GOD SAVE THE ESTEEM
Ep 11: Ridin' Slowly

Andrew Landon looked in confusion at the leather-clad, jet-black haired entity that had appeared in the office.

"Erin, I... I think we need to have a word about suitable clothing in the workpl-"

Erin headbutted him, guzzled half a bottle of vodka, belched, and turned the other into a Molotov cocktail that burnt the office down. "NO FUTURE!" she declared. "SMASH THE STATE!"

Aunt Helen slapped her on the back: "Good work, Erin! We're proud of you! You're one of us, one of us, one of"


Erin jerked awake.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" She took a breath. "AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Brian turned over in the bed, groaning. "The dream again, honey?"

"yes..."


"Trust me," said Jake. "All you have to do is say what I told you – it'll be just what they want to hear!"

Trent scratched himself idly. "I dunno, man. Your consultancy is usually good but this sounds... I dunno. Lying."

"Well, yeah! That's what marketing is all about!"

"Oh yeah. Still, not sure about it. It seems... a betrayal of what I stand for, I guess."

"Now Trent," said Jake kindly. "Do you stand for hardcore rocking and sticking it to the MAN? Will this stop you doing any of that?"

He thought about it for ten seconds. "Hmmm. Guess not."

"Atta boy! Now remember..." That said, Jake uncovered his phone. "Sorry to keep you waiting like that, m'man! Mystik Spiral's frontman is ready to answer your questions now!"

He handed the phone over to Trent.

"Hey." Pause. "Yeah, we're punctual." Pause. "Cool."

He handed the phone back.

"He gave us the gig."

"All right!" Jake headbutted the air in triumph. "You and your band, you're going to Alternapalooza to open for Grumpy Guys With Guitars (and a Drummer)! Three and a half songs!"

Trent smiled. "Cool. Er, do we actually have to be punctual?"

"Yeahhhh, sorry about that. But don't worry, ol' Snakey will help you with that! Anyway, better leave you to rehearse, right?"

"Rehearse? No, we're rehearsing on Wednesday."

"It, um, is Wednesday."

"...in that case, I guess there's not much point me still being up. Night."

Aw crap, thought Jake.


When Daria came home on Thursday, the house was on a war footing. Her mother had taken charge in the lounge and, flanked by Jake and all their local friends, was going over a road map.

"...we knock out the speed cameras here, here, and here in advance, and we can cut an hour off the travel time..."

"Can we drive over the farms and shit?" asked one punk. "Be quicker and anyway, farms got it comin'."

Axl, the tattoo parlour owner, looked up with confusion. "They do?"

"...YEAH!" the punk answered, very unconvincingly.

"We can't chance it, not with the Tank," said Helen. "It's risky enough letting it stop for bathroom breaks, muddy terrain could kill it. Hmmm. We best take spare cars in case we need to ditch it..."

"I may be overthinking this," broke in Daria, "but couldn't you just not take the Tank?"

Everyone looked at her.

"Oh Daria, please take this seriously," said Helen.

"It's just not Spiral without the Tank!" cried Jake. "I got them to make it into their icon! You see the Tank, you know exactly what sort of band you're getting!"

"One who can't afford a new van," said Daria. "Trent's got a gig then."

"Alternapalooza itself!"

"The festival that had its heyday years ago and never figured out people want to go to festivals in the summer? I've always wanted to go and give it the grand sneer. If I can get you five extra cars, can I come along too?"

Helen shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

Daria quickly pulled out her phone and dialled her sister. "Hey, Quinn. Would you and the Maleficent Eleven like to go to Alternapalooza on the weekend? Trent's going to play. I hear it might rain, his shirt could stick to him." She quickly pulled the phone away from her ears as loud squeeing blared from it. "Gotcha."

She dialled a new number. "Hi, Aunt Amy. You know you like ranting about how Alternapalooza has gone downhill? Well, the family's going on Saturday and I intend to snark the place up, so if – Uhuh. Cool."

She dialled again. "Hey Tom. Want to go to a concert at the weekend? Yes, Alternapalooza – oh, really? Sure, you can bring a friend too. Oh, Mum and Dad and some of their friends are coming too – yes, it would definitely be a good idea for him to dress down then. Cool. See you."

Daria put her phone away. "There you go. That might have six cars."

Her parents stared at her in shock.

"Sweetie, when did you become so... social?"

"Yes, two phone calls to family members and one to a boy from school. That's clearly the height of..." She thought it through. "Okay, relatively social, I'll give you that."


It was the dark, early hours of Saturday, and the Morgendorffer's street saw a gathering of punks and menacingly counter-culture types. But this time, it wasn't because they were all coming back to Hellion Wheels & Snake's place for some more drinks. This time, there was a proper reason.

Tom's Bentley pulled up alongside the house, followed by a sleek red Corvette XR1. They looked as out of place as a happy person in a Maths class. Tom was dressed in his normal lack-of-style, while the Corvette's handsome young driver had decided not to look preppy and to look lower-middle-class, only to end up dressing like someone preppy who was trying to look lower-middle-class.

"I did offer to lend you some of my clothes," said Tom.

"Please. I do have to have standards."

"Fair point, well made."

Tom rang the doorbell and a slightly frazzled Daria opened it.

"Four hours sleep and that's it," she growled. "This, I should warn you, is the one time I don't want sarcastic comments. Who's that guy?"

"This is Stephen Pierson-Wells the Second, from Fielding. His nickname is Pee-Wee, because... well, that's a long story and he'd hurt me."

Stephen waved, cautiously. "I hate to be a bother, but there's this ghastly smell..."

"That's the Tank," said Daria. "You grow used to it. That's why we're up during hours when only vampires, ghouls, and Quinn's friends are going to be awake: I pointed out that we'd need extra hours to compensate for the Tank's quote-unquote speed and indestructibility. I am kicking myself for this.

"Anyway, come in and meet the people who'll be making Stephen live up to his nickname."


The lounge and kitchen were packed, as punks, Mystik Spirallers, and a very amused Jane were packing up supplies (much of it beer) , going through maps, and synchronising CB radios.

"The 'plus' on the battery goes where the plus mark in the casing is," said Amy Barksdale with infinite patience to a punk.

"...whoa!"

Daria began to point people out. "Aunt Amy you know, Jane you know, my parents and Quinn you unfortunately know, Quinn's gang over there nobody would want to know... And over there is Trent and his band, the biker patiently defacing an American flag is Axel the tattoo parlour owner, the thirty-something punk who put some hair on her bleach is Axl's current girlfriend, the punk sticking the CB aerial up his nose is Mr Mackenzie and that's his wife trying to out-burp Trent's drummer.."

She pointed at a group of four young women, one of them sulking mightily. "And that's Trent's girlfriend Monique and her band, the Harpies. They do have individual names but I can't remember them."

"I'm having second thoughts, Tom," said Stephen with fear.


Trent sidled cautiously over to Monique – he couldn't remember if they were broken up this week – and murmured "Hey".

Monique opened her mouth to speak. "He-"

"Hey!" mimicked the sulking drummer girl in the corner. "Come to rub it in, have you?"

Trent thought about this. "I'm not sure," he eventually said.

"Bex," sighed Monique, "Trent's not come to gloat over his success. How long have you known him?"

"Didn't stop you bitching about how the 'half-assed waster' got to a concert before we d-"

"Trent, I was drunk, I swear!"

"No, it's a fair comment," he said. "Um, the rest of you gals aren't upset too, are you?"

The chubby, spaced-out form of guitarist Jessie looked up. "Um. I dunno."

"I'm fine," said guitarist Nico, her voice breaking and proving her wrong.

"Oh hey Trent," said Jessie, her thoughts catching up with events.

"Hey. So, er..." He thought for something to say to calm the situation down, then gave up (too much work!) and just shrugged. "See you there?"

"You didn't come over just to note we'll see each other at the same place we're both going to," said Monique.

"I guess not. Oh well. See ya."

The Harpies watched him go, Bex spitting as he went.

"This bites! What do Spiral have we don't? At least we're original!"


Daria's parents commanded the rollout, with Daria as their principle advisor. Everyone was directed to the cars present, based on a logical plan which was totally ignored by everyone who started to get picky about what car they were in.

"This is like herding cats to a dog show," said Daria, as Mr Mackenzie refused to go in his own car.

"Look at them all, totally ignoring plans and doing their own thing!" said Jake happily.

"But they're our plans."

"Hey, ya gotta live by your own rules, kiddo."

Daria shrugged, and watched the last stragglers choose their cars. This, she noted, left them with two problems:

a) The first was that, to his utter horror, Stephen's car was now besieged by Quinn and three of her friends, and he'd taken refuge with Tom. Which would leave them down a driver except he'd left the keys in the ignition and Jane had hopped in gleefully, which... well, made the problem worse.

b) Because someone else had taken their van, the only slot left for her parents was in Aunt Amy's car. (Unless she gave up her slot in Tom's car. HA.)

"So, Mum, you know you wanted that quality time with the family?" She pointed at Amy's car. "Well, now you can."

Jake looked at Amy's car, then to his wife, then back, then yelled "OH LOOK TOM'S GOT A FREE SEAT I'LL RIDE WITH HIM!"

Crap, thought Daria.


"I can think of at least five problems with this plan," said Daria, 'sitting' in the tight space between the front two seats of Amy's car.

"Nonsense, it'll be great fun!" said Amy. "You get all the speed but none of the drawbacks of all that 'safety' and 'comfort' dragging you down!"

"And we can have a nice, girls-only, family chat," said Helen unconvincingly.

"So it's a coincidence that I'm a buffer zone between you two?"

"I don't know what you mean." Helen coughed, then took out her CB radio. "This is Hellion Wheels: sound off!"

The radios blared to life.

"Mackenzies, roger!"

"Tank, roger!"

"Shaggy, roger!"

"Jane and her CAR OF STEEL DEATH, roger!"

"Axl, roger!"

"Monique, roger!"

"Jamie, roger, that's JAMIE I SAID JAMIE-" "No one cares, jock boy" (Random punching could be heard)

"...oh, right, yeah, Harpies... Reggie?"

"Broadsword to Danny Boy, wilco," replied Tom.

"All RIGHT!" snarled Helen. "ALL ENGINES REV! LET'S BURN THE ROAD!"


Erin and Brian, still half asleep, watched the convoy roar off with massive smiles.

"They're gone," whispered Erin. "We've got the whole house to ourselves and no punk music at all for two days."

"No more punk music," said Brian with rapture in his voice.

"We can do anything we want. Anything."

There was an expectant pause.

"Well, I'm going back to bed! See ya tomorrow, hon."

Erin was quiet for a very long time, before sighing and going back too.


Amy's car bombed ahead at the front of the convoy, Rush songs blaring from the radio – then, after Helen grabbed the radio, Black Flag. Then back again. And again. And again...

It was almost a relief for Daria when the radio crackled to life.

"This is the Western front, please tell us we're relieved, Haig, over."

"The Tank's broken down," came Trent's report.

"Already?"

"It might be catching fire."

Maybe I should have just had two hours sleep, thought Daria.


The Tank had been on fire, but it put itself out. The hard part was sorting the engine out, which took two toolkits, three men with mechanical knowledge, one Jane and her one Stickmata 5000 glue-gun, and a dozen people standing around loudly offering (bad) advice.

It took an hour. By this time, other drivers were on the road and the stalled convoy was backing up traffic. Angry horns filled the air. Helen and Jake had gone to 'explain the situation', so now angry swearing filled the air too.

Daria took Max aside and asked him pointblank: "How many times will the Tank do this again?"

"Probably twice," he said.

"Why doesn't the Tank have a toolkit in it?"

"What, you want us to live safe lives, like... like common rat-racer conventionalists?"

"Yes."

Max had no comeback to this.

"I dunno, man," said Mr Mackenzie, now covered in oil up to (and including) his hair. "We worked on every part that could be causing it, what else can we do?"

Jane kicked the Tank in the grill. The engine coughed to life, and everyone cheered.

"Sometimes it requires pain to remember it's supposed to function," she informed him. "It's kinda like my brother in that respect."

Everyone turned back to their vehicles – seeing her chance, Daria ran to Tom's Bentley and jumped in the front seat. Unfortunately, Andrea, Quinn's friend Death Rowe, and Stephen all dived into the back (and Stephen looked rather unhappy to see who he was sitting between).

Andrea gave Tom and Daria a long, angry stare. "If you start kissing or doing lovey-dovey talk, I will puke over your nice clean fatcat seats."

"She so will," said Death Rowe, chewing gum menacingly. "And don't think you won't get sprayback, posh boy!"

"You mean me or Stephen?" asked Tom.

Rowe looked thrown. "Umm... both, really."

Daria narrowed her eyes. "You look familiar."

"I can't! I'm from Oakwood! We've never met!"

"Ah. My sympathies. I've heard bad things about their Maths teacher, Mr F. Ayche."

"Oh yeah, he's a total douche," snarled Rowe. "I'll smash his smug face in one day, oh yeah..."

Tom looked at Daria, confused, and mouthed 'Mr Fake?'. She nodded.

"Absolutely convincing story, Stacy – oh, I'm sorry, I'm thinking of someone else I know called Rowe. I'm not at all sure why that is."

"Erm."

"This conversation is as boring as you are!" yelled Andrea. "Start driving already, Daria!"

"Unless Daria's telekinetic-" started Tom.

"SOMEBODY drive! Or Posh Boy 2 here gets it!"

Stephen started to whimper.


As the convoy roared along, Amy looked with confusion at her new car-mate.

"So, erm, Shaggy... Cosplay's fun and all, but why do you always dress like Shaggy from Scooby Doo?"

He looked shocked. "I do?"

There was a long, awkward pause.

"Y'know, this explains a lot about the last few years..."


"Getting hungry here!" barked Quinn into the CB.

Up ahead, a sandwich came flying out of the Morgendorffer's truck. Axl, biking as an outrider, caught it, then decelerated to match Jamie's car, and handed it through the window.

"Bitching!" cheered Quinn before shoving it into her mouth.

"That was cool-" said Jamie.

"Who said YOU could talk, mofo?"

"Sor-" Jamie thought about it, then fell silent.

"Hey, we're approaching that other car," said Burnout, coming back to reality. "The one with the Harpies in it."

"Are we?" Murderous fire gleamed in Quinn's eyes. "Time to warn that bitch off my Trent! Johnny, RAM that van!"

Jamie thought quickly. If he did this, he'd trash his car and get the snot beaten out of him by the Harpies. He'd also make Quinn think he was cool-

With a feral roar, he spun the car sideways, overshot the Harpies' van, and skidded with a bone-jolting halt into a muddy ditch, throwing everyone forwards and causing the car to stall.

There was silence.

"Quinn," said Burnout, "we've crashed."


The convoy halted again so the punks could push Jamie's car out of its mudtrap, but under Daria's orders the Tank kept going: it was too soon to risk another coma from it. Quinn, infuriated, left the car for another. Stephen took the opportunity to flee for the safety of Amy's car, only to discover too late that the imposing, battle-scarred form of Quinn's gang-mate Dave was there too.

Nicky leapt out of the moving Tank ("ARRRRG WAIT I'M OKAY") for Tom's car, after another 'creative disagreement' with Max.

"I don't care what he says, Guns and Roses isn't the same without Slash!"

"Yeah, he's a Legend of Rock," said Tom, "alongside Tom Morello, Bret Michaels, and the Devil. Guitar Hero wouldn't lie to us."

"Well, the Devil goes without saying," said Nicky.

"He's the ultimate rocker," growled Andrea with religious fervour. "Rebelling against the ULTIMATE Man! Going his own way! An icon to us all."

"The Devil's evil and take souls," said Daria, "so logically he can't have anything to do with rock. He's behind all those boy bands and American Idol winners. Rockers should therefore all go to church."

"You disgust me," said Andrea.

"Wait, wait, I think you're onto something here, Daria!" Nicky leaned forward, his eyes wide. "That means Jesus was... Jesus was crucified by The Man! My God, I never fully realised until now..."

"He did have long hair," said Death Rowe in a thoughtful voice.

"We have to find a church! WE HAVE TO!"

The group discussed whether Mohammed was also rock and roll.


The "MORBID+DORFFERS" truck growled along the highway, Jake now back at the wheel and blaring out aggressively loud music for him and the passengers to sing along to.

"Fuck your noise pollution rules, Ameri-KKK-aah!" Jake waved a fist at, as it turned out, a field of cows. "We're unbeaten and unbowed!"

At that moment, Mr Mackenzie's phone rang. He checked the caller ID and his mouth hung open.

"Turn the music off! Everyone silent! Please!"

Jake, surprised, did so. There was fear in his friend's voice.

Mackenzie answered the phone and his voice took on a gruffer tone. "What is it, Michael? Oh. Yes, yes, it's fine if Angie comes over, you're both sensible... well, you're a sensible kid. Ha, yes, I know, but sorry, I just call them like I see them! Goodbye."

He hung up and looked down guiltily. "My son... my son doesn't know I'm still a punk."

"...oh."

"He thinks my wife and I are at something work related."

"Oh man, I had no idea," said Jake, his voice soft. "This doesn't change anything for me, man. You're still the same dude who headbutted some bastard through a table!"

"Hawk is the real GI Joe leader," he snarled at the memory.

"Society makes it hard for all of us, I know that – you still keep the freak flag flying, you haven't actually sold out! Are you an anti-Christ, Mack-Daddy?"

"I AM AN ANTI-CHRIST!"

The whole van roared in approval.


Aside from the frightened breaths of Stephen, Amy's car was devoid of human noise. Finally, with a rumble akin to continents shifting, Dave spoke:

"That Sick, Sad World episode with the five-year-old Trike Brigade bikers was totally awesome."

"That was a fun ep," said Amy. "It reminded me of Quinn when she was that age."

Stephen stared at Amy with more fear than he'd had at Dave. "You... you're with... that sh—"

"Man, we do one episode on whether Rand Paul is an empty vessel for Ayn Rand's malignant spirit and everyone thinks you're weird."


"All romance is doomed to betrayal and decay," said Andrea, her eyes never leaving Daria's. "Your relationship will fail and the memories will bring you nothing but pain, especially when you think of him with the friend he betrayed you for."

"That's okay then," said Daria. "I only have one friend and she already had him. Antisocialism wins yet again."

"You have a sister," said Tom.

"If you cheat on me with Quinn, you have interests I am unwilling to engage with and therefore I approve of the cheating."

The CB radio spat to life: "Hey, this is the Tank. We could do with a bathroom break and, erm, stuff."

A reply came back over: "This is Hellion – can it wait?"

"Not really. We kinda need to go now." There was a pause. "Go to the bathroom, gotta go there now – this song's about the where and when, forget the why and how." Pause. "Go to the bathroom, gotta go there now – this song's about the where and when, forget the why and how. Maybe another repeat..."

"You don't deserve this gig, you freaking hacks—" / Monique:"Damn it, Bex, stay off the radio!"

"All right." Helen's voice was beaten. "Bathroom and food break at the nearest rest stop."

Tom turned to Daria. "You think the Tank will be able to start moving again after?"

"No."


The convoy descended on the diner like a convoy of hungry people. There were no real incidents, except Quinn trying to "accidentally" open her car door so sharply it'd break Monique's knee as she passed (she mistimed it and hit Jamie). The Tank, however, was leaking... something on the tarmac.

"This is the best day out I've had since that time Metalmouth almost murdered us," said Jane, grinning fit to burst. "I get to drive a car and I've only come close to an accident eleven times!"

"Please don't break Tom's friend's car," said Daria. "It didn't do anything to you. And besides, Tom's already in the bathroom trying to convince the guy not to run off home."

"I thought you had that guy warned."

"No one can be adequately warned for dealing with my family and their friends. I can tell you how bad nuclear war is, but you'll never truly grasp it until you're starving to death with radiation poisoning."

"This whole trip makes me inspired to paint. Or maybe a sculpture." Jane stared into space. "Maybe a used car, partially set on fire, as the basis..."

"I hear some sad, lonely people go to concerts for the music."

"Please, this is Alternapalooza. It's all about scoring some drugs and cheap floozies."

"So Brittany's going to be there?"


"I'm going to die," muttered Stephen, trying to curl up in the back of a toilet stall without actually touching the filth-sodden thing. "I am going to die and they'll turn my skin into one of their jackets."

"The punks are a bit tricky to get used to," said Tom sympathetically. "I promise no one will kill you."

"I may take refuge in the Tank from here on."

"That can kill you. Don't go in the Tank, please." Tom gripped his friend by the shoulders. "Look, Steve, just focus on this: when you get back to Fielding and tell people of this day, and tell them I can back up every claim you made... you will be the hardest man in school. The Tops will open their tops for you."

A hungry light gleamed in Stephen's eye. "Even the seniors?"

"Sure, why not."


"Hey," said Jesse, sitting still.

"Hey," replied Jessie.

Shaggy sat down at their table. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Hey."

Pause. "Where are we again?"


The others may have rallied round him, but Mackenzie still felt out of sorts. He wanted to reaffirm, again, that he was a true punk. But how?

Then he saw a Hell's Angel about to leave the diner.

"Hey, you! Your mother's a whore!"

"You want to take this outside, asshole?"

"Yes!"

It was the simple things in life you treasure.


Trent revealed a set of scribbled notes to Monique. "I just got inspired. I think this could be a breakout song. What do you think?"

She read it.

"Trent, honey, this is just the same two lines about the bathroom repeated over and over, with the same three-chord beat. For four minutes."

"Hmmm. I thought I might improvise something once I got going..."

"I... I'd save it until the audience is on their third beer. They'll be more receptive."


Amy plopped down next to Daria and Jane, smiling slightly as Jane went from animated to comatose at the presence of her idol.

"Sick, Sad World did an expose on what goes into diner food and you girls do not want to know what bits we thought were too graphic for pre-watershed television."

"I have a feeling we're going to find out in long, graphic detail," said Daria.

"Well now you've spoilt the surprise for Jane."

"mbl mbl hi Ms Awesomely Amy"

"Daria, your mother still hates My Chemical Romance, right?"

"I don't know, it's not something that comes up very often in our normal conversations. She did once punch the radio when the new single came on though."

"Excellent. That's my next bit of road music!"

"I like using classical. There's so much to choose from, and it all gets Quinn out of the house when I want some space."

"Ah, you just don't possess Barksdale DNA if you're not violently at odds with your sister and at least one of your older relatives. You carry on our tradition – well, part of it, your mother is an actual human being and not Despair of the Endless."

Daria looked at her aunt, a little taken back. She'd heard comments like that before about Grandma Barksdale, but... well, she hadn't actually talked to her gran before, not for almost ten years.

"Grandma's not that bad," she said, hesitantly and because she felt she should.

"Yeah, she's much worse. Badumtish! You set 'em up..."

"No, I mean she's really not."

Amy gave her an odd look. "Has she phoned you or something?"

She'd phoned several times and Daria had phoned her, but on instinct she just said "Yes" instead of elaborating.

"That's interesting, because I know your mother won't let her. For valid reasons." Her voice had gotten quiet. "I should really tell Helen about this but if you haven't, then I assume there's no need."

"She seemed different to how I remember."

"She must want something. That's her style. Anyway: speaking of family, how've you all gone for so long without murdering Brian and leaving his corpse outside a strip club as a warning to the others?"

The conversation lightened and never came back to Edie Barksdale, but Daria remembered it. The entire concept of her grandmother changing over the last ten years, of actually being a lonely old woman who wanted to make amends, was rejected out of hand. It wasn't a side she was used to from her aunt.


It had been a blissful few hours since the Morgendorffers and their... friends had left. Hours of peace and quiet.

The problem with the quiet, Erin found, was that it was completely empty. A few attempts at conversation between her and Brian had died, and she'd known he realised this when he announced he was going to do some exam revision.

By lunchtime, she couldn't stand the silence any longer and had just left the house, Brian mumbling "see ya, hon" when she mentioned it. She had a vague idea of eating lunch somewhere, but she wasn't sure of anywhere specific and could do with some company really...

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her boss' car drive past her. And then it stopped, and started to reverse, and the window wound down very quickly.

"Erin! Almost didn't see you there!" Andrew Landon beamed at her. "I was just going to the country club for lunch, you want a lift anywhere?"

"Hi, Mr Landon!"

"Andrew, please," he smarmed.

"Heh, okay, 'Andrew' – well I was looking for somewhere that did lunch meals."

"Well, Sedimentary Rock does let non-members in if they're accompanied..."

Erin got in the car.


Lunch finished with a minimum of incidents – only two punch-ups – and everyone bundled back into their vehicles. But when the ignition was turned, the Tank gave a great shudder before something fell and it died a sudden, violent death. Something splurted out of the exhaust pipe, like the legendary loosened bowels.

The punks crowded round it, and Mackenzie checked the engine. Or, at least, opened the bonnet and grimaced as he saw the fluids gushing from it.

"It's dead."

"DAMN IT!" damned Jake. "All the band's equipment is in there and all their fans are expecting to see the Tank!"

"All four of them," muttered Jane to Daria.

"This just bites! What do we do?"

Daria looked at the Tank, then at the rest of the convoy, then back again. An idea quickly formed.

"Whose car has the strongest engine?"

Tom raised his hand.

"Okay, anyone with rope and chains, step forward – we're going to have to tow the freaking thing."


Andrew went into the country club first, so when she entered he could do the 'tada!' arm gesture.

"What do you think?"

"It's alright," said Erin. "Not as big as the one back home."

Andrew's smile became fixed, then segued back into being genuine.

"Wait until you try the wine, they've got all the best vintages! And my treat, I insist, you've been doing good work for the firm."

"Thank you!" She looked at his hands. "Didn't you have a ring on earlier? I could've sworn-"

"No. No. Not at all."


"All right, Bentley!" roared Tom. "Let's get BUSY!"

His foot smashed down on the accelerator and the Bentley snarled forwards, dragging the Tank with it. His car was full of cheers, and he high-fived all the passengers.

"How's things back there?" he said into the CB.

Max's voice came over the radio. "I… I don't remember the last time it went this fast."


"…and that's the real story about Poe's lost manuscript," finished Amy.

Andrea stared in awe. "Whoa."

"Anyway, excuse me for a second." Amy turned to her radio and slipped in the CD. A few seconds later, My Chemical Romance was blaring out and she began to tap on the steering wheel. "Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na!"

The CB radio screamed out in Helen's voice: "Amy, I can hear it from back her! Cease and desist!"

She turned the song down. "Oh, I'm sorry Helen. I forgot. Won't happen again."

She then put the CB radio right next to the car radio speakers and turned the song back on again.

"Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na!"

The Morbid-Dorffer truck moved out of formation and then back in as some brave soul struggled to keep Helen from ramming her sister.


Daria had never known true fear until she'd stupidly agreed to be in a car Jane was driving.

"YEAHHHHHHHHH!" yelled Jane, Motorhead blaring out the window as the car went 50MPH in a wibbly-wobbly out-of-control line across the road. "That's the way I like it baby-"

"But I do want to live forever!" said Daria, knowing she wouldn't be heard.

"DA-NA-NA!" sung Quinn and Jake along to the radio, sticking their heads and shoulders out the back window for maximum slipstream. "DA-NA-DAH!"

Axl biked along, saw the sight, and gave them all a thumbs-up.

Not surprising, thought Daria. Hell's supposed to be irritating.


In the back of Jamie's car, while he wept silent tears at the thought Quinn was no longer there, Stephen found himself scowled at by the menacing figures of Dave and Koichi, bruisers the pair of 'em. Death Rowe watched from the front seat, clearly eager to see a punch-up.

He stared back at them all. "Don't mess with me, pissants. I've gone through Fielding hazing. I actually touched the floor in that diner bathroom."

Koichi recoiled at the last bit, thoughts of germs in his minds.

"We ain't in Fielding now, prick," growled Dave. "You're with the underclass now."

"Well, there's a reason we step on you from above."

There was a pause.

"When we're out of this car, I'm going to kiss you so hard your teeth will come out," said an impressed Rowe.


I'm dating Jeffy, aren't I? Oh wait, no, that's Stacy Rowe who's doing that: YOU'RE Stacy Rowe. Oh yeah. Thanks, Stacy!


"…and he just couldn't keep a happy face after that!" Andrew burst out laughing. "Ahh, the IRS, it's such fun to keep things from them."

"Wow," said Erin, smiling. She couldn't remember the last time Brian talked about achieving something. "You're so smart! Okay, obviously you know you're smart, you invented the folding coffee-cup—"

"Don't sell yourself short though," said Andrew. "You're the best person we've got on Sales – I think you could sell anything! You could sell me on universal healthcare! And you certainly sold me on yourself."

He took her hand in his.

"Um," she said.

"I know, I know, Human Resources regulations but hey, rules were made to be bent, right?"

"Um."

There was a pause.

"Um."


"Jane to all units! Jane to all units! I can see Alternapalooza!"

Cheer after cheer erupted from the radio. Axl did a wheelie. Quinn and Jake high-fived. Mr Mackenzie threw a celebratory bottle at something. Helen waved her bra in the air. Trent woke up.

"And we're actually early," said Daria with surprise, looking at her watch. "Only by five minutes but still."

"Don't tell Trent, he'll refuse to come out for ten minutes as a matter of principle."


"YOU MAKE ME ANGRRYYYYYYYYY!" roared the lead singer of Grumpy Guys With Guitars (and a Drummer), going through the Number 32 single 'You Make Me Angry'. "ANGRY! ANGRYYYYYY!"

A few people gently moshed, which just made things worse.

The venue organiser looked astonished as Mystic Spiral came loping over with their kit. He checked his watch, and then his phone, and then a random stranger's watch.

"You're early!" he exclaimed, like a normal person would go 'that's an alien spaceship!'. "That's… I won't forget this. I've got ins with Maryland Mayhem and Guitarfest 2011, I'll pass on your details! My god, a band that's early…"

"We're what?" said Trent, aghast.

"Thank you Mister Organiser sir," said Max in an obedient, grateful voice.


"Hey. We're Mystik Spiral. And this is a song we'd like to dedicate to our van, The Tank.

"When the aliens come/When the death rays hum/When the bombers bomb/WE'LL STILL BE DRIVING YOU!"

"That song was originally about me and him dating, but we broke up after he wrote it," said Monique to Daria and Jane. "As we do. He always did say he was going to re-use it for something…"

"I should warn you my sister is trying to bump you off and take Trent for herself."

"Eh, I was fifteen once too."


At the end of the day, Quinn's gang turned up at the tank with three new engines and their associated parts (nobody asked where they'd come from). A few minutes of intense surgery by Mr Mackenzie and the van came to life with a defiant, dinosaurian roar.

Everyone cheered, and Max wept openly.

"Well, that only went moderately badly," said Daria. "Of course now we have a long drive home and it won't be until 8AM tomorrow that we get back. Mum?"

"Thank you, Daria." Helen whipped out a batch of thermos jugs. "All right! Who's going to ingest the black coffee and do the night-shift driving?"

Jane grinned. "I'll-"

"I'll do it!" roared Stephen, glowing with the aura of a conquering warrior.

Jane's face fell, then she turned to Amy. "mbl mbl borrow your car?"


Tom handed control of the Bentley over to someone else. He and Daria gently slept on each other on the ride home.


The groggy Morgendorffers climbed out of their vehicles and lurched to the front door of their house one fine morning… and, to their surprise, saw Erin doing the same.

"Out clubbing?" asked Helen.

Erin blinked. "…yes?"


Max got the Tank within one metre of his place and then the engine died.

THE END

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Trent's song (and Daria's view on Hell) comes from the 2000 "Daria's Inferno" video game. The book "The Daria Diaries" long ago claimed Alternapalooza was a summer concert, when the show had it during the school year – I tried to pretend I hadn't noticed for the purposes of this story.