The Roast of Daria Morgendorffer is a product of Lawndale High's emancipation and Ms. Li's school fundraiser. The principle wanted to gain a better, more likable image for her school and to have fun lashing out at the student legally. The show was sponsored by MTV (not really) and under the right circumstances they will pour numberless amounts of money at the school's feet. Close to the nature of roasts, problematic content was kept in. None of which is real or intentionally harmful. Everything was spit-firing and complaints are to be sent to .
A commendable light brightens a stage, giving life to the people before it. They clapped as the fanfare tooted their symphony in the chairs assembled at the corner. Jane was welcomed onto the stage with fat tubas. The teenage girl wore a suit with a red bow and lipstick just as carmine. Along with her weird black hair, her person was entirely of black and red except for a couple of blue eyes. The girl named Jane Lane began the symposiums. Meanwhile, the curtain was reeled up to show the other roasters; another black haired teenager, a man with an eye that inflated and deflated dramatically, a girl with heavy, wavy hair and a mean look, a boy in a sweater, and a small Asiatic lady in skinny glasses.
"They say you roast the ones you love," Jane began with the classic line, "but love is for the weak."
Someone comes up to her from the back; Jane thinks Tiffany dwaled out of her seat. A spotlight indicates the person and reveals them as Daria Morgendorffer. The young host halts mid swallow, her body turns stiff as a brick but she turned around. If not for the noisy audience, the creaking of wood can be heard screaming under her.
"You were supposed to come in on a chair on a float and eleven drag queens pulling it!" Jane whispered after she covered the mic's head. Daria may have been looking at her unmoving with an empty face, but Jane heeds over to the crowd with sheep's eyes. An itchy finger digs into her collar and pulls at it. The people were laughing but in a yielding way.
"You guys are deader than Tommy Sherman," Jane mumbles into the mic, taking her hand off the top. Daria sits into the hot seat and remains looking bored. Regardless of what was going on she stayed put in her state of lethargy. The roasters clap in all different ways unique to their individual personality. Their host counts and introduces them with eumoirous volume.
"Ms. Li!" Jane then exclaimed.
The older woman in glasses was greeted with happy yells. In between her full cheeks was a smirk. Ms. Li demanded to be inserted in the roast for her own selfish reasons; now there was an audience clapping for her. Everything went quiet for further comment from the host.
"Our school principal, ladies and gentlemen. The biggest tightwad ever to pinch pennies. A person so cheap that she was upset when a hired substitute teacher turned out to be a pedophile, because she didn't want to hire a new one." As Jane listed reasons and examples, Ms. Li sat perplexed. Some of them weren't even commonplace knowledge to the students. Like how she obtained a grand by doing a strip show at their rival school Oakwood. She wondered how Jane got that cognition.
"I know you look like Kim Jon Un but do you have to run a school like him?" She jabbed. The reaction was mixed to successfully amused. Jane shifts the attention to Tom, the one in the sweater. She didn't tell everyone about his background as her ex who now involved with Daria. She didn't have to tell them as they already knew.
"Big slut. First my brother, then my boyfriend. Who's next, ME?"
Tom crossed his legs and up played his awkward body language for comedic effect. He was comfortable with the joke, as was Daria. Jane went on to Tiffany, who was preoccupied with a compound disk. It felt like a long silent transition for viewers to leave to use the restroom. As a matter of fact, many of them did. The show came to a pause for this roaster to at least look up. Tiffany flipped the disk closed and vacuously pull herself up. Jane refused to say anything until she did; whatever she says is either going to be treasure or a mess. A wrinkly deck of notes was taken out of the same place she withdrawn her compound disk.
"Daria Morgendorffer issssss..."
Jane didn't wait any longer. "...And speaking of people who sound like they have brain damage, Sandi Griffin!"
Sandi whipped a lock out of her face flamboyantly. The claps came back after their break.
"You two should join a band called System of a Dumb, " Jane said looking at her and Tiffany. "That was a joke, everyone, about Nu-metal band of a similar title. You popular types wouldn't understand"
Then she calls out Mr. Demartino's name. His "big eye" wasn't pumping and bloodshot at that moment, but opened to a fuller capacity. The rest of his face was a scowl with a pushed out bottom lip sticking forward. Jane struggled to remember or produce a joke for him as part of his introduction. She tried to make a small one to suffice it before continuing over to Daria.
"Good to see Bob Costas came by to apologize for every little thing he ever said." He closed the two of his eyes and smiled calmly at the joke. The camera man pans over to Ms. Barch over at the front row of the auditorium. The reason is unknown, she had her strong arms folded over her wide chest. More random, Jodi's father of all people was seen sitting behind her laughing.
"But let's turn our focus on the main bitch of the day, my friend Miss Morgendorffer."
Daria was cheered and the heroic trumpets of the fanfare blared. The float and drag queens couldn't even exit from the back because it was known that she was already on stage with the transportation of her own legs, five minutes early. They idled in the privacy of where they were in hiding and smoked a few cigarettes. Obmurmurations were about the take place as the prelude ended. Jane rehearses her lines mentally before the cheers dies down too. If the target of the roast entered according to plan, it would have been the time she walks on stage to wave and sit down.
"I'll never forget when we first met; those self esteem classes. Now look at you, you're the leading lady of your own show. Your show is a classic, all anyone talks about is how they used to watch it all the time." Those words made the parents, Mr. And Mrs. Morgendorffer, cry with joy from the distance. The camera doesn't focus on them but it was their proud voices echoing.
"Sorry I was thinking of Scooby Doo," Jane clarifies flatly, "you look like if Velma spent ten years in a cave."
Daria gave an affectionate eye roll but her lips were solid in a frown. She wishfully hoped the others will be as good as Jane was at the moment. The lineup wasn't terrific in her opinion but the host was a stone perfect choice. After all, it was the only choice she had in the matter.
"Our first roaster is a foppish eunuch who emotionally sucks off more girls than Brittany Taylor sucks off Kevin Thompson. He has a name like a Captain Planet Villain obsessed with money. Please welcome, Tom Sloane."
The boy with a dip of mousey brown hair swaggered his way to the speaking platform, where Jane backs away from. Tom takes her place happily and . He picked over in a very boyishly charismatic style as he awaited his turn. There were a few jeers from the crowd, he didn't have many fans in general. He hushes them with two open palms held up like a criminal approached by the police.
Tom pinches the stem of the microphone of the stand. "Thank you Jane. And speaking of single cell cumbersome leaches, I want to say how awesome it is to verbally slander my girlfriend."
Daria grumbled something uncomplimentary. Her face filled the frame of the next camera shot. It was the type of expression to get a huge amount of media coverage. The shooter deems it as iconic in his head.
"Comedy is pain, and let me tell you no one loves pain more than Daria. She makes everyone go through pain; friends, family, teachers, me, and people with ears. Seriously, what's your robot name, 'SaDOS'? Jane sounds like she's munching on pubic hair and I much rather listen to her talk." His jade eye weak in vibrancy, narrowed in sadistic delight. Soon they soften with a glint of uncertainty.
"Um was I too harsh about that last part?"
"No keep going," Jane growls from afar, mouthing the words for him.
"The fact that I like you remains, but you need to be knocked down a few pegs. Today the tables will turn and we all will have our revenge. So stand up and take it like a man!" Tom corpses a laugh, "Oh wait, you are standing up."
Ms. Li snorted. She landed a wide slap to her knee and arched forward. Tom had a smirk riding high to the side of his face. He took the opportunity to target her.
"Don't laugh Ms. Li, you are about as tall as the miniatures my mom buys from Michele's crafts store."
The lady howls louder, almost falling off her seat. Mr. Demartino's eyes dilate at her ridiculous behavior. He didn't find a single joke funny so far.
"How time does fly, who knew after all this time you would become a nostalgic relic. If you ask someone today about your show they would say..." Tom pauses but doesn't trail off. He bites a hard piece of skin off his lip. As he does, he continues in a slightly hindered voice.
"They would say, 'oh you mean those gifs of that girl sad people on tumblr spam everywhere'?"
The round of laughter was heretical but light. The kind of laugh you hear when you tell someone something relatable. Tom studies Daria's vacant expression but found nothing. The brownish-black eyes are void of any reaction, negative or otherwise. He does not give up to draw something from her.
"People are saying you were 'tumblr' before tumblr was tumblr. And they're right; you were a vindictive contrarian who judges people over stupid things first and don't let them forget it!"
Daria blinks as the boy bends his head away from her. He looks forward and at everyone. A memory came to his head, this was for mature viewers, and he really wanted to curse. His mouth was normally clean but he took the opportunity to drop the first F bomb of the evening.
"By the way, tumblr, if you're watching this; those screen caps have the wrong fucking caption. You know the ones—stop posting them everywhere."
Everyone hoots and hollers for him; not from humor but victory. The applause carried on like a storm even as Jane replaces Tom at the mic. The boy smugly crawls back into his chair, complete with legs cross and hands in lap. Jane winks at him and he winks back.
She cleans her throat with a small cough. "Our next roaster goes by Sandi Griffin. Which translates to 'as pleasant as a lion bird that can eviscerate you and has a lot of sand in its vagina'. Let's give her a hand, but only if it's the popular kind of hands."
Sandi Griffin rises slowly. She takes a self-loving bow with her eyes clamped shut in satisfaction. Her head hung up with pride while she reaches across the stage. Still, there was a bitter taste to her attitude. When she spoke her resentment was slurred in a tone she wore like a birthmark. It never left her mouth no matter what she talked about.
"So glad to be here tonight," Sandi said with seeping sarcasm. Her ugly voice violating every word out of her mouth.
"When I heard that our school has financed a not-commending gathering for some student I only just remembered existed, I was not sold to attend. It was until I also remembered her as a Certain Fashion Club Member's relative, then I changed my mind."
Quinn's face became so tense she couldn't feel it anymore. Her lips could only part slightly while the rest stays numb. She breaks free from the tension when she becomes caught off guard by the camera zooming in on her. It singled her out quickly and ruthlessly. Quinn couldn't reach it from where it stood but she outstretched an arm to fan her fingers apart as an attempt to hide herself. Her and Daria's parents gawked at her in flummoxed blankness.
"Daria Morgendorffer instantly put me off with her garishly ugly fashion sense. Your layers are so busy with ugly colors, you'd think they were Tiffany's makeup blend." Sandi smiled at her own joke. A soft, brief laugh of approval from the before mentioned friend graced her ears.
"That was a funny joke Sandi," Tiffany Blum-deckler rasped as dry as possible.
Sandi cocks a leg and crosses her arms. "Coupled with what you're actually wearing, you dress like a Jewish horse back rider."
Primarily "oo"s filled the auditorium. Some were not to be confused with offended gasps. Jane would have been biting her nails if not for her calm composure. She wished the material would get juicier but waited patiently for more to come.
"Are those glasses or are they male genitalia deflectors? I think I know the real reason you and Tom never slept together." A single, man in the audience crows something after Sandi dropped that insult. It insinuates a cry of sympathetic defeat. Such as a "sick burn".
"Oh wait...Tom has no male genitalia."
Then everyone screamed with laughter, some threw popcorn in the air. Tom blushed, chagrined. Daria blushed a more angry kind of blush. It was one that made her ears turn red. Sandi steps away for a moment to fix a wrinkle out of her pants. Jane awaited to take control again as the roaster begins to say her last line.
An evil smirk spreads on her face. A smirk of pleasure before the closure. "Develop something for that vitamin D Deficiency and use more conditioner, then maybe we can talk."
The round of applause drops and Jane rushes from the right. She blows a shock of air from her mouth and wiped invisible sweat off her brow. She bows forward to the mic but doesn't say anything yet. Her hot breath could not be heard above the prodigious amount of claps storming.
Jane winces, she says, "Mr. O'Neil, you're still teaching those self-esteem classes?"
Daria twists her tight lips in disapproval. She felt insulted, not from the jokes but the assumption that they were enough to leave scars. They were going to have to say worse than that.
"Speaking of teachers let's move onto Mr. Demartino, a history teacher with a good eye for talent. Little does anyone know; Daria is his favorite student."
The man picks himself up with the help of his long legs. He reverently tilts his head down the the people. The congratulations were unclear if they were for him or Daria. Anthony Demartino felt stupid to have to sit down because Jane will be making him come up after a few more words.
"That's like being Tiffany's favorite author," Jane commented. "Please let's give it up for him!"
Mr. Demartino grabs the stand roughly. His fingernail were close to making a dent into the sides. The sloped back makes a hunch upwards, he averts his vision to the left and right. He was so close to the platform that the head of the microphone kisses his face.
"Wonderful introduction, Jane. I give it an A. That will be the only A you'll ever get in your life!" He roared. He looked at the straight C student with confusion. Jane was chuckling latently.
He continues, "that wasn't a spoonerism. Why can't you rise above mediocrity like your much more academically intelligent friend."
Daria felt less comfortable with the positive comments concerned with her than the heat. She was left cold and unmoved by him.
"In a classroom of dumb fucks with single digit IQs, you were a string of light for the future of this generation. Just as long as you don't grow up to be a deranged domestic terrorist before you reach my age," Mr. Demartino speeded through his sentence. With the exception of the gravely words deserving of annunciation.
"I don't think we will be reaching 2099 in a long time," miffed Sandi. Churlish smugness glowed on her.
"Minus a point on your grade point average, Sandi!" He blurts. The inflating eye was dangerously close to popping in a spray of blood.
The teacher turns his attention back to the woman of the hour with more venomous criticism than before. "But getting a few perfect scores in class doesn't make you any less of a pain in my intergluteal cleft! You once handed in a 'fan-fiction' about Jack the Ripper being in a zoophilic, possibly homosexual, relationship with the Jersey Devil. Your English teacher Mr. O'Neil reported he has also been given a similar story for creative writing."
"It's historically accurate..." Daria waved her eyebrows straight at the camera closing in on her, "...in my mind."
"Whether this was an uninspired cheap joke to get out of two assignments for two completely different classes or a deep seeded fantasy perverse in your brain, I don't care!" He pants like a husky in heat.
He shares a glance to the camera. His mouth now closed and hiding the frighteningly big square chomps.
"...it was still a better fanfiction than the one we're in this moment."
"Anyway let me give you some advice for the future when you enviably end up in prison," Mr. Demartino counts with his fingers. His choppy speech matched up with the flex and curls of his digits.
"Don't rely on nobody to bail you out or smuggle a key. Trust no man. Depend on none. Use those glasses to burn your enemies during outdoor recess." The man erupted out unpredictability. His fists shake and batter low at his sides. He fished out a unprecedented card, not scripture on notes. He flings it to her face and it hits her between the eyes. It touched the bridge between the two frames of her glasses.
"Comb your damn hair before getting your mugshot taken!"
She cradles it in her hands. In an instant she recognized it as her student id. To be expected, it wasn't a very good picture. Her hair was all over the place and the lightening made her look exceptionally pale. Daria described it as looking like a drug addict to those having the misfortune of seeing it.
"Allow me to take some of the heat off," an additional voice joins. A mysterious mauve gas germinates off the center of the stage where Mr. Demartino abandoned. The viewers wrote it off as part of the show; it was not. A boy was revealed from the smoke, he donned a yellow tuxedo. What was supposed to be a roast was now looking like a magic show.
Jane scolds him, "beat it Charles, we are not doing any surprise guest roasters."
"As much as I want to respect your wished, my darling hostess, there is much I want to contribute." He licks his fingers. Between two of them, he pulls at a carrot colored strand. It was released back into its curly form.
"It breaks me to have to hurt a young lady's feelings. Even the older of the Morgendorffer sirens has appeal underneath the surface. Daria is a sugarless box of cereal with a prize deep inside, shoveling away those stale oats will lead you to special edition gold figurine. Complete with removable hat."
"it's like Romeo if he was stupid," Jane inputs.
Upchuck forced an aura of gregariousness to himself. "So I had to sit in the sidelines and watch the whole show without a word. And let me tell you, you people are animals. Miss Daria Morgendorffer is not a cold bitch. She is a human. A human with a heart, soul and a very small pair of boobies."
Jake Morgendorffer rises up only to be stopped by Hellen's grip on his wrist. As a uxorious husband, he slinks back down. His arms supported up his chin as he sat in festering defeat.
Upchuck exclaimed, "People say your voice is grating, forget them! No one on this show has a listenable speaking voice. Shall I direct you to the human eggplant sitting in that chair."
He alludes to Tiffany. That joke couldn't have been written by him. The girl wanders her head around and basks in the looks of the many. She was stared out but she didn't pay attention enough to know why.
"I know, I know, I know what you're thinking...'that'sssss not niccccccce'." He mimics Tiffany's hissing. Jane pushes him of his speaking platform and snatches the microphone off the stand.
The boy spirals to his bum onto the hard wood. "Why I never."
"And you never will," Jane murmurs.
"Alright this was a terrible idea that got old quick, we're down to two people, and please welcome-" Jane's stopped in sight of something. A new person has came to interrupt in the form of the black haired fashion club member.
"Tiffany?"
"I want to go next for the roastttt please," Tiffany politely asked.
"Um, sure okay. But make it snappy." Jane's eyes looked like they rotated with the inner corners moving up. "What am I talking about?"
Tiffany look out the same notes as earlier. Verbatim, she recites the first two words in the same paining way. The second one was stretched to sky high.
"Daria isssss..." her hold on the "s" almost made the microphone produce a pitchy wailing sound. The slanted eyes squint as she struggled to apprehend the rest of the sentence.
"...smelly." Nobody laughed at her tiny lexicon of a punchline.
"What has four eyes and doesn't fly?" Tiffany shuffled the notes into a ball of paper. She threw a pointed finger at Daria. "Her! Wait...I made a mistake."
Ms. Li marched towards her with brutishness. She grabs her by the head and her fingers dug into her wide brow. Tiffany was flung eight feet away but her little irritated moan did not measure up to the pain.
"Let's get this over with!" Ms. Li approaches straight for the Mic. She talked breathlessly into with clear spit spraying over.
"Hi I am Ms. Li, I'm the one who is responsible for this mess." She pants for a moment. "So naturally it will end on me
"Miss Morgendorffer let's face fact, you've gotten too big for your britches. You consider yourself involved and yet you meddle in my work all the time."
Everyone was as deadpan as Daria. Some cringed behind others for shelter
"I have to admit I'm as funny as a nun when it comes to these things but this has turned into a platform to speak out against your attitude."
Here we go, wonders Daria. Ms. Li's stand up was a lecture. She attacked the girl a fair amount but most of all stuck her mother. The whole way through was like a string of yo mamma jokes to the point of cruelty. They weren't focused on humor, the studio contemplates removing them or deeming them as filler. By the end, It was Hellen's turn to have to be restrained by her marital partner. The difference being that she didn't back down as easy as Jake
For the last segment, the woman of the hour gets her own piece. Daria was made to stand up to talk. It felt a little too reminiscent of her graduation; coupled with the fact she didn't come prepared with dialogue. Despite this, Daria felt confident enough to spew her thoughts. Her heat ran quick in her chest from the sights of hundreds.
Daria sermonized, "I didn't say much all night, but uh...I guess I can now; I wanted to say how this was a colossal waste of time. And that I hated sitting through it, but that not true. People think I was forced to come her for a roast I didn't want. I consented to it though, it was all my approval."
A faint cough can be heard. The audience didn't appear bored, but silent. They were expecting the proclaimed queen of snark to unleash her wit onto the others. Instead, Daria was being vulnerable. Even her monotone was in a matter of fact style as opposed to superior boredom.
"Its clear to see I'm as healthy as lewisite to be around. I throw insults and poke holes through the self esteem of idiots. But it was my defense mechanism at first, until I realized," she puts out in a sigh.
Mr. and Mrs. Morgendorffer held each other's hands and pressed the side of their heads together. Quinn intertwines her own fingers together, she watches her sister with naked eyes.
"Nope, that was how I genuinely felt about all of you." Everyone was in hysterics from Daria's surprise. Even she herself could not help but smile. Her eyebrows knitted low behind her long, thick bangs. She darts her eyes to Jane.
"When we were doing that essay on who inspires you the most, you picked Van Gogh," she tells her.
Jane transfixed on her in silent interest. It was one of the finals for that semester. Daria came to her aid to spend the night at her place to help write it together. Van Gogh only inspired her artisticly, there were far more inappropriate topics for Jane to choose from.
"Please. If Van Gogh looked at your art he would have cut out his eyes next." With that being said, Jane broke the silence with her laugh.
Daria scans the lineup with a set of unimpressed eyes. From Tiffany all the way to the left, to Ms. Li all the way to the right. They gleamed at her for approval, or the be the subject of a nasty joke. They began preparing themselves to brace for impact. Daria takes her eyes off of them an over to the middle in front of her.
"I wish I had a say in the matter of who gets to be in the peanut gallery," she mumbles, but the words were easy to coherence. Daria tips the microphone towards her tight lips. They were still able to emit words.
"The last time I was around this many nuts." She stops. Her fiddling with the mic was the only indication she was nervous. Her body language and face were at their default.
Daria's heavy lidded eyes blinked and she finishes, "was when me and Kevin worked at It's a Nutty Nutty World."
Kevin shouted a howl of understanding. At the shoutout, he hops up to dance in victory. His cleats pound into the chair that can somehow support his girth. Kevin was dancing his arms in the air like an excited monkey. The empty cola can dropped and rolled all over the floor.
"Ha-ha, you thought I was going to say something sexual. If you really want advice on that stuff, let me direct you to Sandi Griffin." Daria's mention of her name made Sandi's eyes pop open. She was greeted with a sinister, but stoic, look.
Daria did not grin with her lips but with her pupils. "I'm not saying Sandi is a slut but she can fit her entire ego into her vagina."
Stacy tried to muffle a traitorous chuckle. Many chairs away, Quinn did the same. Daria left Sandi to attend to the girl with black hair who stared back with a dim witted expression.
"And oh look, her fellow club member Tiffany," Daria cooed with an ingredient of mild mocking. "Tiffany is half Malaysian and half a'brain."
The joke flew over her head, she sat up straight with excellent posture in spite of her clueless disposition. The reason behind everyone else's reaction was a mystery to her.
"Forget Sandi; if we want to talk about big vaginas, we can talk about how the west was won in Tom's," Daria said finally cracking the smile she hid away. Tom softly laughed, it was his usual friendly laugh that seemed too polite in light of things of that nature. Of course it was going to grow into something worse.
"Tom is the type of guy who wipes away his semen with fifty dollar bills after jerking off in front of a mirror."
The adults of the crowd all together made a sucking sound through their teeth to constitute pain. It wasn't a sympathetic act for Tom but for themselves after hearing a young girl making a comment like that. Daria rolled her eyes at the easily impressed people. They pick over to Ms. Li sitting in absolute silence and awaiting her turn. Her turn had just become; Daria pulled together the next line.
"you look like if someone put Tiffany in the water too long." Even though everyone was in the afterglow of the line, she wasted no time moving onto Mr. Demartino. They exchanged glares that can freeze walls of fire. Soon everyone notices her intense focus on him and quieted down to hear his slander.
"At least I have hair...that isn't fifty shades of grey," Daria snarked, as a reference to his shouted abuses of before. The remark about her uncombed hair seemed easy to recoil. Especially taking account of who said it.
"I also don't look like Christopher Walken," she added. Her voice tapped in volume but she wanted to push in something else. She lifted up a finger to demand attention. Mr. Demartino, meanwhile, was boiling in his chair. Daria raises her hand notches higher.
"In Foodfight no less."
Mr. Demartino screamed for reasons differing from the screaming of everyone else. His eye inflated until it became a big globe. It looked like a snowball with blood leaking in.
Daria abandoned the lineup to smack talk them to the viewers, "sitting around—having to deal with being called ugly by the ugliest people I seen. Sure, whatever, anything to settle the score. Even if it means embarrassing myself in a hack attempt at a comedy show by greedy money grubbing whores."
She gives herself a break for the span of a few seconds before saying to Ms. Li, "you know the kind."
Everyone clapped and hollered. Daria felt a wave of catharsis splash her like refreshing cold water. Happiness tugged her back even though she tried to reserve it for the show. Jane gave her a personal thumbs up and Daria nodded.
"Maybe I am too big for my britches, but at least I wear britches. I've seen you with out them," she said. A lecherous whistle soared the auditorium. Ms. Li wiggled in her chair, she thought Daria was supposed to be the one in the hot seat.
The teen rubbed it in more. "What's your stripper name again, Angela Anaconda?"
Regret filled Ms. Li, she regretted never to be inserted and to never even think up this show. When she wanted to get up and leave, she couldn't. She couldn't because she wasn't aloud. She just stays and buries her face in her hands.
Daria brings a water bottle to her lips. Once her whistle is wet, she feels soft. The glasses on her face become opaque with mystery. A glint shines across it briefly. Her head is averted and tilted to nowhere in particular, she avoided any contact with either the audience or the roasters.
She turns pink underneath her glasses. "This is supposed to be the part where I promise myself and everyone that I'll change. Consider it done, I promise to be a better me who doesn't berate others for not meeting my standards."
The people took this as a leeway to another joke. They waited with their mouths opens along with their alert ears.
"No punchline from this corner, thank you and god bless." Daria bows her head. Regardless of any disappointment, she was congratulated. The band played an upbeat ending song and the following series of claps was made by those standing up.
Daria sees the lineup get up to clap as well. Particularly Jane and Tom, they met up with her happily. Uncharacteristically they joined themselves in a group hug. Although Daria characteristically felt dead in their arms. The light turns dull throughout the large room, making it difficult for anyone to know where they were heading.