I'm so sorry I left you guys hanging. I guess I lost inspiration for this fic for a while. Yeah...
DISCLAIMER: DARIA BELONGS TO MTV...BLAH, BLAH, BLAH.
"Daria!" Quinn exclaimed, rushing to her sister as she entered the house. "How was the date?" she asked anxiously.
"Hm, let's see...he told me exactly what shade of blond his hair is, how rich his family is, and how he hates DeMartino." The brain paused. "In return, I told him fifty different facts about disembodiment."
"NO!" Quinn gasped in horror. "Daria, why do you have to be such a freak?"
"I was kidding," Daria deadpanned. She flopped down on the couch, kicking her heels off and massaging the kinks on her feet. "I told him about my bouncy hair, my amazing career of modelling, and my amazingly small shoe size, which is about the same as my brain size at the moment."
"Really?"
"Yes, Quinn," the cynic sighed. "You owe me big time."
"Thank you, thank you!" the redhead gushed, giving her sister a fierce (and uncharacteristic) hug. "Oh, and your friend Jazz or something was here!"
Daria's thought drifted back to the most embarrassing four hours of her life.
"My uncle owns a limo company," Ben the Blonde said.
Daria cleared her throat. "That's so cool!" she said, in a failed attempt at squealing, as her voice cracked at the end. "Hey, you know that...uh, my hair is so bouncy? And I'm perky and popular?"
"Yeah, I know," Ben said, grinning at her. "You know, I hate DeMartino."
"Me too!" Daria squeaked. She spotted some seasoning on the table. "You want some...oregano?"
"Isn't that one of the states in USA?"
"You're, like, so like smart," Daria said, using up all her willpower to not jam her fork in her throat to end this horrendous date once and for all.
"You owe me big time, Quinn." Sighing, Daria collapsed on the couch.
A knock on her door interrupted Daria's slumber. Groaning, she opened the door to her room.
"Morning—" Helen Morgendorffer's face contorted in confusion. "Quinn? Is that you?"
"Maybe in some twisted parallel universe where we are all slaves of the undead. Only, in that universe, the undead didn't wear Versace. Oh, wait—" Daria abruptly cut herself off, realizing that her mother actually spoke the truth. "Uhh...I mean, yes, Mom! I just lost my...hairbrush. Daria stole it! Yes, now I'll just go away now." The cynic scurried away, leaving Helen confused.
But that was nothing compared to what she witnessed next.
"Good moorning!" Quinn sang, apparently well rested. Her glasses clung precariously on her face, but she hardly noticed. She skipped downstairs, where she saw her father feasting on a Pop-Tart and the newspaper. "Hi, Daddy!" the teen chirped.
"Daria?" Jake was dumbfounded. "What's wrong?"
"Why, I'm always the perky one, Daddy," Quinn replied as she took a bite of a wheat bagel. "That comes with being popular!"
"You're the perky one?" he repeated. With that, he stood and left, clutching his head. "Boy," he muttered, "I don't know my kids at all!"
Daria entered the kitchen, obviously not well rested. "Hi, Quinn," she grunted.
"Hi, Dar—" Quinn gaped at her sister's face. "Oh, my goodness!"
Daria squinted at her. "Can you stop acting like a mass production of Disney for once?"
"I'm sorry, it's just that...your eyes have bags on them. But I know the answer!" Quickly, she grabbed her sister's arm and led her to the bright pink bedroom that Daria really despised.
"Concealer!" Quinn squealed, holding out a tan tube. "And while we're at it," she added, "maybe we can add some lip gloss, too. I love makeovers!"
"You know, I had a dream like this once," Daria said flatly, allowing her sister to cream her face with various substances.
"Really?"
"Yeah. It ended with the entire human population dying, and the two of us killing each other. Is that too far-fetched for this reality?"
"Um...I heard that some guy killed himself by swallowing hair dye."
"Think we can slip that in the cafeteria lunches?"
After some time, Daria was dolled up, with her hair bouncy as ever. Quinn studied her face in the mirror. "You know, I think I can actually improve your face," Quinn said.
"I think I can improve your face too, Quinn. Seen any sledgehammers lately?"
"Don't you dare," Quinn scolded. "Really, though. With a bit of makeup, you'd look almost...pretty. Almost like an actual girl, at least."
"Aw, stop it, I'm blushing," Daria said flatly. "Let's just go, okay? We'll be late for school."
Quinn laughed. "What? No way. I can't be seen going to school with—" She caught a sight of her bespectacled face in the mirror and sighed. "Oh, right."
"You know," Daria began as they left the discomfort of Quinn's room, "I'm kind of surprised at the way we handle this situation."
"Yeah, me, too," Quinn griped. "I mean, like, we could be getting makeovers now."
Daria sighed. "That's exactly my point, Quinn. We're not taking this hard enough."
"Daria, please. You never take anything hard enough. Remember the fourth-grade incident?"
The cynic shot her sister a glare. "We swore to never speak of that again."
"Yeah, yeah. You definitely didn't do anything. I mean, if I had green hair and a stain on my—"
"Do you want me to bring up the fifth-grade incident in front of Sandi?" Daria countered.
Quinn's eyes shot open. "God, no. Uh, please forget that I ever said anything."
"That's basically what I've been doing ever since you showed the capability to speak." Taking a deep breath, Daria opened the front door and greeted the world—
—as Quinn Morgendorffer with awfully high platform shoes that were definitely hard to walk on.
Dammit.
Once again, I have no clear idea on where this story is headed, so don't expect quick updates. I'll try, but I can't make any promises. I feel really bad for totally abandoning my first ever Daria story. :( Anyway, please review, and please try not to kill me.