By Lew. [Version 2.0]

For Mandii (Made you laugh!), Kerryn (Thanks for the input…), Mad Mick Brown (Manky, yeah!) and my first and (then) only fan, Desanera. (Yes, I'll finish it, someday…)

(Abuse me at: lew@garbage.com or lew@looksmart.com.au or even at lewww@ivillage.com)

Disclaimer: Ok, everybody knows that Daria is not my creation (Gods, how I wish.) and that MTV owns the souls (or the legal equivalent) of the creators, Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis. Simply, this is the bit that goes in front so that everybody knows that I'm ripping their ideas…

* If you're really twisted, there are endnotes. *

(Begin the typical "Daria" introduction, Splendora wailing away to the trials and tribulations of Daria Morgandoffer. As the last chords fade with the trailing "Laa-la, Laaa-laa…" Daria script: Heroes…)

(Open to Daria Morgandoffer walking to her locker and holding her books to her chest with the background scenery of Lawndale High seeming to be more insane than usual. Music: "I Grieve" - Peter Gabriel. As Daria opens her locker, she moves slightly to the left, allowing a thrown blackboard duster to glance off where her head had been. Taking no apparent notice of the projectile, she replaces some books, grabs her art sketchbook, pockets some black pens and closes the door.)

Sandi: (O/S) Hey! Quinn's cousin, or whatever?

(Daria neatly sidesteps into the corridor, allowing three spitball wads to go sailing past her right shoulder. Not stopping to chat, she strides off. At her heels, a thrown bucket bounces and clatters away, rolling on its side. Camera POV pans back to Sandi Griffin, president of the Fashion Club, with Tiffany and Stacy Rowe, members of the same. Sandi looks distinctly annoyed.)

Tiffany: (The vacuous.) She didn't even wait for the bucket. That's soo wrong.

Stacy: Er, do you think we are getting..?

Sandi: (The vicious.) What Stacy? Predictable?

Stacy: (The cringing.) Oh, no Sandi! It's just that…

Sandi: What? My plans worked perfectly fine in middle-school, are you suggesting that they're not suitable now?

Stacy: Well, it's just that since we're all older, maybe you need to…(Trails off in the wrath of Sandi, who is getting redder. Sandi looks as if she is going to explode, but stops and calms down.)

Tiffany: (The oblivious.) She's getting aw-way.

Sandi: (Very calm.) Don't worry, she has to come back. (Too calm.) And maybe Stacy has a point in that more extreme measures need to be taken.

Stacy: (Flinching agreement.) Okay! (Tiffany nods, slowly.)

Sandi: Although I would like to discuss the lack of solidarity that one of us is experiencing, Stacy?

(Stacy gulps. Tiffany nods, slowly.)

(Cut to Daria walking into the school artroom. Music: "Torn" - Natalie Imbruglia. Jane Lane already there and wielding a broom-sized brush on a canvas that is on the floor in the corner; the canvas is around 20 feet square. She looks up from her paint-splattered plastic overshoes with a worried expression on her face. She tries an encouraging smile at Daria and is rewarded when the usually-blank face shows a spark of interest. Daria changes course, and wanders over to the massive painting. She looks at it interestedly.)

Daria: And what amazes me is how you can still wrangle these special projects out of Mrs Defoe.

Jane: (Genuinely happy.) It's a knack. (Wry.) And since I'd completed the year's slated work by Easter, she had to find me something to do.

Daria: (Mild interest.) What was your final mark? Overall?

Jane: (Dismissive.) A+, as you should well know. (Waves away the importance of the mark.)

Daria: Well, this little black crow had better get busy, I've still got to finish my self-portrait. (Nods to her work-place.)

Jane: Can I watch? (At Daria's look of surprise.) What? Can't a genius enjoy the fruits of other's labours? (She rubs her chin, considering.) Or is it something else? (Looks closely at Daria, noticing a certain tightness around her eyes and the slight dusting of chalk-dust on her shoulder.) Oh god, have those idiots still got it in for you?

Daria: (Takes a seat, slumped.) My main hope is that they remain stupid enough so that they don't realise they're following a pattern. If they do, I'll face a bucket of water over the outside exit door when school ends. If not, I've got some other pain and/or humiliation to avoid.

Jane: Still no idea why they want your head?

Daria: Nope. If I had to wait in line with those Nazis, I counted it as a valuable part of my life lost forever. I've put Quinn to the question a few times, but nothing of use has come out of it. (Beat.) Well, nothing that I could use against the Fashion-fascists. (Arch.) Mom and Dad, they're a different story.

Jane: (Concerned.) You ok girl?

Daria: Yeah, kind of. (To the unwavering look of concern.) Well, I will be in a little while. (The look relents a little.) And if no idiots decide to make my life more of a living hell than usual.

Kevin: (O/S) HEY EVERYBODY, the QB is HERE!!!!!

Jane: (Tiredly.) And who saw that coming?

(Kevin's grand entrance is rather lost when he finds the classroom empty, apart from Daria and Jane.)

Kevin: Oh. (Starts again.) Hey, has anyone told you about…

Daria: (Sounding pained.)…How you scored the winning goal for the Lions and helped win the State Championship? (Pause.) Yes Kevin. You did, every day, for the past three months.

Kevin: Hey, no offence, but I didn't just help win it, I won it. The. State. Championship!

Jane: (Dry.) And I'm sure the rest of the team would like to discuss that point with you. ("Evil Jane" returns in full-force.) Don't you remember what we said we'd do to you if you didn't stop telling us?

(Kevin looks surprised, then squints at Jane's expression, trying to think. (Cue the funky ripple/dissolve effect for flashback.) From Kevin's point of view: Vague memories of him telling Daria and Jane about his winning goal. And then of Daria holding him down with a boot on his neck, holding a "cup" above a smoking beaker. He watches as she dips the "athletic supporter" in the beaker and drops it next to his head. It shatters. Then the images become clearer, as Jane holds the beaker in thick gloves and mimes pouring it on his crotch. She comes closer, closer, closer…He shakes his head, trying to escape the horror. He shrieks soundlessly, then everything goes black.)

Jane: Well. (Looking at Kevin's slumped body, out cold on the floor.) That was fun. (Beat.) Do you think we should wake him up for another round?

Daria: (Looking at her watch.) Why ruin the fastest time so far? (Holds out her arm.)

Jane: Really? (Squints over at Daria's watch.) Wow, a new record! That is pretty cool.

Daria: (Just making conversation.) Yes, soon the negative reinforcement cycle will be so strong that every time he sees us, he will relive his trauma and pass out.

Jane: (Clasps hands together, and raises eyes to the ceiling.) Please, let it be soon.

Daria: What are you going to call it, anyway? (Nods towards the massive canvas on the corner.)

Jane: (Looks over to Kevin's form.) The rate of interruptions I'm experiencing, it's gonna be "Vapour-Lock on the Road to Nowhere". How about yours?

Daria: I was thinking of something unique and striking, like "Self Portrait #1."

Jane: (Pushing motions with her hands.) Whoa, slow down at the creation station, you're scaring me.

Daria: (Rubs eyes.) To be honest, I've kind of lost interest.

Jane: (Smiling.) Not that you had any in the first place.

Daria: (Smirks right back.) True.

Jane: Anyway, I'll be over here if you could do with some moral support.

Daria: (As she turns to her photo-realistic portrait and sets up a mirror.) Thanks Jane.

Jane: No sweat. (Stops where she is in thought.) Hmm, now how would I go about doing that?

(Scene fade out to Daria looking bemused at Jane, who is jumping around on her work while holding a mass of paint-tubes. Jane looks like she is having a great time, so Daria smiles in the slight Mona Lisa way of hers and moves a little way off to avoid flying globs.)

(Open scene with the familiar corridors of Lawndale High, Jane and Daria walking to their lockers. Music: "Don't Wanna Be Left Out" - Powderfinger. As they approach, it becomes immediately obvious that something has been done to Daria's locker. When they reach it, they just stand and stare at it a little.)

Daria: Hmm… (Stands and thinks.)

Jane: (Same voice as the Cat off "Red Dwarf".) What is it?

(The camera POV moves so that the locker is readily visible. The door cracks seems to be filled with something so that the locker is sealed shut. There is a lot of plasma-yellow gunk on the locker, and on the floor underneath it.)

Daria: I assume it is some sort of adhesive, most likely epoxy resin.

Jane: (Arch.) Fascinating Batman, but how are you going to open your locker?

Daria: Hmm. (Looks over to Jane.) Still got that blowtorch?

Jane: (Digs it out.) Everywhere I go! (It's one of those that run off a Butane cylinder.)

Daria: May I borrow it?

Jane: Sure. (Whips out another. Happy Jane.) Can I help?

Daria: (Looking at her, then at the torches.) I won't even ask. You take the right-hand side. (They ignite the torches and start to roast the epoxy.)

Jane: (Louder, over the roar of the burners.) So, why are we doing this again?

Daria: The epoxy needs to cook before I can smash it off. (Beat.) I'm assuming that you still carry around that mallet? [1]

Jane: (Bends over, torch still active, to recover a large wooden mallet from her "art-supplies" bag.) Here!

Mr O'Neill: (O/S) Ah, Daria, Jane?

Jane: (Looking at the locker, loudly to Daria.) Hey Daria, did you just hear Mr O'Neill?

Daria: (Looking behind her. Loud to Jane.) Probably, he's right behind us. (Turns back to the torch.)

Jane: (Loud to Daria.) Good, I hoped it wasn't the plastic fumes getting to me. (To Principal Timothy O'Neill, still not stopping.) Hey Tim!

Daria: (Not stopping either.) Hey Mr O'Neill. Can we help you?

Mr O'Neill: Ah, yes. (Louder, to carry over the noise.) What exactly are you doing?

Jane: (Loud and still torching.) Someone glued Daria's locker shut with epoxy. We're gonna get it open.

Mr O'Neill: (Instant soppiness.) Oh dear, couldn't Pavlov get it open? He is the school custodian.

(A large bearded man walks into the shot, pushing a floor polisher. It is the elusive Pavlov, school custodial and mentioned only in "Quinn the Brain", a shameful waste of a character! He casts a professional eye over the tableau before him and taps Jane on the shoulder.)

Mr O'Neill: (Surprised by Pavlov's appearance.) Eep!

Pavlov: (Thick Russian accent, deep rumbling voice.) So, is epoxy resin, rrright?

Jane: (Still baking the door. It's starting to look a pretty cooked.) Da.

Pavlov: (In Russian, English subtitles beneath the shot.) You two look like you know what you're doing. (Strokes beard, thinking.) I'll drag away "Mr Sensitive" before he has a fit, how about that? (Nods at O'Neill, forgetting that the girls won't see him.)

Jane: (Also in Russian.) Good idea. Thanks!

Pavlov: (Still in Russian.) No trouble, but when your mother comes back, could you ask her about my brother's samovar? He's driving me crazy, the cultureless bastard. (In English to a dazed O'Neill, his accent very thick.) You! You come with me! Need much talk about. Now! (Grabs hold of O'Neill's arm.) Come!

Mr O'Neill: Oh, what's the matter Pavlov? Can I help? (Voice gets fainter as he is inexorably pulled from the shot.) Excuse me, Pavlov? What's the matter?!

(For a few seconds, only the blowtorches can be heard.)

Daria: (Loud.) That looks about right. (They shut off the torches. Pan back to see the door, the paint smoking and peeling. To Jane.) How many languages do you speak, anyway?

Jane: (Touching torch quickly, then placing it onto the ground to cool.) I dunno. (Shrugs.) As many as I have to, really.

Daria: (Hefting the mallet.) So what were you two talking about? I got the bits about the "uncultured bastard" and a tea urn. [2]

Jane: Basically told us that we were doing a good job, and that he'd remove O'Neill before he spaced out.

Daria: (Taking a few practise swings, to loosen up her arm.) And the samovar?

Jane: Oh, when he met mom at one of those art and swap meets, she was so impressed she went on a metalworking course and made him one. (Shrugs.) His brother saw it and now must have one too. (Laughs.) Family.

Daria: (Getting ready.) Can't live with them, can't eat them.

(She takes a mighty whack at the door. The carbonised epoxy shatters like ice, but Daria swings a few more time to make sure. Satisfied, she hands the mallet back to Jane and opens the locker. Amazingly, the interior looks untouched. Daria gets her stuff together, and closes the door. It looks very much the worse for wear, burnt, beaten and scarred.)

Jane: (Considering the door.) Very "industrialised". (Beat.) Do you follow the Deconstructuralists?

Daria: (Amused at Jane's encyclopedic knowledge of art.) Never heard of them. Post-modernist?

Jane: Hon, everyone is post-modernist these days. (Winks saucily and dumps the tools into her backpack.) I wonder if we'd have got away with that if Li was still in charge?

Daria: Two chances (Pause.) fat and very thin. (Beat.) I just wish O'Neill would show some backbone, his minimalist "Hands off" policy has pretty much assured the school is boarding the old "rollercoaster to hell" that much more quickly.

(Quinn Morgandoffer, Daria's younger sister, passes by, carried on a lavish litter by Joey, Jeffy, Jamie and Robert, the thick footballer from "The New Kid" & "Daria Dance Party". They appear totally happy doing what they do best, serving Quinn. Quinn pays them no attention, just on a cruise, filing her nails.)

Jane: (Eyes following the litter.) Uh-huh. (Beat.) Boarding, not riding, you said?

Daria: I stand corrected.

(Open to Daria and Jane, walking downs the streets of Lawndale, coming home from school. Music: "The Kids Aren't Alright" - The Offspring. [About the only reason why I'd buy "Americana".])

Jane: …So I said, that's not art, this is ART! And whipped out my banana! (She pauses in her tale.) You don't seem to be your usual sunny self, is anything the matter? [3]

Daria: (Quiet.) Ever had a day when everyone was against you and you later found out that they were?

Jane: (Knows what she's on about.) Once or twice. (Pause.) Not recently, I must admit. You? [4]

Daria: (Holds up a hand. Her little finger is heavily bandaged, continuing down to wrap around her palm.) I found a few more surprises. This time, it was a razor-blade in my soap during gym.

Jane: (Shocked.) God, that's... (Flat, worried.) Is there anything anyone can do?

Daria: (Sighs, then ticks them off on her fingers.) Well let's see, Mrs Manson thinks I'm paranoid delusional with a hefty dose of bad attitude. Mr O'Neill curls up into a ball if I mention anything like today. Mrs Barch wouldn't care, since my tormentors seem to be women and DeMartino would advocate my bringing in a high-powered rifle and taking matters into my own hands. (At Jane's stare.) You think I'm kidding? He's already given me a few numbers to phone.

Jane: (She looks pretty disturbed.) That's pretty scary, even coming from you.

Daria: Yeah, tell me about it. At least he's concerned, if mostly about the coming Millennium madness.

Jane: (Distracted.) What are you going to do? (Meaning the "World-Wide Y2K".)

Daria: Well, unlike Mr DeMartino, I won't be buttoned up in a hole I've dug in the backwoods, sitting on my supply of canned goods with a gun across my knees and binoculars to my eyes, hoping to hell I've calculated the airline routes correctly and aren't squatting under any glide-paths. (Jane is a bit amazed at this.) No, I'll probably be dragged off to some god-awful office party with my parents, or even worse, relations, to ring in the New Year and the new Millennium with a resounding yawn. [5]

Jane: (Her expression: "Okaaay".) No plans then?

Daria: (Vague hope.) Only to avoid whatever horrible fate the parental units have dreamed up for me.

Jane: So, not even going to the Pre-Monthly Millennium Ball?

Daria: Huh? (Suspicious.) Just how close were you to the hot epoxy?

Jane: (Incredulous.) Have you been walking around with your eyes closed for the past month?

Daria: No. I've had my eyes wide open for possible life-threatening ploys originating from the Fashion Club. (Beat.) Anything apart from that has had a low priority, I'm so sorry to announce.

Jane: Oh yeah. Sorry. I forgot. Anyway, There is a huge "pre-insanity" ball for most of the High schools, probably trying to wring the last dollar out of us so that we can't go out and purchase monstrously overpriced and watered-down alcohol from our more "mature" peers. (Arches eyebrows.) Rumour has it that it was something Principle Li and School Superintendent Blank cooked up to develop some more funds that they could dip into. [6]

Daria: (Agreeing.) Sounds like a Li scheme all right. (Remembering something.) She got ten to fifteen, review at seven, didn't she?

Jane: (Nods.) The good behaviour thing. (Beat.) I'm amazed that Jodie hasn't accosted you for tickets yet.

Daria: I'm amazed that embezzlement and violation of civil liberties doesn't come with a longer sentence. (Beat.) And I'm not saying Jodie hasn't, I just probably forgot as soon as I had to avoid a falling goal-post.

Jane: (Incredulous.) That was you?

Daria: (Not ecstatic.) Avoiding death is not a skill I'm proud of, Jane.

Jane: (Smirking.) But you're so damn good at it.

Daria: (And not about to be "cheered up", either.) Only because of constant and unrelenting practise, something that I didn't ask for and strenuously avoid.

Jane: (Not joking.) Hmm, you really aren't ok with things, are you?

Daria: Jane, some sick bitch decided that it would be an great idea to break into my locker, take out my soap, shove a razor blade into it and wait for the ambulance to arrive. (Jane winces.) No, I'm not happy. Happy is probably the last emotion I'm feeling about now, all right?

Jane: Right. But I'd like some extra seasoning on my foot next time I eat it.

Daria: That's fair. Do you mind if I…?

Jane: (Smiles fondly.) Walk on? Nah, knowing you, you'll probably come up with some brilliantly fiendish plan that will turn the tables on your dastardly adversaries! (She finishes almost shouting, hands raised for strength and vengeance. When she finishes, she walks on as if nothing has happened. Daria stares at Jane, then shakes her head.)

Daria: (As Jane goes to walk away.) You still haven't answered my question yet.

Jane: (Turns, a bit surprised.) What question was that?

Daria: Just how close to the epoxy were you?

(Open to the Morgandoffer red brick monstrosity. Music: "Hail, Hail" - Pearl Jam, open with the chorus. Daria's goes to open the front door but before she does so, she hears some muffled voices.)

Sandi: (O/S.) So Quinn, when is "that girl who is staying with you" coming home?

Quinn: (O/S, sounding very puzzled.) Uhh, like I'd notice, Sandi. Sometime around now, I'd guess. Unless she's gone over to that Joan girl's house, she does that a lot.

Daria: (Carefully backing away, so she doesn't make a noise. To herself.) And it looks as if I'm going to be doing it again.

Sandi: (O/S, suspicious.) What was that? (There is a faint <Bing!> noise.)

Stacy: (O/S) Popcorn!

(Various appreciatory noises follow as the Fashion Club vacate the front room for the popcorn in the kitchen. Sandi waits a little, but is lured by the promise of the no fat, no salt microwaved goodness.)

Daria: Or maybe not.

(She cautiously opens the door, looks around and pulls it shut. She quickly makes her way up the stairs and into her room, dumping her books and backpack. A little shocked at how shaky she feels, she goes into the bathroom and washes her face and hands. On her way out, she runs into Quinn.)

Quinn: ("What are you doing here!?" tone.) God! Don't come down, I thought you'd be over at Joans!

Daria: (Thinking quickly.) Well, don't I have downstairs viewing privileges this week?

(Quinn starts to look panicked.)

Quinn: (Fear of fashion ostracism evident.) You wouldn't!

Daria: (V/O: Maybe, but you don't know that.) I'm open for negotiation.

Quinn: (Hurriedly.) You get my time, next week, no argument.

Daria: (Dismissive.) I'm going to get my comfy pillow, now.

Quinn: Alright already! (Pause.) The next three weeks, and twenty in cash.

Daria: (Smirking.) You should really get used to life in a seller's economy, Quinn. (Beat.) No deal.

Quinn: (Hopeful.) Four weeks, and twenty-five?

Daria: Six and fifty, or you'll be watching what I want to watch…

Quinn: Dammit!

Daria: I'm waiting, but not for long…(Goes to walk out.)

Quinn: Here, polyester clothe your soul! (Digs out some bills.) I get the rest of the week though?

Daria: Yes Quinn. (Quinn leaves.) Enjoy your fleeting taste of TV freedom…

(Daria returns to her room, and thumbs on the remote. The familiar green Bullseye rubberbands into existence, then is quickly replaced with some pretty, but ferocious-looking girls. They all have a vague resemblance to Sandi.)

TV Announcer: They go to school, but they can only spell trouble! "Jailbait" tattooed on their thighs! Next! On Sick Sad World!

Daria: (Thumbs off TV and stares at the ceiling) Cable, thou art forsaken me? (Collapses on bed.)

(Open to a Lawndale High scene montage. Music: "Heaven" - Iva Davis & Icehouse, originally performed by Talking Heads. Daria walks up to the main doors of Lawndale high and is pushed aside by a large male student. Cut to Daria stepping over a heavy lump of wood and the prone form of the guy who pushed pash her and preceded her entrance. In doing so, he received the brunt of the booby-trap that was primed for her. Daria looking at her locker, noticing the water that still trickles out from between the hinges. She unlocks it, allows a cascade to flood out into the corridor. She takes her sodden books without expression.)

(Class with Mr DeMartino, she's sitting pale and composed while he screams at Kevin. Walking with Jane, she moves suddenly to move both of them out of way of a hurled paint-container, it flying further on down the hall. Andrea comes running up, covered in paint and about to crack open a big can o' whoop-ass on whoever did the deed. Jane points behind them. Andrea waves a hand at them as she goes by. Daria doesn't even nod. Jane looks over, concerned.)

(Daria and Jane in Mrs Diane Bennett's Economics class, Jane struggling with the ungodly mess of X's and 0's on the board. She looks across to Daria's book and finds that the lessons have been copied out into eerie order. As Mrs Bennet goes on, Daria starts to draw stars in her book, the type done using only 1 line. Not lifting her pen, she starts to connect them with more drawn stars, making a jagged enclosure around the information. Jane is looking even more worried.)

(Phys-Ed and Daria looks as enthused as ever. She dodges a thrown ball, it impacting further on. She raises an eyebrow as it comes sailing back, ducks and allows it to pass on over. At a commotion behind her, she turns to see Sandi flat on her back, clutching her bloodied nose. The fashion club are all fluttering about their prone leader. Andrea mooches by in basketball gear, dusting her hands. Daria smiles slightly at her. Jane smiles at both of them.)

(Daria at lunch, not showing much in the way of emotion. She's behind Jane in the line waiting to be served when she perks up, looks around and then drags Jane out of the queue. Jane looks surprised and confused, but understanding hits when the line is forced to fall over, domino fashion, by someone pushing at the end. People look very pissed, covered in other student's lunches. Jane looks to Daria with the dawning of greater respect. Daria carefully places her laden tray on the nearest empty table and sits down. Jane does the same.)

Jane: (Breaking the silence.) So, is this what your days are usually like?

Daria: (Becoming more "human".) Well, today's been pretty good. (At Jane's expression, she explains further.) Since the Fashion Club is becoming less focussed in their attacks, they're affecting more people with their "splash damage". Sandi's already been hit twice by Andrea; and if anyone connects them with that domino display (Nods to the pile of students still trying to pick themselves up and wipe off various splattered food.) there are going to be a lot of people howling for their blood.

Jane: (Depressed.) That makes sense, in a sick sort of way.

Daria: (Dry.) So, by your count, how many times today have you seen me dodge "enemy action"?

Jane: (Counts on her fingers.) Ahh, including that one, six?

Daria: Ten since I walked in here this morning. I did think the superglue in my shampoo bottle was a nice touch.

Jane: (Leans forward, eagerly.) Now's the bit where you inform me of the strange chemical reaction that forms when superglue and shampoo are mixed?

Daria: (Slightly cheered.) Sorry to disappoint you, it only causes the glue to set instantly.

Jane: (Disappointed.) So, no shampoo?

Daria: But no scalping either.

Jane: (Faux puzzled.) I though it was against the rules for you to look on the bright side of things?

(Daria is saved from answering when Jodie Landon, key member of the Student Council and all-round saint, sits next to them.)

Jodie: Hey guys. (A bit uneasy.) Daria, is there something that you'd like to share with me?

(Daria looks puzzled.)

Jane: (Ditto for Mlle Lane.) Why, what have you heard?

Jodie: There are some nasty rumours going around and I thought that you'd like to know about them.

Jane: Like..?

Daria: (Light dawns.) Ah. Let me guess; I'm a bigot, I'm pregnant, I'm a drug user, I abuse small boys, I abuse small animals, I'm a lesbian, I'm a man in woman's clothing, I drink the blood of virgins and that I worship Satan by sacrificing goats and rubbing their still-steaming intestines over my naked body?

Jodie: Uhhh, yeah. Kind of. (Looks a Daria, more than a bit worried.) Except for the goat thing…

Jane: (Explanatory.) The Fashion Fiends have it in for Daria, so I bet you could probably trace the more lurid tales back to their pit. (Pause. Evil grin.) Except for the goat thing…

Jodie: (Not reassured by Jane.) Well, they seemed to be too obvious to be true, but considering the average student's intelligence here, you can understand my concern. (Rubs eyes.)

Jane: (Wickedly.) Why Jodie, isn't the criticism of your fellow sheep immediate grounds for loss of your "Upstanding Student" image?

Jodie: (Looking up, semi-seriously.) Not if they can't understand me. (Beat.) But there is something that Mack is dying to know…

Mack: (O/S)…What the hell have you done to Kevin?

(Enter Michael Jordan Mackenzie, the captain of the school football team, all around good guy and Jodie's other half. [Apart from 'shipper interruptions, anyway.] He sits down next to Jane (Jodie sat next to Daria.) and looks interested in any forthcoming explanations.)

Daria: (Slowly, at Jane's smirking, hand waving and rapidly winking encouragement.) Well, do you remember when Kevin got his goal?

Mack: (Dry.) How could we forget, it was the beginning of all creation?

Jane: (Smirking at his humour.) Exactly.

Daria: ("Harken, friend, to this tale of woe…") I don't know how sick you guys got of listing to his play-by-play breakdown of his life leading up to the fateful day..?

Jodie: (Tiredly.) Don't get me started. (At Jane's look.) I have to be nice, remember? It's a bitch.

Jane: (Continuing the story.) Finally, Daria and I were fed up. During science, when Mrs Barch was dismembering some poor male freshman, we made our move…

Daria: …Jane decked him…

Mack: ("Been there, done that" tone.) That doesn't work for long.

Daria: …Then making sure he could see, I dipped an "Athletic Supporter" into the liquid nitrogen we'd "borrowed" from the day's experiment…

Jane: (Gloating.) …Made it so cold it shattered when Daria dropped it…Tisch! (Makes explosive glass motions with her hands and eyebrows.)

Daria: And then Jane went to pour the rest of the beaker down his pants. (Jodie and Mack are staring, mouths wide open.) What? She didn't do it. (Mack and Jodie look relieved.)

Mack: As nasty as that was, why does he faint if he bothers you guys too much?

Jane: Aha! (Proud.) That, my friends, is the sole and well-crafted handiwork of someone who is held highly in our school's collective esteem. (Performs a flourishing bow towards Daria.)

Daria: (Shrugs.) I hypnotised him. (Beat.) Every time he sees us, he is forced to remember the trauma we inflicted on him and that throws him into a cycle of negative reinforcement. I predict that soon, just seeing us will trigger the cycle.

Mack: (In disbelief.) You're kidding. (The female members at the table look at him.) Right? (The girls shake their heads.) Oh.

Jodie: (Flat.) Absolutely diabolical. (Admiration shining through.) It's brilliant!

Mack: (Worried.) Hang on, what if he receives psychological treatments? Won't that stop things?

Jane: Nope. (Evil Jane.) And the reason "why" is so simple, it really is scary.

Daria: (Explanatory.) The hypnotic command only triggered the response a few times. After that, the response his brain was trained to follow goes off without the command stimuli. The subject forgets the command within a few days, leaving long lasting, sudden and effective results.

(Mack and Jodie grin at the duo for a few more seconds, then make like Alice Cooper fans. Ie: worshipping motions.)

Mack & Jodie: (In unison.) We are not worthy, we are not worthy!

Jane: (Eyebrow action present.) Well? (Holds out hand.)

(Daria frowns, but takes hold of the offered hand and stands with Jane to make a bow before Mack and Jodie.)

Jane: (Waving regally at the cafeteria, sotto voice.) Always knew we'd make beautiful music together.

Daria: (Worried about posing for the unwashed masses.) As long as that's the only thing we make…

Jane: (Grabs hold of Daria's other hand, forcing Daria to face her.) What do you think? Should we?

Daria: If it's to do you what you're thinking of doing, forget it. (Beat.) Forget it Lane!

Jane: (Raises her eyebrows suggestively. "Seductive voice") Forget them, I'm here now, waiting…

Daria: (Acid.) You sound like one of those commercials that are on PBS at three in the morning…

Jane: Darlink! (False swoon and Jane flutters her lashes.) Take me now, or lose me forever!

Daria: Aww, hell. (To Jodie and Mack, who are watching and trying not to laugh.) Hold these, would you?

(Daria takes off her glasses, folds them carefully and gives them to Jodie. She then unzips her jacket, revealing her burnt-orange t-shirt and black skirt. As she removes the jacket, giving it to Mack, Jane whips off her red jacket/shirt and throws it high into the air. Mack catches it easily.)

Daria: (Ignoring, for the moment, the stares of most of the cafeteria.) So, table?

Jane: Sounds good to me! (She jumps up onto the empty table next to theirs and holds out hers hands for Daria. Daria grabs hold, steps up and is swung into a circle by Jane.)

Daria: (Softly, as Jane stops for a necessary break from laughing.) Hey Jane, ready?

Jane: (Wry, amused.) So, who gets on top? (Pause.) Since Trent would have lead…(Eyebrow action.)

Daria: How about leaving a Lane to follow, for once? (She tosses back her hair, letting it flow free.)

Jane: Hey, whatever floats your boat! (Jane leans back, stretching out with Daria holding on to one hand, like a spin taken to full extent.) The audience is primed, ready to go…

Daria: Lets do it.

(They hold their poses for a second, then Jane spins neatly into Daria and places her face very close to her best friend's.)

Jane: (Very softly, very devilishly.) So? What are you waiting for, an invitation? Whooooa!!

(With a spin, Daria starts doing the twist with Jane! They're really getting it down in the style of "Pulp Fiction", grooving away, no music needed. The cafeteria is totally dumbstruck, amazed at what the school outcasts are doing. As they reach the end of the table, Daria stops abruptly, and starts to stomp her foot. Jane looks happily surprised and strikes a pose. With Daria marking the beat, Jane begins a flamenco, snapping away with her fingers. Daria starts on the men's side with zapateado (Basically, really intricate heel-toe tap.) and they spiral into each other again. Jodie and Mack have the beat and are marking it with their claps. Andrea joins in with a hefty foot stomp, right on time. Jane is making like "Queen of the Gipsies" so Daria starts her "Antonio, the clever but crafty toy-boy" act. When Jane comes to the end of her movement, Daria takes the beat, stomping a 1-2-3, gesturing Jodie and Mack to take it up. They do, grinning. Jane stops, a bit off-stride. When Daria steps over and bows, Jane takes her hand in sudden comprehension and they settle into a waltz. Not having much space to manoeuvre on the table, they proceed off it, still in time, and begin to swirl around the cafeteria. They step gracefully over bags and cases, swirl around clumps of stunned students and twirl right over to the motionless cashier line. They drops some bills over and end their dance in an exquisite bow before Jodie and Mack.)

(The cafeteria goes insane.)

Jane: (Still in bow.) Encore?

Daria: (Same.) Nah, their heads would explode. (They straighten up.)

Jodie: (Over the cheers and applause.) You guys, that was fantastic!

Daria: (Dusting off her shoulders.) Hmm? What?

Jane: Daria! (Pretends she's shocked, but still waves at the laughing crowd.)

Daria: (Quiet.) Mmm, thanks. (Accepts glasses off Jodie and jacket off Mack. Mack holds out Jane's coat, and she accepts it with what would have been a fine curtsy, if she wasn't wearing shorts.)

Jodie: (Still in awe.) That was the most incredible thing I've ever seen out of you two! When did you learn to dance like that?

(Jane elbows Daria.)

Daria: (Sighs.) My parents sent me to dance school last summer, while they were in a "spice up your marriage" phase. (Beat.) Knowing that scraping roadkill off highways would be more enjoyable than hearing my elders spanking each other (Group wince, shudder.) I didn't see a conflict of interest. Imagine my joy when I found that I was the school's only student. (Beat.) For a whole summer. (Shrugs.) To my surprise, I seem to have retained more than a little of their teachings…

Jane: Even though dance is a well-know form of self-expression?

Daria: (Glares.) You'd better watch out next time I dip you.

Jane: My turn. (Brightly.) One fine autumn day, quite by accident, I saw Martha Graham here prancing around…

Daria: Prancing? What about the time I found you covered in pink paint with nothing on but a…

Jane: (Hurriedly.) Anyway. After laughing myself silly, I realised how good she was and managed to survive long enough to tell her how cool it looked.

Daria: To cut a long and potentially deadly story short, (Glares over to Jane, who is still grinning.) Jane wanted lessons for a certain leather-clad musician (Jane loses grin.) and we had to drag another person in to make a group of four. (Shrugs.) Basically, it started from there.

Mack: How did it go?

Jane: (Reflective.) Jesse had two left feet, on each foot. And Trent, my brother, was unconscious more often than not. (Pause.) So I was the only one to benefit from Daria's genius. (Graceful bow to Daria.)

Daria: (Defensive.) But Trent learnt to dance quite well!

Jane: When he was asleep, Daria. (Dry.) Slow dancing like that doesn't count.

Daria: That was supposed to be a gavotte. Remember, 4/4 time?

Jane: (Grinning.) Nah, nah, nah. (Waves hands.) I'm starved, shall be eat?

Daria: (Looking over at the zoo in the cafeteria where some hipsters have started an impromptu mosh with a boom box blaring. Music: "Rock Is Dead" - Marilyn Manson.) Maybe somewhere quieter?

Me O'Neill: (O/S, via loudspeaker.) Uhh, could Daria Morgandoffer please come to the office, please?

Jane: (Raised eyebrow.) His master's voice?

(Cut to the Principal's office, with the closed door. Music: "Here Come The Rain Again" - The Eurythmics. It's looking a lot like Daria's locker, burnt, scarred and covered in various types of manky crap. Daria walks up to it and goes to rap on the door, but thinks better of it. She kicks the wall next to the door.)

Mr O'Neill: (O/S) Arragh! Who is it!

Daria: Daria. Daria Morgandoffer.

Mr O'Neill: (O/S) Oh that's right! (Movement noises from inside.) Just let me get this open, would you?

(Daria waits patiently as Mr O'Neill unlocks the door. As he opens it, it makes an unpleasant sucking noise. He looks over his threshold, a bit amazed at the crud that has accumulated.)

Mr O'Neill: Come in, come in! And what can I do for my prize academic pupil?

Daria: You called me here. (Steps over the threshold. The office looks a lot like it did when Li was still ruling, but there are posters with uplifting messages on the walls, a dying pot-plant and a swaying pile of reports in an "In" box. The happy-luck Budda is still present in the background.)

Mr O'Neill: Oh? Oh! Did I? (Searches his desk. for something or other. Looks up.) Ahh, do you know why you're here? (He looks over like he is going to check the report stack, but decides against it.)

Daria: (Eyeing the stack as well.) Assuming this isn't a philosophical discussion, no. (O'Neill's face falls.)

Mr O'Neill: Oh, dear. I was hoping you would. (Steeples his fingers in a thinking pose.)

(Twenty seconds of no conversation.)

Daria: Excuse me, Mr O'Neill?

Mr O'Neill: Ooo! Sorry, drifting away there!

Daria: (V/O: How could you tell?) So, you don't have any idea why you called me here?

Mr O'Neill: Uh, no. I don't, do I?

Daria: (Deciding to leave that one alone.) May I leave now?

Mr O'Neill: Oh, of course. (Gets up and lets her out, waves her goodbye.) Thanks for coming around! My door is always open! (Chain rattling noises.)

Mr O'Neill: (O/S) How does this go? Aha! Here we are!

(Daria just shakes her head and keeps on walking.)

(Jodie comes hurrying up to Daria from an office further down the hall.)

Jodie: Hey Daria, there is something else I wanted to talk to you about the Pre-Monthly…

Daria: …Millennium Ball? What?

Jodie: It's just that Jane said that you might want to…(Trails off at Daria's expression.) I've been set up again, haven't I?

Daria: Do you really need me to answer that?

Jodie: (Sighs.) No. (Gives Daria a hopeful look, which wilts quite quickly against the bastion of impassiveness.) So, I take it you're not interested? It's in 2 weeks? (Daria's expression hasn't changed.) I have to ask, it's in my job description.

Daria: Better luck elsewhere Jodie.

Jodie: Don't I know it. (Sighs.) See you around. (Trots off in the opposite direction of Daria.)

(Open to Daria walking into Art. Music: "Running Up That Hill" - Kate Bush. Mrs Defoe is standing by the door, obviously waiting for Daria. Jane is pacing around her. The usual class is there, Kevin, Brittany, Upchuck, Andrea and a nameless extra. [I don't think I've missed out on anyone, small class, eh?])

Jane: Daria! (Daria looks up from her musings. She looks to be a bit surprised at the welcoming committee.)

Mrs Defoe: (Quietly.) Jane. (Takes Daria's hand.) Daria, I have some bad news…

(Daria is led over to her work area, where it becomes obvious that things aren't right. The camera POV shifts around and we see the remains of Daria's self-portrait. It was photo-realistic representation of her face, but now someone has shredded it. Her mirror, broken, is behind the propped-up picture; it reflects the ruined work and Daria's expressionless face. Jane comes over, tears in her eyes.)

Jane: I came in here after lunch and I found it here…

Mrs Defoe: (Very apologetic.) Daria, I'm so very sorry. This is my fault. I usually leave the art room open for other students to…

Daria: (Very quiet, but very clear.) Forget it.

Mrs Defoe: (Not sure she heard right.) Pardon?

Daria: (Totally emotionless.) Unless you wielded the knife, this isn't your fault.

Jane: Daria? (Daria ignores her, doesn't even look at her.)

Daria: (Same voice.) I assume that no other damage was done?

Mrs Defoe: (A bit disturbed at the calm that Daria is exhibiting.) Er, no, it looks like your artwork was the only one to be…(Trails off when Daria turns to fully face her. In her years of teaching, Claire Defoe has never seen such pain so well masked. Only Daria's eyes betray her feelings.)

Daria: (Still spookily calm.) It's good that no one else was affected. (Not looking over.) Jane, stop fretting. (Faces Mrs Defoe again.) I assume that I will have to submit another piece of assessment?

Mrs Defoe: (Truthful.) Actually, from what I saw of your portrait, I could grade it as finished.

Daria: ("Calm" voice. It's starting to get to everybody.) Do you need another piece of assessment?

Mrs Defoe: Er, no, Daria.

Daria: I would like to go home then. (Pause. Patently false.) I am not feeling well.

Mrs Defoe: Of course. (Half-second pause.) Jane, would you like to accompany Daria?

Jane: (Interrupts Daria before she can speak.) Gone. (Dives over to where she left her stuff, throwing it together.)

Upchuck: (O/S) And if you are in need of comforting, be assured that Charles Rut…

(Upchuck clams up when he is immediately grilled by stares from the rest of the class, except for Daria, who appears to have ignored his line. As Mrs Defoe turns back to Daria, Andrea simply grabs her painting (Something bloody and nightmarish.) and flattens the little toad. Since she was painting on 9-ply marine-grade plywood, it makes a noticeable impact.) [7]

Upchuck: Arragh! (Falls to the floor, clutching his head.)

Andrea: (To Mrs Defoe, while still standing and holding her painting over Upchuck.) It slipped.

Mrs Defoe: (Looks at Andrea, sighs, then turns to Upchuck.) Charles, would you like to visit Mrs Barch in detention, with a note explaining your actions, and these circumstances? (Upchuck goes very pale, but manages to nod "no".) Then be quiet and sit over there. (Points at the corner opposite the entrance.)

Jane: Daria? I'm ready?

(Daria walks out of the classroom, followed by Jane at her heels.)

Mrs Defoe: Brittany! I expect that I won't be hearing gross exaggerations about this afternoon's events in the halls tomorrow? And you Charles?

Brittany: Absolutely not! (She squeaks on the "E's".) Especially not from me! (Gives Upchuck the stare of a thousand deaths.)

(Upchuck shrinks away and huddles further into his assigned corner.)

(Cut to Jane, trying to walk Daria home. Music: "Burn" - The Cure. [And play the whole song, not just the truncated abortion that gets airtime. Ie: include the prelude of funky seagull-like string noises.])

Jane: (Almost in tears. [Cue funky seagull-like string noises.]) Daria!

Daria: (Expressionless.) Go home Jane. It's what I'm going to do.

Jane: (Sniffling.) Aren't you even going to speak to me? (Wipes eyes.)

Daria: (Slightly lighter tone.) Jane, I really don't feel like talking now. Maybe later, but not now.

(Daria speeds her pace slightly and Jane takes the hint.)

(As the Cure thunders in, pan alongside Daria, just walking as she passes through Lawndale. Show her walking through the Mall carpark and into the Mall itself; being harassed by the nutty nut-stall owner/manager. Now walking past the nut guy, who is curled up in a ball, clutching his crotch, sobbing. Sitting outside the pet store; sitting outside the Music Mart; sitting outside the "Food Fair" with a drink of some description. The same setting, much later; chairs are up on all of the other tables - same posture, same expression, same drink. Daria walking out of the closing Mall. Daria walking through Degas Street, looking at the shops, not with interest, but as something for her visual receptors to do. Walks past a group of wanna-be punks, who look like they're trying to get the courage to go into Axl's Piercing Parlour; the same punks running away and trying not to be sick as Daria slowly pushes a big safety-pin through the webbing of her hand. Show her in Axl's, getting some disinfectant, Axl looking worried. Daria in the Zen, Axl in the background, she is watching the band play (not the Spiral) and is still not showing any emotion. Show two drunken guys coming on to her. Next scene: Bar staff dragging away the battered bodies of the two guys, not even looking at Daria. Show Daria sitting at a table in the Zen. The camera pans back, and we see that even though the club is packed, no one is brave enough to stand within fifteen feet of her, let alone sit. Show Axl offering Daria a ride home (In a car that makes Trent's look safe.), Daria shaking her head. Show a big blond guy with some vague resemblance to the drunken guys she damaged, he's pointing his finger at her, then at Axl. Cut to Monique coming out of the Zen, obviously annoyed at the big guy and protective of Axl. Big guy pushes over Monique and goes to slam Axl. Show Daria waiting by the side of road outside the Zen, blue and red lights from an ambulance reflecting off her glasses. Monique is holding a blanket on Axl, who is white and shivering. The paramedics are rolling somebody by in a stretcher. By the few remnants of hair on his bloodied scalp, it's the big guy. He's strapped down, screaming and covered in bandages. Daria giving a statement to a police officer, Monique and Axl in the background, as well as sightseeing regulars from the Zen. Daria walking dark streets alone. Daria letting herself in. Daria showering and brushing her teeth. Daria in bed, lying on her back…)

(Just before the scene fades to black, we can see a single crystal tear glitter on her cheek.)

(Open to Jane's room, a bazaar of old art supplies, conceptual art and running shoes. Music: "Experiment IV" - Kate Bush. Jane is absently painting a white canvas black with her fingers and a tube of acrylic paint. Pan back, and it's obvious that she's been doing this for a while, judging by the piles of "black" paintings scattered about her room, drying, and the used tubes of paint. Her phone rings. She shakes her head to clear the cobwebs and picks it up with a strip of painting rag.)

Jane: Yo? (Fumbles the paint cap back on the tube, looking a bit surprised at the accumulation of paint on her fingers. Preoccupied, she moves them so that they make a sticky popping noise.) [8]

Monique: (The phone slash thing, so that both can be seen on the same screen.) Hi, Jane. Is Trent in?

Jane: Sorry Monique, the Spiral are out touring interstate for at least another month. Or that's what they said a last week. (Pause.) They might have sobered up by now. (Beat.) Anything I can do for you?

Monique: Actually, it's more on behalf of Axl than me.

Jane: (Still doing the finger thing.) More tattoo designs, or did he staple his "you-know-what" again?

Monique: (Incredulous.) He actually told someone else about that?

Jane: (Chuckles slightly, but her heart isn't really in it.) Who do you think had to help pry him off our kitchen table? (Tries to wipe off the excess paint. It doesn't work very well.)

Monique: Ha! But I was wondering if Trent would know the phone number of that girl who got her navel pierced with him one time?

Jane: (Laughs slightly again.) That really narrows it down, the number of…(All amusement is wiped from her face when a sick suspicion bursts forth. Hoarse.) …You aren't talking about Daria, are you?

Monique: That sounds about right. We're still worried. (Pause.) Axl didn't sleep too well either.

Jane: (Still hoarse.) We're talking about Daria Morgandoffer? 5'2, auburn hair, glasses, green jacket?

Monique: Didn't catch her last name, I was recording my statement at the time…

Jane: (Calming herself.) Ok, I want this from the beginning. (Shouts.) What in hell happened!?

Monique: Ow! (Pause for ear rub.) Well, for me, Axl was being hassled by that dumb-ass bruiser that the Trendies Nightclub sometimes keeps around…

Jane: (Squints in recollection.) I kind of know him. Big, blond, brainless?

Monique: Yeah, anyway, someone had roughed up his two little brothers earlier and he'd got it into his head that Axl had done it. Axl totally denies anything to do with the two morons, said they were bothering women in the Zen and one of them beat nine colours of…

Jane: I get the picture.

Monique: Well, I'd had a few and was feeling protective of the limey git. I was getting into things when the "Human Tree" pushes me on my ass and goes to smack out Axl.

Jane: Ok. What?

Monique: I'm not too sure what happen then, but Axl was sitting on his butt looking as surprised as I was when that little Daria chick starts breaking that bouncer's arms.

Jane: What?

Monique: (Flat.) She broke both of his arms and most of his ribs, Jane. Not to mention that he was almost scalped by something. (She shrugs.) God knows what, we saw nothing and we were right next to her the whole time. Axl went into shock when he saw the damage and I had to put sickly bastard to bed with a crowbar. I'm phoning because Axl is still in a tizz, but that girl has some major issues to work out, and I mean major.

Jane: Well, her life pretty much sucks. (Beat.) And yesterday, you don't want to know how bad it got.

Monique: I think I saw some of it. (Indistinct noises.) Hang on. (Murmured background conversation.) Just his royal pain-in-the-assness. Wanted you to know some more ... (More conversation.) Ok. Axl said she came into the shop with this weird hole in her hand, asked if she could have it disinfected. Naturally Axl is always a sucker for a potential sale and remembered her from Trent - something about being the strangest piercing job in a long while? (More conversation.) What-ever. You know how Axl is, but she scared him, right off the bat. He couldn't explain it to me, and I was attempting to put the nervy twerp to bed most of the night. (Background noises again.) Yes, you were! Anyway, he keeps trying, but every time he goes to describe how she makes him feel, he'll go all pale and nervous.

Jane: This is Axl, Monique. He is pale and nervous.

Monique: Not this nervous.

Jane: So, Daria went into Axl's to get a cut fixed?

Monique: Then she went into the Zen, stayed there 'till 11:00…

Jane: Whoa! When was she at Axl's?

Monique: I'll ask. (Indistinct conversation.) About 8:00.

Jane: (Flat.) The last time I saw her, it was 2:00 in the afternoon.

Monique: (Thinking aloud.) Six hours unaccounted for, got to wonder what she was doing with them…

Jane: (Same.) Too late. (Beat.) She left the Zen at 11:00, then what?

Monique: Ah, she beat up the bouncer, phoned an ambulance, waited around, gave a statement, dunno what happened after that…

Jane: Well, when was the last time you saw her?

Monique: Hmm, I was holding up Axl, must have been around a quarter to 12.

Jane: Did you see her go? Which way?

Monique: (Not helpful.) Like I said, I was holding up Axl…

Jane: Oh. Well, thanks Monique.

Monique: No problem. Maybe when she's sorted out her issues, we can all go out sometime?

Jane: (V/O: The hey?) What?

Monique: Hey, I owe her for saving Axl's butt, and maybe mine too. She seems nice enough...?

Jane: (Lump in throat.) She's probably my best friend.

Monique: Wow, really? (Beat.) That's kind of cool, in a sickeningly-sweet, pre-teen sorta way.

Jane: Bye Monique, make sure Axl doesn't rust.

Monique: See you 'round.

(Jane thumbs off the call and speed-dials the Morgandoffer residence.)

(Cut to Helen walking around in her "weekend" clothes waving arms and threatening dire things over her mobile. In the background, Jake is reading the paper while Quinn lies on her belly in the living room, on the phone to a prospective boyfriend.)

Jane: Damn, engaged! (Thumbs off the phone again. She looks around at the stacks of paintings with some surprise. She wipes hair back from her head, leaving a black smear. She then stares at her hand as if wondering how it got sticky. Looks around again, shakes head.) I've really got to stop doing this.

(Open to the Morgandoffer home, almost dusk. Music: "On The Outside " - Sheryl Crow. [Yet another reason to buy "Songs In The Key Of X"] Zoom to Jane knocking on the front door. Jake opens it.)

Jake: (Not looking.) Qu-iiiinn! Your date is…(Faces forward.) …not here.

Quinn: (O/S) God Dad, don't scare me like that!

Jane: May I see Daria?

Jake: (Opening the door up wide, all hale and hearty.) Sure thing Jane-o! Haven't seen much of her today, think she might be coming down with something?

Jane: (V/O: Nothing that being an only child wouldn't cure.) No idea. I'll just go on up, shall I?

Jake: (Closing the door.) Sure, if you want dinner, just give a yell and I'll set up another place at the old kitchen table!

Jane: Thanks, Jake. (V/O: And half of Daria came from this?) I'll go see if she's hungry.

(Jane wanders up the stairs and knocks gently on Daria's door. "Quinn getting ready" noises are audible from next door. Jane taps louder, to carry over the noise.)

Daria: (O/S) The number you have called is disconnected. (Beat.) This has been a free call. [9]

Jane: Daria, It's me, Jane. I'm coming in. (She open up the door and goes in, closing the door behind her.)

(Daria's room, padded cell or "Fortress of Solitude", you decide. Music: still Sheryl Crow. The curtains are drawn, letting in second-hand light. A vaguely human lump is sitting upright in Daria's bed. Jane walks over to it and is shocked to find that it's the plastic skeleton, wrapped in blankets.)

Daria: (O/S) Over here Lane.

(Jane spins, and finds Daria sitting against the opposite padded wall with her legs outstretched. She has an exercise book open next to her and is holding a pen awkwardly. She waves, slightly.)

Daria: (Light.) And what brings you here?

Lane: (Truthfully.) Raging concern for my good friend.

Daria: (Surprised.) Good friend?

Jane: (Winces with false pain.) Ok, best friend, but only because you twisted my arm.

(Jane walks over and sits next to Daria.)

Daria: (Honestly shocked.) Wow, I don't think I've had a best friend before.

Jane: (Mild.) How does it feel?

Daria: (Quiet.) Don't know yet, have to get out of "comfortably numb" first.

Jane: So. (Softly.) Want to tell me about it?

Daria: (Lightly.) Well, I tried to write some humorous anecdotes, but I couldn't focus on the paper…

Jane: (Gets up and recovers Daria's glasses from the nightstand. She gives them to Daria.) These might help?

Daria: (Normal.) Yeah, funny about that. (Puts them on.) Nope, they still don't do the trick.

(Jane turns back from her survey of the room to look at Daria.)

Jane: (Hushed.) Daria, you're crying.

Daria: Damn, now I remember why I had to take these off! (She removes her glasses again, fishes out a tissue from the box next to her and wipes her face.) Don't worry, at some point my body will run out of available moisture and I’ll stop, probably while falling unconscious.

Jane: (V/O: Okaaay.) So, how long, so far?

Daria: (Wipes face again.) What time is it?

Jane: Well, by your clock-radio, it's 8:20, a.m.

Daria: ("Duh".) That doesn't sound right, you're awake.

Jane: There is that. (Beat.) When I arrived, the sun was going down, so that would make it..?

Daria: (Thinks for half a second.) At least seven hours so far.

Jane: ("Whoa!" expression.) Your family noticed anything yet? (At Daria's look.) Sheesh, forget I asked.

Daria: (Relenting.) Dad's knocked on my door a few times, that's about it.

Jane: Wanna talk?

Daria: (Scathingly.) Do I have a choice?

Jane: (Sincerely.) Since I left my Sodium Pentothal at home, yes.

Daria: (Weakly shaking her fist. False anger.) Damn you Lane, you leave me no option!

Jane: (Kicking things off.) I left you at around 2:00 to go home?

Daria: (Slowly.) Well, mostly I walked around a lot, stayed at the Mall until it shut, walked around some more…

Jane: Degas street?

Daria: Yeah, I'm pretty sure I ended up there. (Frowns.) I remember Axl from the piercing parlour…

Jane: (Wry.) He sure remembers you.

Daria: (Concerned.) Nothing permanent, I hope?

Jane: Actually, you saved him from what would have been a mighty butt-whipping.

Daria: (Rubs eyes with tissue.) Good. I wasn't tracking too well at that point. (Frowns.) I remember Monique too, would that be right?

Jane: It's your story.

Daria: (Raised eyebrow.) But you seem to know it so much better than I do. (Balls tissue and tosses it.)

Jane: I've read the book. (Beat.) Monique phoned. Apparently Axl wanted your number so that he'd know if you'd got home safely.

Daria: (Distracted.) Hmm, that might have been difficult. (She looks over into the corner.)

(Jane's eyes follow Daria's stare. In the corner, a figure has been made out of electrical wiring and is hanging from the curtain-rod by a noose. Music: "The Trick is to Keep Breathing" - Garbage. Barely recognisable fragments of Daria's red phone lie underneath the unsettling shape, hinting from where the wiring originated.) [10]

Jane: (Professionally.) Hmm, I'm thinking Giacometti? [11]

Daria: Bloody murder actually. (Beat.) It was the phone, or I would have hunted down Sandi like an animal and would now be using her spine as a toothbrush.

Jane: (Raises eyebrow.) Scoring high on the potential visuals here.

Daria: (Tired of it all.) Well, I managed to find the phone first, so why bother?

Jane: Hey Daria? (Puts a hand on Daria's shoulder.)

Daria: (Turning to Jane.) Yes Jane?

Jane: Just shut up a while, hey?

(She hugs Daria. Daria flinches, then falls into Jane's embrace. She starts to cry uncontrollably, leaving huge wet patches on Jane's shirt.)

Jane: Hey there kiddo, it's going to be fine, somehow. (Pats Daria's head and back.)

Daria: (Through huge wet sniffles.) Oh yeah, how?

(Jane starts to rock Daria back and forth, still hugging her.)

Jane: Absolutely no bloody idea. (Hugs Daria tighter.) But no matter how alone you feel, I'll be hanging around, somewhere.

Daria: Hold on a bit? (Jane lets Daria go. Daria grabs a big bunch of tissues and empties the contents of her nose into them.) God!

Jane: What, did you see the Virgin Mary? (Nods towards the wadded tissues.) [12]

Daria: (Weak smile.) No, I think I've just emptied the contents of my head, that's all.

Jane: Again on strong visuals, (Lightly.) although somewhat lacking in wider appeal…

Daria: (Wiping face again, still smiling weakly.) Sorry to go all weepy on you like this.

Jane: (Shrugs it off.) Hey, no sweat.

Daria: No. (Wiping her face some more, looks disgusted.) Just plenty of mucus.

Jane: There is that, I must admit. (Pause.) Want a shower? (No response.) I'm buying?

Daria: (Looking at her hands.) Well, I don't exactly feel human right now…

Jane: My place? (Throws in some eyebrow action.) Tonight?

Daria: Fine, I can't say "no" to that, but how am I going to get by the Morgandoffer Cerberus? (At Janes slightly blank look.) The guard-dog of Hades, three heads, ever-watchful for escaping lost souls?

Jane: Yeah, I was just trying to remember the context, but I got stalled in Neo-Classicism.

Daria: (Give Jane "the look" - she's almost back to normal.) You know, you make me wonder if there is a sort of art equivalent for savantism. (Jane has a puzzled expression.) You know, idiot-savant?

Jane: (Shakes head.) Sorry, I was on a totally different track.

Daria: Fine. (Beat.) But how am I going to get past them? (Wry.) I haven't exactly been my normal bubby self…

Jane: Simple, get some clothes together and we'll fade when it's time to.

(Cut to downstairs, Jane entering the Morgandoffer kitchen. Music: "Hyperballad" - Bjork & The Brodsky Quartet. [Buy "Telegram" for that single track!] Helen is on the house walk-around. Since Jake is sitting at the table with a hangdog expression, a bandaged hand and a pot of some something awful steaming gently in the sink, Helen is probably ordering food. Quinn is nowhere to be seen.)

Jane: Hey, Jake, Mrs M. (Looks at Jake. She notices Jake's expression and her eyes slide to the sink.) Anyway, I just came down to tell you that Daria will be staying over at my place tonight, so you don't have to worry about food.

Helen: (Looks up from phone.) Oh, I didn't know you were here Joa- Jane!

Jake: (Trying to inject some "fun" into the conversation.) So, you're having a sleepover, right?

(Jane just looks at Jake in astonishment. Helen rolls her eyes. Jake looks puzzled.)

Jake: (Turns to Helen.) Kids still have sleepovers, don't they?

Jane: (Concentrates on Helen.) So, you don't have to worry about us, right?

Helen: (Coos.) Sure thing Jane.

(O/S: Front door slams.)

Helen: (Puzzled.) What was that?

Jane: (Absently.) Probably Daria wanting to get a head-start. Night! (Waves and leaves.)

Jake: (Concerned he's losing his "Street-cred". Musing to himself.) Have I lost touch?

Helen: (Puts down the phone, thinking. A familiar look blossoms in her eye.) Jake? I know someone who'd like a sleepover…

Jake: Who? Oh! (Looks at Helen with eventual understanding.) Quinn's on a date tonight, isn't she?

(Helen comes over and sits on the table next to him, "Bar Singer on Piano" style. She trails her hand through his hair and draws her fingers along his jawline, tipping his head up.)

Helen: (Throaty.) Yes, she is, isn't she?

Jake: (With his "Sly Old Dog" expression.) Race you to the couch?

(They run laughing into the Living Room.)

(Outside the Morgandoffer residence. Music: still Bjork. Daria looking pale and wan on next-door's lawn. Jane come jogging out of the house over to where Daria is waiting.)

Jane: You ok? (Frowns. Does a bad "Italian mafia thug" impression.) You don't look so good.

Daria: (Exhausted.) Probably food, the lack of.

Jane: (Grabs Daria's bag.) Time to get you into bed girl.

Daria: (Leaning on her friend.) Batting both teams again, Lane?

Jane: Ha! Whatever happened to "Don't ask, don't tell?"

Daria: I'm not sure, but get me behind that bush over there, would you?

Jane: (Arch.) You're not usually so forward. (Beat.) Is there something I should know?

Daria: (Nods at car approaching them from behind.) I think Quinn is coming home early.

(Jane manages to get them concealed in time. The car pulls up outside the Morgandoffer home. There is some indistinct conversation, broken off with a shriek of annoyance. Someone manages a healthy door slam and a figure is seen storming up the garden path.)

Jane: (Heavy dread.) Uh-oh.

Daria: (Lying on her back, staring at the sky.) What, she saw us?

Jane: (Flat.) Worse. Quinn's pissed at something, and I left your parents alone…

(O/S: Front door bangs open.)

Daria: (Realises what's about to happen.) Oh god.

Helen & Jake: (O/S) Aaah! Eeek!

Quinn: (O/S) EHHEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWwww!!!!! I'M BLIND, I'M BLIND!!!!!

(Running footsteps, a slamming of a door and the sudden burst of water from an upstairs shower.)

(Beat.)

(The front door closes, quietly.)

Jane: (Into the resulting silence.) Well. Someone is going to need counselling after tonight's efforts…

Daria: (Being helped up by Jane.) I just hope they have the couch cleaned by the time I get back.

Jane: (Makes a face.) Something I did not need to hear.

Daria: (Turns to her.) Why do you think I always watch TV in my room?

Jane: Bleugh! (Their voices fade away as they proceed down the street.)

Daria: Have I told you of the time that I accidentally found Mom's "little school dress" in my laundry?

Jane: Enough already!

Daria: I didn't think it was in any way erotic, but I could see my Mom as a slow learner…

Jane: I'm not listening!

Daria: And there is always the time that I walked in on…

Jane: La La-la, La La-la, La-La, La, La-la! [13]

(Open to Casa de la Lane, Jane kicking open the front door. Music: "Keep On My Side" - Ammonia.)

Jane: (Hauling Daria.) For someone who is so small, you sure as hell weigh a lot.

Daria: That's because you've been carrying me for the last three blocks.

Lane: Oh, yeah. (Drags Daria into the kitchen. Plops her on a chair.) Sit. I find food.

Daria: Oh goody, I get to starve to death. (Pause.) What fun. (Jane goes out of shot.)

Jane: (Cut to her, head in fridge.) Since Trent is on tour, maybe not!

Daria: (Back to Daria again.) How are they going? (Background rummaging noises.)

Jane: (O/S, indistinct.) No idea: They've only phoned once, but they haven't asked for any money. Yet.

Daria: (Settling back.) So, you're saying this is a good thing?

Jane: (Cut to her again.) Must be. Trent bums handouts from Mom and Dad even when he has money. (Looks over to Daria.) It’s not malicious or anything, he's just so used to having nothing that he forgets to stop when he does. (Edges fridge door shut with a free elbow.)

Daria: Once again, the dizzying financial skills of the Lane family installs awe.

Jane: Or is it sick fascination? (Comes over laden with food.)

Daria: That's what I said, wasn't it? (Casts an eye over the pile.) You can lose the heavy meats, I'd just throw them up two minutes later. (She looks at the pile.) And Jane, I really hope that isn't tongue I see?

Jane: (Grabbing offending meats. And the tongue.) No, that might have been a…performance art prop?

Daria: It would not be performance enhancing, that's for sure.

Jane: (Opening a can of peaches.) So, what do you desire from the Lane cornucopia? (Slurps a few.)

Daria: Fluids and easily digested foodstuffs. (Tries to open a bottle of juice.)

Jane: (Takes the bottle in Daria's hand, replaces it with another.) Try this one, it's not as acid.

Daria: (Reading label.) Mango nectar? (Shrugs, opens it, drinks it. Nothing on her face for about seven seconds, then she cringes and makes a horrible face, tongue out.) Gah! (Gestures for the bottle she had earlier, snatches it out of Jane's hand and starts to drink. She stays in the "Chug" position for quite a few seconds, until she puts the empty bottle down onto the table. Big gasping breaths.)

Jane: (Looking stunned.) Uh, you ok?

Daria: (Massaging her face, slack jawed.) Jane, I think you may have just made me diabetic. (Frowns, then picks up and reads the nutritional label on the side of the "Mango Nectar".) This is one-third sugar!

Jane: Oh.

Daria: (Rungs tongue around mouth, swallows and winces.) Got any cheese? (Jane holds out a hunk of Edam. Daria removes the red wax coating and gobbles the lot.) Could I have an apple? (Jane hands one over and Daria starts to munch on the fruit. She chews for a bit and swallows, looking relieved.) God! That's better, none of the aftertaste. (Finishes apple and throws the core into the kitchen bin.)

Jane: (Watching the trajectory.) Feeling better?

Daria: (Closes eyes.) Yes. (Opens them again.) But I'd better have that shower while this sugar rush lasts.

Jane: You know the route, I'll tidy up in here.

(Upstairs at the Lanes. Music: "Shimmer" - Fuel. Jane is looking in at her room, frowning. Daria come around the corner, dressed in a blue gown and rubbing her head with a towel.)

Daria: What's the matter? (Hoicks out an ear.)

Jane: (Distracted.) Hmm, I forgot something.

Daria: What?

Jane: That! (Waves a hand into the room. Camera view: over their shoulders. Jane's room is in more of a mess than usual, but every flat surface is covered in the black paintings she had been doing earlier. By every flat surface, I mean every flat surface; walls, floor, ceiling, cupboards, bed, stereo, windows…)

Daria: Oh. (Looks very tired.) Well, I suppose we could clear a space so that I could sleep at, uh..?

Jane: Forget it girl, you're going to keel over if you stand there for much longer. (Jane snags her sleeping shirt from behind a drying painting.) Come with me.

(Cut to Trent's room, looking cleaner than it ever has. You can see the floor, no clothing, pizza boxes or CD's scattered about and his bed is neatly made.)

Daria: (In doorway.) What's wrong with this picture? (Shocked.) What happened?

Jane: (Jane walks past, dressed for bed.) Since Trent wasn't going to be here for a while, I cashed one of Mom's blank checks and nuked his room.

Daria: Nuked? (Checks out the ceiling.) Did you irradiate it, or should I be worried about various forms of bone cancer?

Jane: Nope. (Walking to the bed.) Just a regimen of power-scrubbing, wall steaming, carpet cleaning, a pest-management kill-frenzy and even (Whips back the bed covers.) the purchase of clean sheets!

Daria: I'm not reassured. (Looks around at the walls.) Are you sure that this is a good idea?

Jane: (Organising pillows.) Well, we could have bed down in the guest rooms, but Mom is on one of her "Grail quests" for that elusive glaze combination, and those rooms are now packed with bags of god-knows-what. And since sleeping in my parent's bed would scar me forever, this is the best option.

Daria: The couch downstairs? (Considers for a bit, then shakes her head.) What am I thinking?

Jane: It's big enough for two. (Pats bed invitingly.)

Daria: (Examines the floor.) It's really quite strange, seeing his room clean. (Rubs eyes.)

Jane: (Lying down on the side closest to the duck phone. Laughs, remembering something.) You should have seen the expression of the new power-scrub guy! They obviously didn't warn him before he came in. (Daria's wandering around, looking at various things.)

Jane: (Lightly.) Just browsing, or do you have something in mind?

Daria: It's strange, walking around without needing boots. (Looks at the closed cupboard door.) Or a respirator (Goes to open the cupboard door.) Or a protective suit.

Jane: (Hurriedly.) Don't do it! (Ducks under the covers.) You really don't want to know what's in there!

Daria: (Looking at the bed, then back at the cupboard door.) I think my voyage of discovery has just run aground. (Jane peeps an eye out, then the rest of her head, relieved.)

Jane: Forget Pandora's Box, that cupboard contains scarier things. (Grins at Daria. "Come hither" voice.) Sleeping alone? (Writhes against the blankets.)

Daria: (Gives Jane "The Look".) I will be, after I smother you with a pillow.

(She gets into bed on the opposite side. As she lies down and relaxes, it creaks alarmingly and both girls freeze.)

Daria: (Matter of fact.) Jane, if anything amusing happens to me, I will kill you.

Jane: Hang on a bit. (She sits upright, then kind of bounces where she is. The bed makes a sharp crack, and sinks about two inches.)

Daria: (Holding on for dear life.) What was that!?

Jane: Nothing sweetie. (Lays down again, punches pillow.) It's just that the bed frame swelled and popped out of its proper place.

Daria: (Still upright.) You're sure?

Jane: Well, it's funnier when it happens to Trent when he's sleeping, but it's the same thing. (Rolls over.) Do you see me worrying?

Daria: Fine, fine. (She takes off her glasses, placing them on the brown sock drawer next to her.) Oh, the lights!

(Jane holds up one hand, and claps loudly. The lights go off.)

Daria: (Eyes seen in the dark.) I don't believe you can do a "clapper" with one hand.

Jane: (Same eye-thing. Shrugging movement.) Flexible joints or something. (Beat.) I've always been able to tick off those pseudo-intellectual types who ask if I know of "The sound of one hand clapping" thing.

Daria: (Dry.) Yet another hidden talent floats to the surface.

Jane: Ahum. (Vague interest.) Anything exhibiting over at the Morgandoffer sideshow?

Daria: Apart from Quinn and her trained monkey-boys? Well, (Softly.) I'm double-jointed.

Jane: (Not believing a word.) Does that mean you can put your ankles behind your neck?

Daria: (Softly, embarrassed.) Er, and what if I said yes?

Jane: (Now very awake.) What?!

Daria: (Now totally embarrassed.) God, never mind.

Jane: (Loudly.) You can put your ankles behind your neck? That is so cool! Just wait until I tell… (Jane's eyes disappear. Indistinct muffled sounds.) Mummuph! Mummuph! Mummuph- Pah! All right! I won't tell anyone…now; will you not smother me? (Eyes come back into the shot.)

Daria: ("Complete the mission" voice.) It's the only way I'll be certain of your silence…

Jane: (Laughing.) All right, I swear I won't tell anyone!

Daria: Which is fine if you're a cybernetic organism, but I'll need more than that. [14]

Jane: (Warningly.) Lose the pillow, Morgandoffer!

Daria: (Tired.) You'll keep until morning.

(Silence for a little.)

Daria: Jane?

Jane: (Irritatingly.) Yeth Darwea?

Daria: (Ignores that.) Is part of the ceiling glowing?

Jane: Yep.

Daria Should I be worried?

Jane: (Explanatory.) It's that glow-in-the-dark stuff. A long time ago, Trent asked me to paint some things up there, so he could watch them if he couldn't asleep.

Daria: (Thinking.) So Trent's probably never seen them at all, has he?

Jane: (Agreeing.) I have to say the chances are pretty good on that one.

Daria: (Worried.) Do you ever get tired of being creative?

Jane: (Retorts.) Do you get tired of breathing?

Daria: Well, sometimes things flow out of me on to the paper, other times…

Jane: (Fills in the blanks.) It's gut-wrenchingly hard and achingly unrewarding? Yeah, but the good times overcome the bad. (Beat.) And I can usually incorporate my mistakes into a collage of some description.
(Daria starts to whistle "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life". After a while, Jane hits her with the pillow.)

Daria: Umhp! Well, goodnight to you, John-boy!

Jane: 'Night. Sleep now, good…(Slight snore.)

(Music: "Cover Me" - Bjork & Dillinja. Trent's room, later that night. You can see their eyes in the dark, but that's it. There are some strange slurping noises.)

Daria: (Sleepy.) Whaa?

(Some more of the "slurping".)

Daria: (Sharply.) Jane!

Jane: Mmmm? (Still sleepy.) Uh, go away, I'mmhaviingsucha nice dreeeeam…

(Dead silence for a few seconds.)

Jane: (Very quietly.) Uh-oh.

(Daria claps and the lights come on. She is sitting bolt upright in bed and has a very wet ear and shoulder. Jane recoils and shields her eyes from the light.)

Daria: (Very calm.) Jane, you are my best friend, and I love you deeply, but would you please stop nibbling my ear?

Jane: (Horrified, sits up with her patented "bed-hair".) Oh god! I thought you were Jesse! We were…

Daria: (Very calm.) Jane, I think I'd like to sleep now. (Claps and the lights go out.)

Jane: (Still apologising.) I'm sorry! You were Jesse and that…

Daria: His head was a lollypop?

Jane: (Taken aback.) Uh, yes. How did you know?

Daria: Lucky guess.

(Silence for a few more seconds. Then…)

Jane: (Hesitantly.) Er, I wasn't whispering anything to you, was I?

(Silence, Daria's not answering.)

Jane: Oh. (With great feeling.) Crap.

(Daria chuckles.)

(Cut to late morning, some fragments of light escaping through the curtains. Music: "On The Day You Come" - Powderfinger. Two indistinct shapes in bed. The camera angle is where it usually is for Trent's room, ie: high in the corner, security-cam style.)

(A heap of blankets moves slightly, disgorging Jane's head. She squints out at the light with a disgusted expression, then at Trent's clock radio on top of his amp in the corner. The clock's not working, probably because of a screwdriver driven through it. She frowns at this. Jane slowly looks back to the light coming in; obviously gauging it's strength and intensity. She goes to shift some blankets away from her, but slowly looks down with the most peculiar expression on her face that we have ever seen.

Jane: (Still looking down.) Hmm, okay. (Pause.) To tell her, or not to tell her?

(The other lump, Daria, moves so it becomes obvious that she's now "spooning" Jane. One of Daria's arms is clutching a pillow. Jane cranes her neck, looking back, but Daria doesn't seem like she is going to stir any time soon. Jane moves some more blankets, carefully raises her arm, drags down her shirt [No, you don't get to see any T&A you perverts!] and moves Daria's other hand back on "her" side of the bed. Once she's done this, Jane carefully eases herself out of bed and staggers out of the scene.)

(Cut to Jane, looking half-way normal, coming in with a huge tray of food. She walks around the bed to Daria's side and deposits the tray on the wooden sock drawers. Jane goes back and returns to the scene bearing a milk delivery crate filled with bottles. It rattles slightly when she sets it down. The remaining mound reacts slightly to this. Jane sits on the bed, her back to Daria, while she fishes out a big thermos.)

(As Jane pours herself a big cup of coffee, Daria's head pops out, similar to Jane's awakening.)

Jane: (Looking over.) Morning. (Smells coffee, winces.)

Daria: (Squints at the light.) Bleugh. (Works mouth, gathering saliva.) Morning?

Jane: (After a slug of the coffee.) Well, for a few more minutes, at least.

Daria: (Fumbling for her glasses, gets them on.) God, no wonder I'm so hungry. (Sniffs.) Is that food?

Jane: Sure. (She goes to get the tray, but Daria holds out a hand.)

Daria: I'll have to visit somewhere before anything else. (She totters upright and staggers out of the shot.)

Jane: (Musing to herself as she takes another swig of coffee.) Should I, shouldn't I? (Beat.) Hmm…(Gets up and steals a sausage, eating it with her fingers.)

(Daria comes back and collapses on the bed, face down, ala Trent. Jane politely taps her on the shoulder.)

Daria: (Rolling over onto her back.) Ick?

(Jane waves a hand at the selection of various drinks and beverages that she has set up. Daria struggles and sits upright, mounding the blankets on her lap to provide a stable resting place for the tray that's coming down. It's huge.)

Daria: (Looking at the tray.) Fried eggs, fried bread, fried sausages, fried ham, fried bacon, fried tomatoes, hash browns and onions. (Looks up to Jane.) I'm beginning to see a pattern here.

Jane: (Shrugs.) Quick and nasty. (Snaffles a hash brown.) Hello crispy goodness! (Drops it into her mouth.)

Daria: First it was diabetes, now I'm going to face heart-disease. (Picks up a knife and fork and digs in.)

Jane: (Around the hash brown and coffee.) Sleep well?

Daria: (Finishing off a sausage.) Well, apart from a certain incident last night, yes, I slept like a log.

Jane: (Grinning away, can't help herself.) And why do logs need to sleep?

Daria: (Thinking.) I had some weird dreams though. (Beat.) And Jane? You need more coffee.

Jane: Good point. (Pours herself another one.) What would you like?

Daria: Anything that will cut through the grease. (Stabs a piece of fried bread, sops up some egg.)

Jane: (Hands over a bottle of juice. Idle interest.) So, what'd you dream about?

Daria: (Takes juice.) I can't really remember. (Frowns.) Jane, you haven't done any nudes recently?

Jane: (Eyebrows shoot up, but she retains a level voice, barely.) No, why?

Daria: I kept having these strange dreams about breasts. (Gestures to her front.)

(Jane chokes on her coffee.)

Daria: (Worried.) You ok?

Jane: Yeah. (Goes to thumps chest, then stops, very quickly.) Hash brown express. (Coughs.) Expresso.

Daria: (Handing over a napkin.) What's with the breakfast?

Jane: (Shrugs, wipes mouth.) Sometimes I like to cook, and cooking for two is easier than cooking for one. (You can see the question burning in her mind. Very casually.) So, any ideas on what gave you the breast fetish?

Daria: No idea. The cheese, that mango nectar from last night? (Shrugs.) Probably from sleeping in a strange place.

Jane: (V/O: If you only knew how strange.) Any plans for today?

Daria: Nothing much, o cryptic supplier of food. You?

Jane: You got me.

Daria: I had enough of you last night. (At Jane's expression.) Did I say something wrong?

Jane: (Shakes head.) Nah, nah, nah, you're fine. (Tries to keep a straight face, but bursts out laughing.)

Daria: (Raised eyebrow.) Jane, have you been eating the cheese you found under the grill again? [15]

Jane: (Waves away the suggestion.) That was Trent, remember? I just thought of something funny.

Daria: (Obviously doesn't believe her.) Right.

Jane: You almost finished?

Daria: (Looks down, surprised at the disappeared food.) Ah, yes. I hope you had enough.

Jane: Why do you think I started cooking breakfast? (Burps.) Urrp! Excuse me. (Winces.) Ohh, bacon isn't so good the second time around. (Daria scowls and fans away possible "Bile 'n Bacon" breath.)

Daria: So, how about we tidy up the mess you left downstairs, then moulder in front of the TV?

Jane: And how do you know there is a mess downstairs?

(Quick jump to the Lane kitchen. There's a stack of greasy pans in the sink, eggshells everywhere, unwashed cutting boards and all the general "dirty kitchen" clichés.)

Jane: I might have cleaned up as I went along?

(Daria looks over at Jane, who tries to act innocent.)

Daria: Let's just say that I find that unlikely.

Jane: (Smiling.) Ok, you know me too well. We clean up, then TV?

Daria: (Gets up with the tray.) Lead on, Lady Lane.

(Open to the Lane living room. Jane comes into the shot carrying a pile of her "Black" paintings. Music: "Intermission" - Offspring. Daria follows, arms also filled. Jane places them carefully along the walls, and directs Daria to do the same. They're both dressed normally.)

Jane: (Dusting hands.) Good, at least we can now actually watch TV.

Daria: Or more likely, you watch me watch TV, while you go and paint your fever-dreams. (Waves a hand at the stacks of paintings, 8 deep along all of the walls.) Going through a "Black" period? [16]

Jane: (Heading up the stairs.) Actually, yes.

(Daria looks a bit puzzled, but follows Jane.)

(In Jane's room, looking much tidier. Music: "You Look So Fine" - Garbage. Jane sets up one of her black canvasses while Daria thumbs on the remote. Janes stands at the easel, staring blankly past the surface. Daria looks over.)

Daria: Waiting for inspiration to hit?

Jane: (Shakes her head, then turns to Daria.) What tipped you off?

Daria: You're poised with a brush, but you haven't any paint.

(Jane looks down and is surprised to see that Daria's right.)

Jane: Looks as if the ol' "flight of the imagination" needs it's wings glued back on. (Beat.) Hmmm! (Scheming look.) Oh, Daria?

Daria: (Wary, she knows the tone.) Yes Jane?

Jane: (Reaching down and grabbing a huge sketchbook.) Pose for me.

Daria: Ok. (She sits where she is. Jane rolls her eyes.)

Jane: I was looking for something more unusual…

Daria: (Really wary now.) And?

Jane: Remember what you told me last night?

Daria: (Expressionless.) "Stop licking my ear Jane, I'm not Jesse?"

Jane: No. (Waves.) Before that, about you being double-jointed…

Daria: (Imagine the expression.) Oh no. No way. Absolutely not…

Jane: C'mon! It'd be a fantastic chance for me…

Daria: ("Time to die" voice.) …To end up in traction, in a full body-cast.

Jane: Look, no mention of Trent to you for two months!

Daria: Yeah, right. (Turns away.)

Jane: (Desperate now, she can feel the inspiration urge draining away.) Three months! (Holds up hand.) On my goldfish's grave, I swear!

Daria: (Looks back at Jane.) You're really hung up on this, aren't you?

Jane: Three and a half months!

Daria: Absolutely no mention of Trent, even if it costs you a bitten tongue?

Jane: (Her hand is still up.) I do so swear and affirm.

Daria: (Musing.) I'm not sure…

Jane: Please? Four months?

Daria: (Sighs.) All right. (Looks up.) How do you want me?

Jane: Hang on! (Runs over to her closet, grabs something and throws it to Daria.)

(Daria catches it, it's flesh-coloured and flimsy. She looks at it, puzzled.)

Jane: Well, put it on!

Daria: (Rotates it, looking for some identifying marks.) And what in hell is it?

Jane: (Setting up.) A body stocking. (At Daria's expression.) What, did you want me to paint you nude? [17]

Daria: Absolutely no freaking way Lane!

Jane: (Hurt.) Hey! Remember, our agreement?

Daria: I assumed that it was going to be something tasteful, not one of Upchuck's fantasies!

Jane: (More hurt.) It will be! Honestly!

(Daria just looks at the mass of filmy fabric in her hand, then at Jane's pleading expression.)

Daria: (Flat.) I reserve the right to destroy anything that I don't like, agreed?

Jane: (Not liking it.) Well, all right.

Daria: (Very serious.) And I mean it. My daily quota of humiliation is full enough without glossy copies of your paintings floating around school.

Jane: (Conceding the point.) Ok. Nothing, and I mean nothing, will leave this room without your say-so.

Daria: Right. (Looks at the stocking.) But I'm gonna need some help in figuring this out.

(Jane ponders for a few seconds, then rummages in her drawers again. She throws over a bare slip of slinky fabric. Daria catches it easily and rotates it open.)

Jane: (Shrugs.) You might need it.

Daria: (Daria holds up a "flesh-coloured" G-string. Expressionless.) Jane, never tell me, okay?

Jane: It's all perfectly reasonable…

Daria: Never. (Beat) Got somewhere I can warm up?

Jane: Just shove anything out of your way that you need to.

Daria: (Dry.) I would, but I don't like tetanus shots. (Pause.) Even the necessary ones…

Jane: (Disgruntled.) Fine, fine, go change. (Daria leaves the shot. Calls out after.) I'll act the wench. (Muttering, she shifts stuff out of the way until a lot of the floor can be seen.)

Daria: (O/S) Wench is waitress.

Jane: Whatever. (Finished, she taps her foot impatiently.)

(Daria comes back into the shot, head and shoulders only. She's looking nervous.)

Daria: Any wisecracks and I kill. (Takes her glasses off and puts them on the stereo.)

Jane: Jeez, relax. You think that you're my first life study? (Casts an eye over her, professional admiration.) And you don't work out? (Shakes head.) Don't know how you do it.

Daria: It's the constant intake of lasagne and greasy pizza.

Jane: (Smiles slightly.) You've also got a better attitude than some of my so-called professional models. (Grabs a handful of drawing tools.)

Daria: (Looking uncomfortable at the compliments.) Too many trips to the bathroom for ipecac syrup?

Jane: Nope, they just whined. (Throws down some fast and dirty lines.) A lot.

Daria: (Surprised.) What are you doing that for? I haven't done anything yet.

Jane: Loosening up my hand and getting in some quick practise. (Flaps out fingers.) Go ahead. (Poised with pencil.)

Daria: Here goes. (Hurriedly.) I'll have to do some stretching first, you understand?

Jane: Fine with me.

(Daria drops out of the shot, meaning that the camera remains at a fixed height whenever it cuts over to her. Cut over to Jane, who winces, then applauds.)

Daria: (O/S) What? I haven't started yet!

Jane: You haven't started? (Bursts into a frenzy of motion, hands clutching pens, pencils, charcoal, crayons, anything.) God girl, you’re incredible!

Daria: (O/S) Can I move? I haven't really got the kinks out yet.

Jane: (Almost hidden by the sketchbook.) Sure, sure. This is great! Can you…oh, you can! Cool.

(Almost a minute goes by with Jane throwing everything she's got into quick "study" sketches.)

Daria: (O/S) Ready?

Jane: Hit me. (Several seconds silence.) Wow. (Stares a little, then bends back to her page.)

Daria: (O/S, after a minute or two.) How is it?

Jane: Fine, apart from the fact that no one will believe that it's a life-study. (Stares, really hard.) How in hell can you do that? Doesn't it hurt?

Daria: (O/S) No, but it's pretty fun trying to breathe in a few positions. (Grunts.)

Jane: (Admiring, then frankly amazed.) That's pretty wild there girl. (Shakes head, sketches faster.) So, how did you find out that you can do this?

Daria: (O/S) Watching TV. Bored. Stretching. (Beat.) Dad freaked when he walked in.

Jane: That doesn't sound good.

Daria: (O/S) Dad thought that I'd broken my back, and was trying to get to help. (Reflective.) It took Mom about half a bottle of tranquillisers to calm him down enough so he'd stop screaming.

Jane: (Distant.) Sounds pretty normal, no offence.

Daria: (O/S) None taken. (Beat.) Could you turn the channel over?

Jane: (Does so, than goes back the sketching. Crap ads can be heard slightly in the background. Jane looks over.) You watched TV like that? Heh, no wonder Jake had a heart attack.

Daria: (O/S) Dad hasn't seen me do this since I've was eight. Mom finally asked me to stop; it was too traumatic for him.

Jane: So why do you do it now?

Daria: (O/S) Four months of blissful silence from you, remember?

Jane: Touche! (Interested.) Have you ever felt the need to fold yourself into a box?

Daria: (O/S) No, but I have felt the urge to place a certain Lane in a pine box, many, many times.

Jane: Ha. (Whips sketchbook around so that Daria can see.) What do you think?

Daria: (O/S, frank.) Well, if I wasn't wearing that G-string, it'd be pornographic, that's for sure. (Beat.) Do I look that freaky? It's pretty grotesque.

Jane: I find it fascinating. Did you do gymnastics?

Daria: (O/S) I had a shocking sense of balance, so I quit, a long time ago.

Jane: Oh? Could you move…yeah, but a little more…whoa! Can you hold that? (Blurs back into action.)

Daria: (O/S) This is easy.

Jane: (Not looking up.) So why'd you stop? The gymnastics?

Daria: (O/S) Overall boredom and despair. Every time I went to the classes, I was the freak who would be competing for America in the next Olympics, if only I worked on my balancing skills.

Jane: Ouch.

Daria: (O/S) So as soon as I dropped from the lessons, the parents started me on the flute.

(Jane stares into space for a second, then shakes head and continues drawing.)

Daria: (O/S) Bad choice of words, or scary mental image?

Jane: Don't ask.

Daria: (O/S) Anyway, when they were testing my hearing for music, they found I'd had some weird blockage, and gave me this course of drugs to undertake.

Jane: So ear trouble gone, sense of balance returns?

Daria: (O/S) Not that I'd let on.

Jane: (Finishes in a flurry of strokes.) I think I've got that one. Anything else?

Daria: (O/S) Well…

(We see stockinged toes come into the bottom of the Daria shot, followed by her heels. The top of her head rises slightly into the frame.)

Jane: God! Hold it, would you? (Makes bold, sweeping strokes on the paper.)

Daria: (O/S) Just hurry this one up, it's difficult to hold against gravity and my own weight.

Jane: (Muttering to herself.) Simple lines, simple lines.

Daria: (O/S) Ready?

Jane: Uhh, yeah? (Looks over, and eyes go really wide.) Ho!

(We can see a calf and foot in the Daria shot, then a hand joins it. She grunts.)

Daria: (O/S) And I call this one "dammed near impossible to do".

(Jane doesn't answer, she's got both hands in action, smoothing, inking, rubbing, anything to get Daria's position down on paper.)

Jane: (While working.) That has got to be the most unlikely thing I've seen the human body do. (Throws a blunted pencil over her shoulder, snatches up a handful of willow charcoal.) What on earth gave you the idea to do that?

Daria: (O/S) Skiing accident reports. Full colour photos.

Jane: Hmm, I can see it now. (Finishes off some detailed areas.) Are you sure you don't want to go on "Sick, Sad World, The Eye-watering episodes?"

Daria: (O/S) If I did, you'd be the horrifying product of a ritual slaying, later seen on "Hard Copy".

Jane: Ha! (Turns around her finished sketch.) Hmm?

Daria: (O/S) Whoa. You mean I look like that?

Jane: Scary, huh? (Smirking.) Ready to do the sideshow circuit?

(There are slithers and thumps, obviously Daria getting out of whatever contortion she was in. Her head pops back into the "head and shoulder" shot.)

Daria: (Flushed.) Where do you think we got Quinn from? (Rubs back.)

Jane: I thought she was switched at birth, you know, from "Barbie's First Teen Pregnancy".

Daria: That's Brittany.

Jane: Good point. (Goes to another sheet.) Just stand there a sec, would you?

Daria: (Sighs.) The things I do for art. (She stands normally.)

Jane: (Mock-severely.) No talking!

(Daria just stands there for Jane. Unknowingly, a slight expression of happiness emerges on her face.)

Jane: Right. What do you think? (She holds it up, and we get to see this one. It's just a minimal sketch of Daria's face, slightly flushed and with a slight version of her infamous smirk. It looks a lot like the head and shoulders of the end-of-episode representation of Daria in spiky leather gear and with helmet.)

Daria: Hmm, the one I can show my parents?

Jane: But will you?

Daria: Oh. (Surprised.) May I?

Jane: (Smiles.) It's yours. Just let me fix it? (She rummages at her feet for a second, then comes up spraying the sketch.) Done. Just leave it on the bed until it dries, eh?

Daria: Ok. Bored yet?

Jane: Are you kidding? (She flicks through the sheet's she's finished.) These are brilliant! You were brilliant! I'm brilliant!

Daria: (Dry.) So, in conclusion, everyone's brilliant. (Beat.) Want to finish up?

Jane: (Disappointed.) Well, only if you want to.

Daria: I must be coming down with something, but (Soft.) not really.

Jane: (Grabs a fresh sketchpad. Rubs hands together eagerly.) Inspire me!

(Cut outside of the Lane household.)

Jane: (O/S) Holy mother of GOD!

Daria: (O/S. You can hear the smirk.) Inspired yet?

(Open to Daria walking in through the Morgandoffer front door, dusk. Music: "Hammering In My Head" - Garbage. No one's in the lounge as she goes into the kitchen. She opens the fridge, grabs a can of soda and pops the top. As she closes the fridge, she discovers a note on the door.)

(Cut to note, closeup on the neat copperplate handwriting.)

Helen: (V/O) "Dear Daria, your father and I are taking the day off to go see the Mall of the Millennium with Quinn. Help yourself to the fridge and there's frozen dinners in the freezer. Bye sweetie, Mom."

Daria: (To herself.) Well, I can guess what forced the parents into taking Quinn to the Mall, but I wonder what she's got out of it?

(Quick cut to earlier in the day. Helen, Jake and some nameless boys all carrying Quinn purchases like it's some sort of safari, Quinn leads wearing sunglasses and a scarf.)

Daria: Something astronomical, that's for sure. (Pause.) And why am I talking to myself? My usual tormentors aren't at home.

(O/S: <FX> Car pulls up outside the garage. We can easily hear car doors slam with unnecessary force.)

Daria: I spoke too soon. (Wary, she waits at the kitchen bench.)

(Enter Helen and Jake Morgandoffer. Helen looks tired and extremely irritated. Jake looks like he's run a marathon, he's that exhausted and rumpled. Quinn sweeps into the room, noticing Daria on the way.)

Quinn: (Casts an eye over, then ignores Daria.) And I'll be getting ready for Chez Pierre, so don't bother about dinner for me, right? (Sweeps out again.)

(Helen and Jake kind of collapse at the kitchen table, wasted. Daria looks at them for a little, then deposits her drink on the bench and walks into the living room. She comes back with an assortment of bottles, an ice-shaker and a glass pitcher. She starts to mix something while her parents sit there, oblivious. She gets some ice cubes from the freezer and a bottle of olives from the fridge. After measuring, mixing and shaking, she strains the end results into two large Martini glasses, puts the remainder in the pitcher and places olives on the toothpicks in the glasses. She walks over to the table and gives them to her parents.)

Jake: (Very subdued.) Thanks kiddo. (He plays with the olive a little. Helen simply drains the glass.)

(Daria brings over the rest of the pitcher, tops up Helen's glass. Jake swigs his, then hold his up for a refill. Daria does so.)

Daria: (Mildly.) Rough day?

Helen: (Staring into the table.) Daria, don't get me started. (Taps glass.) Thanks.

Daria: Well, I'm going to my bedroom. Goodnight all.

(She leaves Helen and Jake staring at each other, then at the pitcher on the table.)

(Open to Daria and Jane walking to school. Music: "Push It" - Garbage.)

Jane: Wow, so she actually managed to break the "five figure" barrier?

Daria: I don't think my parents really understood the awful force of nature Quinn becomes when let loose in a mall. At any rate, I think they've discovered the perfect form of contraception.

Jane: At over ten G's a pop, I think I'd expect something more than an old couch…

Daria: (Quickly.) Don't go there Jane. (Pause.) Unless a crate of money falls from the sky, it won't be cleaned until Quinn's kids go through college.

Jane: ("Ouch" expression.) Next time, we watch TV in your room, no question.

Daria: Mom was already begging for more work at the office, so I can expect burnout within the month.

Jane: (Bigger wince.) Not a good weekend at the Morgandoffer household then?

Daria: They've had better.

Jane: (Puzzled.) They?

Daria: Oh, did I forget to tell you? I've been sold as a dancing girl for some Arab prince, he'll be picking me up later this week. I am now "Jasmin, Western Pearl of the Desert Sands".

Jane: (Reflective.) I wish I could find it within me to laugh, but for some reason, I can't. (Beat, concern showing.) Are you going to be ok?

Daria: (Not joking that much.) Fancy adopting me?

Jane: I can't, you'd be sister to Tren - Damn! (Smacks fist into hand.) Accursed bargain!

Daria: (Looking down.) Jane?

Jane: (Still smarting at not being about to torment Daria with Trent.) Yeah?

Daria: You've also got paint on your boot.

(Cut to Lawndale high. Music: "Is Your Love Strong Enough?" - Brian Ferry, from the "Legend" soundtrack. Daria and Jane walk in, avoiding Jodie, who is besieged by students wanting tickets for the "Pre-monthly Ball". As they proceed through, posters advertise the fact that it's theme is to be "Alternate-Lifestyles". Cut to people who are clustered around Andrea, who looks disgusted. Some are taking notes.)

Jane: Well, the "Fascist Four" haven't shown up yet.

Daria: (Dead/distant tone.) They're here.

Jane: (Trying to cheer Daria up.) A disturbance in the force?

Daria: The scent of "Chanel #5" (Turns to Jane.) Quinn bought a quart bottle of it yesterday. [18]

Jane: (Slowly.) You weren't kidding about the 5-figure thing, were you?

Daria: (Calm.) Did you think I was?

Jane: (She looks more than a bit sickened.) I though you may have been exaggerating, to stress a point?

Daria: (Monotone.) I would, if I had to. (Chill.) But my life leaves no prisoners.

(Jane gives Daria's shoulder a reassuring squeeze through the jacket.)

Jane: It'll get better.

Daria: Before or after I'm charged with homicide?

Jane: (Avoids the question.) So, going to the Ball?

Daria: (Dry.) Sorry fairy-godmother, me no losa. [19]

Jane: (Sceptical.) And who's the linguist here?

Daria: Look, even if I wanted to participate in the "Drunken Kegger" ambience that the Ball is promising, I'd have to run the gauntlet of asking my parents for permission.(Jane doesn't look convinced.) And to top it off, there is now no way they, or I, could spring for the tickets. (Beat.) Unless I started to dance for strange men, but I'd rather leave that option open until college tuition fees become an issue. [20]

Jane: So I can't change your mind?

Daria: Well…

Jane: (Eagerly.) Yes?

Daria: It'd have to involve some very highly specialised medical tools. And some top neurosurgeons.

Jane: Ha. (Smiles briefly.) No chance then? Ok, fair enough. (Frowns and looks down.) Hang on, I have to wash this gunk off my boot before it dries further. See you in class?

Daria: Okay.

(Jane jogs off around the corner, leaving little red patches. Daria shrugs, then walks off.)

(Open to the Girl's bathroom, Jane balancing on one leg, washing some red paint off her boot. Music: "Mota" - The Offspring. She hears the quick patter of footsteps, a stall door slam shut and rack to locked. There is some heavy breathing from the stall, obviously someone trying to catch their breath. The door unlocks and opens slightly.)

Jodie: (O/S, hiss.) Jane!

Jane: (Drying her boot under one of those hot-air "handi-dri" things.) Talking toilet, you may address me as Lady Lane. (Turns.) Oh, hey Jodie.

Jodie: (Head poking out. Quietly, but intense.) Not so loud!

Jane: (Quieter.) Well, why are you in the stall perilous?

Jodie: (Surprised.) Eh?

Jane: (More to herself than for Jodie.) Arthurian reference, from the "Grand Tradition".

Jodie: (More puzzled.) What?

Jane: (Smiles slightly.)It's a game Daria and I play. (Focuses on Jodie.) What can I do for you?

Jodie: (Depressed.) Can you save me from an angry mob?

Jane: I told you to stick to selling that "Cure-all tonic", but did you listen? (Beat.) What's up?

Jodie: Well, after advertising and selling maybe four tickets for the last two months, people now suddenly want in on the Ball. (Sighs.) I'm totally out of singles, but people don't want the "couple" option.

Jane: ("Tough luck" expression.) If they were stupid enough to wait until nothing was left…

Jodie: (Interrupts.) I can't say that!

Jane: You could cut the couple's ticket in two, and sell them as two singles?

Jodie: (She's been thinking about it.) The couple's tickets are cheaper, so I can't do that…and anyway, they're specially printed, limited run designs.

Jane: Hmmm. (Thinking.) The couple's are cheaper?

Jodie: Per person, yes. That's what I don't understand, why get bothered about paying for a single when it's cheaper for two to team up and pay together?

Jane: Hmmm! (Rubs hands and cackles fiendishly.) I have a cunning plan…

Jodie: (Looking even more wary of Jane than Daria was.) Ok, I'm listening.

(Cut to Jane and Daria walking home. Music: "Ray of Light" - Madonna. Daria is looking at Jane with awe and admiration.)

Daria: So you persuaded Jodie to cut the couple's tickets in half…

Jane: Jaggedly.

Daria: …Unevenly, so that they'd be able to find their partner by the unique shape of their tickets?

Jane: (Gloating.) Yes.

Daria: And then you got Jodie to sell the modified tickets for more than the original singles?

Jane: (Airily.) Making the Student Association a very tidy profit.

Daria: While ensuring that there is going to be an in-built icebreaker for the night. (Beat.) You look happier that I'd expect you to be, even if you have derailed the bureaucratic machine. What don't I know?

Jane: (Monotone.) I was assigned the cutting and subsequent organisation of the tickets.

Daria: (A bit worried at the voice.) So?

Jane: (Evil grin.) You'll have to wait until the night, or on the news reports afterwards.

Daria: I have a VERY bad feeling about this.

(Jane's cackle bursts out on to the afternoon.)

(Open to Janes' room. Music: "Galapogos" - Smashing Pumpkins. Jane is re-surfacing one of her "Black" paintings. Daria is looking interestedly at Jane's wall. Pan and we see a variety of footwear, covered in paint, heaped on some protective plastic at the base of a large series of canvasses. On the canvasses, there are a variety of footprints, or what may have been footprints. Red paint is evident.)

Daria: Hmm. Going through another Pollock phase?

Jane: (Not looking up.) He did pour paint over his boots and stomp over his work, didn't he?

Daria: According to that documentary we watched during art.

Jane: (Head still in her work.) Well, I was aiming for some more freshness in my abstracts…

Daria: Freshness? And you used those shoes?

Jane: ("Lady Jane" voice.) A poor jest, you may amuse me further. (Waves a hand out at Daria.)

(Daria looks at Jane, then goes over and opens up the windows, wide. A cold wind rushes in.)

Jane: (Looks up.) Hey!

Daria: I know you're using acrylics today, but I'm now a bit paranoid whenever you start acting weird while painting. Remember your "surrealist" oils phase, not too long ago?

Jane: Yah, yah, yah! Just close the window already. (Daria does so.)

(Jane goes to sit down on the bed, then frowns at something and rummages around in her pockets. A fascinating collection of artist's supplies, bits of fluff, old sweets and assorted flotsam emerge. Finally, she takes out a large stiff card, heavily folded. Daria come over, to see what lives in Jane's shorts.)

Daria: When was the last time you cleaned these out? (Nods to Jane's turned-out pockets.)

Jane: Last night, same as always. (She unfolds the card, and puts it under some heavy tins to straighten.)

Daria: (Curiously.) What's that?

Jane: (Mysteriously.) The wages of sin. (Goes back to her painting.)

Daria: (Sarcastically.) It didn't look like a rumpled twenty. An IOU?

Jane: Aha! That, my lovely, is for me to know, and you to find out.

(Daria looks at Jane for a few seconds, then goes and opens up the windows again.)

(Outside shot of the Lane house.)

Jane: (O/S) HEY!

(Cut to Daria, walking downstairs from her room. Music: "Death Scene" - from the score of Romeo & Juliet, softly. She's obviously looking for something and finds it when she picks up the walk-around mobile. As Daria goes to dial, she can hear voices raised in argument.)

Daria: (Wry.) Let's see what's behind door number one.

(Daria rounds the corner and finds Helen in a roaring argument with Jake, Quinn sitting off on the periphery, examining her nails. No one notices Daria's entrance.)

Helen: What do you mean "you couldn't believe what I'd done!" I didn't enjoy it! I had to do it!

Jake: (Concerned/worried anger, not just the humorous "Jake going postal again" anger.) Helen!

Helen: What?! Daria's going to get a scholarship; and we will replace the money when we can!

Jake: (Gasping.) That fund was held in trust for Daria! Do you have any idea of the penalties that will be levelled against the total balance of the fund?!

Helen: (Cold, deadly.) Yes, I do know. I found that out today, when Am-Ex phoned me up in the middle of a very important meeting. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?

Jake: (Shocked.) You haven't already done it!? I could have, could have…

Helen: (Cold/tired.) What Jake? Mortgaged the house? Again?!

Jake: Something!

Helen: After our reserves were wiped out the helicopter rescue? And your heart-attack? How?

Jake: Anything would have been better than…

Daria: (O/S) …Emptying my college trust fund because you overspent trying to buy off Quinn?

(Screech cut, merging to the new music: "Gas Station Scene" - from score of Romeo & Juliet. While Tybalt arrives and has his little say, everyone is frozen. Helen looks shocked, Quinn looks surprised and Jake looks incredibly guilty.)

(Daria looks like "Violent Death" incarnate.)

Helen: (For once, lost for words.) Well, I, that is to say…

Jake: Yes. (Stands, holding Helen's hand.) We did.

Daria: (Knife-edged scorn.) Lovely picture of solidarity Dad, I heard everything. (Her fists are clenched and she looks to be holding back a lot of pent-up, bloody rage.) Did it even enter your pathetic little minds that you could have returned most of Quinn's bribes? Or is that simply too hard, to go against the tide of "Everything for Quinn?"

Jake: (Trying to placate.) Daria, I…

Daria: (Shouts, very loudly.) Just shut the fuck up! (Walks over carefully, like she's not too sure that she's touching the floor, or if she's going to go straight through.)

Daria: I. Have. Had. ENOUGH! (Her hands clench involuntary, and there is a sharp cracking sound. They all look down, and see that Daria has broken the phone, destroying the plastic casing. Her hand spasms open, and pieces fall to the carpet. Glares over.)

Daria: What's wrong mother dear? Can't buy your way out of a little bad parenting? (Loses the rest of the phone in an underhanded sling. It embeds itself in one of those large-size family-portrait shots, this one of the Morgandoffers when they moved out of Highland and into Lawndale.)

Helen: (Getting annoyed at the constant attack, and at the damaged picture.) Daria! Now Daria, I…

Daria: What? WHAT? Have become so tired of ruining my life, such that it is, you've decided to try for my future?!!

Helen: (She's the lawyer, has to argue.) I haven't ruined your life! We needed…

Daria: (Awful rasp.) More money, in order to pay off your credit-card bills.

Helen: (Defensive.) It's more than that!

Daria: Then tell me. Why did you spend so much? (Jake goes to open his mouth, but shuts it. Daria notices.) Ah, a miracle! Jake Morgandoffer manages to keep his foot out of his mouth!

Helen: (Protective of Jake.) Hey!

Daria: It's nothing that you've never said to Dad, Mom. Why bother pretending? You were so embarrassed being caught on the couch by my sister that you went the route you always do, buying off potential problems. But this time there's nothing left to spend, and the bills are gonna start coming in. (Softly, vicious.) So, what to do? You can't take the bribes off Quinn, oh no. So, you go to your other daughter, the dutiful one, the one who never makes a fuss, the one who has a college fund. And you drain it, to pay off the favourite daughter.

Daria: (Chill, at Helen's negative motions.) Don't you dare shake your head at me. (Pause.) Once you've stripped off the thin layer of gloss that ensures your precious consciences never get bothered, that is exactly what you've done. (Helen looks up, red in face.)

(Daria catches Helen's incoming slap with ease. She holds Helen's wrist at eye height for a few seconds, then forces it down.)

Daria: (Really scary now.) What, having trouble with the truth? You suck as a mother. Now, is that really so hard to understand? (She abruptly bends back Helen's wrist and forces her to the floor.)

Daria: And isn't resorting to force the first signs of a lost argument? (Lets go of the wrist.)

Daria: (Walking over to Jake.) So, tell me Dad, do you remember the last time that I actually bought something for myself?

Jake: Uhh, that poster? Kafka?

Daria: (A bit amazed.) That's right Dad. Well done. Can you remember how much it cost?

Jake: Something like $18 dollars, wasn't it?

Daria: Good. Now, think of all those presents, gifts and assorted tribute that Quinn receives from you in a month.

Jake: Uhh, ok. (He's backing away slightly from her monofocussed stare.)

Daria: Do you understand what I'm getting at?

Jake: Uhh, no. (Looks defeated.)

Daria: YOU SPEND MORE ON QUINN'S NAILPOLISH IN A MONTH THAN YOU DO ON ME IN A YEAR! (Stops shouting, deadly pause.) Have you even looked in my room, I mean really looked?

Jake: Uhh, uhh…(Looks about to cry.)

Daria: (Turning. Hiss/rasp.) And you. (Quinn shrinks back into the seat she's on, very pale.) Don't even think of making me come over there…

Helen: (Very tired voice, rubbing her wrist.) Well, what would you have us to do? You don't ask for help, or clothing, or money, or anything, Daria. You don't show us how you feel, and you don't like showing yourself to us. (Stands beside Jake.) I think that Jane knows you better than we do.

Daria: (Clenched teeth.) I'm "emoting" now, aren't I? (Helen ducks her head.) But you're probably right Mom, about one thing. (Beat.) Jane may know me better. And do you know why? (The last is in a drawn-out hiss, really ferocious.)

Daria: (Very softly.) It's because she actually cares. She doesn't feel obligated for giving birth to me, or even being related to me, she just cares.

(She goes into the kitchen and leaves the rest stunned. She walks out 2 seconds later, carrying Helen's yellow mobile. She dials a number into it, and waits.)

Daria: (Into phone.) Hey Jane. (Pause.) No, not really. (Pause.) May I stay… (Pause.) Yeah, I'll tell you later, when I get over there. (Pause.) Thanks. (She turns off the phone and lets it drop onto the infamous couch.) I'm packing to go over to Jane's, probably for some time. You have until I walk out the front door to try and think of something that would make me come back.

Jake: (Rather helplessly.) We love you kiddo.

Daria: (Eyes narrow.) And if you ever call me "Kiddo" again, I will burn down this house.

(Daria goes upstairs.)

(Music: "Bullet on Butterfly Wings" - Smashing Pumpkins. Cut to a short time later, Jake removing the walk-about from the picture. The whole Morgandoffer family unit come with it. He looks like he's going to cry again but takes down the picture for repairs. Daria comes walking down the steps, carryall in hand and school bag on her back. She looks at the entranceway/house foyer. The floor is covered in baby-photos, happy-snaps and scenes from Daria's childhood. She looks at them all briefly, then walks out over them. Helen comes out, to stand next to Jake. Daria stands on their cherished physical memory of her childhood, unconcerned.)

(Jake comes over, horrified tears in his eyes, but stops when he gets to around four feet of Daria. He tries to say something, but is choking. Daria just looks at him, unreadable.)

(Daria turns to Helen, who looks angry and hurt. Helen goes to say something, but clams up when the calm gaze of her eldest stabs at her.)

Daria: So. (Looks at the picture Jake has taken down, briefly.) I expected more than this, but why am I not surprised? (Beat.) Dad, there's a sale on home phone walkabouts at Radio-Shack, I've left money enough to cover it's purchase. Helen (Helen looks up, surprised at Daria's voice.) - I'm calling you that because right now, I'd rather not think of you as my mother - come closer.

(Helen comes closer to Daria. She goes to hug her, but is put off by the hostile body-language.)

Daria: I just wanted you to know something. (Daria's hand snakes out faster than her parents can see it, Helen is knocked down on the ground. Daria come over and squats next to her.)

Daria: (Low and vicious.) If you had even asked me about the college fund, I would have been all right. If you had even thought a little about me, for a moment, it would have been all right. If you had even talked to me about your reasons for favouring Quinn over me, it might have been all right. (Stands.) But you didn't and so I curse you all to whatever hell that will have you.

(She exits over the photos, crushing them under her boot treads. She open up the door, right in the rather surprised faces Sandi, Stacy and Tiffany. Daria stops.)

Sandi: (Noting the bags.) Well, Quinn's cousin, or whatever, are you leaving the Morgandoffers now?

Daria: [Think of the scariest tones out of anyone you've ever met, then multiply by about 60.] Get out of my way before I kill you all…

(As Stacy leaps back at Daria's rasped threat, Daria shoulders her bag, knocking Sandi to the ground.)

(Daria walks off into the night, Sandi's curses and threats floating out behind her.)

(Open to a montage of Daria's life. Music: "Genius" - Frenzal Rhomb. [Oz punkers, "coughing up a storm". It's very Australian.])

("Walking by myself, wondering how such an asshole, can be, so strong. It didn't have to happen, if I bought myself a gun, I wouldn't have been on the run, with Bonn. Because he's a fu*#en genius… He's a genius, a fu*#en genius…")

(Daria walking to school. Kids avoiding her, Jane at her heels, trying to tell, or get her to tell, something. Jodie looking over, concerned for Daria. The 3 J's cornering Daria, looking like they're demanding answers. Jane running over. Daria walking over the moaning and weeping forms of the 3 J's, Jane looking shocked at the carnage. Daria in front of O'Neill. O'Neill blubbering. Daria in front of the school psychologist, Mrs Manson. Daria walking through the corridors, kids giving her a wider berth than before. Daria in Jane's room, obviously the subject to one of her famous "Cheering-up" sessions. It's not working.)

(Daria walking into school, kids avoiding her like the plague. Robert, blocking her path. Robert on his knees, slowly bowing down, clutching his groin. Mack looking concerned for Daria, then disgusted at Robert. Mrs Barch looking disgusted at Robert, then surprised at Daria. Mr DeMartino, looking spooked by Daria. Mrs Bennet, looking spooked by Daria. Brittany looking concerned for Daria as she walks by. Daria at lunch, no one sits within ten feet of her, except for Mack, Jodie and Jane. Daria walking home, ignoring Jake driving alongside of her.)

(Daria walking to school, kids running away from her. Mrs Barch, looking unsettled at Daria. Kevin looking at Daria, kind of concerned, then his eyes roll up and he falls over in a faint. Daria at lunch, her ring of exclusion expanded to twenty feet. Mrs Defoe, looking concerned at Daria, then pleadingly at Jane. Jane trying to talk to Daria. Jane blankly shocked. Jane amazed. Jane red faced and furious. Cut to Helen, at court, representing a client. Helen has a huge black eye. Jake, talking very animatedly into a phone. Daria sitting upright in the Lane kitchen. Cut to Jane, still flushed with fury, painting with a palette knife and lots of red.)

(Daria walking to school, kids still avoiding her, but not so much. Mrs Defoe looking concerned at Jane, who is flaying a slab of clay, obviously fuming, then worried at Daria, who is sitting there and making pinch pots. Daria at lunch, the exclusion zone is shrinking. Andrea looks over, vague concern on her face, before she glares at a freshmen taking "notes" with her patented "flat stare of death". Jodie trying to talk to Daria. Quinn with the Fashion Club, looking distracted. Jodie trying to talk to Jane. Jane talking. Jodie looking furious. Jodie talking to Mack. Mack looks appalled, then angry. Jake talking on the phone, typing on the computer. Helen at her office, rubbing moisturiser into her face, looking disgusted at the pile of work in front of her, then incredibly depressed. Daria walking home, Mack, Jane and Jodie all trying to talk to her. Jake, late at night, still on the phone and typing on his computer.)

(Daria watching TV in her "sleep" clothing, the camera shifts and we can see that it's not on. Jane, painting something angry with pinks, greens, purples and lots of black. Cut to Jane's phone ringing, Jane picking it up, answering. Jane holding the phone, shaking it, obviously something wrong on the other end. Jake, on phone, still in the same clothes and with a 3 day growth, typing on the computer. Helen, alone at the office, consulting thick legal tomes. Her black eye is fading. She looks at some photos on her desk, then at one that is lying down. She lays her head down and cries. Jake on phone, looking excited, then exultant and then grateful. He replaces the phone into the cradle, looks around at his office, rubbing his chin. Jake looks over at the family photos on the wall. His face screws up, and he cries, unashamedly. Quinn at home with the Fashion Club, looking very distracted. The livingroom TV is on. The couch is missing. Daria cooking something in the Lane kitchen. Jane throwing it down with gusto, many expansive arm movements. Daria expressionless, wearing an apron. The kitchen phone rings and Daria picks it up.)

Jake: (O/S, unusually subdued.) I'm sorry.

(Morgandoffer home, Daria opening up the front door. Music: "Bang & Blame" - R.E.M. Daria closes the front door, noticing as she passes that the front room couch is missing. She walks into the kitchen. Jake is alone at the kitchen table. He has two plates of lasagne in front of him. Daria gets a glass of water and sits opposite.)

Jake: (Looks up from the food. Quietly.) Thanks for coming. Dinner? (At Daria's stare.) Maybe not.

Daria: (Relenting a little on the stare.) I've already eaten, th