The Plot in a Nutshell

By Dr.Belch.

[opening title sequence to DARIA--"You're Standing On my Neck" by
  Splendora--plays]

  [Show opens with a shot of the exterior of Acme Labs, then dissolves to interior
  shot of PINKY and BRAIN inside their cage. PINKY, as usual, is running on
  his wheel. BRAIN is standing at the far side of his cage with his hands behind
  his back, facing the bars.]

  PINKY: Gee, BRAIN, what'cha wanna do tonight?

  BRAIN: The same thing we do every night, PINKY... [turns and faces audience,
  tiny fist in air and face in shadows]...try to take over the world!

  [theme song swells and plays: "They're Pinky and the Brain", etc., etc.]





PART ONE
ACT I, scene 1
  [Fade in on Acme Labs, interior. The scene is darkened but for quick sporadic
  flickers of light, as if from a TV in the BG. The camera plays over countertops
  covered with typical laboratory clutter: beakers, graduated cylinders, chemicals,
  a Bunsen burner, a test tube rack, etc. The title flashes at the bottom of
  the screen in white letters as BRAIN's voice--the deep, rich tones of Orson
  Welles--fills the silence. He speaks in careful, measured tones.]
  

  BRAIN: The humble peanut. In Spanish, it is called el cacahuate. It is the
  pride and joy of both former President Jimmy Carter and of Dr. George Washington
  Carver, who discovered one thousand uses for this wonderful multipurpose
  legume. Tonight I, the Brain, have discovered the 1001st use--[voice rises
  a bit]--global domination! [The camera has panned in on BRAIN during this
  speech; he is standing next to a thick biography of G.W. Carver placed upright
  and open before him. He pauses, ponders over the book for several seconds,
  then turns.] PINKY, I need you.
  

  PINKY [from his accustomed seat in front of the lab's TV]: I'm over 'ere,
  BRAIN. [Camera pans in on PINKY and the TV. The audience can now see what
  it is PINKY is interested in. BRAIN walks up behind PINKY and glances at
  the screen casually. The theme and logo of "Sick Sad World" is heard and
  seen briefly, then--] 
  

  ANNOUNCER's VOICE [superimposed over an image of a man seated in a chair,
  his face electronically distorted]: This man claims to be a high level paid
  assassin for the Clinton administration. Is there any truth to his
  claim?

  [pan in on the MAN]
  

  REPORTER [off camera]: How many deaths have you been responsible for?
  

  MAN [voice electronically distorted to sound like Ned from "South Park"]:
  I whacked Vince Foster and left his body in Ft. Marcy Park to make it look
  like a suicide. I arranged to have Ron Brown shot on that plane over the
  Middle East by a kamikaze gunman, had the plane crash and kill everyone aboard
  to hide the evidence and make it look like an accident, then burned the X-rays
  of his skull myself; I killed James MacDougal in prison. Heart attack,
  bull[bleep]. [distorted chuckle]
  

  REPORTER: Who is next on your hit list?
  

  MAN: Yo' mama. [another distorted chuckle]
  

  ANNOUNCER: That's next up on "Sick Sad World"!
  

  PINKY [thoroughly impressed, in a breathy voice]: Na-aa-arf!
  

  BRAIN [thoroughly disgusted]: Turn that garbage off, please. Conspiracy theories
  are for small minds and left-wing whackoes.
  

  PINKY: But, BRAIN--
  

  BRAIN: I said now, PINKY. [PINKY reluctantly obeys, stepping on the remote
  with his foot. The TV clicks off.] Tonight's plan to take over the world
  has two parts, my friend. The first part involves a common, everyday household
  item with a multitude of purposes. It can be used for minor cleanup jobs,
  decorating trees and houses in childish Halloween pranks, and to augment
  the flat chests of prepubescent girls. Do you know what this marvelous invention
  is, PINKY?
  

  PINKY [uncertain, tentatively]: Ummm...toilet paper, BRAIN? [winces in
  preparation for a blow to the head]
  

  BRAIN [pleased]: Yes, PINKY. Correct. Perhaps you are not a complete and
  utter loss after all.
  

  PINKY [overjoyed]: I got it right! I got it right!! [dances about]
  Heeheehahahaha! Zort!! [He gives BRAIN a rousing backslap, causing him to
  stumble. His forward momentum carries him facefirst into the book of Carver,
  which slams shut with BRAIN inside and hurtles over the edge of the table.
  PINKY runs to watch helplessly as the book hits the floor with a thud.]
  

  PINKY: Poit! Oh...I've done it now! {scrambles hurriedly down the leg of
  the table and over to the book. He opens it and flips pages until he finds
  a very flat--and furious--BRAIN pasted to one of the even-numbered pages.]
  I'm sorry, BRAIN! 
  

  BRAIN [slightly dazed]: Did you know that this book has an entire chapter
  devoted to peanut butter recipes?
  

  PINKY [interested]: Smooth, or crunchy? [peels BRAIN off the page and flaps
  him like a towel to pop him back into shape. BRAIN seizes PINKY's snout and
  glares angrily into his eyes.]
  

  BRAIN: Thick and nutty...much like you, PINKY. [releases the nose in his
  grip and paces away a few steps, hands behind back. PINKY giggles stupidly
  and emits a "poit". BRAIN looks back at him.] But back to the plan. You see,
  PINKY, humans take toilet paper--a rather plentiful and relatively inexpensive
  commodity--for granted. They purchase by the roll, the package, the family
  pack. Six rolls for a dollar. A family pack for two-fifty. When administering
  it, some people use a basic wad-and-stuff motion; others prefer the "beehive"
  technique. But--[hand in air]--suppose there WAS no toilet paper?
  

  PINKY: Egad, BRAIN! Brilliant! [going from excitement to confusion]
  But...um...'ow'll you pull it off?
  

  BRAIN: From over the roll, my friend. [dry laugh]. Ha. Ha. Ha. 
  
  PINKY: Oh, BRAIN! You're funny! Troz!
  BRAIN: I am not wholly devoid of the ability to make an off-the-cuff humorous
  remark. But I fear I digress. My point, PINKY, is that we shall make arrangements
  to buy out the word's supply of toilet paper.
  
  PINKY: But 'ow?
  
  BRAIN: Simple, my dense friend. We'll simply make a few phone calls to every
  major toilet paper and toiletry manufacturer on the planet and buy out their
  entire inventory...using my top secret world domination slush fund account.
  PINKY: You mean that shoebox of cash you 'ave buried under the junk'eap in
  the alley behind the lab?
  BRAIN [sighs]: Semantics aside...once we have purchased the goods, we shall
  store them in the abandoned concrete bunker under the facility. It was built
  during the Cuban missile crisis in the early sixties, but never used and
  eventually forgotten. It will be perfect for storage. And now for the second
  part of my plan. Do you know what that is?
  PINKY: Er...ah....Yes! I do! We put on funny-looking rubber masks and sheets
  and then we run about going door-to-door ringing doorbells and asking for
  candy--and if they don't give us any, we T.P. their 'ouses! Narf! We'll T.P.
  the whole bloomin' country! We'll T.P. the WORLD!! Troz!! 
BRAIN [exasperated and thickly sarcastic]: Yes. We'll cover the planet in
  T.P. And maybe we'll put a giant flaming sack of dog excrement on the White
  House lawn.
  PINKY [anxiously]: Oh, BRAIN, can we? That's be so much fun-fun-silly-willy!
  Heeheehahahahahahaha!! Narf! Poit! Zort!!
  
  [BRAIN can no longer restrain himself. He kicks PINKY in the butt and sends
  him flying. He flops down on the floor and rolls over, giggling idiotically.]
  
  BRAIN: I'm so glad you're enjoying yourself.
  
  PINKY [ceases laughing, jumps to his feet, and dusts himself off]: I try.
  BRAIN: Once we have the world's toilet paper in our possession, we shall
  implement part two of the plan. There exist certain military satellites in
  space that are capable, if properly calibrated, aligned, and conjoined, of
  magnetically altering the orbit of the planet on its axis. Even a tiny alteration
  in the planet's revolution will affect global weather patterns--i.e.
  precipitation. More rain means that the crop yields will double--no, triple.
  But there is one crop that interests me more than any other. An opportunity,
  PINKY, to redeem yourself in my eyes. Can you guess which crop I refer to?


  
  PINKY [ponders a second]: Um...one of them toilet trees you mentioned before?


  BRAIN: Peanuts, PINKY. Peanuts. A very versatile and delicious foodstuff...but
  overconsumption of them can lead to excess water vapor collecting in the
  digestive tract, thus resulting in intestinal spasms, discomfort, and excessively
  liquid bodily excretions.


  PINKY: You mean a right wicked case of the 'ershey squirts, BRAIN?


  
  BRAIN [raises an eyebrow at PINKY's crude slang]: Ye-es, PINKY, in the
  vernacular. [clears throat.] Due to the plentifulness of peanuts, the low
  prices and peoples' own hubristic tendencies will lead them to consume them
  in excess...thus rendering themselves helpless with fits of explosive diarrhea.
  but without toilet paper to wipe themselves with, they will be trapped in
  their bathrooms experiencing foul and painful stomach discomfort until doomsday.
  With the world stuck on its collective toilet, everything will shut down.
  Schools...factories... transportation...government...the media. With no one
  around to run these institutions, we shall step in and commandeer the reins.
  This--[bumping the table leg to send a shelled peanut teetering over the
  edge falling into his arms]--precious little legume will be my key to ruling
  the world! [kisses the peanut. An aside:] Mmmm...salty. [comes back to himself]
  We stand on the crux of a new age, PINKY. Are you pondering what I'm pondering?


  PINKY: Well, I think so, BRAIN. But if Othello was the Moor of Venice, who
  was the less?


  [BRAIN hefts the peanut in his hands and clobbers PINKY with it, cracking
  the shell and sending the kernels flying. PINKY staggers, dazed, then giggles
  again. BRAIN tosses the split shell away and continues speaking]


BRAIN: No, my friend. The plan, much like you, is simple. Take away the world's
  toilet paper and render them completely helpless to their own bodily functions.


  PINKY: Um--no, wait, wait. What if people decide to wipe their bums on the
  towels, BRAIN?


  BRAIN [doesn't miss a beat]: Nonsense. People would never use the towels
  for the purpose of wiping themselves. It's socially impolite. you must understand
  that there are certain societal norms--


  PINKY [interrupting]: Heeheehahahaha!! What a fun word you 'ave there, BRAIN!
  Mind if I pinch it for me vocabulary? [bugles in a thick, throaty tone] NORM!
  NORM! NORM!! Heeheehahahahahahahaha!! NORM!!


  BRAIN [stands on tiptoe and looks him square in the eye]: Put a cork in it,
  PINKY, or I will be forced to beat you mercilessly. [PINKY gulps. BRAIN turns
  around with hands behind back and walks off. PINKY's attention turns to the
  peanuts lying on the floor, and he runs over to them and sniffs them, licking
  his lips. Zip pan to BRAIN, not looking at PINKY but seeming to have eyes
  in the back of his head.] And don't eat those. They'll upset your stomach.
  [Too late. Zip pan back to PINKY, whose cheeks are bulging and his mouth
  full of chewed-up peanut. He swallows.]


  PINKY [in questioning tone]: Norm?


  BRAIN {approaches him with a mean smile on his face]: You ate both those
  peanuts after I explicitly told you not to, didn't you? 


  PINKY: Er--no. [PINKY's stomach gurgles loudly, betraying him. It sounds
  like someone blowing air through a straw into muddy water or a clogged drain
  coming unstuck. PINKY suddenly clutches his stomach, whoops, and runs into
  the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.]


  BRAIN [pleased at this display, throws his hands into the air]: YES!!



  


act I, scene 2
  

  [Montage shots of THE BRAIN walking across the pages of phone books, carefully
  consulting the listings; talking into the mouthpiece of a giant telephone
  with the reciever leaned up against some books, and making marks on a blackboard
  with a piece of chalk the size of his fist as he crosses names off a list.
  BG MUSIC: P&B theme, instrumental.] 

  [A black screen with large white letters: "4-6 WEEKS LATER". Dissolve to
  overhead shot of Acme Labs, where BRAIN is furiously pacing back and forth
  in front of the door, casting furtive glances every two minutes. PINKY is
  sitting a short distance away, playing with his toes and giggling.]
  

  BRAIN [grunts frustratedly]: Blast it all! The first shipment of toilet paper
  was due to be delivered days ago! Oh...I fear all those hours of consulting
  phone directories and endlessly dialing digits were for naught! [heaves angry
  sigh]
  

  PINKY: You should have dialed 1-800-COLLECT. It saves up to 44% on the people
  you call most, anywhere in the United States, including Alaska, 'awaii, and
  Puerto Rico. Narf!
  

  BRAIN: Can it with the inane celebrity testimonials, PINKY, or I shall have
  to--in the Negroid vernacular--break a cap inside your gluteus maximus. You're
  being a-- 
  

  [BRAIN's rant is interrupted by the sound of letters tumbling through the
  mail slot, and he eagerly races over to the pile and proceeds to shuffle
  through it. PINKY joins him, holds up a letter, and squints at it, reading
  slowly.]
  

  PINKY: "Nom...eavah...advebev...avawah...uahoha...Ha ha ha! Zort!! Look at
  this silly thing, BRAIN!
  

  BRAIN [flatly]: Turn it right-side-up and read it, PINKY.
  

  PINKY: Oh-hh! Ha ha! Troz!! [flips the letter over, looks at it, and gasps]
  'ey, BRAIN! You might already 'ave won ten trillion dollars! But they right
  misspelled your name, they did. O-C-C-U-P-A-N-T.
  

  BRAIN: Never mind that. [siezes a letter and tears it open with gusto] Why
  should human money interest me when, once the population is confined to their
  toilets, it shall be worthless as--as--
  

  PINKY: Umm--toilet paper, BRAIN?
  

  BRAIN [scowls]: I'll pretend I didn't hear that. {pulls the letter out of
  the envelope and reads it. A moment later he howls furiously, his eyes bulging
  and threaded with red veins.] 
  

  PINKY: Egad!! What is it, BRAIN?
  

  BRAIN [breathing heavily and swallowing thickly, angry beyond belief]: Those
  blithering idiots at the post office have misplaced my mail! They were supposed
  to deliver it to THIS address--but they transposed the last two digits, and
  now some other party is recieving MY delivery! The world's entire supply
  of toilet paper is in the hands of--[consults the address]--HELEN and JAKE
  MORGANDORFFER of Lawndale.
  

  PINKY [thoroughly amused]: Heeheehahahahahahaha!! [in a throaty tone]
  MORGANDORFFER!! Heeheehahahahaha!! 
  

  BRAIN {with a disapproving look and tone]: It isn't polite to make fun of
  people's names, PINKY. Stick to "narf" and "poit" and [winces]..."norm".
  

  PINKY: All right, BRAIN. [giggles] Norm!! Norm!! [giggles again]
  

  BRAIN: We must figure out how to rectify this situation. I can't have the
  most important part of my plan winding up in the greedy grasping hands of
  mindless suburban yuppies. [The camera pans on a closeup of BRAIN, his face
  in shadows, tapping his chin with his finger as he ponders. PINKY stands
  in the BG. Suddenly he raises his hand and begins to "ooh" and "Ah" like
  an impatient child in a classroom. BRAIN sighs.] Yes, PINKY?
  

  PINKY: 'ow about we write Mr. and Mrs. MORGANDORFFER and tell 'em there's
  been some kind of mistake and that we want 'em to send us our toilet paper
  back?
  

  BRAIN: That's absurd. There's no way that would work. I can't believe you'd
  say such a stupid--[suddenly brightens]--YES!!
  

  PINKY [runs over to him]: Egad, BRAIN, what is it?
  

  BRAIN: In your own unique fashion, my friend, you've hit upon the solution.
  [The next part of this dialogue is superimposed over an image of PINKY and
  BRAIN climbing into a large box full of styrofoam packing peanuts. The
  MORGANDORFFER's address is clearly printed on the exterior of the box and
  there are air holes punched in the side and lid.] We shall mail ourselves
  to this address, and, once there, reclaim what is rightfully ours and drag
  it back here to the lab.

  [Pan in on close-up shot of PINKY and BRAIN inside the box, hip-deep in foam
  peanuts. BRAIN is holding one flap of the box lid, PINKy the other.]
  

  BRAIN: Once I have their precious toilet paper--[lids close behind PINKY
  and BRAIN, muffling their voices]--the world will be on its bended knee!
  

  PINKY: But I thought they'd be squattin' on the 'opper with the squirts--not
  barfin', BRAIN. [muffled bopping sound] Ow! Narf!! [high silly giggle]
  

  [P&B theme, instrumental, swells as scene fades to black.]
  

  act I, scene 3
  

  [Fade in on an exterior shot of Acme Labs with a mail truck out front, gunning
  its motor. The side of the truck is marked FED-UP: "It'll get there when
  it damn well gets there." The truck drives away from the Acme Labs building.
  Cue up P&B theme, instrumental, and hold throughout following
  montage.]

  [A whirling montage of shots culled from old black-and-white/color file footage
  of things like the exterior of a post office, a line of mail trucks driving
  down a road, a line of mailmen with bulging mailsacks marching down a long
  hallway with their backs to the audience, people dropping letters and packages
  through those little slots in the P.O. marked "local", "out-of-town", etc.;
  a shot of the other side of one of those things showing all the mail dropping
  into the same big canvas cart, letters being sorted and filed by a giant
  machine that drops them onto a little slotted conveyor belt, some stock news
  footage of crazy postal workers blowing people away with semiautomatics,
  etc. Then we see the package containing our two heroes--looking like two
  people with muddy boots threw it on the floor, stomped on it, then pulled
  down their pants and passed gas on it--rolling down a long conveyor belt
  through a little window-type thing with those plastic strips dangling over
  the opening.]

  [Cut to exterior of the MORGANDORFFER house and play a burst of "la la la
  la la"s over it. Cut to interior shot of QUINN's bedroom. QUINN is looking
  at her reflection in her three-way mirror and holding a pink button shirt
  over her chest, pondering it and turning to and fro for the full effect,
  with one sleeve folded and the other spread out along her extended arm. BG
  MUSIC: "Pink" by Aerosmith.]
  

  QUINN: Uck! Guh-ross! [tosses away the shirt] That's MUCH too salmon! I need
  something in coral...or at least a dusky rose!
  

  [DARIA passes by her open door, munching a kiwi fruit, and looks into the
  room at her sister, who is preening furiously at the glass. T-shirts and
  stuff are strewn all over the bed and floor.] 
  

  DARIA: Hmmm...looks like a cyclone just whacked a Gap.
  

  QUINN [gasps]: God! Don't even joke like that! [holding up another
  shirt--carnation pink--poses with it, makes a face, then tosses it away in
  disgust. Glowers at her sister.] What in hell do you know about fashion,
  anyway? That field jacket and combat boots ensemble went out after we kicked
  that So-damn Insane guy's butt in the Golf War back in the 80's! [Camera
  pans on DARIA, rolling her eyes off to the side sarcastically at ther sister's
  impressive grasp of history. Pan back to QUINN, arms folded over her ample
  chest, then back to DARIA.]
  

  DARIA: Well, not much... [picks up a hot pink leather miniskirt draped over
  the top of a nearby chair and holds it aloft between thumb and forefinger]...but
  I know enough not to put on a skirt so short I need to have two hairstyles
  to wear it.
  

  QUINN [after a few seconds--it takes her a bit to figure out she has just
  been insulted]: Oo-ooh!! [snatches the skirt out of DARIA's hand fiercely]
  Get out of my room! [shoves DARIA out and slams the door hard]
  

  DARIA [staring at the door, with the camera at her back, the half-eaten kiwi
  in her hand. To the closed door]: And I was going to be nice and offer you
  a bite of my kiwi, too. [walks down the hall to her room, finishing off her
  fruit. Camera follows her down the hall to the door, then cuts to the interior
  of DARIA's bedroom, where we see the top of a wooden crate filling the lower
  half of the screen. DARIA enters, licking her fingers, and pauses with her
  tongue out and the tip touching her middle finger. She steps in for a closer
  look at this mysterious foreign object, putting her tongue back in her mouth
  and lowering her hand.] 
  

  Great. Is Mom using my room for storage again? [pushes the lid, which is
  loose and ajar, aside, and a bit of loose straw spills out on the floor.
  She reaches into the straw and fishes out a package of Acme toilet paper.]
  Wha--?
  

  [A black and white stop-frame shot of BRAIN whacking PINKY with a peanut,
  with a chorus of "la la la la la"s sung to the tune of the P&B theme
  in the BG.]






act II, scene 1
  

  [The scene dissolves to the interior of JANE's room. Several days have passed
  since the end of the last scene. BG MUSIC: Bob Dylan's "Queen Jane Approximately"
  from stereo. JANE is reclining on her bed next to a dissection tray filled
  with a mixture of clay and of various colors of paint. She reaches into the
  tray, scoops up a handful of the mixture, rolls it up into a ball, and--closing
  one eye and putting out her tongue a bit--throws it. Zip pan to other end
  of room, where the ball strikes an easel placed there with a satisfying wet
  THWACK. The splattered remains of several other paint-and-clay balls decorate
  the board in a similar manner.] 
  

  JANE [pleased]: Stee-ee-rike!
  

  [The phone on the nightstand jangles, and JANE siezes an old towel nearby
  to wipe off her hands--she has shmutz clean up to her elbows. She lifts the
  reciever to her ear.]
  

  JANE: Y'ello.
  

  DARIA's voice: This is DARIA. Can you get over here pronto? I've got something
  here you might be interested in.
  

  JANE [hopefully]: A "Sick Sad World" marathon?
  

  DARIA: No--even sicker and sadder than that. [The screen splits in two halves,
  diagnally, JANE at top half and DARIA at the lower.] You'll never guess what's
  been coming in the mail all week. Get this--crates of toilet paper.
  

  JANE: Toilet paper? Could be somebody's trying to tell you something, if
  you catch my drift. [balances phone on her shoulder to free her hands for
  rolling another clay-and-paint bolus] T.P., huh? That's pretty darn sick
  and sad, all right. 
  

  DARIA: What do you make of it?
  

  JANE: Sculptures, sometimes...little water, flour, salt, and a couple rolls
  of the stuff make great paper mache for--oh, wait, you mean what do I think
  about it?
  

  DARIA: Yeah.
  

  JANE: Dunno. Maybe QUINN and the fashion clubbers need it for a big bra-stuffing
  seminar this weekend. You try talking to your folks about it?
  

  DARIA: Captain Oblivious and Persephone, Queen of Hell, you mean? Lotsa luck.
  Every time another shipment comes in, Mom has the delivery boys stash it
  in my room. I asked her about it the other night at dinner, and she gave
  me something about my room being the biggest space upstairs, mumbled the
  words "menstrual cramp" and "headache", then-- [JANE finishes rolling the
  ball and lets it fly. Full screen pan on her. DARIA hears the THWACK as it
  makes contact.]--what the hell was THAT? 
  

  JANE: Oh--my newest masterpiece is in the works. I'm trying a new thing...lobism.
  

  DARIA: Lobism?
  

  JANE: You get a bunch of clay, squirt some paint in there [gives the goop
  in the tray a squirt of cadmium yellow, grabs up a handful, and rolls it
  as she talks] and [THWACK] let it fly.
  

  [Screen splits again vertically--DARIA on right, JANE on left.]
  

  DARIA: And people go for that kind of stuff?
  

  JANE: Shoot, yeah. I just heard about a lobist who got $37,500 for a piece.
  Green paint and mud thrown at a canvas. Called it "The Tragedy of the Rain
  Forests". 
  

  DARIA: The tragedy here is that those artsy-fartsy types'll buy anything
  if they think it's uplifting and helps fund their pet causes.
  

  JANE: You mean enslaving the populus and corrupting our kids' minds?
  

  DARIA: Bingo. Look at the guy who took a piss in a jar and stuck a crucifix
  in it. What was he trying to say with that?
  

  JANE: "Hey, look at this really cool kidney stone I just passed?"
  

  DARIA: My point exactly. Why not just puke all over a canvas and sell it
  to some poor sucker?
  

  [cut back to full screen of JANE.]
  

  JANE: Oh, you mean bulimism. They don't sell for much more than fifteen,
  twenty grand--mostly because they're a bitch to keep up, especially on hot
  days. I heard of this one called "World Hunger" that was displayed during
  some show in New York City during July, right smack dab in the middle of
  this heat wave. Wooo!! [waves her hand in a damn-that-stinks motion] The
  smell cleared out the joint toot sweet, and a couple of the arts-and-croissants
  crowders fainted and had to be dragged out on stretchers. All in all, not
  worth wasting the price of a good meal on making one of those babies.
  

  [Split screen again horizontally, DARIA at top and JANE on bottom.]
  

  DARIA: You don't say.
  

  JANE: Oh, I say. Last year, some guy came out with this new thing called
  "nasalism". He would chug down a swig of paint and then blow it out of his
  nose onto the canvas.
  

  DARIA: Sounds like a charmer. Where'd you hear about that joker?
  

  JANE: "Sick Sad World" documentary on art. His name was Pinkasso. Crazy little
  guy with a cockney accent, always giggling and saying things like "narf"
  and "poit". His manager was this dude with a big frigging head. They tried
  to pull off a scam to sell more paintings by claiming that Pinkasso was dead.
  Turns out he was very much alive all along, and when the artsy types figured
  it out, they ran both their asses out of town on a rail. A big riot kicked
  up, and they both just vanished. [makes spooky music with her mouth]
  

  DARIA: Yeah...him and Jimmy Hoffa. [sighs, holds up a roll of toilet paper,
  and begins to toss it in one hand] So how do I make a ton of tushie dissue
  just disappear? 
  

  [cut back to JANE, full screen]
  

  JANE [wryly]: I can think of several ways right off the bat, but none of
  them are fit to print. 
  

  [cut back to DARIA, full screen]
  

  DARIA: Just get cleaned up and get on over here. I've got the goods stashed
  in the spare shed out back, by the compost heap. 
  

  [cut back to JANE, full screen]
  

  JANE: Good palce for a load of T.P.--right next to a big pile of crap.
  

  DARIA's voice on phone: Cut the quips, Gracie. Just be here in twenty. Bye.
  

  JANE: Adios. [phone clicks. JANE places reciever back on cradle and begins
  to wipe her hands on her towel, her eyes closed and her head lowered. Then
  she stops and looks up suddenly, eyes wide.] Tushie tissue?!?
  

  [Cue "SSW" theme in BG to connect the end of this scene with the opening of
  the next one.]







act II, scene 2
  

  [Cut to MORGANDORFFER house, interior. "SSW" theme is thudding away as the
  scene opens. DARIA is seated on the sofa waiting for JANE and watching
  TV...although it seems her mind is elsewhere because her facial expression
  is blank and distant--well, more than usual, anyway. Camera moves to DARIA
  P.O.V. shot of TV, which is showing--natch-- "Sick Sad World".]
  

  TV ANNOUNCER: Is the new revised television ratings system actually a secret
  code designed to give marching orders to liberal conspiracy group operatives
  working on college newspapers across the country? [show image of a college
  campus with a newspaper front page covered with TV ratings blocks superimposed
  over it] That's next up on "Sick Sad World"! 
  

  [closeup of the show's rating--TV14--appearing in the top left corner. Camera
  on DARIA.]
  

  DARIA [to herself]: And I thought the whole shebang was just a plot to give
  America free eye exams. [tosses remote into the corner of the sofa]
  

  [QUINN, wearing a lavender button shirt open over her baby tee, bell-bottom
  jeans with big pink hearts stitched on her back pockets, and the same atrocious
  coral lipstick she had in "Pinch Sitter", breezes in, passing behind the
  sofa.]
  

  QUINN: Did I hear Johnnie Mack's car outside?
  

  DARIA: You mean the guy you've been talking dirty to over the phone every
  night for the past six months and have pledged your undying love to forever
  and a day, even though this is the first time you've ever met face to face?
  

  QUINN [chipper, not missing a beat]: Yeah. If fives didn't look so much like
  sixes on a push-button phone in a bad light, I might never have gotten to
  know him at all. Is he here?
  

  DARIA: Not yet. I'll call you when. Just don't do anything I wouldn't do,
  little miss I-can-get-three-fingers-between-my-legs. 
  

  QUINN [shocked]: Oooh!! Have you been listening to my private phone
  conversations? 
  

  DARIA: No. I would never do anything so horrible. [pause, slight smile] I
  had JANE listen to them and then run down all the juicy stuff for me.
  

  [Camera zip pans to QUINN, who is trembling furiously. Zip pan back to DARIA,
  holding the TV remote up and clicking to another channel. DARIA P.O.V. shot
  of screen to see FLIP WILSON dressed as Geraldine.]
  

  FLIP WILSON [in a high piched voice]: What you see is what you get! [laugh
  track plays] Ooooh! I'm gonna get Killer after you! [laugh track] 
  

  [QUINN takes a deep bosom-heaving breath and prepares to yell for her mother,
  but then stops and turns her head when the doorbell chimes.]
  

  DARIA: Ah...that old familiar bing-bong.
  

  QUINN: I'll get it. [starts to head for the front door]
  

  [Cut to outside of the house. JANE is standing on the porch holding a small
  and rather dog-eared package in her hands, turning it over and over and examining
  it. Camera pulls in for a close-up of the package. Dissolve to interior shot
  to show BRAIN and PINKY, amongst a nest of styrofoam peanuts, sliding about
  and bumping into the sides.]
  

  BRAIN [colliding into the left side and nearly buried in foam peanuts]: By
  the food-stained beard of Copernicus! What in the devil is going on out there?
  I--
  

  PINKY [off-camera]: 'eads up, BRAIN!
  

  BRAIN: What? [grunts sharply as PINKY collides sharply with him and the two
  are covered in foam peanuts]
  

  [Cut back to close-up of JANE peering at the package in her hands, trying
  to see into the air hole. QUINN opens the door suddenly, startling her and
  causing the doorknob to knock the package out of her hands. It hits the step
  and then bounces into the air, landing on the sidewalk. The sound of PINKY
  and BRAIN grunting as the box impacts on the concrete is heard twice.]
  

  QUINN [disappointed]: Oh, it's just you. [suddenly furious] And don't go
  blabbing to my sister how many fingers I can get into my bodily orifices!
  [kicks the package violently, sending it flying into a tree. A muffled "oof"
  and a "narf" are heard upon impact.]
  

  JANE [a bit perplexed at this outburst]: What bug crawled up YOUR butt, miss
  pert 'n' perky?
  

  [QUINN opens her mouth and heaves another figure-enhancing breath, preparing
  to let JANE have it, then hears a car horn honk from off-camera. QUINN P.O.V.
  shot of a red Dodge Viper across the street, a shadowy figure waving from
  the driver's seat.]
  

  QUINN: Ooh! That's my ride! Bye-eee! [skips off, passing by the tree where
  the package is lying and steps on it in her exhuberance. Pan down the drive
  to QUINN entering her date's car and on the car as it peels out.]
  

  [Cut to interior of MORGANDORFFER house, with DARIA still watching TV on
  the sofa. HELEN breezes by, talking rapidly into her cell phone.]
  

  HELEN: Okay, Eric. I'll be at the office in twenty minutes. Fifteen, if I
  make all the lights. [brief pause] Don't worry, Eric, I'll have the research
  on the Schittana Shingle Corporation suit wrapped up and on the big guy's
  desk by dinnertime. [pause] Yes, the usual drill. Cancel all my other
  appointments, route all my incoming phone calls to the outer office, order
  in Chinese--Double Happy, extra egg roll, plenty of soy sauce. Got it covered?
  Oh, Eric, you know me so well. [titters girlishly] Bye. [clicks off phone.
  To DARIA:] Okjay, honey. There's TV dinners and a big jug of Kool-Aid in
  the fridge for you, QUINN, and your father. Microwave the dinners for one
  minute, take them out of the oven, turn the mashed potatoes with a fork,
  put them back in, and let it cook for two more. You know the drill. Buh-bye.
  [kisses DARIA on the top of her head. Her face remains unchanged. HELEN goes
  to the window to wait for her carpool, tapping her foot impatiently.]
  

  [JAKE breezes in a moment later, half in and half out of his suitcoat, his
  tie loose, his shirt-tail untucked, and slurping coffee from a mug.]
  

  JAKE [to DARIA]: Got a big client to meet with today, kiddo, so I won't be
  home in time for dinner. Sorry. There's TV dinners and Kool-Aid in the fridge
  for you and your sister. Nuke 'em for one minute, stir the potatoes with
  a fork, and let 'em cook for--
  

  HELEN [by the window, not looking around]: I already gave her the cooking
  instructions, dear.
  

  JAKE: Oh. Okay. [throws back his head and slurps down the last of his coffee.
  A car horn honks outside; he turns his head and asks in a hopeful tone:]
  Is that my carpool?
  

  HELEN: It's mine, JAKE. [another honk] That's yours.
  

  JAKE: Gotta go! See ya later, kiddo. [ruffles her hair with his left hand
  and puts his empty mug in her hands with his right. DARIA's eyes show her
  contempt for this, though her face remains blank.] He and HELEN nearly bowl
  JANE over on the porch, causing her to step out of the way abruptly and nearly
  tumble into the bushes. The camera pans along, following them across the
  yard (going stage right), and in the rush HELEN tramples on the package by
  the tree, then JAKE steps on it. A few seconds later BUDDY (the gritty-voiced
  canine from "Spring Break in Hell"--boy, when he gets out of the yard and
  runs off, he REALLY runs off!) dashes in from stage right (to the tune of
  "Pop Goes the Weasel" played on the harmonica, tempo prestissimo, in the
  BG), steps on the package, looks behind him furtively, then bolts out of
  the scene going stage left. A moment later a grotesquely obese dogcatcher
  with a huge flabby beer belly and a net in one hand enters stage right, steps
  on the package, pauses, then resumes the chase, heading stage left. By now
  the package containing PINKY and BRAIN resembles a tattered, filthy accordion.
  JANE enters stage left, picks up the package, and takes it into the house.
  Cut to interior.]
  

  JANE [holds package in right hand, closes door with left]: Where're the parental
  units off to in an all-fired hurry? 
  

  DARIA: I don't know. [sets JAKE's mug on the table] Mom said something about
  drilling her boss on her desk, covering him in Double Happy, and turning
  him over with a fork after one minute.
  

  JANE: And your old man?
  

  DARIA: I think they're letting him watch. [notes package] What's that?
  

  JANE: It's for you. [hands it to her] Ipassed the mail truck on the way over
  here, and the mailman asked me if I knew this address. I told him I was headed
  that way, so he asked me to see it got to you. So here ya go.
  

  DARIA [reads the red stamped address on the box's side]: "ACME LABS". Hmm.
  Funny. My samples of anthrax virus weren't due to be delivered for another
  couple of weeks. [shakes package, hears a rattle]. Looks like it went through
  hell to get here.
  

  JANE: Must have been another postal strike. Damn unions.
  

  DARIA: Mm-hmmm. [puts her ear on the package, eyebrows raised] That's the
  damndest thing.
  

  JANE: What?
  

  DARIA: Thought I heard a noise. [presses her ear closer. Pull in for a close-up
  of the box and dub in muffled-sounding voices from within.]
  

  BRAIN [groaning in pain]: When...does...the hurting...stop?
  

  PINKY [oddly chipper]: Oh, I think it's stopped now, BRAIN. Wasn't that ride
  just fun-fun-silly-willy? Narf!
  

  BRAIN: Yes, PINKY. Now...please do me a favor and push that broken rib protruding
  from my anal orifice back into place, would you?
  

  PINKY: Oh, it's not so bad in 'ere, BRAIN. [chewing] And these peanuts are
  great! Poit! And these don't make my stomach feel all goo-ooo-oo-ooshy like
  them others did!
  

  BRAIN: Those are styrofoam packing peanuts, PINKY. I've told you that before.
  Now please stop the shenanigans and try to focus on our mission.
  

  [Cut to shot of JANE and DARIA, staring at the package in astonishment.]
  

  JANE: I'll be damned! A talking box!
  

  DARIA: Give me your penknife. I'll cut it open.
  

  [JANE produces a Swiss army knife from her back pocket and depresses the
  button in the handle. A four-inch blade pops out. She passes it to DARIA,
  who draws her arm back and plunges the knife into the package. Cut to interior
  shot of the box, where BRAIN and PINKY are pressed against the side of the
  box in terror, staring wide-eyed at the probing metallic intruder and looking
  for all the world like a bit in a "Three Stooges" short film. The blade draws
  back, and a torrent of light pours in as there is a thick, loud ripping
  sound--the lid tearing open. Cut to exterior shot of DARIA lifting the box
  up, turning it upside down, and pouring out a shower of foam peanuts, as
  well as BRAIN and PINKY, who hit the surface of the table and bounce like
  little rubber balls.]
  

  JANE [surprised]: Eww! Rats!! [siezes a nearby telephone book--a big thick
  one--and slams it down on top of them. She lifts the book to show BRAIN and
  PINKY squashed flat on the table.]
  

  DARIA: Who in hell would want to send me a box of rats?
  

  JANE: Early birthday present from Grandma?
  

  [Closeup of BRAIN peeling himself up off the table with one hand, making
  a thick noise like Velcro tearing, and popping back into shape. The shot
  shifts angles to show the girls' faces towering over BRAIN, whose back is
  to the camera. They change from bland regard to twin wide-eyed looks of surprise
  as BRAIN speaks.]
  

  BRAIN: We are not rats, madame. We are two genetically-enhanced laboratory
  mice who have delivered ourselves parcel post as part of an intricate scheme
  to take over the world!
  

  [JANE and DARIA turn their heads and stare at each other with looks of "Do
  you believe this shit?"]
  

  [A black and white stop-frame shot showing a four-way split-screen of images
  of QUINN, HELEN, JAKE, nd BUDDY trampling the package in their haste, with
  a chorus of "la la la la la"s to the tune of the P&B theme in the BG]







act III, scene 1
  

  [Scene opens exactly as it closed out before, fading in to show DARIA and
  JANE staring at BRAIN and then at each other. Note that all through this
  scene the camera angle should switch back and forth as it cuts to show shots
  of both the girls and the mice.]
  

  DARIA: I'm going crazy. Did I just hear that mouse talk?
  

  JANE [raises phone book]: Want me to whack 'em again?
  

  BRAIN: That won't be necessary, madame. My companion and I have simply come
  in search of something that was sent here by mistake.
  

  JANE: What's he talking about?
  

  DARIA: Maybe he's come for QUINN. Maybe after fourteen years, the stork realized
  there was a clerical error in the shipping department, and this is his repo
  guy. 
  

  BRAIN: I'm afraid I don't know what in blazes you're talking about. I'm afraid
  you've been recieving misdirected mail that rightfully belongs to me, and
  I need it back desperately.
  

  DARIA: I don't suppose you mean a few thousand rolls of Charmin.
  

  BRAIN: Yes! Where is it?
  

  DARIA: In the shed out back. But why--?
  

  BRAIN: No time. Come, PINKY. [siezes PINKY's hand and tugs it, popping him
  back into shape, and prepares to scurry off, but JANE nimbly seizes BRAIN
  in her left hand and PINKY in her right.] Ugh!! You unwashed savage! Release
  me this instant!
  

  JANE: Not until you tell us what the score is, Bobby Big Head.
  

  BRAIN: The name is BRAIN, madame.
  

  JANE: Don't call me madame. The name's JANE LANE.
  

  PINKY [singsong]: Egad! JANEY and BRAINY, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-E-I-E-I-O!
  Narf! Zort! Heeheehahahahaha!!
  

  BRAIN: Move me closer to my associate, please, Miss LANE. [JANE moves her
  left fist closer to her right. BRAIN frees his hand from inside her fist,
  bops PINKY a good one in the noggin, then tucks his fist back inside hers.]
  Thank you. That was quite...cathartic.
  

  JANE [squints at PINKY]: You look familiar to me. Hey...wait a sec--! DARIA,
  this is Pinkasso, the guty I told you about!
  

  DARIA: The guy who blew paint out of his nose and called it art?
  

  PINKY [embarassed giggle and snort. Modestly]: Actually I called it a big
  mess. Poit! BRAIN called it art when 'e needed money to fund 'is scheme to
  put two big speakers at the ends of the earth and torture the world with
  the sound of a big drippy faucet.
  

  BRAIN: No, that's what I started that ritzy nightclub in Vegas for. I stated
  nasalism to fund my scheme to stick mirrors in the surface of the moon and
  turn it into a giant disco ball.
  

  PINKY: I thought that's what you became leader of the Rhennish clan of Minnesota
  to do.
  

  BRAIN: No, you're confused. I led that quaint and backwards lot of people
  in an attempt to mine a rich load of sinusite for my plan to render the world
  helpless with fits of sneezing.
  

  PINKY: So we could break into Ft. Knox and steal all the gold to fund a plan
  to buy a giant magnet to throw off the world's gravity.
  

  BRAIN: No,no. I wanted to steal the gold to render the nation's economy helpless,
  and I used a special pollen derivative I cooked up to render the guards sneezing
  and helpless. I went on a game show to earn the funds for the magnet. 
  

  PINKY: Which you used to bring the earth to life to do your bidding.
  

  BRAIN [impatient sigh]: No, that was an accident you caused through your
  bungling with one of my devices, a machine that harnessed the aura of inanimate
  objects and gave them life.
  

  PINKY: Like the statue of Abe Lincoln in the Washington Monument.
  

  BRAIN [angry sigh]: The Lincoln Memorial, PINKY. And no, that was us hiding
  under the statue pretending that President Lincoln had come back to life.
  Honestly, you have the short-term memory of a piece of fecal matter.
  

  PINKY [touched]: Oh...thank you, BRAIN. You too.
  

  JANE [shakes her head sharply to clear it]: Wait. Hold it. I'm all mixed
  up. How often do you two goobers try to take over the world?
  

  BRAIN: To date, there have been nearly 100 attempts.
  

  JANE: Like...every single night?
  

  PINKY: And twice on Saturdays. [BRAIN scowls sharply at him; he flinches
  and pulls back, with an apologetic grin.] Troz?
  

  BRAIN: Ahem. Yes. My associate and I have suffered a few...setbacks. In fact,
  that is why we're here. The misappropriated toilet paper you've been recieving
  was supposed to be sent to Acme Labs...but there was an error in shipping
  due to the last two digits becoming switched. 
  

  DARIA: And now I'm the proud owner of enough toilet paper to sop up Lake
  Michigan?
  

  BRAIN: I am the rightful owner of the commodity in question, Miss MORGANDORFFER--
  

  DARIA: DARIA. Please.
  

  BRAIN [impatiently]: --and I must ask you to return it. It's of no use to
  you. I must have it stored away under Acme Labs before I can commence with
  the second part of my plan.
  

  JANE: Swipe everyone's soap so they can't bathe either?
  

  BRAIN: No, that would be ridiculous. [grandly] I plan to increase the world's
  peanut crop in order to confine the population to their toilets with explosive
  diarrhea!
  

  JANE: Um-hmmm. And that's NOT ridiculous?
  

  DARIA: What I can't figure out is how a lab rat--
  

  BRAIN [indignant]: Mouse!
  

  DARIA --mouse managed to buy up all the toilet paper on the planet.
  

  BRAIN: Very simple. I made a phone call to every bathroom goods manufacturer
  on the seven continents and asked them to send me their entire stock C.O.D.,
  A.S.A.P.
  

  PINKY [whispers]: Um...I think these girls know 'ow to spell, BRAIN.
  

  [BRAIN growls at PINKY savagely, who flinches and "poit"s apologetically.]
  

  DARIA: So they just gave you what you asked for, no questions asked?
  

  BRAIN: Yes. Humans are extremely gullible, trusting creatures.
  

  [JANE's fist suddenly closes around BRAIN, producing a cracking sound and
  making his eyes bulge out. She releases the pressure, and he emits a hacking
  cough.]
  

  BRAIN [weak, pained]: Present...company...excluded, of course.
  

  [JANE smiles self-satisfieddly.]
  

  PINKY: Oh, yeah. They sent 'im everything they 'ad--just like the time me
  and 'im built a life-size model of the world out of paper-mache, and BRAIN
  'ad to order all them newspapers. Poit! 'e ordered a few thousand copies
  of every newspaper in the world....well, except the Arkansas State University
  'erald, of course.
  

  BRAIN [sniffs]: Well...I do have my standards, after all.
  

  PINKY [leans closer to JANE and whispers]: BRAIN 'asn't been the same since
  they got rid of 'is favorite columnist. Oo-oooh! Troz!!
  

  BRAIN: [grandly]: They shall regret their mistake and rehire him...mark my
  words.
  

  PINKY [sigh}: Right, right. Whatever you say, BRAIN.
  

  DARIA: A life size model of the world? You mean Chia Earth?
  

  BRAIN: Yes!
  

  DARIA: I saw an expose about that on Sick Sad World a couple of years back--right
  before my family and I packed up and moved out of Highland and came to live
  here in Chia Lawndale. Lots of new Chia people, nice Chia house, plenty of
  available Chia jobs. 
  

  JANE: Nice Chia pitch. You should get a job with Chia Century 21.
  

  DARIA: Have you ever noticed that when you say a word over and over again
  like that, it just starts to sound silly? 
  

  JANE: No. Can't says I have. Hmmmm....Highland... Highland...isn't that where
  those two guys you were telling me about lived?
  

  DARIA: Oh, yeah...those two. They died right before I left the old neighborhood,
  right before the comet trashed the old world.
  

  JANE: I dunno...I heard on "Sick Sad World" that it was all an elaborate
  hoax pulled by two deviant masterminds.
  

  DARIA: I don't know about that. But it's possible that the comet got them.
  

  JANE: We can only hope.
  

  [Cut to scene of BEAVIS and BUTT-HEAD's house, interior. They are watching
  TV together on their threadbare sofa. Both are wearing "I LOVE CHIA WORLD"
  T-shirts.]
  

  BUTT-HEAD: Uh...Chia World sucks.
  

  BEAVIS: Heh,heh. Heh,heh. Yeah. Gimme the Chia remote, BUTT-HEAD.
  

  BUTT-HEAD: Like, no way...Chia buttknocker.
  

  BEAVIS [screaming]: Don't call me Chia buttknocker! 
  

  [The two fall to the floor, fighting violently, kicking and punching and
  hollering.]
  

  [Cut back to DARIA's house, interior. JANE is still holding BRAIN and PINKY
  in her fists.]
  

  DARIA: So how do you and Trent like Chia World so far?
  

  JANE: We haven't told him yet. My folks and I just picked up and moved everything
  to Chia Lawndale...including Trent. He slept right through the whole move.
  He doesn't know the difference. 
  

  DARIA: And the giant half-finished paperwad in the sky didn't tip him off?
  

  JANE: What can I say? Boy don't get out much.
  

  DARIA: Mm-hmmm...so let me get this straigh, Mr. BRAIN. You made about ten
  zillion phone calls to the newspaper companies as part of a plan to slap
  together a model of the world and get every human being on the planet out
  of the way. Now you're making ten zillion phone calls to the toilet paper
  plants as part of a plan to give the world the runs and get every human on
  the planet out of the way.
  

  BRAIN: Well...yes. I fear repetition is the scourge of genius, my dear 
  

  DARIA. [DARIA scowls slightly at this epithet, but says nothing.]
  

  JANE: Maybe you just need new writers.
  

  PINKY: Oh...'e tried that, too, JANE. Right after 'e tried to 'arness steam
  power to give every bloke in the world tight, tingly 'ats, but about the
  same time 'e used these steam-powered legs to dance out a 'ypnotic message
  to control everybody at the World's Fair.
  

  JANE: Damn, I'm confused. Did he build Chia Earth before or after he brought
  the planet to life? 
  

  PINKY: Oh...before that. 'e brought the world to life just after 'e dressed
  up as Cher to get into a pro-am golf tournament to win this right smart metal
  golf club 'e wanted to use as a needle to tattoo "PROPERTY OF BRAIN" on the
  planet. Of course, before BRAIN made Chia Earth, 'e tried to take over France
  by pretending to be Napolean Boney-parte, and before that, 'e tried to start
  up 'is own country in order to get a big fat aid check from the government.
  But then the 'ole bloomin' island went up in a bi-ii-ig volcano! Bang! Zoom!
  To the moon, Alice! Zort! And then there was this one time 'e wanted to around
  the world in seventy-nine days to beat out this bloke what looked like David
  Niven, 'e did, and 'e'd 'ave made it too, except we 'ad a bit of trouble
  with this cab driver in New York what looked like Latka from Taxi and we
  couldn't figure out 'ow to speak 'is language. [laughs, snorts] And then
  there was the time....[prattles on nonsensically] 
  

  JANE [murmurs]: My ears are bleeding. Make the hurting stop. Please.
  

  BRAIN [weary sigh, interrupts PINKY]: Thank you, Mr. Exposition. It's comforting
  to know you keep a record of all my past snafus.
  

  DARIA: Why not just throw in the towel and give up this obssession with taking
  over the world?
  

  PINKY: Oh--'e did that, too. Tell 'er, BRAIN.
  

  BRAIN: Very well. I created a device to see into the future, and what I saw,
  I didn't like. I was old, grey, senile, and still trying to take over the
  world even though I could barely recall my own name. In the throes of a midlife
  crisis, I had a heart-to-heart talk with my neighbor--
  

  PINKY [interrupts]: --that nice Mr. Sultana, who accidentally got our red
  rubber nub in the mail that one time, remember, BRAIN?
  

  BRAIN: Yes, PINKY--and it's interesting to note that the mail service hasn't
  changed a bit since then. [glowers nastily at JANE and DARIA, then
  continues]--with my neighbor, Mr. Sultana. He suggested a change of life.
  I consulted with an expert, who suggested that I had the sufficient aptitude
  to become a--[shudders]--ski instructor.
  

  JANE: What happened with that?
  

  BRAIN: I nearly died in an avalanche. If it hadn't been for PINKY and that
  accursed future-seeing gadget--
  

  DARIA [finishes]: --you'd have been a frozen treat for a cat.
  

  BRAIN [raises eyebrow]: Ye-es...something along those lines. Now if this
  little detour down menory lane is concluded [wiggles out of JANE's grip and
  hops down onto table. PINKY follows his example.], I have some business to
  attend to. 
  

  [JANE's hand comes down and blocks BRAIN's escape off, forming a wall between
  him and the table edge.] 
  

  JANE: Not so fast, Speedy.
  

  BRAIN: You have me confused with another mouse, madame.
  

  JANE: How's a little squirt like you going to move a couple of thousand pounds
  of squeezably soft goodness? Eat a can of spinach?
  

  [BRAIN's eyes widen as he realizes he failed to calculate this part of the
  plan. In a flat, defeated tone:] PINKY...she's right. Are you pondering what
  I'm pondering?
  

  PINKY: Well, I think so, BRAIN. But I don't think my tongue is long enough
  to lick myself all the way down there.
  

  BRAIN [angry grunt]: No, PINKY. Don't you get it? We can't possibly transport
  all that toilet paper from here to the lab alone. We lack the physical strength
  and stature for such a Sisyphian task. We require assistance. 
  

  JANE [raises her hand]: We'll do it.
  

  DARIA [raises her eyebrow]: We will?
  

  BRAIN: Excellent! [eyes narrow suspiciously] What's the catch?
  

  JANE: No catch, Shorty. When you and Slim take over the world, just don't
  forget to cut off a slice of the pie for us. I've got dibs on Hollywood and
  San Francisco. Always wanted my own freak show. DARIA?
  

  DARIA: Well...I have always like the shape of Baja California. Looks like
  we're peeing on Mexico.
  

  BRAIN: Done. It's yours. In addition to your labor, my assistant and I need
  a neutral base of operations from which to launch out attack, and the lab
  is too much of a hot spot. Any ideas?
  

  JANE: Why not right here?
  

  DARIA: Right where?
  

  BRAIN: Very well. I'll require a new identity, however, to be able to move
  about inconspicuously.
  

  JANE [sotto voce, to DARIA]: A talking mouse is worried about other people
  figuring out who he really is?
  

  DARIA [sotto voce, to JANE]: How often do you see a mouse who can talk? He's
  short, articulate, crabby, abusive, and has a head like a casaba melon. He
  could pass for Danny DeVito. 
  

  JANE [snaps her fingers]: I've got it. Hasn't your mom been looking for a
  tutor for QUINN? 
  

  DARIA: Yes...she's been flunking Spanish class really badly lately. All she
  can seem to remember is what she's picked up standing in line at Taco Bell...and
  she can barely get that right. 
  

  BRAIN: That's excellent. I do have a working knowledge of the language as
  a result of being forced to listen to a series of "Schnookered on Phonics"
  tapes as part of an experimaent on subconcious linguistic second language
  acquisition. 
  

  JANE: Does Slim there speak Spanish, too?
  

  BRAIN: No...I fear PINKY was used for the tests of a rather unsuccessful
  prototype of the company's other language series, "Schnookered on Ebonics".
  

  PINKY: Poit! Yo, yo, yo! Pink-Daddy is in the his-ouse! Bust a move and bust
  a rhyme and pump up the jam, homeboy, home slice, mack-daddy, befo' I bus'
  a cap in yo' skank ass, you punk motha'[bleep]ers! Narf! Zort! Heeheehahahahaha!!
  [dances about like M.C. Hammer] 
  

  BRAIN: You do the honors...I insist.
  

  [JANE brings down her fist sharply on PINKY and withdraws it, showing PINKY
  flattened like an accordion on the tabletop.]
  

  JANE [massages her fist with her hand]: You're right. That IS cathartic.
  

  BRAIN: Then it's agreed. I shall pose as a live-in Spanish tutor as a cover
  while we transport the world's supply of toilet paper to the bunker below
  Acme Labs. And once that's done, we can commence with part two of the plan.
  

  DARIA: Which is?
  

  BRAIN: No...I've said too much as it is. I shall tell you when the time is
  right. [extends hand] Agreed?
  

  DARIA [sotto voce, to JANE]: Are you sure we're doing the right thing, going
  along with Rizzo the Rat in taking over the world?
  

  JANE [sotto voce, to DARIA]: Don't sweat it, kiddo. If nothing else, it'll
  make a great term paper for DiMartino's class. That bulging eye of his'll
  pop right outta its socket. And taking over a planet always looks good on
  a college application. [DARIA scowls] Besides, if we don't like the way Mickey
  here is doing things, we'll give him to Brittany's little brother to play
  with. No sweat. 
  

  BRAIN [hand still extended]: Well?
  

  DARIA [to BRIAN, with a resigned sigh]: Agreed. [offers hand]
  

  [Close up of Brain shaking tip of DARIA's index finger. Fade out on this
  image, with the P&B theme, instrumental, tempo prestissimo, in the BG.]







act III, scene 2
  

  [Dissolve to MORGANDORFFER kitchen, interior, following evening. The family
  is together around the table, with DARIA at the head, QUINN seated to her
  right, and JANE and HELEN at her left. They are in the middle of dinner--lasagna,
  as usual, with corn-on-the-cob and ruffle-cut french fries smothered in melted
  cheese on the side. Dinner is a silent affair, with nothing but the sound
  of clinking flatware and nervous fidgeting. HELEN's sickeningly sweet voice
  breaks the silence.]
  

  HELEN: So-ooo-oo-o, QUINN....how was your lunch date with Jimmy Ray?
  

  QUINN: Johnnie Mack, Mom. And it was terrible! He had, like, this big unibrow
  [indicates it by running index finger across forehead] from here to here!
  Uck! Guh-ross!
  

  DARIA [murmurs]: Maybe you should have shown him your three-finger trick.
  That'd impress Mr. Cro-magnon. [QUINN gasps and shoots her a dirty look.]
  

  JAKE [chipperly oblivious, as usual]: A trick, eh? I once dated this girl
  who could do tricks. She could shuffle tarot cards with one hand and pull
  coins out of your ear with the other. Ooh-hoo-hooo! And with her tongue,
  she could--
  

  HELEN [sharply]: JAKE!
  

  [JAKE falls silent.]
  

  QUINN [gasps, flounces]: I don't do tricks, Dad.
  

  DARIA [murmurs]: Most guys around here can't meet her price.
  

  [QUINN makes an absolutely horrid face--like the one she made in "Pinch Sitter"
  (after DARIA called her "unbelievably deceitful and shallow")--at her sister,
  arching her eyebrows and putting her tongue out. When her parents look at
  her, the face is gone and she's all peaches-and-cream again.]
  

  [The doorbell rngs from the direction of the living room.]
  

  DARIA: Yep. That's the old familiar bing-bong.
  

  JAKE [rises from table]: I'll get it. [exits stage left]
  

  [Cut to shot of living room interior. JAKE enters stage right and heads for
  door. The old familiar bong-bong does its thing twice more.] JAKE: Dammit,
  I'm coming, I'm coming! Keep your drawers on, fella! [reaches door, opens
  it. Camera angle switches to exterior shot of doorway to show JAKE's confused
  face. He sees no one on the porch.]
  

  voice of BRAIN, off-camera: Down here, sir.
  

  [JAKE P.O.V. shot as camera pans down to two diminutive figures on the
  porch--PINKY and THE BRAIN. BRAIN is smartly dressed in a three-piece suit
  cut to fit him, with accomodations for his tail. He wears tiny pince-nez
  spectacles and a fake black beard. PINKY is dressed head to toe in a tiny
  uniform of the sort favored by Catholic schoolboys--tiny jacket with a crest
  on the pocket, white starched shirt, shorts, knickers, shiny black shoes,
  and a knit cap, which he doffs respectfully.]
  

  BRAIN: Allow me to introduce myself. I am Professor Don Juan Montgomery
  Braindulce, and this is my protege, Ignatz Pfutzenreuter Rembrandt III--known
  as "PINKY" to his schoolchums. 
  

  JAKE: I see. What can I do for you, Professor Braindulce?
  

  BRAIN: It is what I can do for you, Mr. MORGANDORFFER. I was told you had
  a daughter whose performance in her Spanish class is less than stellar. I
  was referred her by one Mrs. ANGELA LI.
  

  JAKE [bluffing]: Oh...oh, yes, of course! I--ah--remember my wife telling
  me that. Please come in, Professor.
  

  PINKY: Egad! We're in, BRAIN! Narf!
  

  JAKE [eyebrow raised]: Narf?
  

  BRAIN: Eh? Ah...yes. Er...that is an all-purpose greeting native to the dialect
  of certain parts of northern Spain...high up in certain remote mountain villages.
  It signifies both "hello" and "goodbye"--like "aloha" or "ciao".
  

  JAKE [believing every word]: Oh! Ha! Ha! Ha! [makes a Vulcan sign with his
  first two digits] Narf to you, young man! Live long and prosper, and may
  the force be with you! Ha! Ha! Ha! [turns and heads in the direction of the
  kitchen. BRAIN siezes PINKY's nose in his grasp and looks him square in the
  eye.]
  

  BRAIN: Control your moronic outbursts before you get us both thrown out of
  here. Understand? [PINKY nods]
  

  [Cut to interior of kitchen. JAKE enters, grinning from ear to ear.]
  

  HELEN: Who was at the door, dear?
  

  JAKE: A new Spanish tutor for QUINN, honey! Isn't that great!
  

  QUINN [sulkily]: I don't need a Spanish tutor. It's not like I'm ever going
  to Spain or something.
  

  HELEN: Now, honey...you know that a foreign language requirement is a law
  according to the school board in this state.
  

  QUINN [being snotty]: Well, you're a lawyer! Why don't you change it?
  

  HELEN: Nothing doing, QUINN. JAKE, bring in the tutor. 
  

  [JAKE steps aside to admit BRAIN and PINKY. PINKY looks about the kitchen
  with a dopey look on his face. BRAIN bows deeply.]
  

  BRAIN: Greetings, Madame. I am Don Juan Montgomery Braindulce, the Spanish
  tutor your daughter's school sent over. 
  

  PINKY: And I am Igneous-um-something-something-poit-whatever-shire-the third...or
  something! Narf!
  

  JAKE [goes up to HELEN and whispers in her ear]: That means "hello" in Spanish.
  

  [Fast cut to DARIA, who is drinking milk, and we see her eyes rolling over
  the rim of the glass.]
  

  HELEN: Forgive me for asking, but is that boy all right?
  

  BRAIN: Yes. you must forgive young PINKY. His English isn't very good.
  

  PINKY: But I speak English fine, BRAIN.
  

  BRAIN [grits teeth]: You speak English very poorly, PINKY.
  

  PINKY: Oh! right! Zort! I speak English right poorly, so I do! Narf!
  

  [QUINN's face is the dreamy expression of a girl having some delicious orgasmic
  fantasy. She leans her head on her palm and her elbow on the back of her
  chair as she tilts her head to get a better look at PINKY. QUINN P.O.V. shot
  of PINKY, superimposed over a hazy pink background. BG MUSIC: strumming harps
  and twittering birds.]
  

  QUINN [breathy, dreamy voice]: PINKY....
  

  [DARIA gags and chokes, spewing milk out of her mouth all over the table
  surface. No one bothers to show concern or pat her on the back. She scowls
  slightly at this lack of sympathy.]
  

  [Cut back to shot of QUINN, still with that orgasmic look on her face.]
  

  [Cut to half-screen, QUINN on left, credits on right. Dissolve to character
  morphs over left side. END CREDIT MUSIC: "Tiny Montgomery", Bob Dylan and
  the Band, "The Basement Tapes", 1975.
  

  VOICE CAST:
  

  TRACY GRANDSTAFF................................................Daria

  WENDY HOOPES.......................................Quinn, Jane, Helen

  MIKE JUDGE..........................................Beavis,
  Butt-Head

  MAURICE LAMARCHE................................Brain, "SSW" reporter

  ROB PAULSEN.....................................................Pinky

  JULIAN
  REBELLEDO.................................................Jake

  JONATHAN M. SWEET...........................man in chair, Flip
  Wilson

  ?....................................................."SSW" announcer
  

  SESQUIPEDALIAN

  ____________________

  USING BIG WORDS
  








DARIA voiceover: Last week on "Daria"--
  

  [clip #1-- BRAIN: ...we shall make arrangements to buy out the world's entire
  supply of toilet paper!

  [clip #2-- JANE: And that's NOT ridiculous?

  [clip #3-- BRAIN: Peanuts. A very versatile and delicious
  foodstuff....]

  [clip #4-- BRAIN kicks PINKY in the ass.]

  [clip #5-- BRAIN whallops PINKY with peanut.]

  [clip #6-- BRAIN: ...but overconsumption of them can lead to excess water
  in the digestive tract....]

  [clip #7-- JANE whallops PINKY with phone book.] 

  [clip #8-- QUINN slams door in DARIA's face.]

  [clip #9-- JANE's fist whallops PINKY.]

  [clip #10-- DARIA spitting milk on the table.] 

  [clip #11-- ...thus resulting in intestinal spasms, discomfort, and excessively
  liquid bodily excretions.]

  [clip #12-- JANE's paint-and-clay bolus striking canvas.]

  [clip #13-- BRAIN bopping PINKY in JANE's fist.]

  [clip #14-- PINKY backslapping BRAIN into book.]

  [clip #15-- PINKY: You mean a right wicked case of the 'ershey squirts,
  BRAIN?]

  [clip #16-- BRAIN: YES!!]

  [clip #17-- DARIA: And I thought the whole shebang qas just a plot to give
  America free eye exams.]

  [clip #18-- BRAIN looking at letter and howling furiously.]

  [clip #19-- BRAIN's voice superimposed over shots of HELEN on the phone and
  JAKE half undressed, saying, "The world's entire supply of toilet paper is
  in the hands of HELEN and JAKE MORGANDORFFER of Lawndale."]

  [clip #20-- BRAIN and PINKY in package. BRAIN is saying, "We shall mail ourselves
  to this address (superimpose voice over shots of package getting kicked,
  trampled, and cut by giant switchblade) and, once there, reclaim what's
  rightfully ours....]

  [clip #21-- PINKY and BRAIN fall out of package onto table.]

  [clip #22-- BRAIN: We require assistance.]

  [clip #23-- JANE: We'll do it.

  DARIA: We will?

  [clip #24-- BRAIN and DARIA shake hands.]

  [Fade to black.] 
  

  [opening title sequence to DARIA--"You're Standing On my Neck" by
  Splendora--plays]
  

  [Show opens with a shot of the exterior of Acme Labs, then dissolves to interior
  shot of PINKY and BRAIN inside their cage. PINKY, as usual, is running on
  his wheel. BRAIN is standing at the far side of his cage with his hands behind
  his back, facing the bars.]
  

  PINKY: Gee, BRAIN, what'cha wanna do tonight?
  

  BRAIN: The same thing we do every night, PINKY... [turns and faces audience,
  tiny fist in air and face in shadows]...try to take over the world!
  

  [theme song swells and plays: "They're Pinky and the Brain", etc., etc.]
  

  PART TWO

  ACT I, scene 1
  

  [The following morning. BG MUSIC: P & B theme, instrumental. Dissolve
  to extreme closeup of the surface of a chalkboard. Then a tink pink hand
  gripping a big piece of chalk writes in a large blocky style the letter E.
  The camera pulls back in oder to reveal THE BRAIN standing in the chalk tray
  of a giant chalkboard holding the ckalk in both hands. His name--PROF.
  BRAINDULCE--is written in neat caps at the bottom of the board. Camera pans
  over a shot of QUINN's room, with the addition of the chalkboard and two
  classroom-style desks. QUINN is seated at the left; PINKY, perched atop a
  pile of books, on the right. P & B are both in their disguises. QUINN
  is making goo-goo eyes at PINKY.]
  

  BRAIN: Greetings, class, and welcome to Basic Introductory Spanish I. I am
  your teacher, Professor Braindulce. Today we shall be examining the differences
  between "ser" and "estar", conjugating a few simple "-ar" and "ir" verbs
  [PINKY starts waving his hand in the air and "ooh ooh"ing excitedly. When
  BRAIN fails to notice him, he starts waving both hands and "ooh"s louder],
  and, if we have the time, we may examine masculine and feminine noun endings
  and how they correlate to the endings of their respective adjectives-- [he
  notices PINKY at last and breaks off with an impatient sigh] Yes, PINKY.
  What do you want? 
  

  PINKY: Poit! May I go get a drink of water, BRAI--er--Professor Braindulce?
  

  BRAIN [sighs]: Yes. You may.
  

  PINKY: Woo-hoo! Zort! [leaps off the pile of books onto the floor and races
  happily out the door. QUINN starts raising her hand and "ooh"ing for attention.]
  

  BRAIN [sighs again]: Spit it out, QUINN.
  

  QUINN: I don't think I need Spanish in my life, Professor Braindulce. I mean,
  I have all I need to get by.
  

  BRAIN: Oh, really? If life were all about getting by, my child, then that
  would be all well and good. But it isn't. Tell me--just how much Spanish
  do you know?
  

  QUINN: Um-- [counts on fingers]--taco...enchilada...chimichanga...
  guacamole...burrito grande...lasagna....
  

  BRAIN: That's Italian, QUINN.
  

  QUINN: Oh. I meant to say...crepe sousette.
  

  BRAIN: That's French.
  

  QUINN: Schnitzel?
  

  BRAIN: German.
  

  QUINN [gasps]: God! I am so out of it!
  

  BRAIN: Perhaps it would help to figure out where your interests are.
  

  QUINN: Oh...that's easy. One, clothes. Two, bouncy hair. Three, boys. Four,
  school. [ticks off each on her fingers]
  

  BRAIN: Are you sure you don't wish to pause and reconsider your priorities?
  

  QUINN: Mmmm...nope.
  

  BRAIN: Very well. From what you've told me, and from what I see here [noticing
  QUINN's overstuffed closet], you are very interested in haberdashery. Correct?
  

  QUINN: No...just clothes.
  

  BRAIN: Yes...well...suppose you purchased a garment that had a label saying
  "Lavar en lavador en agua tibia con colores similares. Secar en secadora
  a tempertura baja." What would you do?
  

  QUINN: Get a salesgirl to translate for me.
  

  BRAIN: Forget the salesgirl. There is no salesgirl available.
  

  QUINN: Find the label instructions in English.
  

  BRAIN [exasperated]: There are none! [sighs] The garment is made of 100%
  "algodon"...cotton. What would happen if you washed it in hot water?
  

  QUINN: The shirt would shrink up and pinch my boobs! Duh!
  

  BRAIN: Yes. The washing instructons clearly say "Machine wash in warm water
  with like colors. Tumble dry low." If you can understand how to read the
  label instructions in another language, you can avoid having your -- ah --
  mammaries constricted by a confining garment.
  

  QUINN: Oooh...I think I'm going to like this class.
  

  BRAIN: Okay...now...the Spanish word for "a shirt" [writes it on the board]
  is "una camisa". Repaeat that, please. "Una camisa".
  

  QUINN: Una camisa.
  

  BRAIN: Now..."los pantalones" [writes it] means "pants". Repeat that, please.
  

  QUINN: Los pantalones.
  

  BRAIN: Good. "Los zapatos" [writes it] means "shoes". Repeat, please.
  

  QUINN: Los zapatos.
  

  BRAIN: Excellent! "Underwear" is "la ropa interior".
  

  QUINN: La ropa interior.
  

  [Fade out with image of BRAIN and QUINN in silhouette, the P & B theme
  instrumental in BG.]
  

  

  act I, scene 2
  

  [Dissolve to JANE's room, interior. DARIA is sitting on the floor next to
  JANE's bed, looking a bit more down than usual. JANE enters the room with
  a sleeping bag and spreads it on the floor.]
  

  JANE: Hell, it's no four-post queen, but it'll do. Did the Dragon Lady really
  give PINKY and THE BRAIN your room?
  

  DARIA: Yep...QUINN offered to let PINKY bunk with her, but my dad got that
  bulging vein thing in his forehead, and Mom's like [imitating HELEN's syrupy
  voice] "not in my house, little missy", so they decided to let those litle
  rats crash in my room for the next week or so. I actually don't give a crap
  as long as they don't start chewing the padding off the walls and pooping
  under my bed. So, anyway, here I am. Mom said it was all right if I bunked
  here with you. You sure it's OK?
  

  JANE: It's cool. Unless [wry smile] you'd like to spread your bag on Trent's
  floor for the night. I warn you, though--he snores like a buzzsaw, and you
  don't want to be around him after he eats a batch of that five-alarm chili
  he makes. Gets so bad sometimes you can actually see a heat shimmer around
  his butt. 
  

  DARIA [nose wrinkled]: Thank you, Barbara Walters.
  

  JANE: Anytime. So...we start moving the goods manana?
  

  DARIA: Yepper...Acme Labs is just a half-hour's drive from here. We'll need
  to make a lot of trips to get all that T.P. unloaded...is The Tank up to
  it?
  

  JANE: We gave it a pretty good workout on the way to Athens...but Max said
  it's up and running again. He gave me a lot of technical talk and mechanical
  mumbo-jumbo...but it all boils down to the same thing...gumwads and Scotch
  tape under the hood.
  

  DARIA: As long as loading that first roll of tushie tissue doesn't completely
  blow the shocks, then I'm satisfied.
  

  JANE: Great. All signs point to go, then. [momentary pause, then to herself]
  Tushie tissue? [Fade out on quick burst of "You're Standing on My Neck",
  instrumental, electric guitar.]
  

  act I, scene 3
  

  [Dissolve to QUINN's room, nearing the conclusion of QUINN's Spanish lesson.
  Scene opens very similar to as it did in scene one, except QUINN's progress
  in Spanish has notably improved.] 
  

  BRAIN: QUINN...What would you say to the salesgirl if you purchased a pair
  of trousers that were too tight for you?
  

  QUINN: "Perdoname, senorita, pero esos pantalones me demasiadan apretato."
  

  BRAIN: And if your shirt had a stain on it?
  

  QUINN: "Mi camisa es sucia."
  

  BRAIN: And if you wished to look at a pair of brown shoes?
  

  QUINN: Brown shoes? Uck!
  

  BRAIN: Very well. Red shoes, then.
  

  QUINN: Oh! OK! "Me deseo a mirar a los zapatos rojos, por favor."
  

  BRAIN: Excellent! Excellent! You've done very well today, QUINN.
  

  PINKY [raising hand]: Oh! I've gotone too, BRAIN! Ahem! "Puedes tu poner
  el sopa en mi bolsillo y vomitar en mi sombrero?" Narf!
  

  BRAIN [an exasperated sigh]: PINKY, you just asked me if I could put the
  soup in your pocket and vomit into your hat. 
  

  PINKY: Oh...well...could you? Poit?
  

  [QUINN claps her hand over her mouth and tries to stifle giggles.]
  

  BRAIN: Okay, class. Before we wrap this session up, we shall learn one more
  useful phrase. [taps chalkboard with chalk, indicating a phrase written there
  in block caps] "Estas creando que yo estoy creando?" it's something to ask
  another person to determine if the two of you are in agreement. It means
  "Are you pondering what I'm pondering?" QUINN [tilts head, smiling]: I think
  so, Professor Braindulce, but calling it a flea market! I mean, what were
  they thinking?
  

  PINKY [high silly giggle]: Narf!
  

  QUINN [high, girlish giggle]: Narf!
  

  BRAIN [sotto voce, an aside]: Damnation...they're multiplying. [aloud] Well,
  that will be it for today, class. Tomorrow we shall begin our look at irregular
  verbs and properly conjugating several basic tenses. "Adios, clase."
  

  QUINN: "Adios, Profesor Braindulce!" [gets up and skips out of the room,
  her shoulder bumping the board and sending it revolving on its hinges, catching
  BRAIN in its revolutions and sending him whirling and screaming in terror,
  a prisoner of inertia. Then he is sent hurtling through the air and abruptly
  comes to a stop smack into the wardrobe door. He slides down the wooden surface,
  groaning. PINKY, concerned, runs over to him.]
  

  PINKY: Zort! Poit! Are you all right, BRAIN?
  

  BRAIN [dazed, singing off-key]: Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue
  corn moon? Or let the eagle tell you...where...he's...been? [gives a hacking
  cough and flops in an unconcious heap. P & B theme, instrumental, tempo
  prestissimo,. Fade to black.]







 
act I, scene 4
  

  [Dissolve to a montage sequence illustrating the coming week as it passes
  by. DARIA and JANE are using The Tank to help implement THE BRAIN's plan
  and transport the incoming deliveries of toilet paper to Acme Labs' concrete
  bunker. Meanwhile. QUINN's lessons continue, and she and PINKY are becoming
  quite close.]
  

  [BG MUSIC for the sequence alternates between Aqua's "Barbie Girl" for the
  PINKY/QUINN scenes and "Sixteen Tons" for the DARIA/JANE scenes.]
  

  [The montage shots are thus: BRAIN, as Braindulce, asks a question (we only
  see his lips move) followed by a fast cut of QUINN raising her hand and answering
  it (again, only mute lip movements), then a fast cut back to BRAIN, smiling
  and nodding; a faraway shot of The Tank with two tiny figures--DARIA and
  JANE--wheeling upright pushcarts loaded with boxes from the van's rear to
  the front doors of the lab; QUINN and PINKY seated cross-legged on the grass
  while PINKY strums a tiny lute and sings mutely (probably the "Greensleeves"
  song from "Spell-Bound") and QUINN listens enthralled; an overhead shot of
  DARIA and JANE wheeling the loaded pushcarts up a ramp through open double
  doors; QUINN cross-legged on the grasas with a bottle of bubble solution,
  dipping the stem into the bottle and blowing a stream of soap bubbles into
  the air as PINKY gleefully chases them; a shot of JANE depositing her load
  of crates next to a growing stack, then doubling back for a second load as
  DARIA dumps her load--here the camera pulls in for a closeup as she wipes
  her sweaty brow with the back of one hand--; a shot of QUINN and PINKY skipping
  hand in hand (PINKY is in the air giggling soundlessly) through a flowery
  meadow; kicking up blossoms that shower around them--then they pause briefly
  in the BG and watch with puzzled expressions as BUDDY bolts into the frame
  from stage left with the dogcatcher hot on his tail (a tempo prestissimo
  instrumental of "Pop Goes the Weasel" plays over Aqua briefly during this
  bit). Pan in close on them as they look at each other, shrug, and continue
  skipping; DARIA and JANE each holding one end of the final crate of toilet
  paper as they carry it into the bunker and place it in front of a monumental
  stack of boxes. BRAIN is atop the uppermost crate, grinning broadly. He hops
  down the pyramidal pile, looking a bit like Q-bert in his movements, bouncing
  empahtically from the tops of the crates. He stands atop one of the crates
  on one of the loermost tiers, high enough to address the girls from over
  their heads. The BG music fades out and then disappears.]
  

  BRAIN: I thank you girls for your efforts. I would have never done it without
  your help.
  

  JANE: That's nice. You gonna pay us or what?
  

  BRAIN: Oh...yes...of course. [he reaches down behind a crate and produces
  a roll of T.P. in each hand, which he tosses down into each girl's waiting
  cupped palms.]
  

  JANE: All that work for this? I'm underwhelmed.
  

  DARIA: Maybe we should look into becoming union thugs.
  

  BRAIN: I assure you, this is a more than generous recompense. When I sieze
  control of the planet and reduce every man, woman, and child on earth to
  sniveling incontinent wrecks, these rolls of tushie tissue will be worth
  their weight in gold!
  

  JANE: Gold toilet paper, eh? [tosses roll from hand to hand] I bet that's
  cut you up something fierce. [pauses, murmurs] Tushie tissue?!
  

  DARIA: Okay...now what happens? [folding arms over chest]
  

  BRAIN: Part two of my plan is ready to commence. Gather round, ladies. I
  am about to--in the vernacular--lay it upon you. [camera pulls back to show
  the backs of DARIA and JANE as they crowd closer to BRAIN, who murmurs his
  plan to them as the instrumental P & B theme swells in the BG.]
  

  act 1, scene 5
  

  [Dissolve to MORGANDORFFER kitchen, interior. The family, as well as BRAIN,
  as Braindulce, is gathered about the dinner table. It is evening, the evening
  meal is lasagna, hot and fresh. BRAIN sits to DARIA's right, atop a stack
  of books to give him height. QUINN, obviously distracted, is playing with
  her food at DARIA's left. JAKE is addressing BRAIN.]
  

  JAKE: So, Braindulce, how is my little princess doing with her studies?
  

  BRAIN: Quite well, Mr. MORGANDORFFER. I believe I've made quite a bit of
  progress with her. The secret to reaching a problem student is to try to
  relate to them...to talk to them on their level.
  

  JAKE: I've always said that.
  

  HELEN: I've never heard you say any such thing.
  

  JAKE [a touch wounded and defensive]: I say a lot of smart things you never
  hear me say. [looks about for support, finds none] Realy. I do.
  

  HELEN [insincere]: Yes, honey. [to BRAIN] Professor, where is PINKY? I haven't
  seen him all evening.
  

  QUINN [dreamily]: PINKY....
  

  DARIA: Last time I saw him, he was in the bathroom sucking on his toes.
  

  HELEN: Sucking his toes?!
  

  JAKE [hastily]: Maybe it's a quaint Spanish custom where he's from, dear.
  

  HELEN: I don't know. Sounds terribly inhygenic to me.
  

  BRAIN: Yes...well...[hops down off of books]...I'll go fetch him and let
  him know that his dinner is getting cold. [exits kitchen]
  

  HELEN: Hmmm....QUIN, Professor Braindulce just said you were getting along
  very well in your lessons, Say something in Spanish for me, dear.
  

  QUINN: "Ah, mama, yo estoy mucho enamorata de Rosadito. Me desea el mas que
  vida si mismo." [Subtitles at bottom of screen: "Oh, Mom, I am very much
  in love with PINKY. I desire him more than life itself."]
  

  HELEN [looks at DARIA]: What's she saying, DARIA?
  

  DARIA [understands perfectly but plays dumb]: Um...she said pass the salt,
  please. [HELEN smiles and hands QUINN the salt shaker. She doesn't notice.]
  

  DARIA "Ay, demonios." [Subtitle reads: "Dammit."]
  

  [Cut to interior shot of MORGANDORFFER bathroom, upstairs. PINKY is standing
  in front of the mirror, balanced atop a couple of paper cups on the sink,
  admiring his reflection and using both hands to run a black pocket comb through
  his hair. He is humming "Greensleeves", with a "narf" and a "poit" interspersed
  in the music here and there. The door opens, stage left, and BRAIN enters.
  Camera angle slants over PINKY's shoulder on him.]
  

  BRAIN: What, may I ask, what are you doing?
  

  PINKY: Oh! Poit! I'm gettin' ready for my big date with QUINN tonight.
  

  BRAIN [aghast]: Big date! Don't be ludicrous! You can't possibly be serious
  about going on a date with that ditzy bottle-blonde slattern.
  

  PINKY: Oh, no, BRAIN, you're wrong. She's not a slattern. I think she's a
  Lutheran.
  

  BRAIN [sighs, face in hand]: PINKY...you're a mouse. She's a human girl.
  I--
  

  PINKY [gasps]: BRAIN! Don't tell me you're prejudiced!
  

  BRAIN [a bit taken aback]: Well, no--I--I--
  

  PINKY [a bit miffed]: You're nothing but a 'umanist!
  

  BRAIN [puzzled]: I'm a what?
  

  PINKY: You know, a 'umanist! A racist 'ates people of another race. A sexist
  'ates people of the other sex. What does a 'umanist 'ate? 'umans! Zort!!
  

  BRAIN [exasperated]: Can the George Carlin schtick, PINKY, and listen to
  me. Tomorrow night you and I will be implementing the second half of our
  plan for world domination. This house is a perfect base of operations not
  only because it was the point of delivery for the toilet paper, but because
  it is located conveniently within 50 miles of the Bainks military complex,
  which is where the supercomputers that control the military satellites I
  require are housed. You and I must infiltrate the base and get our hands
  on the special keys that are needed to arm the satellites, thus combining
  their strength to pull the earth off its axis. Can't you remember anything?
  

  PINKY [uncomfortable]: You know I do, BRAIN...but I'm not sure my 'eart is
  in it. Not after I've met the girl of my dreams. [sighs. Pan in slowly on
  PINKY's face.] It's like this, BRAIN. I don't 'ave all that much in life--'cept
  you, and the labs, and trying to take over the world every night...but now
  I 'ave 'er. And I don't want to 'urt 'er or get 'er all mixed up in this
  mess. I'm going out on my date tomorrow with the girl I love, and even though
  you're my best friend, I won't let you stand between me and my 'appiness.
  '[sadly] Troz! So promise me that you'll give up the whole idea of giving
  the world the 'ershey squirts, BRAIN. For 'er...and for me. Poit!
  

  BRAIN [rather moved]: PINKY...old friend...I had no idea how you felt. Very
  well--the mission is aborted. [BRAIN's right hand is behind his back. Camera
  pans around to rear view to note that his fingers are crossed.]
  

  PINKY [believes him with the wholehearted faith of a child]: All right, BRAIN!
  Now...what do you think about my outfit? [turns around in a circle to give
  him the full effect, humming a snatch of "Greensleeves"]
  

  BRAIN: PINKY, you're naked.
  

  PINKY: Oh...right...[giggles, snorts]...zort! I thought this fabric breathed
  pretty well for a natural fiber.
  

  BRAIN: You look fine, PINKY. Now put on your uniform and come down to dinner.
  It's lasagna...double cheese, just how you like it.
  

  PINKY: Yippee! Narf!! [hops down off of sink and races out of the bathroom.
  BRAIN hangs back, sighing, feeling very much like a rat--for lack of a better
  word--for fibbing to PINKY, then slowly exeunts.]
  

  [Cut to MORGANDORFFER kitchen, interior. The family is just finishing dinner
  as BRAIN and PINKY, in his school uniform, enter. HELEN leaps out of her
  chair and siezes PINKY, crushing him to her bosom in a bruising hug.]
  

  PINKY [strangling]: Urr-rrkk! Narf! Poit!
  

  HELEN [gushing]: Oh, I'm so happy! QUINN just told me the good news, PINKY
  darling! I'm so happy for you two!
  

  JAKE: So am I, precious! And--[takes out his wallet]--I have a little something
  in my wallet to give you that you might need later on if your date goes well
  there, sport!
  

  HELEN [snapping]: JAKE!
  

  JAKE [hastily]: I-I was giving them some money, dear. Honest.
  

  HELEN : Oh. Ha, ha! Never mind.
  

  JAKE [passes PINKY a folded wad of bills and whispers to him, bending down]
  There's a little something special wrapped up in there for you too, champ.
  [winks and clicks teeth]
  

  PINKY: Oh...that's right nice of you, Mr. MORGANDORFFER.
  

  JAKE: Ha! Ha! Why so formal? Call me JAKE--please-I insist!
  

  PINKY: All right, Jake--please--I insist! Narf!
  

  JAKE [giving Vulcan finger sign]: Narf to you too, m'man!
  

  DARIA [sets her knife and fork on her empty plate and rises]: I'm almost
  sorry I had to leave in the middle of all this bonding, but I might as well
  head over to JANE's now. If I'm late, they'll start the orgy without me.
  

  PINKY: Oh, I love orgy! Remember when I took up orgy that one time you and
  me were trying to get that foreign aid check from the government, BRAI--er--Senor
  Braindulce?
  

  BRAIN: No, PINKY, you're thinking or origami, the ancient Japanese art of
  paper-folding. An orgy is a wild and uninhibited sex party that often involves
  multiple partners of both genders.
  

  JAKE [outraged, bolts upright form his seat and slams his fists on the table]:
  Wild sex party? Multiple partners?! Dammit, DARIA, not in htios house you
  don't!
  

  QUINN [coolly]: Of course not Dad. She's going to do it at her kooky artist
  friend's place.
  

  PINKY [giggles stupidly]: Narf!
  

  QUINN [gigggles girlishly]: Poit!
  

  JAKE [hammers fist on table]: Arggh!! Dammit!!!
  

  HELEN [soothing]: Now, JAKE, she's only joking. Be careful not to get your
  blood pressure up. Remember what your doctor said--
  

  [JAKE pounds his fist on the table and howls in pain and outrage as DARIA
  exits kitchen and heads into the living room, a satisfied little smile on
  her face. A blast of "You're Standing on My Neck", instrumental, plays in
  the BG. Fade to black.]