[This time, I'm breaking it up into smaller chunks, in part because I wound up needing to do so in the adaptation process.]
_The Look-Alike Series_ Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit Season 1-2 Interstice/Holiday Special: "Rue Britannia" prose adaptation by Austin Loomis
Chapter 1: Getting There Is Half The Fun
In her room, Jane Lane, artiste extraordinaire and pizza fiend, was throwing art supplies into a bag and talking on the phone. "Oh, come *on!* You *promised* you'd talk to him!" In her own room at the other end of the phone, Lynn Cullen, the Purple Peril, was online on two windows at once -- an IRC channel and Subversion_Is_We.co.uk. "And I meant it. I just needed some information before I did so. I just talked to Aunt Lorna over IRC -- well, if you call that talking -- and I have a proposition for Trent that might just cheer him up." Jane continued sorting through her closet, throwing clothes haphazardly into the bag. "Ooh...that sounds kinky!" she mused with her trademark evil smirk. "I guess the Daria resemblance isn't only skin-deep *after* all!" Lynn was vaguely pissed off, but decided to let it slide. This time. "And you just get wittier and wittier every time I talk to you. -- I meant a career advancement opportunity that doesn't involve him becoming a toll collector on a highway...which I happen to know is his worst fear." "How do you know *that?*" "A few choice mutters from the back of the Mercedes during the road trip. You know as well as *anyone* that the narcoleptic is more talkative asleep than awake." Jane chuckled at that truth. "So...apart from the obvious, what do I pack?" "Rain gear." Jane looked in confusion at her luggage. "*Rain* gear?" "Yes, rain gear. It rains a lot in England at this time of year." Jane considered this. "I don't think I *have* rain gear. What do I do?" Lynn shrugged. "Drown."
* * *
The door to the basement of Casa Lane opened, and Jane and Lynn stood in the doorway. From far below, Jane's older brother Trent was playing something mournful, but loud enough to shake the walls. "He's been doing this for *how* long?" Lynn yelled over the noise. "Since Daria talked to him a few weeks back," Jane yelled in reply. "You promised; now *do* something!" She gave Lynn a shove forward that nearly knocked her down the stairs. Lynn glared at Jane, then completed the descent. She heard the door slam behind her -- barely -- over the music. _Now I know how a fly in a Venus flytrap feels,_ she thought. Aloud, she said, "Hey, Trent?" There was no reply. She realized Trent couldn't hear her over his own tortured axe-work. She got louder. "Hey, Trent!" Still nothing. She resorted to yelling. "HEY, TRENT!" Continued absence of dice. _Either I shout myself into apoplexy or..._ She pulled the plug on the amp. Trent's guitar riffs turned into muted twanging noises. He looked around and saw Lynn. "You know, you really ought to have some sort of signal so I don't have to do things like this." "Hey, Lynn," Trent replied in his usual low, raspy tones. "I meant to ask," she led off casually, "who's your manager? I mean, who books the gigs?" Trent had to think about that one a moment. "Dunno," he finally concluded. "I mean...whichever one of us gets to the bar first, usually." "Right," she continued, still casual, "so if I was to act as your manager on a gig, it would be kosher? So long as you were all in agreement, of course." He seemed puzzled. "I guess, but..." "Good," she decreed with a businesslike nod. "If you're all agreeable, you'll be touring London starting in three days." That one stunned him senseless for a moment. "*What?*" he blurted when he could trust himself to speak. "Through a contact of my aunt's in London, I've managed to land Mystik Spiral a gig as a support band on Camden's grunge bar circuit. If you all wanted to. I mean, it could be a big break for you...if you want to take it." He remembered something. "Aren't you, Janey and Daria going to London at the same time?" "Yep. A.P. decided to come along at the last minute, too. Accommodation free if you want to stay with my Aunt Lorna and the rest of us in Soho." Now he was torn. "Um...I..." Lynn was starting to get annoyed. "You're not going to bail on a really big opportunity just because some girl that ditched you happens to be going along, are you? I thought you and Daria were staying friends." He had the good grace to look shamefaced. "We are." Lynn raised an eyebrow. "Well, if one of *my* friends was avoiding me and even throwing away a chance of a lifetime to not be in the same country as me for a couple of weeks, I'd have some *serious* questions to ask that friend. -- Now are you coming or not?" "Um...I'd look really stupid if I said no *now,* wouldn't I?" Lynn's only reply was another raised eyebrow. "And it *would* be pretty cool to play in another country," Trent mused out loud. Lynn smirked; she knew she had him. "Yeah. We'll do it. I gotta go call the guys." He put down his guitar and headed for the stairs. "Just don't forget to *pack!*" Lynn called after him.
* * *
A couple days later, they'd all gathered outside Casa Lane. Lynn, Jane, and their friends Daria Morgendorffer and A.P. McIntyre were standing by Lynn's mother's Mercedes while the four members of Mystik Spiral were loading their gear into the van they affectionately called the Tank. Its owner, Max Tyler, approached Lynn, looking stressed to the point of panic. "Are you *sure* she'll be okay in the airport long stay lot? I mean, I nearly lost her once and I *can't* face that again!" "Did you ever take the Tank to a mechanic?" she asked him calmly. "Why? She works..." A sigh. "Max, the engine's held together with audio equipment and duct tape." She shrugged. "Never mind; your funeral. And the van will be *fine* in the long stay lot. Would I be trusting the Mercedes in it otherwise?" "And what do you have rigged in case someone *does* try to steal it?" Jane wondered slyly. "It would scare you to find out," A.P. replied smugly. "She contracted me to rig the security." Jane decided to let that one lie. "So, come on, Daria. What were your family's parting shots before you left the house?" Daria thought it over, then summed up. "Dad handed me some cash, told me in the most vague terms possible to watch out for perverts, and started rambling about his military school days just after telling me how travel broadens the mind. Mom handed me some cash, told me that she would turn any would-be rapist into legal mulch and made me promise to call on Christmas Day and New Year's Day...reversing the charges, of course. If the phones work. Quinn handed me some cash and a list of the duty-free perfumes she wanted, told me to find the Fashion Cafe and take pictures of any famous models, and very quietly told me to have a good time." "Is that what *all* parents are like?" "Pretty much," Lynn allowed as. "Okay, if we're all packed and ready...wagons ho!" And they were into their vehicles, and the Mercedes pulled away from Casa Lane, followed by the Tank. In the Mercedes, Lynn was driving, Jane was riding shotgun, and Daria and A.P. were in the backseat. Lynn turned to Jane. "So did he finally stop the romantic slush?" "Yes," Jane groaned, "but then he and the rest of the band holed up in the basement and started practicing day and night. They did that for the last three days. I had to sleep in the pottery bunker to get away from the noise." "Have they improved since I last heard them?" A sigh. "Not noticeably." In the back, Daria and A.P. were sitting a bit tensely, obviously twitchy about the prospect of touching just yet. "So," A.P. asked Daria, "nervous?" "Yeah. Um...I'm not that great a flier." "Got any Dramamine?" "I'm not *that* bad." "Oh," A.P. replied, clearly taken aback.
* * *
In the Tank, Max was driving, and Trent was riding shotgun -- slumped against the window, fast asleep as usual for him. Rhythm guitarist Jesse "No Shirt" Moreno and bass player Nick "Proud Papa" Campbell were sitting on the trunk in the back, leaning against opposite walls of the van housing, likewise dead to the world. Max, who hadn't noticed that he was the only one still awake, was starting to get bored. "Hey, guys, what say we play the picnic game again? -- Guys?" He realized why they weren't answering him. "Aw, come *on,* you guys!"
* * *
The departure lounge of Carter County Airport was a typical example of its faceless breed, yet another reminder of why no human language has ever produced, by process of natural evolution, the phrase "as pretty as an airport." Lynn stood at a carousel of paperback books in front of the little periodicals stand in one corner. Jane was in another part of the lounge, sketching a rather obese man overflowing out of one of those uncomfortable plastic contoured chairs they often have in airport departure lounges. Max, Nick and Jesse were in three such chairs, giving a demonstration of their "eyeball dexterity" -- which is to say, they were asleep. This left Daria, A.P. and Trent to stand around looking nervously at each other. Trent decided to start a conversation. "So...Daria..." "Yeah?" she replied. Trent stumbled for something to say, finally deciding on, "How's school been?" "We got Ms. Li arrested and they had to start Christmas vacation a week or so early." Trent had no response to that beyond "Oh." Now it was Daria's turn to stumble. "You got any new songs prepared for your London debut?" Sir Naps-a-Lot perked up, for him anyway. "Yeah! We got this new one I wrote about a month ago called `Death to the...'" He trailed off with a "whoops" expression on his face, an expression explained by the title's final word. "...`Techno-Weasels.'" Daria, who could guess what must have inspired a song with a title like that, was instantly uncomfortable. "Oh." There was an awkward silence. A.P. decided to try and restart the conversation, oblivious to the role his past actions had played in its stoppage. "Hey, what sort of PA you guys running?" "Um...dunno," Trent failed to commit. The Psycho-Maverick seemed disappointed. "Oh." After a beat, he hopefully suggested, "Hey, I can have a look at it for you if you want! Boost the power and fiddle around with the circuitry and you could blow the roof *right* off any venue!" "Um...no. Thanks." _Not that I don't trust you,_ Trent said without words, _but I don't._ The triangle eyed each other nervously, their body language clearly showing that none of them wanted to leave the other two alone together, lest some unwanted act of sex or violence ensue. Meanwhile, Lynn was spinning the carousel and muttering, seeming oblivious to the irritated-looking saleswoman standing behind her. "The ghost-writer currently known as V.C. Andrews..._The Green Mile_ in one volume -- someone's found yet *another* way to screw Stephen King fans... Courtroom drama...Chick-novel..." "Have you *decided?*" the annoyed saleswoman asked. Lynn calmly picked up a book. "Yes." There was a loaded pause. "*Yes?*" the saleswoman wondered at length, having gone from annoyed to exasperated. With her deadest pan, Lynn replied, "I have decided that airports are where all crappy novels go to die." She handed the book back, then spotted Daria, Trent and A.P. having their staredown. Her face took on an expression that clearly said "uh-oh" and she moved to join them. "Hey, Lynn," said a relieved Erudite Emerald as she saw her look- alike approaching. Lynn raised an eyebrow, as if to say _I understand._ "Hey. Tell me you brought something to read on the plane. There are no decent books to be had *anywhere* here. And even once we get to New York, it's about seven hours' flying before we get to London. And you can't rely on the in-flight entertainment to be...well, entertaining in *any* respect." "Me...without a *book?*" Daria rasped in a dead-on imitation of Fashion Club coordinating officer Tiffany Blum-Deckler. "That is *so* wrong..." Lynn was curious. "What'd you bring?" "_Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_..._I Never Promised You a Rose Garden_..._The Life of Galileo_ by Brecht..._The Acid House_ ...and _The Sickest of Sick, Sad World_. -- You?" Lynn felt her heart sink into her socks. "_Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_..._I Never Promised You a Rose Garden_..._The Threepenny Opera_ by Brecht..._Trainspotting_...and _The Best of Subversion Is We_." A.P. had to chuckle at that. "Man, you two really *are* practically the same person!" Daria rolled her eyes, while Lynn seethed briefly.
* * *
Almost before you knew it, they were into the air. Jane was sitting by the window, watching the takeoff. Daria was in the center, sunk back into her seat as far as she could go, with her hands tightly clutching the armrests. Lynn was on the aisle, wearing a set of headphones and reading _I Never Promised You a Rose Garden_. In another row, this one of five seats, A.P. was on the far left, wearing a set of headphones and reading a copy of _PC Pro_; Max, Jesse and Nick were in the middle, still asleep and snoring loudly; and Trent on the far right, glaring at A.P. Then he put on some headphones and dropped off to sleep himself.
* * *
"This is your captain speaking. We're approaching some storm activity and there's likely to be some turbulence. We ask you to keep your seat belts fastened..." To say there was "some" turbulence is like saying Angela Li had been "a little" interested in maintaining control -- I mean "discipline" -- at Laaawndale Hiiigh, or that Daria was "mildly" cynical about the idiots in general and the sister in particular with whom she had to share what might otherwise have been a perfectly good planet. Which is to say, the plane was bouncing rather badly, actually. Jane was looking out the window with a fearful, but also slightly excited, look on her face. Daria went a slightly lighter shade of green than her jacket, grabbed the airsick bag from the pocket of the seat in front of her, leaned forward and quietly availed herself of it. Lynn kept casually reading her book. A.P. had assumed the safe, curled-up position one's supposed to take if the plane is crashing -- what experienced fliers call the KYAG position, because it basically consists of putting your head between your legs to Kiss Your Ass Goodbye. Mystik Spiral, of course, slept on; those boys could sleep through an apocalypse if the Nine-Headed Horse didn't neigh too loud.
* * *
"Welcome to New York La Guardia Airport..." In yet another faceless airport departure lounge, Daria was slumped in a seat, looking slightly green. A.P. was sitting beside her, pale and in slight psychological shock. Jane was sketching a burning plane wreck. Lynn was quietly reading her book. There was no sign of Mystik Spiral. Jane looked up from her sketchpad. "Where are they? I'm *starved!*" Daria was appalled. "How can you want to eat after that flight?" she asked weakly. Lynn shrugged. "That was nothing. You should see the turbulence you sometimes get over the Atlantic." Daria groaned and put her head in her hands. Trent, Jesse, Nick and Max returned from their foraging, bearing a few bags with a familiar burger restaurant's logo emblazoned on them. "We got food!" Trent announced. Lynn raised an eyebrow. "Depending on how discerning you are..." Daria looked up briefly, groaned and put her head back into her hands. A.P. didn't even look over. Without looking, Jane grabbed at a bag, set it down on the table, rummaged through it one-handed while still sketching, pulled out a handful of French fries, and stuffed the battered tuber-strips into her mouth. Lynn raised her eyebrows and took one of the greasy bags. "It's either this or airline food...hmm. Tough call." With that, she threw the bag of grease into the nearest garbage can.
* * *
Another row of three airline seats. Once again, Lynn was on the aisle, Jane by the window and Daria in the middle. "There should be decent food on this one, anyway," Lynn assured them. "They have to feed you well if they're holding you hostage on a plane for a few hours. And free drinks." A stewardess approached, wheeling one of those little beverage carts. "What would you like?" she smiled. "Bacardi and Coke, please. No ice." The woman nodded and ducked to her cart. Daria and Jane turned to stare at their friend. In chorus, they inquired, "*What?*" "We're on British Airways and consequently under British jurisdiction. Eighteen's the legal drinking age." She punctuated this with a "shut up" glare. "Oh...right!" Jane replied gleefully as the Purple Peril's point sank in, then turned to the stew. "Vodka and orange juice, please." "Got any tea?" Daria whimpered weakly. The stew gave her a strange look, one that clearly said, _Are you *kidding?* Of *course!*_ Lynn raised an eyebrow. "Remember what I told you about British jurisdiction?"
Chapter 2: The Necessary Whirlwind Tour
"I can't believe how really in London we are." -- Crow T. Robot
The airport arrival lounge on the other side of the Atlantic was even more faceless than the departure lounges -- I couldn't even tell you whether it was Heathrow or Gatwick. Lynn was guiding Daria and Jane -- who were both staggering and a bit green, if for slightly different reasons in each case -- towards a youngish woman in a large purple sweater (or "jumper" as they say across the pond) and black leggings. She had auburn hair and glasses and, in general, bore the same basic resemblance to Lynn that Amy Barksdale does to her favorite niece (Daria, isn't that her name?). Behind them, A.P. and Mystik Spiral were wheeling luggage carts, most of which were laden with musical instruments. "Hi, Aunt Lorna," Lynn said to the woman in the purple jumper, confirming Daria's guess as to her identity. "Just Lorna," Lorna Smythe replied, further confirming her resemblance to Amy. "Bad flight?" "In a way. There was some pretty bad turbulence and I don't think Daria flies well. But Jane discovered the joys of a lower legal drinking age and the fact that no one in England cares anyway and..." "Wasted?" Daria and Jane now looked greener and a bit panicked. Lynn blindly shoved them both toward, then through, a door marked LADIES. "Inelegantly," she wryly confirmed. Lorna smirked at that. "Right. They can recover on the way into the city. If you lot want to see Trafalgar Square, you'd best do it today. I don't know when they shut it for the New Year preparations. -- Too bad you're not as alike as you seem, eh?" Lynn winced a bit at that.
* * *
The girls were kind of jet-lagged, so seeing the sights of London felt less like something that was actually happening to them and more like a montage in a film they were watching. First they were in Piccadilly Circus, with all its neon billboards -- perhaps one of the most famous of London sights. Then they found themselves in Trafalgar Square. Jane was standing on the back of one of the stone lions. Daria and Lynn were standing on either side of the lion, arms folded, silently saying, _And I'm supposed to be impressed, right?_ Jane spread her arms and turned her face towards the sky -- and at that moment, the shutter went KA-KLIK as a Polaroid snapshot captured the instant for eternity. Daria and Lynn looked at all the second-hand bookshops on (or, as the British say, in) Charing Cross Road and looked impressed -- for them, anyway. At the Tate Gallery, Jane clung to the doorframe like a drowning woman, refusing to leave, hanging parallel to the ground as Daria and Lynn each held one of her boots and pulled her away. KA-KLIK. Trent, Jesse, Nick and Max walked into the Virgin Megastore in Tottenham Court Road, then just stood there like pilgrims who'd finally reached Mecca. At the guard posts in front of Buckingham Palace, Daria and Lynn were each standing ramrod-straight beside one of the fuzzy-hatted guards, mimicking their famous posture. Jane was waving a hand in front of the eyes of one guard, who didn't even flinch. KA-KLIK. Daria, Jane, Lynn and A.P. were standing across the road from Big Ben, with the clock whose bell gave the tower its name quite clearly visible. A.P. looked at his watch. Daria, Jane and Lynn raised eyebrows and pointed upwards. A.P. followed their pointing hands with his gaze, realized their meaning, and slapped his forehead with a mouthed "D'oh!" Trent, Jesse, Nick and Max were walking along Abbey Road, just like the Beatles on the album cover. Max was in bare feet just like McCartney -- even though he's the drummer and Paul was the bass player, Max is also the self-appointed "criminale" of Mystik Spiral, and this demanded he walk barefoot when no one else would. A black cab came speeding toward them as they reached the middle of the road, forcing them to scatter to avoid being hit. Trent shook a fist at the cab while Max grabbed one of his feet and screamed in pain. KA-KLIK. Later, on a nearby bench, Lynn was patiently picking bits of glass and gravel off Max's bleeding foot as he whimpered in pain. Nick stood nearby with a first aid kit. Lynn held out a hand, and Nick handed over a bottle of disinfectant and some cotton balls. Max panicked and tried to run away, but Jesse and Trent held him down. Max screamed as Lynn applied the disinfectant to his delicate skin. Daria, Jane and A.P. shook their heads in utter despair. At St. Paul's Cathedral, Jane had set up an easel and was busily painting. A crowd of tourists had gathered around her. Daria was sitting on the steps reading _The Acid House_ -- she looked bored. Lynn was standing nearly in front of Jane. A pigeon landed on the Purple Peril's head and she stood there with her arms crossed, looking annoyed. KA-KLIK. In Leicester Square, Daria, Lynn and Jane came up to a souvenir shop and looked at the window. There was a Fashion Cafe logo on it -- the place had obviously closed down. Daria raised her camera and took a picture of the fate of the Fashion Cafe, sure to bring bitter tears to Narcissa's eyes. All three girls smirked, then they moved on. In Soho's Carnaby Street, center of the fashion scene back in the Swinging London of the sixties, the entire gang walked out of a shop and looked expectantly at Lynn. She reached into her bag and pulled out a long, striped, knitted hat in varying shades of purple with a purple pom-pom on the end. Sighing, she put on the hat. Everyone smirked or laughed at her. KA-KLIK.
* * *
In Soho, Lorna opened a small door, painted green, set between a couple of storefronts, and went in, followed by the gang. The flat's lounge area was a large cleared space with two highly mismatched sofas, several battered armchairs, and a huge rosewood coffee table. Everyone looked around but Lorna, who made for a hallway across the room, talking at high-speed. "Right -- I'm meeting David in an hour -- make yourself at home -- lots of bedrooms so no problem -- Lynn knows where everything is; she'll show you around -- there might be no food but there's lots of restaurants -- money in hidden panel in coffee table -- see you lot later -- have fun -- bye!" The bedroom door slammed behind her. "What was *that?*" Daria boggled. "She gets like that sometimes," Lynn explained. "She has some musical connections and makes a hobby out of dragging bands out of nothingness by fair means or foul. But she's also the original serial date-queen." "She is the lovechild of you and Quinn. If such a thing were possible." _Or a cross between Aunt Rita and Aunt Amy._ "Oh, please. You have tapped into my worst nightmare." "So now what do we do?" Jane wondered. Then she saw that Trent, Jesse, Nick and Max had collapsed onto a sofa and were sleeping more peacefully than you'd think its surface area would allow. "Stupid question." "I could use some food," A.P. opined. "Right," Lynn nodded. "Let's check the food situation." So they proceeded to the kitchen, where she opened the fridge door and peered in. "Two dried-up strips of bacon...a bag of green sludge that used to be spinach...and the dregs of a bottle of red wine. -- Anything in the cupboards?" "A bag of lentils," Jane reported, "an empty box of Pop Tarts and a scummy looking bottle of ketchup. -- *We* have more food in our house than this." "I think the bread mold's taking over in this box," Daria observed. "What about good old-fashioned fish and chips?" A.P. wondered. "I mean, we *are* in England, right?" "True," Lynn shrugged. "How hard can it be to find fish and chips in London?"
* * *
Pretty damn hard, as it turned out. By the time they gave up the search somewhere in Leicester Square, it was dark and they were all four very disheartened. "What's with all the Indian food?" Jane wondered. "India was a colony, you know," Lynn pointed out. "Yeah, well," A.P. muttered, "so was Canada and you don't see them selling reindeer meat." "McDonald's everywhere," Daria sighed. "That's the West End for you," Lynn shrugged. "So busy catering to the tourists that they forget that even a tourist sometimes wants to partake of the culture in which they have immersed themselves. Look, let's just hit Garfunkels. Plain, average food. We'll get British some other time."
* * *
And so, after getting dinner, they walked through the flat's front door into the lounge area, where the members of Mystik Spiral were still sleeping on their sofa. "There are six bedrooms in this place," Lynn told them. "Lorna gutted the whole floor of this building and turned it into a huge apartment. One of the rooms is hers. One is mine -- I think Lorna hopes to have me move in with her some day so she'll have someone to keep food in the house. -- You two mind sharing?" "Not like we haven't done it before," Jane shrugged. "Crap," A.P. muttered. "Tell me I don't have to share with any of those guys." "Take a sofa...if the guys don't stay there for the rest of the trip."
* * *
The next morning, Daria and Jane came out of one room, and Lynn out of another, into the flat's lounge area, where Mystik Spiral were *still* asleep on the sofa. "They're breathing, right?" Lynn wondered. Nick let out a deep, evil-sounding snore. "And a better response I have never heard," Daria observed. "Can we get breakfast?" Jane asked. "I don't think I can brave that kitchen again."
* * *
So they went to the Borders cafe/bookstore in Oxford Street, to have coffee and eye the books. "Well," Daria allowed as, "I've got to admit it -- it's not so bad here. -- While you're not going nuts over the architecture, the art, the..." "I'm *sorry* about that already!" Jane snapped. "I mean, what do you *expect* from me?" "For you to drive me crazy. What else?" They left their coffee cups and walked toward the bookshop proper. Daria stopped at a shelf and pulled a book off it on her way. "See anything you like?" "The new Irvine Welsh. Thought it'd make a good read on the trip home. But I've got to start with my Christmas shopping -- it's only a few days, after all." "Yeah, no kidding." When they got to the cashier's counter, Lynn was standing there waiting. "Stephen King was here doing a book signing awhile ago, and they have a few signed copies of _Bag of Bones_ left. It's sinfully expensive, but I never claimed to be an angel." Jane picked up a copy of the book and read the price. "That's not so bad." "Have you seen the exchange rate lately?" She pulled out a personal organizer, tapped some buttons and showed Jane the readout. "That's what it cost in *dollars.*" Daria looked over Lynn's shoulder. Sudden, horrified looks crossed their faces. Daria slammed the Welsh down onto a table, and the three of them departed in a big tearing rush.
* * *
Back in the flat's lounge area, Daria, Jane, Lynn and A.P. were eyeing each other nervously. Trent, Jesse, Nick and Max had the dazed look of someone who's just come out of a coma. "I take it you've noticed too, A.P.," Lynn observed, and her friend nodded grimly. "What's up with the exchange rate?" Jane boggled. "And why is everything so damn expensive?" Daria added. "The pound's doing pretty well these days," Lynn explained. "Bummer," Jesse muttered. "I was planning on doing my Christmas shopping here," Daria half- sighed. "No kidding," Jane chimed in; "I mean, how are we going to get presents for family and...?" She trailed off, blushing. "Um..." Lorna burst into the flat. "Right, everyone enjoying their holiday? Good. I'm going to a party with the corporate crud so I have to get ready. I..." She noticed the wary looks and trailed off. "What's wrong?" "It's a Christmas thing--" her niece began, but got no further. "Eight kids plus adult -- nine presents -- limited funds -- I understand." She sat down cross-legged on the floor. "One -- I will not be requiring gifts from *all* you people. Club together and find me a bottle of whisky or something. Two -- if you don't want to spend all kinds of money, do the Secret Santa thing. Anyway, remember you lads have a gig tonight. Lynn has your itinerary and she's my second in these matters so listen to her. -- Oh, and try to get Lynn up on stage with you sometime. I can never make her use her potential. Maybe you have a better shot." She got up and made her exit. Trent was curious. "Potential?" Lynn blushed. "Nothing, really. I showed a propensity for music in my formative years. My mother killed it by making me go into the Oakwood High School marching band. I..." She sighed. "I don't want to talk about it." The Spirallers stared at her curiously. Daria and Jane looked at A.P., whose panicked face clearly said _*Do* [address] "Secret Santa?" Daria wondered. Lynn stifled a relieved sigh. "You put a slip of paper with your name on it into a hat. Whoever draws your name buys you a present." "Sounds cool," Trent mused. "Anyone got a hat?" Everyone looked at Lynn. "It sticks in your mind, that hat, doesn't it?" she sighed. And so her hat with the pom-pom was passed around, and each of the gang pulled a piece of paper out of it. When they were all done, Lynn looked at her slip of paper -- it said _Trent_. She sighed and shook her head. Trent's, as it happened, said _A.P._. He bit his lip and scowled. Continuing around in that vein, A.P.'s said _Max_. His eyes widened, and he thought, _What the hell do I do *now?*_ Max's said _Nick_. He got a really evil grin on his face and looked sidelong at Nick. Nick's said _Jesse_. He shrugged -- he'd had something along those lines in mind for years. Jesse's said _Jane_. He stared at it with his usual "the lights are on, but the music's too loud" expression. Jane's said _Daria_. She smirked evilly, knowing _*That's* [address] Daria's said _Lynn_. She frowned in puzzlement, then shrugged. _How hard can it be?_ "Now that we've finished that," Lynn spoke up, "we have a gig to get to. We'll use Lorna's van." She reached into a hidden panel in the coffee table, grabbed a set of keys and threw them at Jesse. "Load it up but do *not* attempt to drive it." And Mystik Spiral went out to stack up their equipment. "Whoa!" Jane was suitably impressed. "Aren't we the almighty general today?" "She's *always* like that," A.P. shrugged.
[continued in part 2]