(This story takes place after "I Loathe a Parade" and "Of Human Bonding," and before the second of half of Season 4.)
SCENE 1
[Good Friday, about a week after "I Loathe a Parade."]
[Dream sequence, Daria replays the final seconds of "I Loathe a Parade," her and Tom looking at one another, in her head time after time. We see it about 8 times, then we hear Daria's alarm go off.]
[Daria wakes up in bed, to her alarm, hair all messed up, and clearly wishing she were still asleep.]
Daria [thinking]: Oh joy. Another school day. Furthermore, it's the last day before the Easter break. Today I am going to school, and I would rather be doing anything else. For the next week or so I will be doing nothing, and I'd rather be doing anything. [Daria sighs, audibly] Oh, well. At least Jane is cutting school with Tom today, so that way I'll be all alone with thoughts I'd rather not have, words I'd rather not say, and feelings I'd rather not feel. Better yet, I'll have nothing to distract me except my teachers droning on and on, saying things I either already know, things I know aren't true, things I would rather not know, or some perverse combination of all three. Oh joy.
[Daria sits up, rubs her eyes, turns on the radio. Mozart comes on; Cherubino's aria concerning teenage lust from The Marriage of Figaro.]
Daria [thinking]: Great. Mozart. Just like my sister. All pretty and dressed up on the outside and nothing on the inside. And just think. People have considered him a genius for 300 years. So, to follow the analogy through to its logical conclusion, by the time that Kirk meets Spock for the first time, Quinn's dresses will be on display in some museum and they'll teach a course on her makeup at the Fashion Institute of Technology. [pause] I really should stop listening to me, I'm bringing me down. Bringing me down from what? How can I bring me down from where I already am? Oh, shut up.
SCENE 2
[Montage. Daria at school, in her various classes. Looking more aloof than usual, her eyes betraying a deep sadness, but only to the few that know her. We see Jodie in the background, looking concerned. She knows something is up with Daria, though she is not certain what.]
[End of the school day, Daria at her locker, Jodie walks up.]
Jodie [trying to look friendly, her deep concern is as obvious as her deep non-comprehension of Daria.]: Hey, Daria.
Daria: Hey, Jodie. [pause] The answer is . . .
Jodie [quickly]: Don't worry, I wasn't going to ask you to do anything.
Daria: Too bad, because the answer was yes.
Jodie [bright, with a touch of suspicion]: Really?
Daria: No. I was just kidding.
Jodie [her disappointment obvious]: Oh.
Daria [uncharacteristically]: I'm sorry, Jodie. I am merely attempting to describe humor. Well, on that note, see you after Easter break.
[Daria starts to leave.]
Jodie [her emotion hard to read]: Wait!
Daria [startled]: What?
Jodie: [pause] Well.
[Daria waits, her impatience growing.]
Daria: Yes?
Jodie: So . . . How are you?
Daria [suspiciously]: OK, I guess, given that I'm in High School.
Jodie [sensing Daria opening up, doesn't want to miss the opportunity, not sure what to say]: I know what you mean. So . . . [impulsive, only thing she can think of] Where's Jane, anyway?
Daria: Cutting school with her boyfriend.
Jodie: Oh . . . We haven't met him yet.
Daria [touch of anger, impatience]: Who's we?
Jodie [voice says, quick, think of something]: You know . . . Her friends, besides you, I mean.
Daria [thinking]: Friends besides me. That would be who? You, who speaks to us either when you need something or when you think you're doing a public service? Kevin, who we're this close to killing on any given day just to see if Brittany will notice the difference? Upchuck, whom we have decided will rape us after we're dead and only barely notice the smell or the difference, and would not care one way or the other?
Daria [speaking]: Well, [pause] you know how we outcasts are. Private.
Jodie: Yeah. [pause] Is he that guy we saw you with at homecoming?
Daria [the voice from "Ill" when the Doctor assumed she wasn't sexually active]: Yes. And how did you know he wasn't my boyfriend from another school?
Jodie [evasive]: Well, ah . . . . [sad] Sorry, Daria. I guess I'll see you after break.
[Slight pause, Jodie starts to leave.]
Daria: Wait.
[Jodie is startled.]
Jodie: Yes, Daria?
Daria: [pause] Yes, that was him. His name is Tom.
Jodie: He goes to that prep school twenty minutes out of town, on the way to Oakwood?
Daria: Yeah. [thinking] And he's smart, handsome, brave, and is everything I'd want in a man, if he weren't already going with my only friend in all the world.
Jodie: Yeah. Mack said he met him, once. One of his friends is a friend of Mack's. You know, the prep school's token Negro.
Daria: Yeah. Not at all like here. [pause, Daria softens] Jodie, I'm sorry . . .
Jodie [interrupting, smiling sadly, her voice is almost happy. A White person finally noticed!]: It's OK. Believe me, I can't be self-righteous, given that you're absolutely right. [pause] Guess I owed you that one from the Economics project.
Daria [almost smiling]: Yeah. Guess so.
[Long pause. The connection between these two has always been extremely tenuous. It is, for the moment, spent, and there is nothing else for them to say to one another.]
Jodie: So . . .
Daria: So, I guess I'll see you after break.
Jodie: Yeah, guess so.
Daria: Later.
[Both exit, walking in different directions.]
SCENE 3
[Right after school, Daria walks through door. Quinn, of course, is on the phone.]
Quinn: Oh, NO, Sandi. I mean, of course I didn't get home before you because I want to be President of the Fashion Club, and getting home before you would make me look better, what could possibly make you think that? I mean, you're a great President of the Fashion Club, it isn't my fault if Jebbidiah's car happened to be a little faster than Skyler Feldman's today. Sandi? San-di! Oh, no, Sandi. Don't think that of me, I could never possibly have meant that I was better than you just because my date's car was faster than your date's car, or because you're fucking Skyler only after I already dumped him, Oh, NO, Sandi, I didn't mean to say fuck, I didn't mean to imply that you were slutting yourself to Skyler or anything. I'm just being influenced by my cousin, you know how much she swears . . .
[By this point, Daria has safely walked up to her room and has concealed herself therein. The look on her face is disgust, and something more. She's tired, but not sleep-tired.]
Daria [thinking]: Thank God we don't have a dial-up modem.
[Daria turns on her computer, logs on to the Internet.]
Computer [deadpan]: You have new mail, Daria, Queen of the Druidic Regions.
[Daria smiles, then clicks a couple of times.]
Jane [voice-over, from the text of her message]: Yo, Daria! I knew this was the only way I'd be able to reach you, leaving a message at your house with all the phone activity that goes on there would be like trusting your sister's virtue. [Daria smiles at the remark about Quinn.] And it's a damn good thing I've got web-based E-Mail, seeing as how I'm not at home. Well, if I were at home, I guess I could just come over. But communicating through technology is SOOOO much more interesting than actually seeing someone in person . . . . Anyway, Tom and I got a little carried away with the aimless driving, and we're three states away from you. [Daria frowns.] [Pause.] Well, anyway, since we're not done with those dark and sinister purposes for which we went on this trip to begin with . . .
Daria [thinking, bitterly]: How long can a blowjob possibly take? And can one properly be called "dark and sinister?" That's a question that will have to wait for Junior Year in college. [Realizing the implication of what she just said.] On second thought, I'll finish the E-Mail before thinking again.
Jane [voice-over]: We'll be another day or so. I'll call you when we get back, probably Saturday afternoon. [pause] And be available, damn it, I'm getting sick of sarcasm AND testosterone combined. Love ya, kid. Later. Jane.
[Daria closes her eyes. Her eyes remain shut for a moment, as though Daria were shutting out the world. Daria opens her eyes, then closes out of her E-Mail.]
Daria [thinking]: If only you knew, Jane, how much I'd like to be in your place, you'd never talk to me again. Hell, you'd probably kill me. [pause] Eventually. [pause] After the torture.
[Daria sits in silence. Then, Daria takes out a notebook, sits on her bed, and starts to write.]
Daria [thinking]: "About half the man he used to be," Melody Powers thought, as she stared at the broken, charred, dismembered, destroyed body of her enemy. "Plastique shoved up the ass will do that to a person. I'll always wonder, should I have woken him up first, or was that too cruel? Maybe next time I'll knock him unconscious first, then use dynamite. More humane, less messy. The Commie pinko bastard will never know what him. Then again, it WAS kind of fun seeing how he reacted when I shoved the Plastique up his ass, and to watch that look he had just before the explosion . . . "
Daria [out loud]: [sighs] I'm starting to write like my sister. I wonder if I've lost my touch at fiction. Let's try nonfiction.
[Daria sets down the notebook, walks to the computer, begins writing.]
Daria [thinking as she writes]: [Begins with the essay on the new media from the MTV Internet site. Then dissolves after a few lines into]: Oh, Tom. Such a simple name, such a common name. And such a pretty one. Oh Tom and Jane, if only you two knew how good you had it. I wonder, Tom, if you can appreciate her. I hope so. I wonder, Jane, if you can appreciate him. Oh God, if you only knew how much I wish I were in your place, with him, touching him . . . . [long pause, speaks out loud]: My God, what the Hell am I thinking.
[Daria begins pacing, and talking out loud.]
Daria: What was I just thinking. I could never betray Jane like that. Even THINKING about this is betraying her. [sits down on bed] But, Jane, if you saw the connection we had, if you saw the way he defended me, the way he looked at me. Trent could never have pulled that off. [pause] He'd have just fallen asleep. God, I don't even talk like this. I sound like an episode of Dawson's Creek that got thrown in the recycle bin. What the Hell is happening to me?! Why has my life suddenly turned into a rejected episode of The Young and the Restless? I need help. Let's think about the situation calmly, and rationally. Hmmm.......... When have I said that before? Oh, never mind.
[Goes to computer desk, sits down.]
Daria [still out loud]: Who do I trust? Who can I talk to about this? Not mom or dad, God knows. Mom would bribe me, dad would read the newspaper. If he was feeling ambitious, he'd ask me what mom would do. And bonding with dad through reading the newspaper in silence just won't cut it today. Normally, I suppose I'd talk to Jane. Should I call Amy? [She listens, we can faintly hear in the distance that Quinn is still on the phone. Daria sighs] Just as well. Amy would probably make a sarcastic remark and then hang up so she can go appraise some art. OK, I'll just have to fall back on old habits. [bitterly] Trust no one. [pause] Somehow, that phrase sounds familiar. Oh, well, if I'm becoming a soap opera character, no reason to get mad at myself for quoting The X-Files; bad as it is, it's a step up. At least the acting is better. [pause] Most of the time. [pause] God, I need help.
[Daria picks up the notepad, and writes, furiously. Hours pass, and we see a montage of Daria writing the Melody Powers story in her notepad, Daria writing at her computer (presumably finishing the essay), Daria staring into space thinking about Tom and Jane and maybe even Trent, all we can tell is that she looks forlorn and desperate, and only we can tell that much because we watch her every week. Quinn is still talking on the phone. The clock shows us that it is now 9pm.]
Daria: 9pm on a Friday. Gee, if Jane were here. [pause] Hell, if Jane were in this State. [pause] Where the Hell are mom and dad? 9pm on a Friday is late even for them. Unless mom switched to night court duty and no one told me. Which would not be without precedent.
[Daria walks out into the hall, by Quinn's door. Quinn is still on the phone.]
Quinn [on the phone, unseen, we see Daria react distastefully to what she hears]: Oh NO, Sandi. You're much smarter than me. No, I would NEVER have thought to use vibra-ribbed condoms with Skyler Feldman. Maybe that's why I never enjoyed it with him. You're SOOO smart, Sandi. No, I don't think vibra-ribbed condoms are tacky. I don't know why I've never used them before, I just never thought of it. Oh, stop it Sandi. No, I didn't mean it that way, no, Sandi, I could NEVER be President of the Fashion Club, oh stop it . . .
Daria: OK. Let us review the situation. Almost ten on Good Friday. Jesus has been dead for about seven hours, my sister has been on the phone with someone she hates for longer than that. She'll probably still be on the phone when Jesus rises on Sunday, and she'll probably still be having the same conversation, not that any of her conversations are worth enough effort to even attempt to differentiate. The afore-mentioned conversation is about sex, a topic which coincidentally is on my mind as well. Normally, I'd talk to my best friend, Jane. But, she is off somewhere in another state banging her boyfriend, whom I apparently would also like to bang, though for obvious reasons I hesitate to admit that, even to myself. Especially to myself. I need to talk to someone. Jane isn't here, as previously discussed, and Aunt Amy is only accessible via the phone, and the phone is not an option, also for reasons previously discussed, and Amy, if history is any guide, is too busy determining the value of a piece of modern abstract art, such as a bandage stuck to a condom, to talk to the likes of me. Tonight, I'd even settle for talking to my sister, but, also as previously discussed, she is on the phone discussing doing things with boys she hardly knows that I would like to do with my best friend's boyfriend. Jesus Christ. My life has become a bad soap opera, and I can't take it anymore.
[In a fit of teenage rage that we have rarely seen in Daria, she storms out of the house.]
SCENE 4
[Quick cut to Daria boarding a bus. She sits in the bus, looking VERY strange. She's scary, actually, as her normally deadpan face betrays flickers of emotions that we can't read. NO one could read these, probably not even Daria herself and certainly no one who knows her. Not even Jane.]
[Daria stands up, starts to get off the bus.]
Bus driver: Miss, are you sure this is your stop.
Daria: This is my stop; I've got to get off. Hey, catchy phrase. Maybe The Spyral could use it in their next "album."
Bus driver: Miss, this is Dega Street, and it's 10:30. I'm the last bus, and most of the cabs won't come here at night. I can tell you don't live down here. If I drop you here, you won't be able to get back.
Daria: Who said I want to get back?
[Daria exits the bus, the bus pulls away. Dega Street, very dark. At this end of the street, everything is closed and the place looks desolate and lonely. A Beavis and Butthead comic book blows by the wind, followed by a drawing that we only see vaguely, bit it looks like Marilyn Manson in bondage. In the distance, we hear very loud music and the noises of crowds. Daria starts off down the street.]
SCENE 5
[Daria has reached the other end of Dega Street. There are several nightclubs, none of them look especially classy. There are people all around, mostly college age, and mostly underdressed for the relatively cold Lawndale spring. Several different types of loud music are heard all around, pop, heavy metal, techno, what have you. Most people don't notice Daria, those that do appear unfriendly. A gang, whom we recognize as Todd's gang from Beavis and Butthead, leers at her. Daria recognizes Todd, but pretends not to, and turns away, a frightened look on her face. A couple make out rather heavily up against a wall. The woman, we note, is Monique. The man is unknown to us. In the crowd, we see Sandi, Stacy, and Tiffany. They stand outside a club, which has a billboard that says "Rave tonight," and they are in what is, essentially overdone "rave" clothes. (Use your imagination.) We focus on them for a minute.]
Stacy: Where's Quinn?
Sandi: And do we care? [Sandi takes something out of her pocket. We see it is a plastic bag with a white powder in it. She sprinkles some of the powder onto her index finger and delicately snorts it up. Stacy looks on in horror. Tiffany stares obliviously off into the distance.]
Stacy [beginning to hyperventilate]: Ohmygodsandi. What's that?
Sandi [exasperated, and the very high quality cocaine is already beginning to kick in]: What to you THINK it is, Stacy? It's coke!
Stacy [It is scary how sincere she sounds]: But it's not bubbling, it's white, and it's in powder form. Is that some new kind of Crystal Pepsi that we have to mix ourselves or something?
Sandi [MORE exasperated]: Stacy, just inhale some, OK? Everyone is doing it. You WANT to fit in, and be popular, don't you? You don't want to be stoned to death for wearing the wrong thing, like the unpopular girls in Ethinopian, do you?
Stacy [gulps]: What about Tiffany?
Sandi: Do you remember that summer when you went to Fashion Camp in Beverly Hills as the official Lawndale High Fashion Club Representative? [Stacy nods, her nervousness growing.] Well, there was a party that summer. [Looks at Tiffany.] While I took a vow to never discuss the events of that party, I can say this much: Tiffany will never have to do any drug ever again.
[Long pause. Tiffany stares off into the crowd, vaguely, not really seeing anything as far as we can tell. She has the look of a deaf, blind, and senile ferret in a pitch-dark room with no walls and a dwindling oxygen supply. Daria is standing off to the side, absorbing all this, not betraying any emotion in particular. In the distance, we see Quinn getting out of the passenger side an expensive sports car, with a boy we have not seen before and whose face we do not see, but he looks kind of "hunky" (not that I'd notice or anything). Sandi sees, but does not acknowledge Quinn. Daria sees Quinn and hesitates, waiting to see what Quinn says or does. Quinn acknowledges neither of them, but clearly sees both.]
Tiffany: Sandi . . . .
Sandi: Yes?
Tiffany: Did all the drugs I did at that party make me look fat?
Daria [thinking]: Forget Hell. This is the Seventh Circle of Lawndale. All the depravity of a major city. None of the culture or excitement. Imagine two communities in New York State, New York City and Auburn, coexisting as one entity that is simultaneously depraved, boring, and dumb. Then, all within the sound of my life, you can comprehend Lawndale.
[Daria walks away from the Fashion Club, toward the club advertising a rave. The music sounds strangely familiar. Something about an "Angel in Black . . . "]
Daria: I guess it was inevitable. Trent has to make his money somehow . . .
[Through the open club door, we can clearly see Mystick Spyyral on stage, playing "Ice Box Woman." But, in addition to the usual band, we see a keyboard player next to the drum kit. It sounds like a bad Nine Inch Nails cover band jamming on a rejected Nirvana song at their second rehearsal. The crowd, clearly, is loving it, and there is a line to get into the club. Daria approaches the front of the line, where Upchuck, dressed in a leather leisure suit with one of those 1970's polyester polo shirts with an open collar revealing his very boyish chest, is arguing with a muscular female bouncer.]
Upchuck: Oh come now, my dearest Lady of the Night . . . Surely you can overlook my age this once. After all, what really counts is . . . Maturity. IF . . . . you know what I mean!
[As he says "maturity" he begins to rub his crotch. The bouncer is having none of this. She picks up Upchuck, and body slams him to the pavement, and begins to kick him repeatedly. Upchuck screams. Daria walks past the bouncer, unnoticed by anyone.]
Daria [as she walks past]: Excuse me.
SCENE 6
[The interior of the club. It's huge, and very plain. Mystycke Spyyral is on stage. "Ice Box Woman" has just been finished, the band now plays (poorly) "Head Like a Hole" by Nine Inch Nails. The activities in the club are what Bob Dole would term a "nightmare of depravity." Sex, of all kinds, is everywhere, out in the open. There is so much cocaine and heroin about that Daria's boots pick up some white powder as she walks through the club. Todd's gang is in the club now, trying unsuccessfully to pick up women, and clearly becoming dangerously frustrated and angry.]
Daria [surveying the scene]: So, this is it. The loud and nasty underside of Lawndale. The nightlife. [Looks around some more.] So far, just like High School. Stupid and boring. [Quinn is now in the club with her date, still ignoring Daria. Ditto for the Fashion Club; Daria can almost hear Stacy's cocaine-induced heart rate from across the room.] And look, even some of the same people.
[Todd sneaks up behind Daria.]
Todd: Hey, bitch. Remember me?
[Daria turns around.]
Daria: [Remembers, does not want to admit it. Scared, but only we can see it, because we know her.] No. Why, were you that panhandler I murdered last week? I thought I put you in the dumpster outside The Zen. The Lawndale Department of Sanitation really should have carried you away by now.
Todd [oblivious]: I need some action, bitch, and you're giving it to me.
[At this, Daria steps back and swiftly kicks Todd between the legs. Todd screams and goes down.]
Daria [leaning over Todd]: I know you can hear me. No one saw that. Threaten me again, and I'll make sure everyone on the club sees a little girl kicking the crap out of you.
[Daria exits frame.]
SCENE 7
[Cut to band on stage, finishing.]
Trent: Thanks. We're Mystyickke Spiyyral, but we're thinking of changing the name. Or the spelling. Whatever. We'll be back later. 'Cos tonight's an all-night rave, and the night ain't over.
Jessie [Into the microphone]: YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[Jessie jumps into the audience and starts running all about, screaming at the top of his lungs.]
Trent: And whoever's giving my guitar player the coke, stop it. He doesn't need it. Trust me.
[Band's sound goes off, a canned in Marilyn Manson tape comes on. Cut back to Daria, who is wandering about, probably attempting to avoid Trent. She passes by Andrea, alone, leaning up against a wall. She notices Daria pass by.]
Andrea [loud]: WELCOME TO YOUR HELL, LITTLE MISS DARIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CAN YOU FUCKING HANDLE THIS MUCH FUN?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
[Daria keeps walking. We know she hears, but refuses to acknowledge. No need, really.]
[We see Trent standing by a wall, near Andrea, openly shooting something into his arm. Daria tries to duck away, Trent notices her. They're not close, but the music isn't that loud and they're just within conversation range.]
Trent: Oh. Hey, Daria.
Daria: Hey, Trent.
Trent: What are you doing here? [Before Daria can answer, Trent looks down at the needle sticking out of his arm.] Oh. Sorry you had to see this. Don't do drugs, Daria, they're bad for you. They make you act funny.
[Trent falls over backward. He lies flat on his back, clearly passed out, the needle still stuck in his arm.]
Daria: Funny. From where I'm standing, you look just like your normal self. [Daria surveys the club.] Well, now I'm here. What to do.
[A guy walks over. He's drunk. He resembles one of the drunken angels from Daria's dream sequence in "Ill."]
Guy: Yo, wazzup?
Daria [looks down at Trent]: Not the singer.
Guy: Dat's funnie, girl.
[Guy collapses forward at Daria's feet, passes out. His snoring is audible. Trent starts snoring too.]
Daria: My first time at a rave, and I've already put two guys to sleep. Good thing I'm not here looking to get laid. Hmmm...... What the Hell AM I looking for here?
[Daria looks around the club again, starts wandering the perimeter. People everywhere are getting into the music, hooking up, drinking, doing drugs, etc. Daria, as always, stands on the outside, looking in, and doesn't like what she sees, but she still looks lonely.]
Daria: Yep, just like High School. Watching people that I don't like do things that I don't want to do yet secretly wishing I was doing them, just so I can be doing something besides thinking. I love thinking. But it gets old. [Spies one especially affectionate couple. Something different about them. They're at one of the few tables in the club. She is in his lap, and they're making out and whispering sweet nothings into one another's ear. Daria notices eyeglasses on the table, which look just like Lynn Cullen's glasses from Canadibrit's "Look-Alike" Daria fanfic series.]
Daria: The glasses are too small for him. [She, and we the viewers, catch a glimmer of the couple's faces. She looks a bit like Daria. He looks like Tom, but with Trent's goatee. She puts on her glasses, and looks uncannily like Daria. Daria turns away.] This is too much.
[Daria angrily exits the club.]
SCENE 8
[Back on Dega Street. Crowd still there, still underdressed. The wind blows, we can hear it on the soundtrack. Daria shivers, looks around at all the other people.]
Daria: How can they stand it? That wind is so cold, yet they're all dressed for Bermuda in the summer. [pause, Daria looks around.] Let's see. I can't go home, even if I could get a cab. I just can't go home. There's nothing there.
[Daria walks, looks about.]
Daria: Of course, there's nothing here either. Oh, Jane, where are you when I really need you?
[Daria hasn't walked that far; she can see an alleyway on the side of the club she was just in. She can see the outline of human figures, being "affectionate." We hear laughter, which sounds vaguely like Andrea's voice if we could imagine Andrea laughing. We see a dress get thrown out of the alleyway, it happens to land at Daria's feet. It is a black Goth dress, and is quickly followed by other feminine clothes.]
Daria [sighs, thinking]: Well, OK, that does it. I don't know which is more disgusting: The thought of Andrea naked, the fact that she's probably naked with a guy who is also naked and who is probably even more disgusting than she, the stink of the dank alleyway in which the fornication is taking place, or the fact that I, Daria Morgendorfer, famous for a celibacy which is only mostly of my own choosing, am secretly jealous.
[Suddenly, Todd appears again, in front of Daria, still visibly in pain from his earlier kick.]
Todd: Hey, bitch, I ain't finished.
Daria: Yes, you are.
[Daria kicks Todd between the legs, Todd goes down, and Daria continues on.]
[Daria spies another club, again with a line, not as large as the previous club's billboard. The billboard proclaims: "When you're REALLY ready for fun."]
Daria [responding to the billboard]: Never. Never, except for tonight.
[Daria approaches this new club. Again, we see Upchuck at the front of the line, dressed the same way as before except that, after his encounter with the female bouncer, he looks disheveled and his polo shirt is torn.]
Upchuck: Oh come now, Sir . . . Sure, I may be underage. But, trust me, the luscious ladies will recognize my . . . Maturity. Grrrrrrrr..................
[Tries to laugh in a sophisticated manner, ends up sounding like a higher pitched Beavis, and again rubs his crotch eagerly. The bouncer shakes his head, then grabs Upchuck and body slams him to the pavement, and then begins kicking him repeatedly. Upchuck screams in pain. Daria takes advantage, and slips by unnoticed.]
Daria: Excuse me. [She walks into the club.]
SCENE 9
[Interior of the new club. This one is more elaborate and somewhat cleaner than the other. The entranceway is a dark and dank and yet immaculately clean tunnel. The walls are decorated by dark murals alternately depicting eroticism and violence, sometimes both. Daria is visibly uncomfortable.]
Daria: OK, let's review the situation. [pause] On second thought, no. Reviewing the situation is what got me in trouble tonight to begin with. There I go again, thinking. [looks up] Why, Oh Lord, as the very thing that has kept me sane through the Hell that is American teenagehood also made my life a Living Hell? [pause] You're not answering, Lord. [sighs] Oh, Hell.
[Daria goes back to the door, only to find that there is no knob, the door opens to the inside, and hence there is no way out. The walls and the door are soundproof; it is as if the outside world, for this moment, does not exist. Daria, and we, notice this for the first time. The dim, candle-like electric lights of the hallway seem to beckon Daria forward, as does the slow and heavy gothic music in the distance. Type O-Negative fans recognize Type O-Negative's "Christian Woman."]
Daria: Well, at least there has to be an exit somewhere. [pause] Oh, come on now. The fire code would require it. Then again, the criminal code would seem to prohibit most of what goes on here after dark.
[Daria ventures forth.]
SCENE 10
[The twisting hallway ends in a large and elaborate room. Multi-floored; one main floor at the bottom and several balconies. Daria is on the lowest balcony. The music, still "Christian Woman," is loud, though not as loud as Mystic Spyyral was before. The room is very dark, lit only by many candles, placed strategically such that they illuminate the room yet conceal much of its depth. Through an eerie haze, we see brief glimpses of people on the main floor, moshing, dancing, and engaging in various unwholesome activities of various sorts. The overall effect is simultaneously scary and erotic. Some people are visible; judging by the many voices, many more are concealed under the darkness of the room. The sounds are an odd combination of orgasmic wails, cries of pain, general cries of excitement, and the sounds of loud and violent dancing, moshing, and the like. Daria just stands there, not sure what to do. There are some familiar voices from Daria's balcony, which Daria instinctively gravitates toward. It is Ms. Barch and Mr. O'Neill. Throughout this little scene, we hear but do not see them.]
O'Neill: Now, Janet, I don't think this is the time or the place . . . .
Barch: SPREAD those cheeks, Skinny! SPREAD' EM YOU MALE!!!!!!!!!!!!
[O'Neill is heard screaming in pain.]
O'Neill: THAT HURTS JANET, STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Barch: WIDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WIDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Daria: OK, I think that now my term in Hell is complete. Just thank God I never SAW that . . . .
[At that moment, we see from Daria's POV. The surreal haze from the candles clears away just enough that we begin to see Ms. Barch's face. The haze starts to clear away more, we cut back to Daria's face, which wears an expression of stark, raw, terror.]
Daria: Eap! [runs]
SCENE 10
[Daria, having run away from the horrible sight of Barch and O'Neill sharing their love, has found a safe haven of some sort, a shadowed section of the floor where she is, for the moment, hidden from all, and all are hidden from her.]
Daria: OK, God, my lesson is done. What have I learned? I'll figure it out later. For now, just get me the fuck out of here.
[Under the darkness, we can still hear the people. Chanting, dancing, screaming in orgasm and pain. We can see none of this, and neither can Daria. She looks scared.]
Daria: OK, now I know what my lesson is. I got in over my head. I tried to suppress my emotions, then they got the better of me, I got upset, and now I'm here. OK, God. I wish you a Happy Death-Day, I hope crucifixion didn't hurt as much as it sounds like it did. Now, God, please, if You exist, please get me out of here?
[A pause. Then, the mist clears, and Daria sees an exit sign glowing on the wall.]
Daria: I mean this, God, I really mean it. Thank you.
[Daria heads toward exit.]
SCENE 11
[Outside, a dark alley, where the exit leads. We see Daria exit through the door; the door opens one way, like the entrance did. There is no way back into the club, not that Daria especially wants to reenter.]
Daria: I never thought I'd be so thankful to smell urine.
Todd [off-screen]: There you are, bitch.
[We see Todd now. He's got two members of his gang with him, he's walking funny, still smarting from Daria's kicks. The three are all rather unfriendly looking.]
Daria: Need another kick? That's all you're getting from me.
[But she's scared now, and her voice reflects it. She can't kick all three of them. She knows it, and so do they. Todd and his friends advance, Todd in front, still walking funny. From Daria's point of view, we see Tom enter the alleyway. We see Daria smile faintly. We see Tom casually grab the lids off of some garbage cans, and slam them into the heads of Todd's friends. Todd, sees them both fall, one to his left, then one to his right. His eyes follow each prone body as it hits the ground. Todd looks forward, at Daria, and gulps. Daria smiles wickedly, kicks Todd in between the legs, and Todd goes down on his knees.]
Daria: I think I'll finish the job this time.
[Daria kicks Todd in the face. Blood splatters, and Todd goes down.]
Daria: So, Tom, did you bring your cape this time?
Tom: No, sorry, Daria. After that road trip, I had to drop it off at the cleaners.
Daria: I won't ask how it got dirty. But seriously, what are you doing here?
Tom: I could ask you the same question.
Daria: I asked first.
Tom: Guess you have me there. Jane and I got back way earlier than we thought we would, about an hour ago. We tried to find you first. When we couldn't, Jane decided it would be a good idea to have a nightmarish and surreal journey through Lawndale's underworld. Apparently, she took Eyes Wide Shut as an instruction manual. I don't want to think of what would happen if she ever made it to downtown Manhattan. Your turn. What are you doing here?
Daria: Having a nightmarish and surreal journey through Lawndale's underworld. But mine was kind of an accident. [pause] And Eyes Wide Shut reminded me of a collaboration between Stanley Kubrick, Ron Jeremy, and a drunken Ingmar Bergman and was about as entertaining.
Tom: Are you OK, Daria?
Daria: Now I am.
[VERY long pause. The two look at one another.]
Daria: So.
Tom: So.
[Another pause.]
Tom: Jane and I were pretty much bored by our surreal nightmare, so we're leaving just as soon as Jane finishes taking pictures of that guy Upchuck.
Daria: I can only imagine. He's had two bouncers beat on him tonight.
Tom: He said three. Maybe there's one you didn't see?
Daria: Probably. We can presume he's not lying about getting the crap kicked out of him because it reinforces his manhood or anything.
[Tom and Daria chuckle.]
Tom: You should come with us, Daria. There may not be a way back.
Daria: I know. But I just can't see Jane now. And since I can't see Jane, I really can't see anyone. I just need to be alone. Don't worry about me, OK? I'll make it back, I promise.
Tom: Good. Life was miserable enough without . . . Jane. And you.
Daria: Same here.
[Long pause again. From a distance, we hear Jane's voice.]
Jane [off-screen]: YO! TOM! Where ARE you, boy?
Daria: Tell no one about me. [She mysteriously exits into the night.]
Jane [off-screen]: TOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tom: I'm in here, having sex with that girl Stacy from your school.
Jane [off-screen, furious]: WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
SCENE 12
[Interior of a very ornate Church. Candles burn. Daria enters. We never discover why she is there or what she is doing. She sits down in a pew close up to the altar, and kneels. She promptly falls asleep, in the kneeling position.]
SCENE 13
[We see a black screen, then we hear a phone ringing. We see Daria, sleeping on her bed, in her normal nightclothes. At the phone ringing, she awakes. There is a pause, the phone has been picked up. In two fast shots, we see the clock and a calendar on the wall. It is Noon, on Holy Saturday.]
Helen [off-screen]: Daria? It's for you, Sweetheart. It's Joan.
Daria: [picks up phone, waits for the click of Helen hanging up] Hello, Joan.
Jane [off-screen; through the entire conversation, we see only Daria and we hear Jane on the phone]: Hello, Dara. You never answered your phone last night. Where WERE you?
Daria: I think I was asleep. What time did you call?
Jane: About one in the morning.
Daria: There you go. You know how hard I can sleep.
Jane: Yeah, I guess I do. Tom and I . . . .
Daria [interrupting]: Let me guess. You and Prince Charming wanted to go on a nightmarish and surreal journey through Lawndale's underworld.
Jane: Good guess, but not quite. We were just hitting a couple of clubs. [pause] What made you think of that nightmare thing?
Daria: I don't know. [pause] Probably just a residual effect of that time we rented Eyes Wide Shut.
Jane: I know Nicole Kidman's ass always strange effects on me.
Daria: So, Joan, up to doing something today? Or are you too worn out from your multi-state adventure, followed by club-hopping?
[pause]
Daria: Jane?
Jane: Daria, I can count on one foot the number of times you've offered to do something. Are you OK?
Daria: You know . . . I am. I feel OK today. Can I come by in about an hour? I've got something to write.
Jane: Muse has you, say no more. You sure you want to hang out today?
Daria: Yes. Very sure.
Jane: Daria, I know how you feel about Tom . . .
Daria: Jane, I can explain, it's not what you think . . . [pause. Daria realizes that it's not THAT that Jane is talking about.] Oh, yeah. That's OK. I won't mind if it's us and Tom today.
Jane: He's not coming.
Daria: Good.
Jane: Holy Saturday vigil. It's a tradition at his house. You know those Catholics.
Daria: Yeah. Just us heathen girls tonight. Think you can stand it?
Jane: We shall see, Dara
Daria: See you in an hour, Lane.
Jane: Later!
[Daria hangs up, smiles faintly, and goes to the computer. She sees a rosary stuck to her computer.]
Daria: Even though I have never had one of these in my life, somehow I'm not surprised to see it.
[The rosary is not in Daria's way, so she leaves it on her computer and writes.]
Daria [voice-over as she writes. She looks very serious and contemplative. We join her towards the end of what appears to have been a long essay]: . . . and THAT was Daria's Good Friday. Or, was it. The truth is that I have no idea whether I had a long and overly detailed nightmare, or if I really wandered Lawndale last night, or some combination thereof. I hope it was a dream. I may not want to be Mrs. Trent Lane anymore, but I'd hate to see Trent as a heroin addict. His arms are too skinny, so the needles would go right through him, not to mention that he only owns short sleeve shirts and would not be able to hide the track marks too well. And besides, he sleeps enough as it is. The last thing he needs is the most powerful sedative known to man.
Daria: [slight pause] Also, I may hate Upchuck, but I want to be the one that kicks the shit out of him, not some bouncer. As for the Fashion Club, well, frankly I do not give a damn what kind of drugs they take. I'd rather not think about my sister at the moment. I guess, on one level, the truth/reality question doesn't really amount to much.
[pause as Daria sits and thinks]
Daria: After seeing lives that dark, that empty, that depraved, my life doesn't seem so bad. I may not have solved any of my problems last night. I may, for example, still have a "thing" for my best friend's boyfriend. Hell, I may have a "thing" for my best friend's brother, even though he's something of an irresponsible jackass and it would not at all shock me if he really did turn out to be a heroin addict. But, somehow, I feel like I'll be able to solve those problems, and many more.
[another pause]
Daria: I have spent my brief life in pursuit of Truth, and in denial of Hope. Having last night seen, if only in my own mind, how little Truth exists in the absence of all Hope, I am left wondering about the extent to which my belief system hitherto has been based on false premises. Hope is, perhaps, an essential ingredient in Truth. Or maybe not. Even if I prove to have been right all along, and Hope and Truth really are mutually inconsistent, then I still decide that, for the moment, I should hold onto Hope. As my best friend once pointed out to me, I am just a teenage girl. I should not be expected, least of all by myself, to have all the answers. Therefore, I deem for the moment that it is not a denial of Truth if I should hold onto Hope.
[slight pause, we see Daria's most ironic smile.]
Daria: At least until after Easter.
[Daria continues to smile at herself.]
Daria [still writing, but now talking out loud as she writes]: If Hope really is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, as Emily Dickinson once wrote, I shall allow to perch for the moment. But, as I value Truth far more than Hope, I shall not build a cage for it. If Hope flies away, so be it. For now, however, I will value its presence. Hope, for the moment, resides in me. And its name, for tonight, shall be Jane Lane.
[Daria saves her document, initiates the computer shutdown sequence, strokes the rosary, smiles, gathers her things, exits.]