollard and
Michelle Klien-Haas for the background 'stuff', Richie Haas for reminding me of
Zoots Rift, Bob Nelson for the tapes, Tony The Vic for the pizza, C. E. Forman,
John Barry and Danny Bronstien for the good read, Terry and Marc for putting up
with this 'fanboy' project, 'The Molotov Cocktail Hour' and Jeff Lynne for the
BGM during the last fledging moments of this project and everyone else I forgot
to mention.....

I'll probably be back later this year or early 2000 with something a little more
ORIGINAL!!! Now, wouldn't THAT be shocking! Don-O 7/24/99 9:54 p.m.