_The Look-Alike Series_ Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit Episode 10: "Kiss and Tell" (Shoot That Poison Arrow, Part One) prose adaptation by Austin Loomis
"No rhythm in cymbals, no tempo in drums Love on arrival, she comes when she comes Right on the target but wide of the mark What I thought was fire was only the spark..." -- ABC, "Poison Arrow"
So there they were, the four of them, standing by Daria Morgendorffer's locker: Daria herself, the Erudite Emerald, misfit, brain and world-class sarcast; Jane Lane, Art-Smart Scarlet, the first friend Daria had ever made and the one of them who'd served the most time at Lawndale High; Lynn Cullen, the Purple Peril, Daria's near-double with the same amount of attitude and a little more willingness to cause trouble; and A.P. McIntyre, the Psycho-Maverick, aka Bad Boy Blue, Lynn's longtime partner- in-crime who had quite recently joined her in transferring over from Oakwood (well, *being* transferred, after driving one of his teachers over Postal Precipice) to bolster the ranks of what she called the Flack- Jacket Mafia. "Did you ever think you were psychic?" Lynn asked. "No," Jane replied. "Why?" "I just have this really strong feeling that something incredibly stupid is going to happen." And, as if on cue (though for it really to have *been* "on cue" would imply that God is a comedy writer), an announcement issued from the PA system in the dulcet tones of the Duce of Lawndale High, Angela Li. "Attention all students! Following the success of the Lawndale Halloween Haunt, and to help pay for the...um...extremely necessary surveillance gear that has been added to the school since the arrival of those two little..." She faltered, realizing she was succumbing to whatever drug somebody seems to have put in Lawndale's reservoir that makes locals say what's really on their alleged minds. "Um...I mean, the new school year! Yes, of course! To pay for all those recent changes, Lawndale High will be having another school dance a week from Saturday!" "Wait for it..." Daria cautioned. "Wait for what?" A.P. wondered. "Attendance is mandatory," the Nazi Jackboot informed them. "Any student not attending will face detention and whatever other punishment the ACLU will allow me." "I think she meant *that,*" Jane concluded. "That is all. Resume learning!" "Great," Daria sighed. "I thought I was getting off easy after missing the last one." "See?" Lynn half-gloated, half-sighed. "What did I tell you? Something incredibly stupid."
* * *
Dinner at Morgendorffer Home Base that night was much like any other. Daria's father, Jake, was behind today's _Lawndale Times-Herald_. Daria had her nose buried in a copy of a Subversion_is_We acquisition, _The Up-Side of Unpopularity: Terrorism's Easy When No One Knows Your [address] Her sister Quinn was facedown in the latest issue of _Waif_ magazine; the cover promised, among other things, "Get to Know Your Man through Handwriting Analysis!" Materfamilias and general pants-wearer Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer was looking at her household, obviously vastly irritated. "Will someone talk to me?" She turned to her husband. "How was your day at work, Jake honey?" Jake's comment seemed to be more addressed to the paper than to his wife. "Does anyone *really* understand _Doonesbury_, or is everyone pretending same as I am?" Helen gave that up as a bad job and tried the next target. "Quinn, how was your day?" When she got no response, she gave in and asked the question that was likely to matter most to her younger daughter. "Any new boys?" Quinn remained focused on her magazine, struggling to decipher her Phantom Admirer's identity. "His Q's mean his *hands* are cute... But I don't know about those N's..." _Desperate times call for desperate measures._ "Daria, how was *your* day?" Daria stayed glued to her book. "I am going to sabotage that dance if it's the last thing I do..." With an odd mixture of anger at her oldest daughter's attitude and relief that she actually had something to talk about, Helen ordered her elder daughter, "Daria, put that book down; you're not sabotaging anything." "Aw," Daria replied in her usual monotone. "You never let me have any fun." "Now, what's this about a dance?" Daria sighed, seeing the trap she was in. "Ms. Li wants to fill the school coffers, so the school's having a dance next Saturday." "And you're going!" Helen insisted forcefully. "This could be a great opportunity for you to show those kids at your school the real you!" _They *see* the real me every day. Or as much of the real me as it's safe to show anyone at their intellectual level._ "In one thing, you are correct; I *am* going." Helen was stunned; she'd expected to have to bribe Daria. "You *are?*" "It's mandatory. I'll be thrown in detention if I don't go. But, as a form of protest, I am not going to make any concession to the supposed festive nature of this event. I will dress as if it was an average school day, and I will *not* dance." Helen considered this a moment. "Well, I know I'd probably be fighting a losing battle if I *forced* you to take this event seriously, but...if you need to go shopping..." "Careful, Mom," Daria warned her mother in deadpan tones. "This might turn into one of those heart-warming moments you see on TV sitcoms." Helen sighed. _I'd *like* a few more TV sitcom moments around this house._
* * *
Later, in Lynn's dark and mysterious room, Daria was sprawled out on the bed, still reading her unpopularity book. Jane was lying on the floor, sketching the wardrobe. Lynn was simultaneously on the phone and online. "Yeah, I'll probably stay at Jane's or Daria's on the weekends." She fell silent for a few moments, presumably while the other party talked at her. "Yes, I have the credit card and will use it as necessary, necessary being at your discretion after getting my side of the story." Silence. "Thanks. I promise; no dents." Pause. "Safe journey and all that happy horse manure. -- Bye." She hung up. "God, Jane, my mother's as bad as your whole family combined some days." "Where's she off to this time?" Jane wondered. "New York. For three weeks. The worms in the Big Apple are really in for a surprise when my mother the early bird shows up. But in the meantime, I've got her credit card *and* the Mercedes." "So," Daria raised the big question, "what are we all doing about this dance?" "Well, I thought about sabotage, but to be honest, I'm not really motivated enough for that sort of thing." "Tell me about it. Plus Mom says if it doesn't go well, I'm grounded to infinity." "I thought your parents decided grounding you was a waste of time," Jane remembered that piece of fallout from the initial stages of Morgendorffer Family Court. "Now that my circle of friends has expanded to three, I think they've changed their minds. I was thinking of an informal protest. You know, just wearing what we normally wear and not doing anything remotely fun." "I thought of that," Lynn observed, "but I have this sinking feeling that Ms. Li is going to enforce some kind of dress code. And, if we turn up at the dance in our normal uniforms, she might force one of us into that taffeta thing she's been trying to sell for years." "So what *do* we do?" "I have *one* idea..."
* * *
Lynn approached Casa Lane and knocked on the front door, which opened to reveal Jane's brother Trent, the alleged musician and professional hibernator. "Oh. Hey, Lynn." "I have a proposition for you." They went down to the basement to discuss it, he sitting on a stool and she on the floor. "We need something that'll shake up Ms. Li's current scheme. You'll do." Trent was stunned. "Me?" "Well, Mystik Spiral, anyway. They'll be wanting a band to perform at this stupid dance they're making us go to, and if I keep away any competition, you'll go on. You're not Ms. Li's idea of entertainment, but who knows? The kids might like you." Trent was obviously intrigued, but trying to be sly. "So... what's in this for me?" "A paying gig ... exposure to the masses ... and, of course, the perfect forum to say to Daria what you accidentally said to me at Halloween." Now Sir Naps-a-Lot was confused. "Huh?" Lynn sighed with exasperation. "What part of `making us go to' don't you understand? Daria will be at this dance, because all of Lawndale High is being forced into it. If you happened to write a song about how you feel for her, she's bound to hear it, right?" Trent seemed to follow this. "Yeah." Then he thought of something and turned angry. "But what about that little redheaded punk friend of yours? I mean..." "A.P.? You mean to tell me that you feel threatened by a seventeen-year-old lunatic?" She sighed. "Look, it's worth a try, right? What's the worst that can happen?" "She could laugh in my face..." And, as a great American philosopher once said, it's hard on a face when it gets laughed in. "So you're telling me that she's not worth taking a risk for." Trent considered this. "All right. Thanks, Lynn." She gave him a little smile.
* * *
Upstairs in the kitchen, Jane was poking through the fridge; as usual, though, Vincent and Amanda had neglected to stock up particularly before departing on their latest wanderings. "Nothing..." And speaking of wanderings, Lynn meandered through, and Jane turned around just in time to see her. "Hey, Lynn!" she exclaimed, considerably surprised. "What are you doing here?" "Conversing with your brother," the other replied. "Figured out how to sabotage the dance in a `not sabotaging it' kind of way." A pause for effect, then she added slyly, "And came up with a way to make you a *very* happy bunny regarding your brother and best friend." Jane was lost. "Huh?" "Killing two birds with one stone. Mystik Spiral plays the dance next Saturday." "That'll make the Nazi Jackboot happy!" Jane observed in her most gleefully sarcastic tones. Then, confused, "But go back to the happy bunny bit again..." "Trent gets a forum to tell Daria how he feels about her. Maybe he can win Daria with song where simple words have failed since Halloween." "One of *Trent's* songs?" Jane scoffed. "Yeah, well, it'd be better if he were more Pete Steele than... well, whatever he is...but it's the best shot he's gonna get." Jane turned suspicious. "I thought you said we had to leave it alone." A shrug. "Changed my mind. I felt pity for the poor slob. Anyway, it was the only way I could think of to get Trent really interested in the gig." Another shrug. "Cool." Then something Lynn had said registered with Jane's auditory center. "Wait a minute; since *Halloween?* What happened at Halloween?" Lynn blushed as she realized she'd just slipped up *big time*. "Whoops..." And she confessed what Trent had said to her, thinking he was talking to Daria. Jane's voice seemed to shake the house. "*He said WHAT?*"
* * *
In the living room, Jake was staring at the TV while Daria continued reading about the upside of unpopularity. The phone rang, and Daria picked it up. "Quinn's on a date." A sarcastic voice replied, "And it cuts me to the quick, Erudite Emerald." Daria felt herself blushing and was *very* glad picturephones never seem to make it to the mass market. "A.P.?" "That's what they call me outside cyberspace. So..." "So..." "This dance thing...we're not...doing the date-thing, are we?" "Um...no. I think it's more cynics putting up a united front." A.P. seemed vaguely disappointed. "Ah. Of course. Makes perfect sense. Are we...I don't know...doing the not-dancing-in-protest thing?" "Probably." That obviously let him down even further. "Ah. Right. Just ...just checking. Catch you later, Erudite Emerald." He hung up. Daria was now blushing madly. _I'm not considering what I think I'm considering. -- Oh, who am I kidding?_ She went into the kitchen, where Helen was sitting at the table, working on her laptop. "Um...Mom?" she began shamefacedly, then sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. "I need to borrow your credit card." Helen was instantly *very* suspicious. "Why? What sort of trouble are you *in,* Daria?" Another sigh. "No trouble. I just..." She trailed off, nerving herself for her next line. Helen, quite flustered by now, stood up. "Just *what?* You're acting *very* strangely." Daria sighed. _I know._ "It gets worse." Another pause to swallow her pride, then, as if it were costing her skin to admit this, "I want to get a dress for the dance next week." Helen was stunned. "You want to go *shopping?*" She began to hyperventilate for a few seconds, then fainted. After a shocked pause, Daria half-seriously asked, "Is that a no?"
* * *
In the hall the next day, the three girls had converged on Lynn's locker. "What's wrong with you?" Daria asked Jane. "You've been smirking like that all day." Jane thought she dodged that one nicely. "Just can't seem to stop smiling. It's one of those days." "Insane days." She nerved herself again -- she seemed to be doing a lot of that lately -- and reluctantly posed the big question. "So, when are we meeting?" Lynn was equally reluctant to take up the issue. "I'll pick you two up in the Mercedes around eight. We should be at..." She trailed off with a shudder. "...that place by nine. We go in, get what we need and get out again double time." Jane was amused by their evasion. "You're talking like it's a crime to go--" "Don't say the word!" Daria shouted. "First of all, that place brings back too many bad memories. Then there's the fact that...doing what people do at that place...makes me feel just a little too much like..." God chose that moment to remind them what a warped sense of humor He's got by causing Quinn and her cohorts in the Fashion Club to wander past just then. "He left another note!" Quinn bounced. "He's going to tell me who he is at the dance next Saturday!" Sandi Griffin, supreme dictator of the Fashion Club, was clearly impressed despite herself with the good fortune of her vice-president and rival. "Well, because this is such a *momentous* occasion, we should make a *special* effort with our *wardrobe* for the evening. Perhaps a trip to the Mall of the Millennium is in order." "We'll give you a *great* makeover, Quinn," secretary Stacy Rowe assured her only real friend; "you'll knock him dead when we're through!" "Yyyeeeaaahhh," coordinating officer Tiffany Blum-Deckler drawled in the slow, dazed tones that have made some people uncharitably wonder if she ate too many paint chips at a tender age. "This is the ultimate challenge," Sandi announced. "This is the shopping trip to end all shopping trips. The only trip more important will be to shop for..." She paused for effect. "...*the wedding dress!*" The four of them stood in reverential silence for a moment. Then Lawndale High's answer to the Heathers walked on, leaving the Flack-Jacket Mafia to look after them. "Shoot me if I ever get like that," Lynn pleaded, then gauged her friends' reactions. "You think I'm kidding." "See what I mean?" Daria explained. Jane wasn't convinced. "We're just going shop--" Lynn put her hand over Jane's mouth. "Hush! It summons the demons!"
* * *
Lynn's Mercedes pulled up in front of Morgendorffer Home Base right on schedule. Daria hurried out of the house, closely followed by Helen and Quinn, both obviously trying to give fashion advice. Daria hopped into the car without opening the door, and Lynn pulled out with a screech of burning rubber, leaving a cheated Helen and Quinn on the curb. Daria sighed. "I thought I'd never get out of there alive." Lynn shrugged. "See?" she casually observed. "Condition them to think you don't give a rat's behind about your appearance and the least little thing gets them all excited." _I'm not the *only* one she thinks like,_ Daria reflected, as Lynn's words called to mind Jane's explanation to Quinn of why the essay "Academic Imprisonment" had given Princess Grace a brief reputation as an intellectual.
* * *
The Mercedes pulled up in front of Casa Lane, and Jane staggered out of the house, looking mostly asleep. She clambered into the back seat and sprawls there. "Too...early," she groaned. Lynn raised an eyebrow. "I'm impressed." "What," Daria wondered, "that she's this asleep at eight a.m.?" "No, that she's that articulate at eight a.m. It *is* Saturday, after all."
* * *
By the time they got there, the parking lot of the Mall of the Millennium (the world's second- or third-largest mall) was mostly full, so the Mercedes just cruised around for a while. "Oh, look," Lynn grumbled. "It's where all yuppie rolling iron goes to die." "I am *not* getting on that shuttle bus again," Daria stated up front. "Why not?" Jane wondered, still groggy from the earliness of the hour. "No Brittany with her cheap perfume..." "Memories. Principle." "Found one!" Lynn exclaimed and yanked the wheel sharply. Jane was thrown to the floor. "Ow..." The Mercedes slid into a parking space just as another, yellow convertible veered for the same spot. Sandi stood up on the driver's side of the rival car. "Just because you have a great car *doesn't* give you the right to steal other people's parking spaces!" Lynn got out of the Mercedes. "You snooze, you lose, Janus." Sandi (who probably thought she was being called "Janice" and certainly never guessed she was getting addressed by her Peril-bestowed codename) looked appalled as she saw Lynn. Then she noticed "Quinn's geeky cousin or whatever" and her eyes just about DeMartinoed out of her head. The clincher came when Jane popped up from the back seat, groaning and rubbing her head. "You *can't* own that car," she insisted, shocked. "You just *can't!* You're a...a...walking fashion don't!" Lynn shrugged. "Ever see what Bill Gates looks like?" Sandi actually had to consider that one a few moments. "Um..." Then the unaccustomed effort of using her head for something other than a place to hang her hair began to hurt and she reverted to her normal vegetable state with a faux-generous offer. "You, like, *need* a new wardrobe to go with that car. Why don't you let the Fashion Club help you?" "Excuse me?" Daria asked. "Look, I'm meeting the girls here and we're going to shop. You three could, like, learn something from us." "Ah, yes," Lynn observed with sarcasm even Sandi couldn't miss, "lessons in how to behave like my head is full of cotton batting. That's something I've always aspired to." With that, Daria and Jane got out of the car and all three of them walked away. Just for a moment, Sandi considered ramming Lynn's car several times, like in that _Green Tomato_ movie, but then reality sent her a friendly reminder. "Mercedes...insurance..." She shuddered.
* * *
Later, Daria and Lynn were leaning against Daria's door while Jane, perched on the bed, laughed her head off. "Come *on,* Daria," Helen insisted from the other side of the door, "let me see what you bought!" "No," Daria replied calmly. "Daria, *please!* I haven't seen you in different clothes since our trip to the country! I just want to see the dress!" "*No.* You'll see it on the night." Something occurred to her. "And unless you promise that neither you, Dad nor Quinn will break out a camera at any point when I'm wearing it, I will risk the detention and forget the whole thing." A sigh. "Daria, I'm your *mother.* I'm *supposed* to take pictures of you and show them off. It's part of my *job.*" But she obviously knew when she was beaten. "Are your friends staying for dinner?" Both Jane and Lynn made faces and shook their heads, waving their hands in an obvious "no way" gesture. "Actually, we were all going to go out for pizza and a movie. And I'm dropping the dress off at Lynn's house so you don't get any ideas while I'm out." "Damn!" Daria smirked. Lynn smirked back. Jane just kept laughing.
* * *
Daria was on Lynn's computer. Lynn was lying on her bed with her hair streaming down the side in the "something eating at my soul" pose. "Scare tactic of the week?" Daria muttered. "Great for blackmail," Lynn replied. She paused a moment to think it over, then went on in the same casual tone. "I can't take it anymore, Daria. Promise me that, whatever I ask, you'll answer honestly, safe in the knowledge that it will not go any further." Daria was shaken by the phrasing of the request, but managed to reply, "Okay..." In a brisk, businesslike tone, Lynn went on. "Trent, your relationship with. Discuss." Daria blushed a little. "I like him. A lot. I think he's... Well, you know." "That'll do. -- A.P., your relationship with. Discuss." Now she blushed quite a bit. "I like him. A lot. I..." She was stunned to realized what she was saying, and what it implied. "I have a crush on two guys." A sigh, then Lynn continued in kinder tones. "Is one of them rating higher than the other at the moment?" Miserably: "Nope." Lynn took pity on her double. "Hey, it's not a crime. You're only seventeen, Daria. It's just that I saw how you and A.P. were reacting with each other and wanted to know if Trent was still in the running, that's all." "And now you know." "Consider the subject dropped." _By me, anyway..._
* * *
The next day, the four of them had gathered by Lynn's locker to hear her expound the matter with a smirk. "So they still think they coerced me into running the dance." With false innocence, "Unfortunately, when I explained to the bands on their list who they were playing for, they suddenly decided they had better things to do with their Saturday than play at a Lawndale High dance." An evil grin. "Like garrotte themselves with their own E-strings." Jane smirked. "Except for Mystik Spiral." A shrug and a sigh. "Problem is, their reputation precedes them. They're only allowed one set." Another smirk. "I think one set will be enough, don't *you,* Lynn?" Daria was beginning to sense a conspiracy here. "Enough for *what?*" "She's been eating art paste again," Lynn replied with a rather threatening scowl at Art-Smart Scarlet, as who said say _You'll crab the act, girlfriend_. "*Haven't* you, Jane?" Jane just smirked some more, and deeper. "Do you feel that they are communicating at a different level from the rest of us?" A.P. asked Daria. "Most of the time."
* * *
In the living room, Helen was toying with a camera, while Jake stayed safely behind the _Lawndale Times-Herald. Helen was starting to get stressed. "Jake, would you put that paper *down?!* Daria will be down soon!" "Sorry, Helen..." her husband replied meekly. "I hope she'll relent about the picture at least. I mean, you never see *Quinn* object..." There was the thump of a familiar pair of boots on the stairs. "Here she comes!" Helen aimed the camera. "Drop it, Mom." "Damn," Helen observed flatly but resignedly. Then the Morgendorffers got a good look at their elder daughter. "Well?" Daria asked. If only she'd looked half that good in the bridesmaid's dress for little Erin's wedding. With one accord, Helen and Jake Morgendorffer burst into unabashed tears.
* * *
At the gym door, Ms. Li and science teacher Janet Barch were taking money and checking off students' names against the master roll sheet. Ms. Li looked up as three hands place a couple of bills on the table before her, the owners of those hands identifying themselves seriatim. "Morgendorffer. Daria." "Cullen. Lynn." "Lane. The one and only." Astounded looks crossed the two women's faces. The power behind the pantsuit was the first to speak. "Why, Miz Morgendorffer, Miz Cullen, Miz Lane! You look..." "No compliments," Daria said flatly as usual. She was wearing a long slinky black dress, slit up the left leg, with a short green jacket over it. "We wouldn't want our heads to swell," Lynn deadpanned. She, in turn, was wearing a dark purple skirt with a diagonal hem, so it fell to her ankle on the right and stops mid-thigh on the left, a black top with a plunging neckline, and a simple piece of velvet ribbon for a choker. _These are *not* British Psychiatric Association Dinner Dance Club cufflinks,_ she thought. _They are in fact British Sugar Corporation Gilbert-and-Sullivan Society cufflinks. A bit of a joke with the lads here at Balfour House._ "We might not fit into the door," Jane concluded wryly. She finished the grouping in a long sleeveless red dress with a choker neckline. Like her friends, she was wearing her usual boots. "I congratulate you three," the Jackboot meant it. "I thought that you would wear something..." "Comfortable?" Daria wondered. "Casual?" Jane suggested. "Inherently us?" Lynn offered. Ms. Li scowled. "Something unsuitable for a festive occasion." "You've got what you wanted," Daria notified her. "We paid the entry fee. Can we go home now?" "Of course not! After all, you want to support your friend as she does her DJ act, don't you?" "No they don't..." Lynn assured her. Jane remembered what was supposed to happen tonight. "Yes we do! Come on!" She dragged the other two inside by the wrists.
* * *
The interior of the gym had been decorated in a black Gothic style. Of the three Fashion Clubbers who had shown up, two looked appalled. "If I had known it was going to look like this," Sandi muttered, "I would *not* have worn mint green." "Yyyeeeaaahh. They should have warned me beforehand. Don't those freaky brains who ran this dance know I'm supposed to *know* so I can *coordinate?*" "I think it looks kind of cool!" Stacy perked brightly. "*What* did you say?" Sandi rounded threateningly on her. "Nothing..." Stacy cowered. Daria, Jane and Lynn wandered past just then. The Fashion Club contingent stared at them, shocked. "They coordinate better than we do," Tiffany remarked, adding (after a beat) her catchphrase, "That is *so* wrong..." "Wow! Maybe there *is* hope for the fashion-deficient!" Sandi addressed the girls. "Oh, my God, you three look--" They cut her off with a shared observation. "Compliment me and die, fashion Nazi." With that, they wandered to the stage, where the DJ booth was set up. Sandi, Stacy and Tiffany stared after them. Tiffany summed it up. "That was *so* rude..."
* * *
Backstage, Trent was mercilessly tuning his guitar. Jesse Moreno, his perpetually shirtless rhythm guitarist, looked at him. "None of my business, man, but if you keep tightening that D-string, it's gonna..." The string snapped. "...do that." "Damn," Trent jittered.
* * *
In the DJ booth, A.P. was setting up. "I've upped the bass feed," he informed them with an evil grin. "I think the vibrations might register on the Richter scale." Then he saw Daria. He looked strangled for a moment, but managed to gasp out, "Hey." Daria blushed. "Hey." Jane dragged Lynn off to one side and hissed, "What are we going to do about *that?*" "Nothing. It's Daria's call." "Fairness sucks." Lynn shrugged and went into the DJ booth. Into the microphone, she said, "Hello, people and welcome to Lawndale High's first ever Goth/ Rock dance. We've listened to your chart stuff and the music that only gets listened to because hormone-fueled teenagers think the singers are hot, and we've had enough. Tonight, metal rules, so *suffer!*" Andrea Thorne and a few other assorted rockers throughout the audience raised a cheer. Brittany Taylor, who'd been clubbing a few times, looked impressed in her usual vapid head-cheerleader way. The Fashion Club, on the other hand, were positively livid. "Oh, my *God*..." Sandi breathed. "Can we escape?" Stacy wondered. Quinn made her entrance in a sleeveless silver dress with a full skirt and a sweetheart neckline, with her hair up. "Escape from *what?*" she wondered. Her question was answered when a rather rapid drumbeat came over the speakers. Lynn smirked into the mike. "And this one's dedicated to the Fashion Club for admitting that Goth *can* be good sometimes. Rock on!" "o/~ The beautiful people, the beautiful people... o/~" the artist formerly known as Brian Warner rasped inhumanly. The Fashion Club stood there, stunned. "Did we *say* that? That is *so* wrong..."
* * *
Some time later, Mystik Spiral were sitting around waiting for their cue to come on, and drummer Max Tyler approached Trent. "For Upchuck..." Lynn announced, "... *you wish!*" She gave an evil laugh as the Bloodhound Gang launched into "Kiss Me Where It Smells Funny." "Sounds like Lynn's tearing it up out there," Max commented. Trent wasn't really paying attention; he was busy studying a lyric sheet. "Whatever." "Hey, are those the lyrics for that new song we're playing tonight? The ones we're not allowed to see until you sing it?" "Yep." Max tried to grab for them, but Trent yanked them away. Max sighed.
* * *
"o/~ A mulatto, an albino... o/~" Daria and Jane were doing the not-dancing-in-protest wallflower thing as A.P. approached. "Hey," he said shyly. "o/~ A mosquito, my libido... o/~" "Hey," Daria replied, equally shy. "o/~ A denial, a denial... o/~" Jane was starting to get irritated. "Hey." "o/~ A denial, a denial, a denial! o/~" As the late great Kurdt Cobain's guitar died down, Lynn spoke up from the DJ booth. "A concession to any lovebirds out there. One ballad." It was "Can't Change Me" by Chris Cornell, but it still counts as a ballad. A.P. sigh, then quickly grabbed Daria's hand while he still had the nerve. "Come on, let's dance." Daria was too stunned to put up a real protest. "I..." she said as he dragged her off. Quinn was standing with her friends, hoping she didn't look as anxious as she felt (she did), when hands covered her eyes. "My Ginger vixen!" said the voice she'd been waiting to hear. "Come and dance under the stars with me!" She was quite excited. "Ooh..." Without a word to her friends, she went outside and walked up to the Phantom, who was still masked. "One last dance before unmasking?" "Okay..." And they began to dance.
* * *
As Trent entered the DJ booth, Lynn was dancing alone with an invisible partner. He smiled at her for a moment, then knocked, pretending not to have see her. She stopped in her tracks. "Enter if you dare..." He did, nervously. "Lynn..." A sigh. "Give me the song. I assume you want an opinion." He handed over the crumpled sheet of paper in silence. Lynn scanned it for a moment, then offered her evaluation. "Perfect," she said kindly. "Now go get ready to perform it." Trent smiled and left. Lynn shook her head. In the last four bars of the song, just as Trent was coming out of the DJ booth, A.P. tilted Daria's chin up and kissed her on the lips. Shaken, hurt and *very* angry, Trent headed for the stage. Daria, who hadn't noticed Trent, wondered, "Um...why did you do that?" "Um..." A.P. replied humbly. Lynn interrupted this scene with an announcement. "All right, people, I'm taking a break, but you guys have a real treat in store. That or a new and more painful corner of hell. So quake with fear, you puny mortals, for here is Mystik Spiral." There was half-hearted applause as Trent, Jesse, Max and bass player Nick Campbell took the stage. Trent, seething, whispered to the band through clenched teeth, "`Spite.'" "Cool," Jesse said in his usual vague way. Then it sank in what Trent had said, and he became confused. "Huh?" "What about your new song?" Max boggled. "There *is* no new song," Trent snarled viciously as he crumpled the lyric sheet and tossed it away. "*`Spite'!*" And he and Jesse began the two-guitar barrage that opens that particular Spiral standard. Lynn was thrown for a loop. "What is he *doing?*" Then she saw Daria next to A.P. and put 369 and 297 together. "Oh, no..." Trent was singing with even more intensity than usual, all of it directed to one "lucky" misery-chick who hadn't even noticed. "o/~ I'm glad you're happy watching my pain Burning crop circles on my soul's waves of grain We had no love scene but you've cut to the chase You're chopping off my nose to spite my face! o/~" Jesse started into the chorus -- "o/~ Ow, my nose... o/~" but trailed off before the "Ow, my face!" when he realized Trent wasn't singing along. He looked, and Trent was, in fact, slamming his guitar through Max's bass drum. "This is *new!*" Max blurted, his _criminale_ tendencies not so strong when the property being damaged was his, but Trent ignored him, preferring instead to smash his guitar on the nearest convenient amp and go running offstage. "Oh, *beyond* damn..." Lynn sputtered, panicked, as she followed him out. Meanwhile, Daria was making her way to the front of the crowd, with A.P. following behind. "That was cool," the Psycho-Maverick noted, "but...I thought people usually *finished* their set before destroying the instruments." Daria ignored this sally in favor of picking up the crumpled sheet of paper Trent had thrown away and unfolding it. She read the words with a growing sense of shock, which probably showed on her face. "Oh, my..." "What's that? Suicide note?" Daria didn't even notice the sarcasm. "Not exactly." She went running out after Trent. A.P. was starting to get rattled. "Where's everybody going?" He followed Erudite Emerald outside. _And me without my camera,_ Jane thought as she dashed out after the others.
* * *
Trent was sitting in the courtyard, literally speechless with rage. Lynn was sitting at his side, trying to comfort him. "He..." Trent began, but his voice trailed off into an outraged sputter. "Look, Trent," Lynn assured him kindly, "it probably meant squat. After all, how many girls were you interested in when *you* were 17?" Trent didn't seem to have really heard. "Yeah, but he..." This time, Sir Naps-a-Lot trailed off into an outraged whimper. A sigh. "Trent, you don't even know if it was a mutual thing." A vicious tone this time. "Yeah, but she *let* him..." _So *that's* the problem._ In kindly tones, Lynn pleaded, "I don't think it was a question of `let.' I mean, *I'd* be stunned to immobility if..." Suddenly, Trent grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her, quite forcefully. After a moment, he let her go and she pulled away, wide-eyed. "See?" she continued in a rather weak voice. "Shocked to immobility..." A terrible suspicion formed, and she turned around to see it confirmed -- Daria and A.P. had been standing behind her, probably getting there just in time to inspire that kiss, with Jane only a step or two behind. Daria looked hurt and angry; A.P. looked shocked but, at the same time, a little smug; Jane looked horrified. "Oh...hell." She could feel herself getting stronger, mostly from anger. "You are *such* a twit," she told Trent, then turned to Daria imploringly. "I--" Daria would not get to hear it, though, for just at that moment, Quinn came running toward them in tears. She saw Daria and, too upset to care *who* might guess they were related and stuff, threw herself at her now thoroughly stunned sister. "Daria," she sobbed, "I...I want to go *home!* Please take me home! I...he...I..." She trailed off into incoherent blubbering. "Um...okay..." Daria said flatly, in total shock. Lynn, also shocked, seemed to be talking mainly to herself. "I...he..." She sighed. You would have had to be standing right next to her to gloss her mumbles as "Oh, to hell with it." She got up and staggered away in the general direction of the school. "Come *on,* Daria!" Quinn sobbed, still her usual whiny and spoiled self. "I have *got* to get out of here!" She dragged a dazed Daria away. A.P. turned to Jane. "What the hell?" Then Art-Smart Scarlet shot him her most evil glare, and being no idiot, he ran like hell, which left her alone with her brother. Jane sat down beside Trent and tried to speak, struggling to maintain calm. "How...Why..." She gave up and shouted. "*What the HELL did you do THAT for?*" Trent was purely miserable. "Oh, man..."
[tsuzuku]
"When I say I love you, it's all a situation Hey, girl, I thought we were the right combination Who broke my heart? You did, you did Bolt to the target -- blame Cupid, Cupid You think you're smart -- stupid, stupid Shoot that poison arrow through my heart" -- "Poison Arrow"
ADAPTOR'S NOTES I don't know what drug is in the Lawndale water table, or even if there really *is* one, but if there is, it's obviously the same stuff that's in the water coolers in Dilbert's office that makes him and his co-workers say what they're really thinking. I forget what fanficter made that speculation about Tiffany and leaded paint chips, but personally, I consider it specious and unfair. She's not stupid -- just sycophantic, borderline dyslexic, and convinced that her skin makes her look fat. Lynn's line about the cufflinks is from the same episode as the "psychiatric dairy" quote in the "Poetic Injustice" adaptation. "Putting 369 and 297 together" is from the _Project Utopia_ sourcebook for White Wolf's superhero role-playing game _Aberrant_. (I don't remember if those were the actual numbers used, but the amount added up to was the same.) "Tsuzuku" is Japanese for "to be continued" -- often seen at the ends of episodes of manga or anime. Obligatory legal blap: Daria Morgendorffer was created (as were the rest of the Lawndale characters) by Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis Lynn, and she and her neighbors are copyright 1993, 1997, 2000 MTV Networks, a Viacom company. (As Michelle Klein-Haess has pointed out, work-for-hire sucks the yolks from ostrich eggs.) Monty Python quotes and characters are copright 1970, 2000 Python (Monty) Pictures Ltd. Lyrics to "Poison Arrow" are copyright 1983 ABC and/or their label. They are here used, without the permission of their creators or owners, in the not-for-profit context of fan-fiction. The characters of Lynn Cullen and A.P. McIntyre are copyright 1999, 2000 Janet "Canadibrit" Neilson, as is this storyline, which was adapted by Austin Loomis (to whom the prose format version is copyright 2000) with permission. All other characters, locations and incidents (of which I don't think there are any, actually) are either imaginary or used fictitiously. Any coincidence of names is regretted, and any resemblance to persons living, dead, undead, or wandering the night in ghostly torment is either purely satirical or not my fault. As a "substantially transformative" derivative work, this story is protected by the Supreme Court's decision in re Campbell v. Acuff Rose Music. It may be freely redistributed as long as this copyright notice is maintained intact, but may not be in any way redistributed for profit without the permission of the legal owners of all concepts involved. The present author hereby gives permission for any and all keepers of Daria fanfic pages to archive this work (as if I could stop them). Any publication of this story for profit without the express written permission of Austin Loomis, Janet Neilson and MTV Networks (like any of that'll happen, especially the last) is strictly prohibited, and violators, if I ever decide to track them down, will be strung up by the thumbs, beaten about the head and shoulders with a free-range carrot, and then handed over to corporate lawyers who will do terrible things to them. On purpose.
Austin, and good day. Al D T0 W- Q Fw^Fr O+ Ow+OH+Of m c- MV+ F:111,208,313 BB+ FCT -DT+ q fJ^fj^fD