A/N: Don't expect this to make any sense, I just had to write this like now. It's dedicated to the memory of Mary Kay Bergman, who was the voice of Daphne in some of the late '90s movies . (Those ones they show all the time on Cartoon Network) According to all accounts, no body knew she would do what she did until she did it…… You'll know what it is when you read it…….any way, this is just something I threw together at midnight. I just felt compelled, moved, if you will by Mary Kay's story, or maybe her spirit, who knows. Inspiration is a freaky thing. R.I.P. M.K.B.
2: For the sake of keeping things with life, think of everyone as like late 30s- 38 for Daphne as that's how old M.K.B was when she died.
3. I warn you now- last chance to turn back. The story of MKB's death is not pretty and I intend to edit what I say, but I will include some…shall we say…unpleasant things. What you see at the death scene is what investigators saw along with the type of gun used. But edited I'm not sure what room of her house she was found in, so I picked bedroom.
4. Do I really need a disclaimer? Maybe. I am in no way associated with Mary Kay Bergman, I just am a voice-over fan and am fascinated by her story. Such a talented woman, such a tragic ending. And all Scooby-Doo characters are property of …whoever, I forgot which company owns the cartoon.
FREDS POV
Nobody had any idea. I certainly had no clue. Somebody as chipper as Daph…I am in absolute shock, standing here. It's just past 10 PM. I see the gun, I see the blood, I see her body but… my mind just can not put A & B together. My stomach twists up in knots as I finally get the sense to call the paramedics. Something in me reminds me that I probably should be calling for an undertaker, but I just keep holding on the thin thread of hope that maybe she still can be saved. When the operator answers, I quickly spill out what I've seen and where I am. Reassured that the paramedics will be there as soon as is humanly possible, I sit on the floor near by. It's early November, not quite two weeks into it, and I had originally come to see if Daphne wanted to come with me to a party.. I went up to her bedroom, knocked, heard no answer, and let myself in as the door was unlocked. I can't bring myself to look at her like that anymore. I face the far wall. I decide that I must call one of the gang. I can't until I know for sure that she is gone. The paramedics arrive quickly, find their way in, and slowly they confirm my worst nightmarish fears. I refuse to look at what they do, but I can't help but hear them murmur. The police arrive shortly after. The time, according to my watch, is 10:18 P.M when they pronounce the love of my life, Daphne Blake, age 38, dead, of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.
I am escorted out, but not before calling Velma. I can not, WILL NOT, be the one who tells Shaggy. He is far too innocent still, even at his age, and Velma will be the best person to….not that there is any best person to break this news to any body….but Velma will know how to do it more gently.
VELMA
I had no idea. My best friend in the world, even though my total opposite, and I had no earthly clue. When Fred called me and told me, I could hardly believe it. My knees buckled. I got to Daphne's house as fast as I could. A policeman tried to keep me away but his strict tone melted to sympathy as I told him I was a close friend. I had to see the evidence for my self. I saw far more than I wanted to see. I've never been one for blood and Daphne has never been one to do things half-way. The saddest thing is the few wrapped Christmas presents, blood now drying on them. I see flecks of what I trust to be brain matter and my stomach turns. Not only from the gore, but from the fact that someone was wonderful as Daph was suffering so badly and no one had any clue. Any Clue. I run back out to Freddy. He stands in shock. The investigators have handed him a note that Daphne left. I look at him questioningly. He shakes his head. It is too soon.
"We should read it together." I whisper. He nods. I can't check my tears, but I choke out, "Someone has to tell Shaggy and Scooby." I know, inwardly, that, that someone will end up being me. Fred looks at me, his eyes saying things his mouth cannot. I nod.
A policeman finally tells us we have to leave. Silently, Fred leaves, too in shock to say anything. I head toward Shaggy's house. I have to break the news and I fill that in person will be best. We can come to grips together.
SHAGGY
I can see on Velma's face something horrible, awful has happened. She's paler than normal. Her eyes are wet under her glasses. She then proceeds to tell me the most shocking thing I've heard, ever.
Daphne, cheerful, slightly ditzy Daphne, …I feel my strength completely drain as I come to realize what has happened. I have the strength to stop Velma from telling me too many gory details. All I can process at this moment is Daphne was suffering and never once did I try to see that. It got so bad that the only way out she saw was to take a 12 gauge shotgun to her head . Scooby has come in, and he, in his innocent way, asks "Rut's rong?" He's so intelligent. Velma tells him simply as she can, and he lays on the floor and whimpers. Velma tells me Daph left a note, and we all need to read it at the same time. I can't bring myself to read it today, and I tell Velma that. She agrees and leaves Scoob and I to our grief. How could she do this? Why didn't she tell any body she was suffering so much? 38. So young. When we first started Mystery's Inc. that seemed so ancient. Now, it seems so very young. I allow my self to drop to the floor gently. I pet Scooby absent mindedly. Slowly I can come to grips with it all. I close my eyes and lean back against the wall. Rest in Peace Daphne Blake. Rest in Peace.
REST IN PEACE MARY KAY BERGMAN, REST IN PEACE.
End notes: Intended as a memorial peace. No disrespect intended. I just got moved for no apparent reason. Not my best work but I did this in a little over 2 hours, on pure inspiration, from somewhere or someone or something - don't know what. I just was compelled.
