So that wasn't so difficult, was it?
Which part -- the hair coloring or the accusation of betrayal?
Oh, Daria, look, forget it. I imagined the whole thing.
Okay! Now, on to more important stuff. [removes the shower cap, revealing jagged orange blotches instead of smooth blonde stripes] Am I striped yet?
[wide-eyed] Um, no, not quite yet.
Is anything happening up there?
Uh... you know, I think I should probably get home.
Aw, come on! Don't you want to stick around for the fun? [gets up and heads over to a mirror]
Come on, Daria, you must want to see-- [looks herself at the mirror] aah! What did you do to me?
I told you I was no good at this!
Can't you paint a lousy stripe?
You did this on purpose! To take Tom away from me!
[angrily] JUST... GET... OUT!
[Daria sadly leaves Jane's house]
You're planning to make soda companies bid against each other for the right to market their products in Lawndale High?
LMr. Lamm
That's right. All you kids have to do is what you'd do anyway: drink soda.
Does that mean that everywhere I turn I'll run into a vending machine?
LMr. Lamm
Well, there wouldn't be much value to the contract if the product weren't easily available. [chuckles]
LMr. Lamm
Nothing but a few small discreet advertising posters in the halls. Nothing in questionable taste. And, if we're lucky, an exciting new high-tech scoreboard for athletic events, boys' and girls'.
So the school will, in effect, be endorsing the soda? Is that really the school's role, to become a shill?
LMr. Lamm
Miss... do you drink soda?
This isn't about whether I like soda. It's about whether a public high school should be using its status as a place of authority to serve as one more marketing tentacle of corporate America. With the taxpayers subsidizing it.
LMr. Lamm
Surely you give your friends enough credit to know when they're being taught and when they're being sold to?
I give them enough credit to figure out about three seconds after those machines arrive that they can't trust this institution. The few who still do.
Class, there's been a change in our lesson plan. Today we'll discuss the planets' relative distance from the sun.
But we did that two weeks ago, Ms. B.
And now we're going to do it again, Charles. Unless you wish to spend the period in independent study?
[shivers] No... not the closet.
Now, the reason for the change is that I've received a brand new... [distastefully] ...learning aid. [pulls out a mobile made of Ultra Cola cans, and begins reading off a cue card] "Why, look, students. A three-dimensional model of our solar system, graciously provided by Ultra Cola. Ultra Cola: the favorite beverage in any universe." [sighs] "We can use it to discuss which planets' atmospheres might support the process of carbonation." Or I can just spend the rest of the day in the teachers' bathroom, staring at the tiles. [leaves]
[over P.A.] Good Ultra Cola morning, students. I am pleased to announce an Ultra Cola schedule change. From now on, the period between classes will be increased from five minutes to 10, allowing you more time to get to your Ultra Cola lockers, organize your Ultra Cola backpacks, and still enjoy a delicious Ultra Cola. Ultra Cola: the refreshing way to learn. [clicks off]
"Feeling boxed in? Leading corrugated cardboard manufacturer seeks senior VP of sales and marketing?" Damn it, Helen, I'm a man with my own business. I'll never work for somebody else again! Never, do you hear me?! And shame on you for suggesting it. Shame, Helen, shame...
Hey, look at this one! "Kick-ass I-startup, superjazzed about expansion, seeks visionary dot-com expert for media leadership position." Where do I sign up?!
Jake, you don't know a thing about the Internet.
[sarcastic] Oh, but I'm an expert on cardboard!
BBarkman
Thanks, Nora. Now Jake is going to wow us with his new plan for increasing our visibility in the marketplace.
[Nora sits while Jake stands at the head of the table]
Increasing visibility is a good thing, and it will surely make us more... visible. To do that we should, uh... develop our strategy and strategize our development. Implement solutions and solutionize implementations. Aggressively. [the room is silent] Edgy?
BBarkman
Jake, I hate to say this, but you're just spouting a bunch of buzzwords. You're not paradigm-shifting. You're all sizzle and no steak.
But I did have steak... and charts and graphs and animated dollar bills that danced around and sang songs. I was almost finished and then... my screen froze. Damn computer! It ate everything! Big, fat, smug, damn, stupid, crappy piece of crappy crap! [starts sobbing]
[the Fashion Club is meeting in Sandi's bedroom]
Then it's unanimous. Under no circumstances will the Fashion Club accept applicants with stubby fingertips. Stacy, what is the next qualification to discuss under our agenda?
Weight guidelines...unless you want to talk about something else!
If it's all right with you, Stacy, I prefer to conduct this meeting in an orderly fashion. With that said, I'm moving to scale back the number of allowable of pounds back by three.
Um, Sandi, I think it's a really cute idea and all, but it might make it really hard to find new members.
Obviously I'm the only one in this room concerned with the burgeoning obesity problem tearing apart the very fabric of our land.
If I must stand alone in setting exemplary standards for others to follow, so be it. You're all overruled. Next topic.
That's mine! Give it back!
Um, the next topic is eyelash density.
Excuse me. [she leaves the room and sees Sam and Chris fighting over the remote] Shut up, you little brats!
[the truck suddenly heads right for Sandi's legs and Sandi trips over the truck and tumbles down the stairs]
[laying at the bottom of the stairs, clutching her leg] My leg! It's broken!
[in the bathroom]
Should we tell her it's easier to speak if you open your mouth?
[enters the bathroom] Stacy, what time is the Fashion Club meeting today?
How come?! Because I can't take it anymore. I'm sick of doing all the work while you just sit there. I tried my best, and even if it wasn't as good as Sandi's or Quinn's, a chain is only as strong as its weakest round thingy, and you refused to lift one freakin' finger! I'm through running the Fashion Club all by myself while you [imitates Tiffany] stare.... in the mirror.... and talk.... about yourself.... [normal voice] and I, I, I quit!
Hmm, maybe I should quit, too.
[Stacy leaves, while Tiffany starts plucking her eyebrows]
You saw it here first. The Fashion Club is dead. Pay me my 80 smackers.
[Daria's flashback]
Daria, you're never going to make friends if you keep your nose buried in a book.
Let's hope. [Helen sighs and takes book away from Daria] Hey!
Dammit! I knew we forgot something.
[Back window of car rolls down to show young Quinn hiding inside]
Come on, Quinn. We're here. [opens door]
I don't want to go to camp! [Helen pulls Quinn from car] I don't want to go to camp! Hey, that girl has my backpack! [runs over to younger Tracy, Cindy and Tatiana] Look, I have the same backpack.
TTracy
Hmm. I can see where the untrained eye would think so. It's quite a skillful imitation.
CCindy
Who's that weird girl over there with your parents?
That's my sis...cousin! Distant cousin.
[flashback ends]
SSkip
Get your Grizzly Burgers. Rare, medium, but always well-done. [Daria and Amelia come with their plates holding hamburger buns. Then, Daria picks up a burger and places it on her bun] Hey! What are you doing?
Hunting for my dinner, and I only kill what I plan to eat.
SSkip
No-one takes a burger until I say so. I've got a whole system here. It's all timed to perfection.
I didn't realize the burgers were landing at Normandy.
SSkip
[uses spatula to take burger from Daria and put it back on grill] That one's yours, you touched it. I'll let you know when it's ready.
Okay, I'll be on the troopship leading the other burgers in prayer.
But Rita, if Erin never loved him, why'd she marry him in the first place? [pause] Once he gave her herpes she didn't think anyone else would want her? Oh Lord, Rita, it's a new millennium. When will people get rid of these outmoded ideas about sex? [to Quinn] Where's your sister?
Mom! I'm not J. Edgar Winter!
Talk to your aunt! [runs up the stairs]
Hello? [pause] It's Quinn, Aunt Rita. Well, of course she should divorce him, he's short!
He meant well, for a teacher who does nothing well.
I'm reminded of my father.
Because I can't get the phrase, "damn idiot teachers with their damn idiot brains," out of my head.
[enters] Hey, Daria, congratulations. A published story, that's amazing.
[Kevin and Brittany approach them]
Um, it's not exactly published. I sent it in, but I haven't heard back.
Then why are you telling everybody that it's been published?
Oh, you know Daria and her compulsive need to impress.
Oh. But then instead of making up stuff about writing, shouldn't you pick something good?
How's this? During the day, I'm a mild-mannered student. But at night, I fight crime in a stretchy-stretchy costume.
Cool! I didn't know that.
Kevie, you're so gullible. [she drags Kevin away]
She wears it on weekends, come on.
You know, my mother gets Musings and their fiction is awful. I bet you'll have no trouble getting in.
Good luck. [she exits and Ms. Barch enters]
Daria, in the name of Jane Austin, Emily Dickinson, Anne Bronte, Emily Bronte, and Charlotte Bronte, I want to say, "You go, girl!"
That's just how they would have put it.
Er, uh, um, nobody. It certainly didn't come up during anything other than normal in-school chitchat among colleagues. Fully dressed. With no oils involved.
Ever have one of those moments that no shower, no matter the duration nor the temperature, can ever erase?
I'm leaning toward trauma-induced amnesia myself. Punch my head, would ya?
And my Language Arts substitute wouldn't stop talking about this stupid novel he's writing!
About some professor who dates a budding child woman because he wants to blossom her.
And then he started acting out his stupid book for us, stroking Tiffany's hair and telling her about his anguished soul...
Mm-hmm... what?! He was stroking Tiffany's hair?!
I know! Like Tiffany would ever date someone who wore a tweed jacket.
Daria! Get me the... [she takes the phone away from Daria where this was headed moments earlier] Thank you.
[the "devil" and the "angel" versions of Daria appear]
DDDevil Daria
Not so fast. You'll get out of gym class.
ADAngel Daria
You? A scab?
DDDevil Daria
Oh, great. Touched by an angel.
ADAngel Daria
You'd be betraying your teachers.
DDDevil Daria
Hey, yeah! You'd be betraying your teachers!
ADAngel Daria
You'd just be falling into the same trap that managements always use to keep wages low and workers weak.
DDDevil Daria
Oh, go dance on the head of a pin. You could make Quinn's life really miserable.
ADAngel Daria
Huh. That's a good point.
DDDevil Daria
Hey, you hungry?
ADAngel Daria
Yeah, we can pick this up later.
[the "devil" and the "angel" disappear]
Max, can't you look any more existential?
MMax
Existential? You said nihilistic.
I feel like I should be doing something. [after a beat, waves]
[Daria and Jane appears with video camera]
Shouldn't he have a sign that says, "Hi, Mom."
Uh, Jesse? Why don't you, um, cue the fog machine.
[Jesse reaches over rail and turns on "Big Fog" fog machine. It begins to emit smoke, and knocks. Smoke envelopes the band, causing all to cough]
[Band runs away from gazebo moments before fog machine explodes, leaving a column of smoke where it was]
[pats camera] And I got every second of it.
