Before I go any further, I'd better insert my disclaimer, for whatever protection it may offer.
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]
This is about my 28th or 30th fic that I have posted all or part of, somewhere on the internet. There are some at The Contrarian's Corner, Glitter Berries, The Sheep's Fluff, Sick, Sad World, and The Daria-Jane Conspiracy that may not have been posted here. There's some stuff at Lawndale Leftovers that doesn't appear anywhere else. And if you want to see them the way I intended them to look, go to Outpost Daria. Additionally, I'll point out that that first set of sites I just mentioned also has some illustrations I've done.
LS
THE LEGACY OF MAD DOG
by Galen Hardesty
CHAPTER TWO
MASSACRE AT MAD DAWG'S
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Next morning, Jake emerged from his room at the Frontier Fremont Motel and walked to the Waffle Stomper restaurant at the end of the block. Buying a Fremont Free Press at the door, he took a seat at the counter and ordered Spam, eggs, Spam, waffles, and Spam, with orange juice and coffee.
A big bearded man with a bandana for a cap, wearing colorful suspenders but no shirt, came in and sat on the next stool but one to Jake's left. He was sporting several nasty bruises. Jake looked the man over and saw that he wasn't looking too chipper. But then he got a faraway look in his eye and smiled a genuinely happy smile. Jake said, "Good morning, my man, how's it goin'?"
The man turned toward Jake, winced, and let out a small groan. He lifted his left hand toward his ribs, then winced and groaned again, and ended up returning his left hand to his lap. "I could complain, but I won't. I got the shit kicked out of me last night by a gang of outlaw bikers, but then I got to watch while they got the shit kicked out of them. Most amazin' thing I ever saw!" His eyes wandered off to some other scene, and a beatific smile transformed his less-than-handsome face.
"Ya don't say! So who did it? Your friends? Cops? A bigger gang?"
"Angels, man! They had to be angels! I was lyin' on the floor and these two badasses were kickin' my head around just to watch my beard jiggle. All my buds were down too. An' then these two beautiful little girls came through them swingin' doors. It got so quiet you could hear a flea fart. The Tranchlers stopped kickin' my head an' went for the girls. Said they were gonna throw 'em on the pool tables an' do 'em right there. I was about to try to grab one of 'em by the ankle an' maybe buy the girls a few seconds to run for it, when the one with the dark red hair just... she just... Man! I ain't never seen any human bein' move that fast! She lit into that gang of thugs like a buzz saw! An' I mean there's like two dozen or more of them, an' she's little, but she's layin' 'em out right, left, an' center, an' they can't touch her, she's so damn fast.
But then this one badass pulls out the butt end of an aluminum pool cue an' takes a swing at the girl's head from behind. Or starts to, anyway. That's when the other girl, the one with the light red hair, gets into it. She snatches the pool cue outta this guy's hands an' lets him have it right between the eyes! An' then she lays into the rest of 'em, screamin' like a wampus cat, an' that pool cue goin' bing! bing! bing! ever' time she scores with it! An' the first one never makin' a sound, except with her boots, whoppity whoppity whop! Them Tranchlers was goin'down like tenpins, an' flyin' through the air, an' splatterin' on the walls, an' then there just ain't no more of 'em standin'! The one with the dark red hair just stops, right then, but the other one keeps on a-screamin' an' a-whackin' till the first one runs up an' grabs her an' makes her stop."
Jake asked a question he had to ask, but was afraid to have answered. "Uh, you say "little girls... how little, exactly?"
"Oh a little over five foot, I guess, and definitely under drinkin' age. But you got a paper, man, take a look at the front page! Angels, right?"
With shaking hands, Jake unfolded his copy of the Fremont Free Press and read the headline MASSACRE AT MAD DAWG'S. Beneath that was a photo of Daria, arms crossed, booted foot upon a fallen foe, and Quinn, left fist on hip, right hand holding the butt end of a pool cue like a walking stick. They stood amidst mounds and heaps of unconscious or otherwise disabled Tarantulas, looking at each other with satisfied smirks.
Jake was trembling and his face was flushed. "Angels? Yeah, my angels! My babies!" He snatched a pill bottle out of an inside jacket pocket, popped a pill into his mouth, chewed it up, and washed it down with his complimentary ice water. Then he pulled out a cell phone and hit a speed dial number.
Meanwhile, back at Schloss Morgendorffer, Quinn was starting on her second bowlful of Model Krunch cereal, and Daria was attacking a bowl of Sugar Frosted Honey Lumps with unusual gusto. Helen was talking on her cell phone and pouring herself a cup of coffee.
"Just a second, Eric, I have another call. click HellO-o! Oh, good morning, Jake honey. I have Eric on... well of course they're here. They got in a little late, but not much, and went right to bed. Well, of course they're okay. Why wouldn't they be? Calm down, Jake! The paper? Yes... no, nothing on the first page, let me... oh, my... I see it, on page three. The caption reads 'TEEN SISTERS STOMP TARANTULAS'. But what... an outlaw MOTORCYCLE gang?! Oh, my God! Daria? all right, here she is. Daria, talk to your father. And then be prepared to talk to me." Helen thrust the phone at Daria.
Daria held the phone to her ear. "Morning, Dad. ...Yes, I'm fine, and so is Quinn. ...Well, I'm kind of sore, like I overexerted myself, you know. ...No, none of the Tarantulas hit me. Quinn got me a lick or two before I could get her stopped, but not bad. She kept one of them from wrapping a pool cue around my head, I was told. ...Yes, I'm going to school, if I can get a ride from Mom. ...Good luck with that presentation. ...Knock 'em dead. Oh, and later, I need to ask you some questions about Grampa. ...'bye, Dad." She returned Helen's cell phone and started back on her Sugar Frosted Honey Lumps.
"Young lady! What in the name of sweet reason were you doing? What were you thinking?!"
Hungry and slightly annoyed, Daria swallowed, pointed to Helen's cell phone, and said "Eric's holding." 'That should give me time for a couple of bites', she thought.
Alas, it was not to be. Helen pushed a button, said "EricI'llhavetocallyouback.", pocketed the phone, and rounded on Daria again, her eyes ablaze with maternal instinct. "Daria. Talk. NOW."
Daria looked up at Helen with a frightened, pitiful expression. "Mwe duf fdob dere du geh uh foda!" Cereal and milk dribbled down her chin and back into her bowl.
"That is NOT funny, missy!" said Helen, trying and failing to stifle a laugh. Quinn clamped a hand over her mouth and nose to keep from laughing aloud, and spraying Daria with a mouthful of Model Krunch cereal.
Wiping the milk off her chin, Daria knew her little sight gag had only partially defused her mother's anxiety and anger. "I wanted a Blast Me cola to be sure I stayed alert on the drive home. Beyond Mad Dawg's, coming back this way, there's nothing but dead weeds and sagebrush for twenty miles or more. It was quiet from the outside, just music playing and a couple of guys laughing. Once we stepped through the doors and they saw us, it was too late to go back."
"Daria, surely there was some reasonable alternative to a tavern brawl. And in Mad Dawg's, of all places!"
Daria locked eyes with her mother and spoke very deliberately. "Life isn't always reasonable, Mom. The alternative was to be gang raped on a pool table. It was f**k or fight. And when that big fat greasy b*st*rd reached for Quinn, something inside me chose fight."
Helen paled and fell back half a step, struggling to come to grips with that image. Quinn said, "Yeah, and when that other smelly scumbag lined up on Daria's head with a pool cue, I saw red!"
Daria added, "And by the way, how is it that neither you nor Dad ever told us that Mad Dawg's was an 'of all places'?" She turned to Quinn. "You saw red? Is that how it was for you?"
"Yeah. It was like looking through a red mist, and I was furious and everything was vague. The next thing I remember clearly is you grabbing me and talking in my ear and... Omigod! Daria, I hit you with the pool cue! I'm so sorry!"
Daria smiled a little. "It's okay. You weren't quite yourself."
"Well... thanks. But wasn't that how it was for you? The red mist, I mean."
"No, for me it was just like the time with the mugger. Time slowed way down, a different part of my brain was in control, and I was along for the ride. There were no emotions, just calculation. And when the fight was over, I returned to normal."
"And when and why did you grab Quinn?" Helen asked.
"After it was over. I grabbed her to stop her from making hairy strawberry jam out of some biker's head. He was down and out already."
"Ewww! DARiaa!"
"Daria, are you saying that Quinn was..."
"...a little overexcited, so I helped her calm down. Uh, it's getting late. Mom, like I told Dad, I'm kind of sore. Can you write me a note to get me out of gym today? Better yet, ask Ms. Morris to let me use the Jacuzzi. And I need a ride to school. I can't walk that far today."
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In the car on the way to school, Helen glanced into the rearview mirror. Quinn. Adorable little Quinn. It seemed like yesterday she'd looked in the mirror like this and fussed at Quinn to stop bouncing on the seat. And Daria. Helen looked to her right. So small, so defenseless looking, sweet, even. A bible verse came to her mind, something about being wise as serpents and innocent as babes. Or was that lambs? That was Daria, innocent as a babe and wise as a serpent. They were still so young! They were still her babies!
Helen struggled to comprehend the fact that her babies had been set upon by an outlaw biker gang, and had beaten the daylights out of them. Two dozen murderous thugs intent on rape and the devil knew what else, and not one of them had been able to so much as lay a hand on either of her daughters. What the hell was going on here? She was pretty sure there was nothing in any of her child rearing books that would help her with this situation.
As Lawndale High hove into view, Daria beheld a scene she'd hoped nevermore to behold. A crowd had collected outside the main doors, and in the midst of it were several TV remote relay vans. "Oh, hell! Uhh, Mom, isn't today 'Take Your Daughters To Work Day'?"
Helen stared grimly at the swelling mob ahead, then swerved off onto a side street. "Yes, I think it is. Quinn, get me Ms. Li." Helen handed Quinn the SUV's phone handset.
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