The Clean Cut
Daria and related characters and situations are the property of Viacom / MTV Networks. This work is strictly for the entertainment of Daria fans and not for material gain. All characters are fictitious.
"Muh-om," Quinn began her protest. "Daria's cutting up her meat funny again. Just like lasagna at home."
Helen sighed heavily and glanced around the restaurant, the finest in Highland, Texas. "A little quieter, Quinn, please and do you have to complain about such a harmless habit? And Daria, are you just trying to antagonize your sister? Can't we just celebrate Daria's thirteenth birthday in peace?"
Daria paused in slicing into her top sirloin and looked up. "Mom, you said this was the only way I could get away with playing with my food." She used her fork to spear and bring to her mouth a couple fragrant braised brussels sprout halves.
"Yum, brussels sprouts. How can anyone not love these little cabbagey spheres of goodness?"
Jake lifted his eyes off his own steak slathered in Lea and Perrins and noticed his younger daughter was still pouting. "Quinn," he ventured. "Don't you like your rabbit food? They brought you your favorite fat-free dressing. Does your broiled chicken breast have a bit of fatty skin on it? We'll make them bring you another. Everything should be perfect at these prices."
"At least she didn't order liver again," Quinn mumbled as she turned to her bowl of greens.
"How's the steak, kiddo?" Jake turned his attention to his elder child. "Is it rare enough for you? Need any steak sauce? Don't know how you can eat it with so much moo left in it. The cut rate meat we got in the military school was always well-done and beaten into tenderness, hmm, just like we were beaten into toughness. I can't eat it any other way than well-done now. Hear that, old man? You had the best cuts at home while little Jakey ate shoe leather! Well, look who's eating high on the hog, er, cow now!"
With that Jake waved a sauce covered irregularly cut portion around in the air as if to demonstrate his new-found prosperity to his departed father and nemesis. Helen tightened her grip on her fork as she noticed a few patrons and bus boys turning their attention to their table. Daria saw the activity as well.
"Thanks,but no sauce, Dad," Daria replied. "It's perfect the way it is."
Jake happily turned his attention to unevenly slicing up pieces of his portion of Texas' finest beef. Helen enjoyed her crusted sea bass. Quinn was munching her veggies and trying not to watch Daria.
Daria lifted the corners of her mouth in a tiny signification of satisfaction that one of her habits so ticked off her little sister and she hadn't even planned it that way!
She carefully arranged the almost square piece of prime meat on her plate and plunged in her fork with the four tines parallel to reasonably straight sides. Then she put the sharp steak knife between the center two tines and cut a straight edge through the meat. Working her way across the barely warm dripping meat she soon had regular portions cut up on her plate, carefully measured out by the width of her fork's tines. Then Daria put her fork with tines lengthwise in the center of the first strip, put her steak knife between the center tines and cut the piece in precise halves. Only after halving all the strips did she begin to eat her meat alternating with mouth-fulls of yummy brussels sprouts and garlic mashed potatoes.
Quinn had a sudden inspiration. "Daddy, Mom, can we buy three-tined forks? I read in Waif that all the smart, fashionable homes are going to three-tined forks."
Daria looked at her with new respect. "Gee, Quinn, I didn't think you were capable of such feats of geometry. Seventh grade has served you well, young padawan. My spatial reasoning skills are superior, however."
"Girls," Helen started but Quinn just shook her head and continued with her salad.
The Morgendorffers enjoyed their entrees in peace, Daria and Quinn even attempting to be civil to each other. They wiped their mouths as their plates were cleared. Jake sipped the last of his second Lone Star and accepted Helen's insistence that it be his last that evening. The maitre 'd approached their table followed by a waitress pushing the dessert cart.
"Folks, I'm very sorry," he began. "There's been some mix-up in the kitchen and we are down to a very limited selection of desserts. Dessert is on the house tonight."
"Alright!" Jake exclaimed. "Can I have two?"
As Helen restrained Jake Quinn and Daria considered the scant selections: a couple bowls of creamy puddings, enticing fruit compotes and in a far corner a single regular solid, delightfully yellow mass frosted with powdered sugar and under-girt with an appealing crumbly crust.
Quinn spoke preemptively, "Mom, I want the…"
"No dear, birthday girl gets first choice."
Daria favored the maitre d with a tiny smile before ordering. "Sir, I'd like the lemon square, please."