The Worst Song-Fic Ever: Truth in Advertising?
Summary: This is a vignette in which Daria and Jane share a friendly moment of quietude, set to John Cage's '4:33.' A 100-pound chocolate duck to anyone who gets the joke, feeble as it is. ^_^
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Daria, or '4:33,' although anyone could easily perform it, and likely has, long before John Cage put the concept into words...or the lack of them, as the case may be.
And now, oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon with the show!
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Daria and Jane walked unhurriedly into Jane's room and sat down on Jane's bed. Sifting carefully through her book bag, Daria pulled out a stopwatch and handed it to Jane. Jane accepted it and punched in the required amount of time, and then set it aside on her beside table.
...
...
...
"So..." Jane began, her foot bouncing restlessly off of the floor.
"So..." Daria agreed, following suit.
...
...
...
Daria sighed, reaching for a book, and then stopping abruptly as she remembered that that sort of thing just wasn't allowed.
An impatient noise sounded to her left. As her gaze flickered to Jane, who was gazing longingly at her sketchpad and pencils, Daria noted with a smirk that her sentiment was shared.
...
...
...
Jane glanced at the stopwatch on the table, her expression registering annoyed horror as the numbers on it came into focus. Another three minutes and fifty seconds of this crap?!
She turned to Daria.
"So, how're...things?"
Daria lifted an eyebrow behind her glasses and pointed to the stopwatch.
"Right," Jane sighed.
...
...
...
"Hey, Janey," a voice called from the door, which was, as one might expect, currently swinging open. "You got any money?"
The unfortunate young Mr. Trent Lane found himself fixed with two stony glares as both his little sister and her best friend pointed at the stopwatch sitting on the table. He frowned, walking over to the stopwatch and picking it up. Then, with an understanding nod and a shrug, he set the stopwatch back down and left as silently as he could.
Daria smiled a barely perceptible smile after him. She certainly doubted that he had known the significance of what they were doing, but there was something to be said for a guy who still wouldn't ask obviously unwanted questions.
...
...
...
Jane glanced at the stopwatch again. Two minutes and twenty seconds. She shrugged. Almost half over, at any rate. She slid back on the bed, stretching her legs out in front of her.
Daria stared absently into space. Who would have thought that it would be so damn hard to just sit there and do absolutely nothing for such a short amount of time? She sighed. 'I guess it's the knowledge that we CAN'T do anything that makes it so annoying.'
...
...
...
A fly buzzed past. Jane followed its pattern ruthlessly as it looped randomly through the air.
Daria caught sight of a ball of grey lint on the table next to the stopwatch. After checking said stopwatch and barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes in annoyance at the minute and fifty seconds left, she flicked the lint ball to the other end of the table, and then back again.
...
...
...
Jane smirked as the fly buzzed nearer to the light bulb at the center of her beside lamp. Maybe it would catch on fire...no, she decided with a shake of her head, that wasn't likely. Wasn't it moths or Fashion Club members or something that were attracted to bright light?
...
...
...
Daria frowned as her lint ball sailed off of the table and floated softly the ground. Ah, well. Easy come, easy go. She glanced at the stopwatch once again. A minute and fifteen seconds.
...
...
...
Jane patted her faintly grumbling stomach. 'Hey, calm down,' she said silently to it. 'We'll be outta here soon.'
...
...
...
Hearing a faint growl from the stomach of the girl next to her, Daria smirked, sympathizing - pizza would taste awfully good right at the moment; what had made her skip breakfast, anyway? - and checked the stopwatch. Forty-five seconds. For the first time, Daria wondered if her father's patented peanut-butter omelette would have been so bad.
...
...
...
Jane's eyes narrowed as the fly buzzed toward her, and then crossed as it landed on the end of her nose.
"Another thirty-five seconds," she thought she heard Daria mutter.
...
...
...
"Another thirty-five seconds," Daria noted, but did not mutter, as speaking was strictly prohibited for this endeavour.
Glancing up, she frowned in confusion at the sight before her: Jane, her eyes crossed, was staring down her nose at a fly. Shaking her head, Daria went back to the engrossing task of picking a thread off of her skirt.
...
...
...
Jane scratched her nose as the fly took off into the air once more. Then, once she glanced up again, her eyes widened with dismay. Where had it gone?!
...
...
...
'A fly,' Daria noted as it buzzed past her eyes. Then she checked the timer once again. Another fifteen seconds...
...
...
...
Jane growled silently. Damn that fly! It had eluded her! But not for long. Casting a searching glance about the room, Jane hardened her resolve to find the little bastard before their time was up.
"Time's up," Daria announced seconds later, much to the immense relief of both girls.
"Finally," Jane commented emphatically, climbing to her feet, the fly forgotten.
Daria nodded her wholehearted agreement, stuffing the stopwatch back into her backpack.
"Pizza?" she suggested.
"Yup," Jane agreed.
As the two made their way slowly from the room, a fly buzzed past the back of an unsuspecting Jane's head.
...
...
...
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Thematic End Notes: [sound of crickets chirping]
Real End Notes: Hee! This is my unofficial submission for an unofficial Worst Song-Fic Ever contest that Bezo the Blue Priest and I unofficially set up...between the two of us. And I'm not even sure he knew about it. Anyway, since he hasn't written one yet, I guess I won. Waay! Waay! Although, I am disappointed that he never finished his 'Duel of the Fates' song-fic. I think that could have given this a good run for its money...
This works with the category of 'worst choice for a song' more than it does 'worst execution,' although I'm not sure - I may have won in both categories. ^_^
Time to Explain the Joke: '4:33' was, in essence, John Cage walking on stage with a stopwatch, set it for four minutes and thirty-three seconds, and sitting there in silence. I think the point was to make people 'listen to the silence around them,' but I think it was just some silly gimmick. Aren't I completely lacking in artistic insight and emotion? ^_^
Summary: This is a vignette in which Daria and Jane share a friendly moment of quietude, set to John Cage's '4:33.' A 100-pound chocolate duck to anyone who gets the joke, feeble as it is. ^_^
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Daria, or '4:33,' although anyone could easily perform it, and likely has, long before John Cage put the concept into words...or the lack of them, as the case may be.
And now, oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon with the show!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Daria and Jane walked unhurriedly into Jane's room and sat down on Jane's bed. Sifting carefully through her book bag, Daria pulled out a stopwatch and handed it to Jane. Jane accepted it and punched in the required amount of time, and then set it aside on her beside table.
...
...
...
"So..." Jane began, her foot bouncing restlessly off of the floor.
"So..." Daria agreed, following suit.
...
...
...
Daria sighed, reaching for a book, and then stopping abruptly as she remembered that that sort of thing just wasn't allowed.
An impatient noise sounded to her left. As her gaze flickered to Jane, who was gazing longingly at her sketchpad and pencils, Daria noted with a smirk that her sentiment was shared.
...
...
...
Jane glanced at the stopwatch on the table, her expression registering annoyed horror as the numbers on it came into focus. Another three minutes and fifty seconds of this crap?!
She turned to Daria.
"So, how're...things?"
Daria lifted an eyebrow behind her glasses and pointed to the stopwatch.
"Right," Jane sighed.
...
...
...
"Hey, Janey," a voice called from the door, which was, as one might expect, currently swinging open. "You got any money?"
The unfortunate young Mr. Trent Lane found himself fixed with two stony glares as both his little sister and her best friend pointed at the stopwatch sitting on the table. He frowned, walking over to the stopwatch and picking it up. Then, with an understanding nod and a shrug, he set the stopwatch back down and left as silently as he could.
Daria smiled a barely perceptible smile after him. She certainly doubted that he had known the significance of what they were doing, but there was something to be said for a guy who still wouldn't ask obviously unwanted questions.
...
...
...
Jane glanced at the stopwatch again. Two minutes and twenty seconds. She shrugged. Almost half over, at any rate. She slid back on the bed, stretching her legs out in front of her.
Daria stared absently into space. Who would have thought that it would be so damn hard to just sit there and do absolutely nothing for such a short amount of time? She sighed. 'I guess it's the knowledge that we CAN'T do anything that makes it so annoying.'
...
...
...
A fly buzzed past. Jane followed its pattern ruthlessly as it looped randomly through the air.
Daria caught sight of a ball of grey lint on the table next to the stopwatch. After checking said stopwatch and barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes in annoyance at the minute and fifty seconds left, she flicked the lint ball to the other end of the table, and then back again.
...
...
...
Jane smirked as the fly buzzed nearer to the light bulb at the center of her beside lamp. Maybe it would catch on fire...no, she decided with a shake of her head, that wasn't likely. Wasn't it moths or Fashion Club members or something that were attracted to bright light?
...
...
...
Daria frowned as her lint ball sailed off of the table and floated softly the ground. Ah, well. Easy come, easy go. She glanced at the stopwatch once again. A minute and fifteen seconds.
...
...
...
Jane patted her faintly grumbling stomach. 'Hey, calm down,' she said silently to it. 'We'll be outta here soon.'
...
...
...
Hearing a faint growl from the stomach of the girl next to her, Daria smirked, sympathizing - pizza would taste awfully good right at the moment; what had made her skip breakfast, anyway? - and checked the stopwatch. Forty-five seconds. For the first time, Daria wondered if her father's patented peanut-butter omelette would have been so bad.
...
...
...
Jane's eyes narrowed as the fly buzzed toward her, and then crossed as it landed on the end of her nose.
"Another thirty-five seconds," she thought she heard Daria mutter.
...
...
...
"Another thirty-five seconds," Daria noted, but did not mutter, as speaking was strictly prohibited for this endeavour.
Glancing up, she frowned in confusion at the sight before her: Jane, her eyes crossed, was staring down her nose at a fly. Shaking her head, Daria went back to the engrossing task of picking a thread off of her skirt.
...
...
...
Jane scratched her nose as the fly took off into the air once more. Then, once she glanced up again, her eyes widened with dismay. Where had it gone?!
...
...
...
'A fly,' Daria noted as it buzzed past her eyes. Then she checked the timer once again. Another fifteen seconds...
...
...
...
Jane growled silently. Damn that fly! It had eluded her! But not for long. Casting a searching glance about the room, Jane hardened her resolve to find the little bastard before their time was up.
"Time's up," Daria announced seconds later, much to the immense relief of both girls.
"Finally," Jane commented emphatically, climbing to her feet, the fly forgotten.
Daria nodded her wholehearted agreement, stuffing the stopwatch back into her backpack.
"Pizza?" she suggested.
"Yup," Jane agreed.
As the two made their way slowly from the room, a fly buzzed past the back of an unsuspecting Jane's head.
...
...
...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~
Thematic End Notes: [sound of crickets chirping]
Real End Notes: Hee! This is my unofficial submission for an unofficial Worst Song-Fic Ever contest that Bezo the Blue Priest and I unofficially set up...between the two of us. And I'm not even sure he knew about it. Anyway, since he hasn't written one yet, I guess I won. Waay! Waay! Although, I am disappointed that he never finished his 'Duel of the Fates' song-fic. I think that could have given this a good run for its money...
This works with the category of 'worst choice for a song' more than it does 'worst execution,' although I'm not sure - I may have won in both categories. ^_^
Time to Explain the Joke: '4:33' was, in essence, John Cage walking on stage with a stopwatch, set it for four minutes and thirty-three seconds, and sitting there in silence. I think the point was to make people 'listen to the silence around them,' but I think it was just some silly gimmick. Aren't I completely lacking in artistic insight and emotion? ^_^