"Weighting to Exhale"
First off, let me say that I love the TV show just the way it is, and
have tried to be as true as possible to it here, keeping the general
style and plotline in the direction the show's writers seem to have
their minds set on. You won't find the start of any outrageous story
arcs, new major characters or departures in style from the "Daria" we
all know and love. Please let me know how close I got. (And if you're
from MTV, I should mention I'd love to do this for a living.)
Okay, one new character, but he's a one-show guest star, like Ted or Evan.
I think I've got music-selection under control now, but thanks to the
readers who've sent in suggestions. If you have the music I use here, put
it on and crank it up as you're reading, it really enhances the fic.
(...la la LA la la...)
Daria in "Weighting to Exhale"
Written by
C.E. Forman (ceforman@worldnet.att.net)
BEGIN ACT 1.
INT.: LAWNDALE HIGH, MRS BENNETT'S CLASS. MONDAY.
(Mrs Bennett is at the board, drawing football play diagrams as she
lectures.)
BENNETT: ...and so, as the consumer continues usage of the product multiple
consecutive times, each subsequent, or "marginal", consumption of
a product unit yields progressively less consumer satisfaction, or
"utility". Make sense?
(Cut to the class, confused looks on everyone but Daria. Back to Bennett.)
BENNETT: Can anyone tell me the name of this principle? Kevin?
KEVIN: (He's been copying down the football plays verbatim.) Ummm... isn't
Ms Li our principal?
BENNETT: (Prompting.) The Law of...
KEVIN: Gravity?
BENNETT: (Sighs, turns to...) Daria?
DARIA: Diminishing marginal utility.
BENNETT: Very good, Daria. (Erases part of the diagram, starts another.)
Now, the other day we talked about the Law of Parsimony, or
"Occam's razor", and that can be tied in with the simple
explanation of consumer behavior illustrated here. Can anyone
tell me what William of Occam said about this?
DARIA: (Thought voice-over.) He said, "If all the world's economists were
laid end-to-end, they still wouldn't reach a conclusion." (She
smirks.)
JANE: (Notices, whispers.) C'mon, *out* with it, I wanna hear this!
(Daria raises her hand, but Mrs Bennett has already selected someone else
in the back, who already had his hand up.)
BENNETT: Chad?
CHAD: (Wearing smart-ass grin.) "If you laid all the economists in the
world side by side, they still wouldn't reach a conclusion?"
(Surprise, raised eyebrows from Daria. This gets a good laugh from Mrs
Bennett and the rest of the class, except for Kevin and Brittany, who don't
get it. Daria and Jane both look back at Chad and smirk approvingly.)
JUMP-CUT TO:
EXT.: LAWNDALE MEDICAL ARTS PARTNERS BUILDING. AFTERNOON.
CUT TO:
INT.: WAITING ROOM.
(Jake is seated, turns a page in the paper he's reading, taps his foot to
the Muzak that's playing.)
CUT TO:
INT.: EXAM ROOM.
(Quinn, in a bluish medical gown, sits on the edge of a padded exam table.
Doctor Davidson -- the older doc who first examined Daria in "Ill" -- enters
holding a clipboard, making notes.)
QUINN: Are we about done with this? (Looks at the sleeve of her gown,
makes an "ick" face.) Periwinkle does *not* look good on me...
DAVIDSON: We're all finished, Quinn, excellent checkup. You're the picture
of health... (Glances at his clipboard, slight frown. Closeup
reveals a standard medical chart with illegible doctor-scrawls.)
QUINN: ...It clashes with my hair, the whole Fashion Club agrees.
DAVIDSON: ...Although I must admit, I *am* a bit concerned about your
current weight.
QUINN: (Wide-eyed horror.) Oh *NO*!! I'm *FAT*?!
DAVIDSON: (Pleasant smile, shakes his head.) Quite the contrary. It seems
you're considerably underweight for your age and height.
QUINN: (Still in shock, doesn't hear him, frets.) I *knew* it! I just
*knew* this would happen! *Why* did I let myself eat that brownie
last week? *Why*?!
DAVIDSON: (Preoccupied, doesn't see she's misunderstood him.) Now I don't
want to alarm you, Quinn, but being emanciated is every bit as
serious a problem as being obese.
QUINN: Eewwww, *obese*?!
DOCTOR: I've consulted with our resident dietician, and she's worked out an
easy-to-follow plan that should help in bringing you back to your
prescribed weight over the course of a few weeks.
QUINN: A diet? B-but I'm already *on* a diet! (Downcast, moans.) Not that
it did me any good, it looks like...
DOCTOR: It's chemically designed to help you get the exact nutrition base
your body needs. (Pause as he scratches something else onto the
chart.) Go ahead and get dressed while I check on your sister and
then have a brief word with your father.
QUINN: (Looks at the paper.) Two servings of meat a *day*? (Buries her
head in her hands.) My life is *over*!
JUMP-CUT TO:
EXT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE. EVENING.
(Helen's car pulls into the driveway.)
CUT TO:
INT.: MORGENDORFFER KITCHEN.
(Jake, Daria and Quinn are at the table. Daria's eating. Quinn pokes
despondently at her dinner with her fork. Jake's turned in his chair,
pitching cards at a hat he's placed on the floor, demonstrating an
embarrassingly low hit-to-miss ratio if the mess of strewn cards is any
indication. After a couple of tosses, Helen enters holding her briefcase
and car keys.)
HELEN: Hi Jake, hi girls, sorry I'm late, three-car pileup right outside
our building, Eric had me tail the ambulance to the ER, got a $40
ticket for parking in the physician's lot-- (Scowls.) Bastards!
(Brightens again.) --but I landed the case!
(She looks to the family for some response. Jake's got a Zen-type focus
with the cards and hat, Quinn obviously doesn't feel like talking, and
Daria... well, Daria's just being Daria.)
HELEN: So, girls, how'd your physicals go?
JAKE: (Gets one in, raises fists triumphantly.) *Yeah*-hah! Got one!
(Cut to Jake's POV, the hat on the floor. Helen's legs come into his field
of vision, pan up her body to show her with hands on hips, frowning.)
JAKE: Oh, hi honey! Did you just see that? (Looks proud of himself.)
HELEN: (Bends, picks up the hat.) Jake, this is Quinn's good Easter bonnet,
what are you doing throwing it on the floor?
(She puts the hat on the counter by the stove.)
QUINN: (Miserable.) It doesn't matter, my head's probably gotten too fat
for me to wear it anyway.
DARIA: (Deadpan.) I could easily quip off a cheap, shameless wisecrack at
my sister's expense right now. But I choose not to.
HELEN: (Shoots Daria a warning look, puts an arm around Quinn supportively.)
Quinn, honey, what's the matter?
QUINN: Isn't it obvious? I'm *fat*, Mother!
HELEN: (Shakes her head. Motherly patience, but it's clear she's been down
this road before.) Oh, Quinn, sweetie, you're skinny as a rail.
You're not the least bit fat!
QUINN: (Annoyed, whiny.) Yes I *am*, Mother, the doctor said so! You're
just trying to make me feel better!
HELEN: (Sighs.) Jake, what did Dr Davidson *really* say?
JAKE: (Turns from where he's been pitching cards at the hat's new location,
looks guilty.) Umm... Well, Helen, I didn't actually--
HELEN: Jake, haven't we been through this before? I've told you time and
again, you *have* to keep tabs on these doctors constantly! Didn't
you even *talk* to him after the girls were finished?
JAKE: Well-- (Clears throat.) --he talked to *me*, but I didn't--
HELEN: (Exasperated sigh.) You were reading that damn paper the whole time,
weren't you? And you didn't hear a word he said, am I right?
JAKE: (Defensive.) Yes I did! He just mentioned that Quinn had a little
problem with her weight, and I--
QUINN: *See*?! I *do* have a weight problem! Even *DAD* noticed it!
HELEN: Jake, you're not helping things at all.
QUINN: (Eyes cast downward, whines.) What am I going to *do*?
DARIA: There's always liposuction.
HELEN: (Warning.) Daria!
DARIA: Or she could have her brain cryogenically frozen and transplanted
into a new body, once science catches up with fashion.
HELEN: Daria, knock it off! (Turns to her husband, who pitched another card
while she wasn't looking.) Jake, you have *got* to start paying more
attention to the world around you.
JAKE: Well you know, Helen, if Quinn really *does* want to shed a few
pounds, I'm sure we could--
HELEN: (Interrupts.) Not another *word*, Jake! (Sighs.) Just... mix
yourself a martini and go sit in the other room, okay?
JAKE: (Gets up to do so, meek.) Yes, dear.
HELEN: (Points at floor.) And pick up these damn cards!
(Jake kneels down to obey her.)
QUINN: Can I be excused too?
HELEN: You've barely touched your dinner.
QUINN: I'm not feeling very hungry. I don't think I want dessert either.
DARIA: So anorexia's coming back into style?
HELEN: (Angry, points out of the room.) Upstairs, Daria!
(Expressionless, Daria stands.)
HELEN: Your father's already made this worse than it has to be, I will *not*
have you doing the same.
(Jake gets the last card and goes over to mix a drink. Helen sits down to
talk to Quinn. Daria walks out with an ever-so-slightly amused look.)
CUT TO:
INT.: LAWNDALE HIGH, CAFETERIA. TUESDAY.
(Daria and Jane are seated by themselves at their usual table.)
JANE: So I take it you've been playing right along?
DARIA: Yep.
JANE: Feeding her deepest anxiety-laden nightmares?
DARIA: Pretty much.
JANE: Nudging her fragile ego ever closer to the brink?
DARIA: You'd be disappointed if I did anything less.
JANE: Want me to come over after school? I can rig your bathroom scale so
it shows her gaining a couple hundred pounds.
(Daria's about to reply when Chad comes over. It's clear he's been thinking
awhile for some excuse to talk to them... or at least pretending to have
been.)
CHAD: Hi, you two are in econ third period, aren't you?
JANE: (Obviously thinks he's cute.) Hi. Chad, right?
DARIA: (Admiringly.) Nice line in class the other day.
CHAD: Thanks. So anyway, I was gonna ask... Which questions did she assign
for tomorrow?
(Daria and Jane both go for their notes, eager to help, though Daria hides
it much better than Jane.)
DARIA AND JANE: (Together.) Six through fourteen.
CHAD: Thanks. (To Daria.) Daria, right? I know cuz she always calls on
you. (To Jane.) And you are?
JANE: Jane.
CHAD: Nice to meet you. (Awkward pause.) Well. See you around. (He turns
and goes to a table with some other guys.)
JANE: (Allows herself a slight smile.) He likes us.
DARIA: (No such luxury here.) That automatically classifies him as a poor
judge of character.
CUT TO:
INT.: LAWNDALE HIGH, GYMNASIUM.
(The Fashion Club, Quinn first, is in line with some other girls, waiting
to climb the infamous gym rope. All the girls wear yellow shorts and blue
T-shirts with the letter "L", except for Quinn, she wears a form-concealing
sweatshirt turned inside-out so the fuzzy side's visible. Ms Morris stands
beside the rope with her whistle, calling out girls' names when it's their
turn to climb.)
MORRIS: (Calls name.) Ward!
(The next girl in line shimmies up the rope.)
STACY: (Points at Tiffany's foot.) I really like your ankle bracelet!
TIFFANY: Yeah. It really makes me stand out with these stupid gym clothes.
SANDI: You're good with non-clothing fashion statements, Tiffany. Why don't
you put together a presentation on coping with uniforms, for the next
Fashion Club meeting?
MORRIS: (Calls name.) Parsky!
TIFFANY: What about beading your hair? That's another one I thought of.
STACY: Beads are cool! I like the ones with letters so you can spell your
name and stuff. It makes it easier for guys who don't know you to
talk to you!
SANDI: (Points at Quinn's sweatshirt.) And then there's always Quinn's
strategy, attracting attention by wearing something even *worse* than
regular P.E. clothes.
TIFFANY: Yeah. Ironic.
SANDI: (To Tiffany.) What?
STACY: (Notices Quinn's not herself.) Quinn? Is something wrong?
MORRIS: (Calls name.) Morgendorffer!
SANDI: Did you break a nail or something?
TIFFANY: God, I *hate* when that happens.
QUINN: I just... (Shakes her head sadly.) I don't really wanna talk about
it...
MORRIS: (Louder.) *Morgendorffer*! Let's *go*, you're next!
(Quinn snaps back to attention, approaches the rope, mounts both feet on
the large knot at the bottom. She attempts to haul herself up, but, lacking
the arm muscle, loses her grip and falls onto the mat below. Laughter from
some of the girls in line. Close-up of the Fashion Club: Sandi smirks,
Stacy wears a concerned look, Tiffany's checking her ankle bracelet and
doesn't notice.)
MORRIS: (Marks on clipboard.) Better luck next time. Who's up?
(Stacy, next in line, steps to the rope. Quinn moves dejectedly to the end
of the line, rubs her hands from the rope burns. The boys stampede in from
the track, where they've apparently been doing laps. Quinn's own personal
three musketeers spot her and come over, pulling off their shirts.)
JOEY: Hi, Quinn!
JEFFY: I like your sweatshirt!
JAMIE: (Proudly.) I have more chest hair than these two!
JOEY: You look really good in that, Quinn!
QUINN: (She breaks, suddenly bitchy.) Oh, just stop it, you guys! Don't
try to pretend you haven't *noticed*!
JAMIE: (Innocently.) Noticed what?
QUINN: (That was the worst possible response, she shrieks in disgust.)
*AAAGH!!*
(Quinn storms off. The bell rings. Morris blows her whistle loudly,
dismissing the girls to the locker room. JJ&J remain in the gym, the rest
of the boys long gone.)
JAMIE: Man, what's wrong with Quinn?
JEFFY: It was probably something *you* said!
(Jamie glares at him.)
JOEY: Maybe she just wants some time to herself, chicks get like that
sometimes. I think we should just leave her alone for awhile.
JEFFY & JAMIE: (Reluctantly.) Okay.
(The three boys just stand there, looking at each other suspiciously, each
thinking one of the others is going to sneak off and talk to Quinn alone.)
CUT TO:
EXT.: LANE RESIDENCE. AFTERNOON.
(Loud, obnoxious chords from a single guitar.)
CUT TO:
INT.: JANE'S ROOM.
(Jane is lying stomach-down on her bed, an open textbook and papers in front
of her. Daria sits beside her with her legs over the edge.)
JANE: (Bit of frustration, snaps the book closed.) I can't concentrate with
Trent torturing that guitar.
DARIA: C'mon, we're almost done with this chapter.
JANE: I hate circles. And I hate pi. I'll *never* be ready for the test
next week.
DARIA: If you pull that C average up, maybe we can both take the advanced
class next semester.
JANE: This is already more than I can handle. Who the hell came up with
this stuff?
DARIA: Probably the same sadistic mind that invented siblings.
JANE: (Brightens a bit.) Yeah, how's the little fatso doing?
DARIA: Jodie said she was sobbing her eyes out in the bathroom today.
JANE: Superb.
DARIA: The beauty part is, I don't even have to do anything, just sit back
and watch her crumble. Her own vanity's destroying her.
JANE: Hmm... (Thinking.) I'm starting to get some inspiration for a Quinn
painting. Can we take a break from this and go to your place?
DARIA: Sure, but can you bring a sheet of plastic for the carpet this time?
Listening to one member of my family bitch all day is quite enough.
CUT TO:
EXT.: SIDEWALK, OUTSIDE LANE RESIDENCE.
(Daria and Jane are walking back to the Morgendorffer house. Jane totes
her easel and a case of various art supplies. Daria caries a blank canvas
for her. They pass a telephone pole and stop to look at a weight-loss ad
nailed to it. [Are these things in all parts of the country? They're all
*over* the Midwest where I live, and they bug the hell outta me.])
JANE: Would you look at that. "30 pounds in 30 days, guaranteed."
DARIA: (Sardonic.) It's a miracle.
JANE: I wonder what kind of experimental drugs they're testing on the
unwary weight-obsessed public?
DARIA: *I* wonder when the telephone pole became such a respected
advertising medium.
(Honking of a horn, and a convertible pulls up. It's Chad.)
CHAD: Hi Jane, hi Daria, need a lift somewhere?
(Daria and Jane exchange "looks", Jane maybe just a wee bit smug that Chad
greeted her first.)
JANE: Sure. This thing's getting kinda heavy.
(Jane turns to put the easel in back, and Daria moves to sit up front with
Chad. Jane catches this, of course.)
JANE: Umm, maybe I'll put this up front, if you don't mind.
CHAD: Sure, no problem. Artist, huh? (Looks impressed, which pleases Jane.)
DARIA: (Sardonic.) No, she just carts that old thing around while her
sawhorses are at the cleaners.
(Chad laughs at this, which pleases Daria. Jane secures the easel in front,
then she and Daria climb in back.)
CHAD: Where to?
DARIA: Back that way about four blocks. [*]
[*] Check the map in "The Daria Diaries."
(Daria and Jane exchange suspicious corner-of-the-eye glances at each other
as Chad makes a U-turn.)
(...la la LA la la...)
(COMMERCIAL LEAD-IN: Quinn falling from the rope in gym class.)
END ACT 1.
(COMMERCIAL: Guitar Rock, featuring the greatest hits of the '80s and '90s.
Plus one of those retarded stomach-contents Slim Jim ads, and some insipid
thing with an old dude in a boat talking to a fish. [I honestly don't know
what this is a commercial *for*, I've never been able to sit through it
without flipping channels!])
BEGIN ACT 2.
RETURN TO:
EXT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE. AFTERNOON.
(Daria and Jane -- with the easel, canvas and supplies -- walk up to the
house as Chad's car pulls away.)
DARIA: Did your easel have a comfortable ride?
JANE: I hate you. (Something in her tone tells us she's not quite
completely joking this time.)
CUT TO:
INT.: MORGENDORFFERS' LIVING ROOM.
(Daria and Jane enter to find Quinn lying face-down on the couch, face
buried in her arms. She's still wearing the sweatshirt. Jane puts down the
easel, opens her supplies, spreads a sheet of plastic on the floor for the
easel, mounts the canvas on it.)
DARIA: See? She's been like this the last two days.
JANE: (Folds her hands over her heart, mock-motherly look.) Awww, she looks
so frail and helpless lying there like that!
QUINN: (Looks up.) Leave me alone. (Plops her face back down again.)
(Jane removes a palette and applies several different colors of paint from
her kit, dips her brush, makes a couple of practice strokes on the palette
itself, then turns to the canvas.)
DARIA: (To Quinn.) How long do you plan on keeping this up?
QUINN: (Looks up.) No one wants to be around me anymore! Like today Joey
and Jeffy and... (Trying to think of the other guy's name.) ...
DARIA: (Prompting.) Jamie?
QUINN: Whatever. They didn't even *try* to follow me into the locker room
after gym! It's like all of a sudden I'm really unpopular!
JANE: (Painting.) Don't worry, you'll get used to it after a couple years.
DARIA: (Playing along.) Yeah. First no one will want anything to do with
you, so you'll end up spending a lot of time alone.
JANE: From the looks of it you're well into that stage right now.
DARIA: Then you'll get really bored and start doing weird things like art
and writing, and reading lots of books, which will just alienate you
further.
JANE: Trust us, we know, we've been there. (Beat.) You know, Quinn, the
Renaissance artists considered plump women to embody the archetypal
image of beauty.
DARIA: (Smirks.) Yeah, sis, you're in perfect shape, you were just born in
the wrong century.
JANE: (To Daria.) Five hundred *years* out of style, just imagine what the
Fashion Club would have to say about *that*!
QUINN: (Wails.) The Fashion Club, *God* don't even *mention* the Fashion
Club! They all saw it today! I fell off the rope in gym cuz I'm too
fat to pull myself up, and everyone *laughed*! (Buries her face
again.) I've never been so humiliated in my life!
JANE: (Paints.) Oh, sure you have.
DARIA: Remember when I pointed you out to the whole school during my self-
esteem speech? Or when I told all those embarrassing stories at
Brittany Taylor's party?
QUINN: (Angry.) You're not helping!
JANE: Who said we were trying to? (Steps back from the canvas, tilts her
head, appraising her work.) Hmmm...
(Daria takes a look too. Close-up of Jane's painting. It shows Quinn in
what must be Jane's vision of Quinn's personal hell: The skeletal figure
of Quinn in a raging inferno, surrounded by fat, ugly devils as she stares
into a mirror and sees her reflection as a hideous demon as well.)
DARIA: You've gotta start wearing a mask for those paint fumes.
JUMP-CUT TO:
EXT.: CRANBERRY COMMONS, LATE AFTERNOON.
CUT TO:
INT.: CRANBERRY COMMONS, BOOKSTORE.
(Daria is browsing the self-help section while Quinn stands behind her,
looking out of place.)
DARIA: You realize people's sole motive in writing these things is to
make a huge wad of cash while exploiting the forlorn hopes of self-
conscious wannabe-debutantes like yourself, don't you?
QUINN: Just help me find a good diet book, okay?
DARIA: Let's see, what've we got here...? (Pulling books off the shelf,
reading titles, putting them back.) ..."Intelligence Boosting for
Dummies"... "The Pessimist's Guide to Lashing out at the World"...
(Looks intrigued.) Hmmm... nah. (Puts it back, takes another.)
"Chicken Soup for the Pedophile's Soul"... Ah, here we are. "Starve
Yourself Healthy." It says five supermodels collaborated on this.
QUINN: (Impatient.) Fine, whatever, can we just get it and get out of here
before anyone popular sees me?
DARIA: Do you really want to entrust your health to someone who considers
tofu a food?
CUT TO:
INT.: CHAD'S HOUSE, CHAD'S ROOM.
(Chad picks up the phone and dials.)
CHAD: (On phone.) Hi, Jane?
CUT TO:
INT.: QUINN'S ROOM. LATE EVENING.
(Close-up of the door as Daria enters, gets a surprised look. Cut to
Quinn's room, revealing why: There are sheets hung over Quinn's three
mirrors so she can't see her reflection. Quinn herself is still in her
oversized sweatshirt, on the floor, hands behind her head, doing situps.
Little high-pitched grunts of exertion with each lift. On the floor
beside her is the open self-help book.)
DARIA: (Rhetorical.) What are you doing?
QUINN: (Panting, flops down on her back.) What does it *look* like? I'm
exercising!
DARIA: Is Richard Simmons looking for a partner?
QUINN: I *hafta* get rid of some of this flab, Daria!
DARIA: (Sighs.) You don't have any flab, Quinn.
QUINN: Yes I *do*! (Pulls up the hem of her sweatshirt, pinches her tummy
between two fingers.) See?
DARIA: I can see your ribs. Have you eaten anything at all today?
QUINN: Would you *look* at this?! I'm a blimp! Not one person has asked
me out in almost TWO DAYS because I'm *FAT*!
DARIA: Are you sure it's not because you bit off their heads when they tried
to be nice to you? This new attitude of yours is probably driving
everyone away.
QUINN: (Snide.) You're the expert, you oughtta know. (She gets up, sips
from a can of something on her bedside table.)
DARIA: What's that stuff?
QUINN: (Swallows, holds can out for Daria.) Ultra Thin-Fast. If you drink
a can in the morning and evening, and then don't eat anything else
all day, it's supposed to help you lose weight.
DARIA: (Deadpan.) Wow, just like magic.
QUINN: This lady on TV lost sixty pounds! Plus it has like 100% of about
fifty vitamins, or whatever.
DARIA: You know, eating healthy doesn't really make you live longer, it just
seems like longer. (Beat.) Look, I know I've been tormenting you
these last few days like any good older sister should. But believe
me, Quinn, you are *not* fat.
QUINN: Oh right, like *you* know anything about looking good!
(She sets the can down, lies on the floor, knees bent, for more situps.
Daria kneels, holds her feet in place.)
QUINN: (Kicks at her.) Hey, cut it out!
DARIA: It's easier this way.
(Quinn concedes, does a few more situps as the dialogue continues.)
DARIA: Besides, I came up here to ask you something.
QUINN: *Me*?
DARIA: I need your advice, you've had more experience at this sort of thing.
QUINN: (Gets up into a sitting position, serious.) I'm listening.
DARIA: Say there's this guy who kind of likes you--
QUINN: (Rolls her eyes, whiny sarcasm.) Yeah, sure! *No* one likes me
anymore, now that I'm-- (Beat.) Oh, wait, are we talking about
*you*?
DARIA: (Exasperated that Quinn thinks everything's about her.) *Yes*.
QUINN: Which guy? Anyone I know? (Worried look.) Not one of the guys I
dumped when I was still attractive and popular?
DARIA: (Continues, ignores Quinn's self-pity.) But say he also kind of
likes one of your friends, too.
QUINN: You mean your *only* friend, in your case?
DARIA: Whatever. But the point is, what do you do? If I go out with him,
I'm afraid Jane'll get upset with me since she likes him too. But if
I don't, he may start going out with Jane and I'll miss out. And if
they start spending all their time together, I may lose both Jane and
Ch--... the guy.
QUINN: (Nods, pleased.) I'm glad you came to me, Daria. (Gets into lecture
mode.) First off, and write this down cuz it's important: Dating
lots of guys is far, *far* more important than keeping your friends.
I mean let's face it, if you date guys constantly, you won't have
time for friends anyway.
DARIA: Have you been taking shallowness classes, or does this come naturally?
QUINN: Plus if you become popular with the guys, all the girls will start
wanting to be friends with you too, then you'll have plenty of
friends to pick and choose from if you *do* decide not to go out on
a date some night.
DARIA: Thanks, I think I'll talk to Jane about it.
QUINN: (Annoyed.) Weren't you *listening* to what I just said?
DARIA: I decided beforehand I'd do the exact opposite of whatever you
told me.
(Quinn snorts, gets a disgusted look, like "why did I waste my time?" On
Quinn's bed, the cordless phone rings. She lunges for it.)
QUINN: (Pleading.) Hello? (Beat.) *HI*! Are you calling to ask me out?
(Pause, her face falls.) Oh. Just a minute. (Hands the phone to
Daria.) It's for you.
DARIA: Hello? (Blushes a bit, gets her shy look.) Oh, hi Chad.
(Quinn pouts with jealousy, looking genuinely hurt. Daria stands, taking
the cordless back to her room as Quinn resumes her situps.)
CUT TO:
INT.: LAWNDALE HIGH, HALLWAY. WEDNESDAY.
(Between classes, students opening and closing lockers. Daria spots Chad,
goes over to his locker.)
DARIA: Umm, hi.
CHAD: Oh, hi. What's up?
(They launch into a conversation, Daria leaning against the lockers. Pan
right down the hall to show Jane watching the two talking. She looks hurt.
Kevin and Brittany stroll down the hall in each others' arms.)
KEVIN: (To Brit.) So I showed Mrs B's plays to Coach, and he said we'd try
'em out against Oakwood next week! (Arrives at the lockers, for once
*he's* the one whose locker is blocked!) Uh... 'scuse me, Daria.
(Daria, still talking to Chad, doesn't even notice him.)
KEVIN: Uhh... Daria?
BRITTANY: (To Chad and Daria.) So are you guys going out now?
KEVIN: (Something else catches his eye.) Oh, *man*! Babe, look at Quinn!
BRITTANY: Huh?
(Cut to Quinn, walking down the hall alone, head down. She's got on jeans
that look baggy on her -- possibly a pair of Helen's -- and a figure-hiding
sweater that's gotta be at least three sizes too large.)
BRITTANY: Is she trying out a new look? Cuz I don't think that suits her
at all.
KEVIN: I heard she was trying to lose some weight or something.
(Quinn overhears and turns, looking absolutely wretched.)
BRITTANY: (Notices, elbows Kevin.) Kevin! Ixnay on the eightway!
KEVIN: (Confused.) Huh? I don't speak Spanish, babe.
CUT TO:
INT.: LAWNDALE HIGH, CAFETERIA.
(The Fashion Club having a luncheon meeting. All of them eat salads except
Quinn.)
STACY: (Reading last meeting's minutes.) "...Sandi called the meeting to
order and said it was really great for all of us to show up. Quinn
said it was really great of *her* to organize the meeting. We
discussed the beneficialness of using those electric hair-removal
things on our legs instead of shaving. Then we reviewed the Fashion
Club's height, weight and bra-size requirements...
(Quinn winces here, convinced she's going to be dismissed for being fat.)
SANDI: Uhh, Quinn? Is something like the matter?
TIFFANY: Yeah. How come you're not eating lunch?
QUINN: I'm... just not very hungry.
(Quinn's stomach growls loudly, getting curious looks from the other three
Fashioners. The plump redhead from "This Year's Model" walks by the table
carrying a lunch tray.)
SANDI: Uuck! Look at *her*!
STACY: Ewww.
TIFFANY: Yeah. She looks like a *cow*.
(Another miserable look on Quinn's face as she sees what she's sure is going
to happen to her.)
CUT TO:
INT.: LAWNDALE HIGH, HALLWAY.
(Sandi, Stacy and Tiffany walking together.)
SANDI: Something is *definitely* wrong with Quinn.
TIFFANY: Yeah. Did you *see* that sweater?
SANDI: Not just her outfit, Tiffany. It's like her whole attitude, or
something. I think the pressures of the Fashion Club might be
getting to her. Perhaps she needs like, time off to recuperate.
(The three pass the girls' restroom just as Quinn emerges, wiping at her
eyes with a paper towel.)
STACY: There you are, Quinn! Sandi was just saying--
SANDI: (Interrupts.) *We* were just saying we thought you could use a break
from the Fashion Club for awhile. Don't worry, Tiffany can fill in
for you as vice-president.
TIFFANY: Yeah.
(Quinn gasps in horror, and her mouth quivers like she's going to burst
into tears. She turns around, back into the restroom. The Fashion Club
exchanges concerned looks.)
CUT TO:
INT.: MORGENDORFFERS' LIVING ROOM. EVENING.
(Quinn is again sprawled on the couch, moping. Daria comes in, sits down
beside her, turns on the TV.)
ANNOUNCER: She lives alone and friendless, she can't fit through her door,
and she hasn't seen the outside world in ten years! But our
exclusive interview shows that this 800-pound shut-in has a big
heart, too!
QUINN: (Looks up, her eyes are all red and puffy. Sees her own future on
the TV, panics.) Ohhh-h-h-h, *GOD*!! (She leaps off the couch and
starts doing more situps.)
ANNOUNCER: ...A very special "Sick, Sad World", right after this!
(The phone rings. Daria shuts off the TV and goes to answer it.)
DARIA: Hello?
(Split screen diagonal, Daria and Jane.)
JANE: Yo, it's me. How's Divine?
DARIA: You would not believe what just happened. She freaked when she saw
this 800-pound woman on TV, and she started--
JANE: (Gets up and moves to her TV, the split screen reveals she's got
"Sick, Sad World" on, too.) The shut-in?
DARIA: Yeah. This is actually starting to get less fun for me. I'd relish
her suffering more if her reaction to it were something besides
constant whining.
JANE: The ol' diminishing marginal utility's kicking in, eh?
DARIA: Looks that way. But I'm still milking this for all it's worth.
JANE: I'd be disappointed if you did anything less. (Beat.) Hey, listen,
I wanted to ask you something... (Awkward.) Are you...? I mean,
have you and Chad been... ...?
DARIA: (Even more awkward.) Ummm... nnnno, not exactly. Have *you* and
Chad been... ...?
JANE: Uhhh, no. (Clears throat nervously.) Not... yet...
DARIA: Oh.
JANE: Okay.
DARIA: Okay...
JANE: So... bye.
DARIA: Yeah... bye...
(Daria hangs up. Cut to Jane's room, she hits a button on the phone.
Before the split-screen returns, we just barely catch a glimpse of Trent
peeking around the door frame. Split-screen, Jane and Chad.)
JANE: Chad? You still there?
CHAD: Yeah.
JANE: She's... umm... busy tonight. So, you wanna do something?
(Cut back to the Morgendorffer house. Quinn's still on the couch
bellyaching, Daria's trying to concentrate on Kafka's "The Metamorphosis".)
QUINN: (Non-stop whining.) ...and when I came out of the bathroom the
Fashion Club was right there and Sandi told me I should give up my
duties as vice-president for awhile!
(Daria puts down the book, opens a bottle of aspirin, swallows a couple of
tablets, tears the wad of cotton into two pieces, stuffs them in her ears.)
QUINN: (Continuing.) And they didn't even give me a good *reason*, although
I think Stacy wanted to tell me but Sandi interrupted her, but I
*know* they kicked me out because I don't pass the weight requirement
anymore! And now the Fashion Club doesn't want me around and I have
*no* friends, no one wants to be seen with me now that I've gained
all this *weight*!...
(The doorbell rings. Even through the cotton, Daria hears and goes over to
answer it.)
QUINN: (Still no end in sight.) ...And none of the boys will talk to me
either, it's like there's a sign on my back or somebody started like
a rumor or something-- (Melodramatically.) "Don't talk to Quinn
Morgendorffer, she's all bloated and squishy and disgusting now",
can you believe not *one* guy has asked me out since *MONDAY*?!?
(Daria opens the door. It's Corey -- the boy from "Esteemsters" and "Quinn
the Brain", the one with the godawful annoying voice.)
COREY: Hey, Quinn! Wanna go someplace, maybe get some ice cream? I got a
coupon for half-price!
QUINN: (Yells.) GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, COREY, JUST LEAVE ME *ALONE*!!
(Corey blanches at Quinn's tone, turns and leaves dejectedly. Daria shuts
the door.)
QUINN: (*Still* bitching.) I mean, it's like no one wants to talk to me,
but no one even wants to tell me *WHY*!!
(Daria turns and heads upstairs, leaving Quinn all alone.)
QUINN: (Pathetic.) Even my own *SISTER* doesn't want to be around me!!
JUMP-CUT TO:
INT.: DARIA'S ROOM.
(About an hour later. Daria's on the floor, staring at the ceiling. She
reaches for the receiver on her phone, dials.)
DARIA: (On phone.) Hi, is Chad there?
VOICE: (Indistinct, but we can make out what's said, and that it's most
likely a younger sister Daria is talking to.) No, he and his new
girlfriend went out.
DARIA: (Alarm in her eyes.) New girlfriend?
VOICE: Yeah, this tall girl, really weird. C'I take a message?
DARIA: No, that's okay. (She hangs up.)
CUT TO:
INT.: ART MUSEUM.
(Chad and Jane are together. Jane is clearly enjoying this a lot.)
JANE: Thanks for suggesting this. I can't really come here with Daria,
she's not especially into it.
CHAD: What exactly *is* Daria into?
JANE: Apathy and solitude, primarily. Daria's just not a people person.
CHAD: Well would she... I mean, has she ever... gone out with anybody
before?
JANE: Just this guy from yearbook, for awhile. Plus she has a major crush
on my brother. Listen, do we have to... Can we not talk about Daria
right now?
CHAD: Sure, no problem.
JANE: And if you don't mind? I'd rather you didn't mention this little
excursion to her.
CHAD: (Understands.) I won't tell her.
JANE: Thanks.
(As they walk to the next exhibit, Chad takes Jane's hand. She's surprised,
but smiles.)
CUT TO:
INT.: DARIA'S ROOM.
(Daria, anxious, keys in another phone number.)
CUT TO:
INT.: LANE RESIDENCE, KITCHEN.
(Trent's digging in the fridge when the phone rings. He takes out a carton
of milk and goes to answer it.)
TRENT: (On phone.) Hello?
(Split-screen, Daria and Trent.)
DARIA: (Didn't expect Trent to be up.) Trent? It's Daria.
TRENT: Hey, Daria. (Beat, he smirks.) What are you wearing? (Chuckles,
starts coughing.) Sorry.
(Suspicious fear about Jane in Daria's face, she doesn't smile or even
blush at Trent's comment. Trent opens the milk carton, drinks straight
from it.)
TRENT: Janey's not here.
DARIA: (Sinking feeling.) Oh. Do you know where she is?
TRENT: I'm pretty sure she went someplace with a guy.
DARIA: (Hopeful.) Jesse?
TRENT: No, some other guy, looked about your age. Didn't get his name.
DARIA: (Hopes dashed.) Oh. Well... bye.
TRENT: See ya.
(Stay with Trent as the two hang up. He sniffs curiously at the open
carton, turns it, presumably reading the expiration date, raises his
eyebrows, pours the milk down the sink. Cut to Daria's room, she's
sitting upright now, but still on the floor.)
DARIA: (To herself.) "Occam's Razor." The simplest explanation. (Beat.)
I've *got* to stop paying so much attention in class.
(Defeated, she thumps her head back against the padded wall.)
(...la la LA la la...)
(COMMERCIAL LEAD-IN: Quinn on the floor in her room, doing situps.)
END ACT 2.
(COMMERCIAL: Gillette Mach 3, something with dinosaur skeletons that I also
forget what it's for because I won't watch it anymore [Advertisers: If you'd
stop showing these things four times every half-hour, you'd piss off less of
your target market], and two stupid fish that cry and make the most godawful
irritating sounds, I don't know what that one's for either.)
BEGIN ACT 3.
RETURN TO:
EXT.: LANE RESIDENCE. THURSDAY.
(Knocking-on-door sound.)
CUT TO:
INT.: LANE RESIDENCE, JANE'S ROOM.
(Jane is working on an abstract painting as Daria enters.)
DARIA: We need to talk.
JANE: About?
DARIA: Chad.
JANE: (Taken by surprise, this was the last thing she expected.) Umm...
what about him?
DARIA: (Touch of accusation.) You went out with him last night, didn't you?
JANE: How'd you find out?
DARIA: (Deadpan.) William of Occam told me. (Beat, then a tad more upset.)
I can't believe you did that!
JANE: (Stops painting, starting to get upset.) Did *what*? What the hell's
the big deal? I asked if you were going out with him, you said no.
DARIA: And you said *you* weren't either, you lied to me!
JANE: Well... (Looks guilty, but tries to hide it.) ...not exactly...
I, uh, *hadn't* gone out with him at the time I said that...
DARIA: So you just said it to get me out of your way, so you have him all
to yourself?
JANE: (Back to painting.) Daria, if you felt this way, then why the hell
didn't you *say* something? You expect me to read your mind?
DARIA: No, but I *do* expect--
JANE: (Interrupts.) I'm not telepathic, Daria. Jesus, my brain's barely
capable of processing geometry, I'm sorry I don't possess genius-level
mind functionality like yourself.
DARIA: (Rolls her eyes.) Oh, lighten up, Lane.
JANE: (Voice dripping with sarcasm.) Whoa whoa wait, did I just hear right?
The poster-girl for half-empty glasses is telling *me* to lighten up?!
(Dips the brush in red, starts painting violent diagonal slashes
across her painting.) You're just bein' pissy cuz you were too much
of a coward to ask the guy out, we can *do* that you know, it's the
90s now. (On a roll, can't stop herself.) Maybe if you pulled that
stick out've your ass and tried actually *talking* to a guy, maybe you
wouldn't still be torturing yourself with this big unrequited crush on
my brother!
(Daria looks badly stung, opens her mouth to retaliate, changes her mind at
the last minute. Instead she turns and, without another word, storms out.
Jane watches her go with an angry glare. Cut to the front hall, as Trent is
coming up the stairs carrying his guitar case. Daria pushes past him, says
nothing, goes straight for the door.)
TRENT: Hey, Dar--
(*Bang*, the door slams, she's out. Confused look on Trent's face. Cut to
Jane's room. Trent knocks, tentatively opens the door.)
TRENT: Janey?
(Cut to Trent's POV: Jane is sitting disconsolately on the bed, her back to
the door. She doesn't turn around. Quick pan right to show the painting
she'd been working on, now with lots of vicious stab marks on the canvas.
Her paintbrush sticks out of one of them. Back to closeup of Trent.)
TRENT: (Raised eyebrows.) Whoa.
CUT TO:
EXT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE.
(Kick up the music -- "Maniac" by Michael Sembello -- and begin montage
sequence, a parody of the workout montage from "Flashdance":)
Hold on the external shot of the house for a few seconds.
Quinn on the couch looking depressed, suddenly stands up with a look of
determination.
Closeup of Quinn's legs as she pulls on Spandex leggings.
Shot of Quinn pulling her hair up through a scrunchie to make a ponytail;
She has her hair this way for the remainder of the sequence.
Quinn's hand sliding a workout tape ("Ass of Steel") into the VCR.
(Music intro is over, the first verse starts around here.)
Closeup of Quinn's thighs as she runs in place, in parody of the same shot
from "Flashdance".
Quinn in the hall at school, snapping at JJ&J, who turn away reluctantly.
Pan to Daria and Jane, avoiding each other by their lockers.
Closeup of Quinn's torso as she bends her arms, holding small hand-weights.
Interior shot of pizza place, Chad and Daria at a table together. Pan to
show Jane sitting alone, throwing a hateful look in Daria's direction.
Quinn in her exercise gear, doing leg-stretches in front of the TV.
Daria and Jane in Mrs Bennett's class, studiously ignoring each other.
(Start of the first refrain here.)
Quinn, in exercise gear, angrily slamming the front door in her date's face.
Closeup of Quinn's thighs as she runs in place, same shot as before.
Quinn doing step-aerobics in front of the TV, holding her hand-weights.
From the dining room, Helen looks in at her with some concern.
Daria sitting alone in the Lawndale High cafeteria, looking over at Chad
and Jane at a table together. In disgust, she gets up and pitches her
mostly untouched lunch.
Quinn's hand pitching an empty Thin-Fast can into her wastebasket, already
filled with empty cans.
(Second verse starts here.)
Quinn with the situps again. Jake enters, sees her working out, gets a
delighted look on his face.
Jake working out with Quinn. (I'm thinking this would be a good place to
slip in the "Exercise Jake" alter-ego from the closing credits.)
Daria and Jane in Ms Barch's study hall. Jane holds out her math book to
Daria, points at something, gives her a pleading look. But Daria
barely glances over, then turns back to reading "Medea".
Jake and Quinn exercising. Jake, having a blast, flails about with no form
or grace at all, Quinn just shakes her head, embarrassed for him.
Closeup of Jane taking a test in math class. She looks at the problems,
obviously flustered.
Quinn on her bed, reading her self-help book.
Daria and Jane coming down the hall in opposite directions, each spotting
Chad, then each other.
Quinn sitting on her aerobics step, oversized sweater hanging down exposing
one shoulder, her arms between her legs in the same longing Jennifer
Beals pose on the "Flashdance" cover.
Jane, out running, spots Quinn jogging on the other side of the street,
shakes her head in disbelief. Camera follows Quinn down the sidewalk.
(Start of the second refrain here.)
Quinn in gym class, shimmies hand-over-hand up the rope with ease. The
class applauds as she dismounts, curious looks from the Fashion Club,
Ms Morris makes an approving mark on her clipboard.
Closeup of Quinn's thighs as she runs in place, same shot as before.
Closeup of Jake's thighs as he runs in place, then zoom out to reveal he's
pounding urgently on the bathroom door, running in place in an effort
to hold it in.
Cut to the other side of the door, Quinn on the scale in her exercise wear,
shakes her head sorrowfully at what she reads.
(Fade out music, end montage sequence.)
CUT TO:
INT.: MORGENDORFFER LIVING ROOM. EVENING, TUESDAY.
(Quinn sits on the couch, face in hands, crying. Jake and Helen enter and
sit down on either side, attempting to comfort her.)
HELEN: (Parental concern pouring out.) Quinn, sweetie, what's the matter?
QUINN: (Sniffs.) I *tried*, Mother! I've been dieting and exercising for
a whole week and I *gained* five pounds!
HELEN: (Doting, hand on Quinn's shoulder.) Ohhh, honey, it's okay! I'm
*sure* you haven't gained anything, our scale is probably just off a
bit from Dr Davidson's, it's nothing to worry about...
QUINN: (Looks up, teary-eyed.) Really? (Sniffs.)
JAKE: Yeah, honey. Besides, you've been building up muscle with all that
exercise, and muscle weighs more than fat--
HELEN: (Snaps viciously.) *Jake*, shut *UP*!
QUINN: (Wails.) So I *was* fat before! I *knew* it! (Buries face in hands
again, sobs.)
(Helen glares at Jake as if to say, "*Now* see what you've done?")
JAKE: (Meekly, points in the direction of the kitchen.) Martini?
(Helen nods. Jake gets up, goes into the kitchen.)
HELEN: (Sympathetic.) Sweetheart, what your father *tried* to say is--
QUINN: (Interrupts, voice quavering.) Mom, just leave me *alone*! You
don't understand, and you can't *possibly* make me feel better!
(Helen sighs, starts to get up.)
QUINN: Wait. (Pleadingly.) Don't go.
(Helen smiles understandingly, puts an arm around her daughter, pulls her
close.)
JUMP-CUT TO:
INT.: MORGENDORFFER KITCHEN. EVENING.
(Jake and Helen are having supper. Daria walks in.)
HELEN: Hi honey, you're just in time for supper.
DARIA: (Mutters.) I'm not hungry.
JAKE: Made your favorite, kiddo!
DARIA: I thought we were out of arsenic. (She goes into the living room.)
JAKE: (Worried, thinks Daria's suddenly concerned about her weight too.)
Oh no, not *both* of them!
(Cut to the living room. Daria flops beside Quinn on the couch.)
QUINN: (Absolutely crushed.) I have no friends at all. (She looks up, sees
Daria, becomes irritated someone else is invading her misery space.)
What's *your* problem?
DARIA: (Hint of despair in monotone.) *I* have no friends at all.
QUINN: What about what's-her-name?
DARIA: I blew it. I went over intending to just talk to her, but it
disintegrated into a childish argument over a guy.
QUINN: (Stern, lecturing.) You didn't follow my advice, did you, Daria?
I *told* you to take the guy when you had the chance, you didn't and
*now* look where you are!
DARIA: Even if I'd listened to you, Jane still wouldn't be speaking to me.
QUINN: Maybe not, but at least you'd have the *guy*! (Back to her poor-me
demeanor.) Well you're *still* better off than *me*. At least
*you're* not flabby and repulsive. (Beat.) Well, not flabby anyway.
DARIA: Gee, *that* certainly makes me feel better.
QUINN: ("Deep" look.) You know, Daria? With all this time I've had to
think, I've sort of been wondering about the shallowness of like, my
value system or whatever.
DARIA: (Utter disbelief.) I'm not hearing this. Withdrawal from Jane's
paint-fumes is making me hallucinate.
QUINN: I mean, there's *gotta* be more important things in life than being
the sexiest, most popular girl in the whole school!
DARIA: (Playing devil's advocate.) Oh, *really*? Like what, for instance?
QUINN: Well, uh... (Pause.) Well just because I can't think of any at the
moment *doesn't* mean it's not true!
DARIA: (Deadpan.) That's one good thing about surrounding yourself with
shallowness: You never have very far to sink.
(Cut to the kitchen, Jake is clearing dishes off the table. Jake's POV as
he peeks around the corner at the two girls on the couch together.)
JAKE: (Whispers.) Honey, c'mere!
(Helen comes over from where she's been putting the last of dinner leftovers
away.)
HELEN: (Smidgen of melancholy.) What is it, Jakey?
JAKE: (Whispers, points.) Look!
HELEN: (Peers around the corner, sees Daria and Quinn, brightens.) Ohhh,
how *sweet*! Our girls are bonding! (Quietly.) Let's not disturb
them.
(Jake and Helen smile and put an arm around each other. Jake unexpectedly
ruins the moment when he accidentally drops the plate he's been holding.
In the other room, Daria and Quinn start at the loud crash.)
HELEN: Dammit, Jake!
CUT TO:
INT.: LAWNDALE HIGH, WEDNESDAY.
(Close-up of Jane at her desk in math class, looking over her graded test.
The angle is over her shoulder in such a way that her head blocks the letter
grade itself, but we can see lots of unpleasant-looking red marks.)
JANE: Aww, *hell*...
CUT TO:
EXT.: LANE RESIDENCE.
(Some really torment-filled music playing, something by Afghan Whigs, I'm
thinking.)
CUT TO:
INT.: JANE'S ROOM.
(Jane's got her stereo cranked way up, that's where the music's coming from.
She's painting a really depressing-looking self-portrait. Trent walks in,
rubbing his eyes.)
TRENT: (Sleepy.) Hey, Janey, could you turn it *down*? (Beat.) I can't
stay awake with all that racket.
(Jane ignores her brother. He stands there for a moment before turning back
down the hall.)
CUT TO:
EXT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE.
(Phone ringing.)
CUT TO:
INT.: LIVING ROOM.
(Quinn, sprawled on the couch, makes no move toward the phone.)
CUT TO:
INT.: DARIA'S ROOM.
(Daria on the floor staring at the ceiling.)
HELEN'S VOICE: (Calling from downstairs.) Daria, it's for you!
(Still ceiling-watching, Daria reaches over and lifts the receiver. Split
screen, Daria and Trent. Trent's sitting on his bed, holding the receiver
of his duck-phone [see "Arts 'N' Crass"].)
TRENT: Hey, Daria. Can you come over?
DARIA: Trent? (Surprised *Trent* of all people asked her over.) Sure, I
guess.
TRENT: Janey really wants to talk to you.
DARIA: (Disappointed, was hoping Trent did.) Oh...
CUT TO:
INT.: JANE'S ROOM.
(Jane's on *her* bed, staring at the ceiling. Daria knocks, enters.)
JANE: (Looks up sharply, rolls over so she's resting on an elbow, facing
the door.) What the hell are *you* doing here?
DARIA: (Realizes her mistake.) Trent said you wanted to talk to me.
JANE: (Eyes narrow, mutters.) You're a dead man, big brother...
DARIA: (Ice-breaker attempt.) Look, I'm sorry, I completely overreacted.
I threw away my only friend for I guy I never even had, and it was
idiotic and immature.
JANE: (Can't stay mad after that, looks almost ashamed.) Well I guess I was
too, it looks like. (Hastily, just to get the words out.) SoI'msorry
Iliedtoyouokay?
DARIA: It's just with Quinn as a sister I've hardly had any guys show any
interest in me... just Ted... and... (Blushes, looks over in the
direction of Trent's room.) ...you know...
JANE: I know, I know, you're programmed not to say it out loud. (Beat.)
I understand, I'm the same way. The only guys who've ever talked to
me are Jesse, sort of, and that Evan guy from track. (Frowns.) And
that guy at Brittany's party. But he licked more than talked.
DARIA: And let's not forget Upchuck.
JANE: God. Upchuck. (Shakes her head.)
DARIA: I suppose being reclusive and unsociable helps us weed out the
jerks, don't you think?
JANE: Yeah, but one was bound to slip through sooner or later. I was too
damn smitten, I should've seen it coming. He'd planned to play us
that way all along.
DARIA: Just promise me next time something like this comes up we'll be
honest with each other.
JANE: *Brutally* honest. You got it.
DARIA: (Sits on the bed next to her friend, a rare bit of emotion leaking
out.) This is so strange. I'm not used to actually... giving a damn
about anybody else.
JANE: (Smirk.) Don't worry, you'll get used to it after a couple years.
DARIA: So... partners in crime, again?
JANE: (Claps Daria on the shoulder, nods.) Partners in crime.
DARIA: (Dryly.) Can we dispense with the goopy sentiment now? My gag
reflex is twitching.
(Jane smiles at this, and, after a moment, Daria does too. From the door,
we catch a glimpse of Trent peeking around the corner, he wears a self-
satisfied smile as well.)
JANE: So... (Bringing up a touchy subject gingerly.) What do we do about
Chad?
DARIA: I know just how to handle it. But first things first.
CUT TO:
INT.: MORGENDORFFER RESIDENCE, UPSTAIRS BATHROOM.
(Jane, with a screwdriver, is fiddling with the bathroom scale, which she
has face-down on the countertop between the twin sinks.)
JANE: (Air of finality.) There, that should do the trick.
DARIA: Instant weight-loss. You should talk to my Dad about marketing this,
we could make millions.
(Quinn, in inside-out sweatshirt and baggy jeans, stops in the doorway, sees
them.)
DARIA: (Turns.) That time again?
QUINN: (Dejectedly.) Don't rub it in.
(Jane hastily puts the scale back on the floor. She and Daria file out,
leaving Quinn to herself. Cut to the hallway, the two wait just around the
corner, listening intently.)
QUINN'S VOICE: (From bathroom, confusion.) What the...? (Gasps, now
pleasant surprise.) Oh my *God*!! (Now elation.)
*YESSSS*!!!
(Quinn emerges triumphantly, radiant smile.)
QUINN: Finally! I *did* it! I LOST WEIGHT!!!
(Pulls off the sweatshirt, she has the smiley-face midriff top on
underneath.)
QUINN: I lost weight!! (Dances down the hall to her room.) I feel lighter
than air! Wheeee...!!! (Giggles.)
(She disappears into her bedroom. A moment later, the baggy jeans come
flying out into the hallway.)
DARIA: And with that, Miss Teen Anorexia is stripped of her crown.
(Quinn emerges, back in her regular jeans, hands skyward, big smile.)
QUINN: (Clasps her hands over her chest, tremendous sigh of relief.)
Thank *God*! (Does a perky little dance down the stairs, singing a
"la-la-la" tune. [*Not* the theme song, though!])
DARIA: (Monotone.) Yeah. Thank God.
JANE: (Smug smile.) You're welcome.
QUINN'S VOICE: (Distant, downstairs.) Mom! Dad! I lost 70 pounds!!
CUT TO:
EXT.: LAWNDALE HIGH. THURSDAY.
(MUSIC: "Buzz Gum" by I forget the band, somebody help me out here.)
INT.: LAWNDALE HIGH, HALLWAY.
(Kevin, football in hand, is at his locker, trying to recall the
combination. Brittany is hanging onto his arm.)
BRITTANY: Kevvie, I'm so *proud* of you! Coming up with the winning plays
against Oakwood all by yourself!
KEVIN: Awww, thanks babe! I guess I gotta like, pay attention in econ more
often now.
(In front of them, by the girls' lockers, Chad is waiting. Daria and Jane
exchange glances, then approach him together.)
CHAD: Hi, Daria. Hi, Jane.
JANE: Chad, Daria and I've got something we have to say.
DARIA: See, we've decided... (Decides why beat around the bush.) Ah, hell.
You used both of us, you're a complete lowlife cretin, and neither of
us wants anything more to do with you.
JANE: (To Chad.) Daria prefers honesty in a relationship.
(Ms Barch is happening by at that moment, overhears.)
BARCH: (Pleased.) Well put, girls! Bra-*vo*! (Claps, glares at Chad.)
BRITTANY: (Also hears, turns, shocked.) He *what*?! *Oohhh!* (Goes up to
Chad, smacks him.) Rotten two-timing *jerk*!! (She stalks off
angrily.)
KEVIN: (At his locker, waves the football.) Uh, I'm over *here*, babe!
(Chad rubs his face, turns back to Daria and Jane. He doesn't look so much
hurt as he does sorry that his fun is over.)
JANE: Don't feel bad though, Chad. I know a couple of other girls who both
like you. You could play your little game with them.
DARIA: Speak of the she-devils, here they are now.
(The Fashion Club parades down the hall proudly. The old Quinn is back in
full force.)
TIFFANY: You *really* look thin, Quinn. (Beat.) Hey, that rhymes.
SANDI: But muscles like that aren't sexy, I'm afraid. You should probably
just let them like, atrophy, or whatever.
DARIA: (To Jane.) So they match her brain.
CHAD: (Stops Quinn and Sandi.) Hi! I'm Chad. You girls wanna go out
sometime?
SANDI & QUINN: Sure!
CHAD: (Puts his arms on their shoulders.) Wow, you look *great*, Sandi.
You too, Quinn! Have you lost weight?
QUINN: (Delighted.) You *noticed*!
CHAD: How 'bout tonight? Say, 7:00? Just the three of us.
(The F.C., with Chad, continues down the hall away from Daria and Jane.)
STACY: It's great to have you back, Quinn!
TIFFANY: Yeah. Being V.P. is hard work, I don't know how you do it.
QUINN: It's great to *be* back! Thanks for letting me reassume my duties,
you're the *best*, Sandi!
SANDI: (Phony.) No, *you're* the best, Quinn!
QUINN: (Likewise.) No, *you*!
JANE: (To Daria, they watch as Sandi and Quinn walk with Chad down the
hall.) A taste of his own medicine, as Mr O'Neill would put it.
DARIA: Well said. I figure they'll date every other guy in school behind
his back for about a month, then both dump him at the same time and
leave him with nothing.
JANE: (Approving smirk.) IIII like it! Taking one problem and ramming it
down the throat of another, annihilating them both. Nice closure.
DARIA: (Smiles.) You'd be disappointed if I did anything less.
CUT TO:
INT.: MORGENDORFFER KITCHEN. EARLY EVENING.
(Jake is at the table reading the paper. Helen comes in, leafing through
Quinn's weight-loss book.)
HELEN: Jake? (Puts book on table, examines her hips.) Do you think *I*
could stand to lose some weight?
(Jake lowers the paper with a panicked look. Thinks very carefully.)
HELEN: (When he doesn't respond.) Honey?
(Abruptly Jake stands up, and without a word, goes over to the liquor
cabinet, removes a bottle and a glass.)
(...la la LA la la...)
(CREDITS AND CUTE LITTLE RENDERINGS OF THE CHARACTERS.)
CLOSING MUSIC: "Dawn Can't Decide" by the Lemonheads. (I couldn't find
lyrics, but pick it up a little before the "ba-ba-ba" refrain part, so the
song ends at about the same time as the credits sequence.)
THE END
Author's Notes: Okay, I admit it, I have a tendency overuse the musical
montage when I need to cover a lot of scenes in a short time. Currently
three of my five scripts have made use of one, which is pretty excessive.
So I'll make this promise to you: I will go without using this technique
for at least my next three fanfic scripts. 'Kay?
Speaking of running things into the ground, I do believe this is my first
fic (not counting the B&B crossover) where something horrible *doesn't*
happen to Sandi at the end. Again, it seemed like it was time for a change
of pace. I personally think it helped, how 'bout you?
Anybody got any fan art based on my fics? If so, you can send it to:
C.E. Forman
6823 N. TerraVista #706
Peoria, IL 61614
[Disclaimer: "Daria" and all related characters are trademarks of MTV
Networks, a division of Viacom International Inc., and are used here
without permission for the purpose of fan fiction. I suppose if you
represent MTV's legal department you could sue, but think about it,
what's it really going to get you? I mean, *I* sure don't have any
money, and there's like fifty other people writing these fan stories,
so you might as well just live with it and maybe learn to appreciate
the fact that your show has such a loyal, dedicated legion of fans who
care enough to write things like this. Of course, you *could* just
hire us and that'd solve your problem nicely too.]
[This "Daria" fanfic story is copyright 1998 by C.E. Forman but may be
distributed freely in unaltered form to fans of "Daria" everywhere,
provided the author's name and e-mail address remain intact. Thank
you, and good night.]
