Le Dejuner Chez Daria
Daria glanced at the clock and laid aside The Three Musketeers. Time to
feed the beast. She ambled toward the kitchen. Another idyllic Saturday in
Highland.
Daria opened the refrigerator. Crap. Someone was delinquent on grocery
shopping. One black banana and some buttermilk well on the way to
becoming bleu cheese. Not even any leftover macaroni. In the meat
drawer she found one wiener. The vegetable crisper held some celery and a
green onion, starting to go limp.
As the wiener writhed in a pan of boiling water, Daria remembered Quinn.
Even though she was a sixth grader now, and would soon (shudder) be in
junior high with her, Helen still expected Daria to see that she was fed.
"Maybe she'll eat lunch at one of her friends' houses." Daria thought,
eyeing her meager repast.
A peek out the side window revealed that her luck was running true to form.
Here came the perky one even now. Unsurprised, Daria fell back on guile.
Quinn entered the kitchen a minute later. "What's for lunch?" she
demanded, without so much as a "Hi" for preface.
Daria turned from setting a bowl, spoon, and napkin on the table. "I was
about to have some Consomme' de Vienne."
"What's that?" Quinn asked, sidling over to the table. The bowl contained
clear, nearly colorless liquid with a few small dark green rings from a green
onion and a single three-leaved sprig of celery.
"A delicate essence of cochon et poulet, lightly seasoned with savory
herbs. But there's only one serving. Here's a weenie for you." Back by the
range, Daria held it up between thumb and forefinger.
Quinn wrinkled her tiny adorable nose at the weenie. "I think I'll have the
Consomme' de Vienne."
Daria quickly covered her look of distress with her usual poker face. "I
don't think you'd like it, Quinn. The flavor is very subtle. It's for people
with refined tastes. This weenie's much better. It'll put meat on your bones."
She wiggled the wiener enticingly.
"Fat, you mean. If it's so much better, you eat it." Quinn sat down firmly at
Daria's place at the table and picked up the spoon.
Trying vainly to hide her disappointment, Daria squeezed a line of catsup
and one of mustard onto a piece of bread and folded the wiener into it. Then,
with a last backward glance, she moped sadly back to the den and The Three
Musketeers.
As she delicately slurped her first spoonful of savory weenie water, Quinn
felt a tiny bit guilty about sticking Daria with the weenie, but it soon passed.
La la LA la la.
Disclaimer
"Daria" and all related characters are trademarks of MTV Networks, a division of
Viacom International, inc. The author does not claim copyright to these characters
or to anything else in the "Daria" milieu; he does, however, claim copyright to
all those parts of this work of fiction which are original to him and not to MTV or
to other fanfic authors. This fanfic may be freely copied and distributed provided
its contents remain unchanged, provided the author's name and email address are
included, and provided that the distributor does not use it for monetary profit.
(as if.)
Galen Hardesty gehardesty@yahoo.com
Daria glanced at the clock and laid aside The Three Musketeers. Time to
feed the beast. She ambled toward the kitchen. Another idyllic Saturday in
Highland.
Daria opened the refrigerator. Crap. Someone was delinquent on grocery
shopping. One black banana and some buttermilk well on the way to
becoming bleu cheese. Not even any leftover macaroni. In the meat
drawer she found one wiener. The vegetable crisper held some celery and a
green onion, starting to go limp.
As the wiener writhed in a pan of boiling water, Daria remembered Quinn.
Even though she was a sixth grader now, and would soon (shudder) be in
junior high with her, Helen still expected Daria to see that she was fed.
"Maybe she'll eat lunch at one of her friends' houses." Daria thought,
eyeing her meager repast.
A peek out the side window revealed that her luck was running true to form.
Here came the perky one even now. Unsurprised, Daria fell back on guile.
Quinn entered the kitchen a minute later. "What's for lunch?" she
demanded, without so much as a "Hi" for preface.
Daria turned from setting a bowl, spoon, and napkin on the table. "I was
about to have some Consomme' de Vienne."
"What's that?" Quinn asked, sidling over to the table. The bowl contained
clear, nearly colorless liquid with a few small dark green rings from a green
onion and a single three-leaved sprig of celery.
"A delicate essence of cochon et poulet, lightly seasoned with savory
herbs. But there's only one serving. Here's a weenie for you." Back by the
range, Daria held it up between thumb and forefinger.
Quinn wrinkled her tiny adorable nose at the weenie. "I think I'll have the
Consomme' de Vienne."
Daria quickly covered her look of distress with her usual poker face. "I
don't think you'd like it, Quinn. The flavor is very subtle. It's for people
with refined tastes. This weenie's much better. It'll put meat on your bones."
She wiggled the wiener enticingly.
"Fat, you mean. If it's so much better, you eat it." Quinn sat down firmly at
Daria's place at the table and picked up the spoon.
Trying vainly to hide her disappointment, Daria squeezed a line of catsup
and one of mustard onto a piece of bread and folded the wiener into it. Then,
with a last backward glance, she moped sadly back to the den and The Three
Musketeers.
As she delicately slurped her first spoonful of savory weenie water, Quinn
felt a tiny bit guilty about sticking Daria with the weenie, but it soon passed.
La la LA la la.
Disclaimer
"Daria" and all related characters are trademarks of MTV Networks, a division of
Viacom International, inc. The author does not claim copyright to these characters
or to anything else in the "Daria" milieu; he does, however, claim copyright to
all those parts of this work of fiction which are original to him and not to MTV or
to other fanfic authors. This fanfic may be freely copied and distributed provided
its contents remain unchanged, provided the author's name and email address are
included, and provided that the distributor does not use it for monetary profit.
(as if.)
Galen Hardesty gehardesty@yahoo.com