This is the eleventh episode of The Driven Wild Universe. It follows
I would give this one between a 1.5S and a 2S.
They won't always be this short, so enjoy them while they last!!!
Ten Spot Promo: The freaked-out woman is standing in the dark, holding a candle. She looks around, quivering, "W-who's there??" Then the scary looking guy shows up behind her. Eek!
[intro theme music...................]
SCENE 1 (Lane residence, afternoon)
(Shot of the outside.)
JANE: (off screen voice-over) I'm telling you, Daria --
(Cut to shot of Jane painting on her canvas while simultaneously cradling a phone against her ear.)
JANE: -- it is such a drag having my mom at home again.
(Cut to shot of Daria sitting on her bed, a slight smirk playing upon her lips.)
DARIA: Do tell.
(Resume shot of Jane.)
JANE: She completely stifles my creative process. If I'm painting in the neo-Renaissance Geometric style, she tells me to switch to pre-Celtic symmetrical swirls. Can you believe that??
DARIA: (from the receiver) Quite the fascist.
JANE: And not only that, she -- (suddenly pauses as Amanda Lane flutters into the room.) Hold on a sec. (Bt) Mom? What are you doing in here?
AMANDA: (spacy-serene) My restless spirit urged me forth.
JANE: But this is my room.
AMANDA: Oh, I don't believe in boundaries.
JANE: (clenching her teeth, into the receiver) Grrrrrrrrrrrr...
(Amanda comes over and looks at the painting. She shakes her head with benign disapproval.)
AMANDA: Oh Janey, geometric again? Does your heart truly feel free when you paint that way?
JANE: (straining to be patient) No. But oppression makes for great inspiration -- ask Picasso. Now would you get out??
AMANDA: Hmm... my spirit could use a good cappuccino right now. I'll leave you to find inner peace on your own.
(She waves, then flutters away. Jane groans.)
JANE: (into the receiver) And that's how it's been all week.
(Split screen of Jane and Daria, with Daria on the right.)
DARIA: Welcome to my world.
JANE: Ha. No matter how bad things get at home, at least I have the remote satisfaction of knowing I'll never be as bad off as you.
DARIA: (cocking an eyelid) Touché, Lane. (Bt. sighs) And the sad part is, you're right.
JANE: (amused) So how are things in Hell?
DARIA: Just slightly more bearable than sheer torture. Ever since my dad started helping Quinn with math, my mom's been in bonding overdrive.
JANE: (cringing) Got that "I'm feeling neglected" look in her eyes again?
DARIA: Oh yeah.
JANE: Better break out ye old song book.
DARIA: (emphatic) No way. (Bt) Look, I'll admit she had a point the last time she got like this, but this time she's got nothing to complain about. I'll just go up to her and say flat-out --
JANE: A hideous cancer has taken over your mouth and rotted away half your tongue, so that's why you can't hold a five-minute conversation with her.
(Pause. Daria frowns.)
DARIA: No. That I'd stay and chat -- if I weren't on an urgent mission to kill my friend.
JANE: Oh, she'll never buy that old excuse.
(cut to: )
SCENE 2 (Morgendorffer house, a short time later)
(Shot of Daria's closed door, as seen from the outside. We see it open, and Daria step out. She walks down the hall, toward the stairs, when suddenly: )
HELEN: (off screen. cheery) Hi, Daria.
(Daria stiffens, stops, and turns around with a wary expression. Helen comes up to her.)
HELEN: Where're you going??
DARIA: I'm at the top of the stairs, so I believe the only option is down.
HELEN: (slightly exasperated) I mean where are you going once you reach the bottom?
DARIA: To a land where televisions are just slightly larger than the one in my room.
(Helen rolls her eyes.)
HELEN: (an edge in her voice) TV in the living room again?? Honestly, Daria, that's all you ever do anymore.
DARIA: Until my Broadway musical hits it big.
HELEN: Daria... (Pause. shakes her head.) You know I worry about you, sometimes.
(Now it's Daria's turn to roll her eyes.)
DARIA: Mom, don't bother...
HELEN: Well I really think we should talk about your problem.
DARIA: What problem? I'll be fine once Jane gets done painting for school.
HELEN: Oh?? And what if she gets busy with something else??
(Daria turns and walks down the stairs. Helen hurries after her, not about to give up.)
DARIA: Then I'll go with Plan B: invest in those harpsichord lessons I always wanted.
HELEN: Come on now -- you must have other friends you could spend time with.
DARIA: Jodie's booked through 2012, and Andrea's just too darn optimistic for my taste. So no.
(At her response, Helen loses her eagerness and gets a look of irritation and disappointment.)
HELEN: For God's sake, Daria, why can't you just humor me for once??
(Daria walks over to the couches and takes a seat on the center couch. Helen follows, making sharp, angry gestures with her hands.)
HELEN: Would it hurt you to just answer me straight instead of nixing my ideas with your sarcastic remarks?
(Daria sighs and rolls her eyes with exasperation.)
DARIA: (patient) Mom, what would you like me to tell you?
(Beat)
HELEN: (frustrated) I don't... know. That you're all right. Tha-that you're happy -- or at least your version of happy. That you've got something going on in your life. Dammit, Daria -- (drops onto the couch beside her. looks at her with pleading eyes, while Daria returns her gaze warily.) -- Quinn and Dad have managed to form some sort of relationship. Why can't it be that way with us??
DARIA: But I don't need help with my homework.
(Pause. Helen's expression changes from irritated to weary and saddened. Daria's a tad sorry she made that quip.)
HELEN: (quieter) I swear, Daria, I wish we could -- I mean I feel... (groans) Oh, I don't know what I feel.
(Beat)
DARIA: (somewhat gentle ) Let me take a wild guess. Shut out? Lonely? Empty inside, maybe?
HELEN: Yes. (looks at her, surprised -- "you do understand.") Yes, that's exactly what I feel.
(Beat)
DARIA: Sounds like you're the one who needs something going on in her life.
HELEN: Huh??
DARIA: I mean these symptoms I've just described point to a larger problem than not spending time with your kid. And I don't know if talking to me would solve it. (Pause) Have you ever considered getting a hobby?
HELEN: (hard blink, surprised) A what?
DARIA: Hob-eee. It's that thing where you waste time, but you enjoy it. A hard concept for you to grasp, I'm su--
HELEN: (irritated) I know what a hobby is. And I've got lots of them. (Bt. reflective) Well, when I can schedule them in.... But how would that solve anything??
DARIA: It just might give you some of that satisfaction you're looking for.
HELEN: A hobby would? A hobby?? (Bt. rolls her eyes. humoring) Ooo-kay, Daria, that's what I need. Yes, that's it. I'll just get myself a little hobby and try to forget that my daughter's throwing her life away on the living room sofa.
DARIA: Knew you'd go for the idea.
HELEN: Unless...
(She casts a crafty glance at Daria, who responds with a "Who me?" look.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 3 (Lawndale High, next day)
(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Daria and Jane walking down the hall.)
DARIA: So we made a bet.
JANE: What?
DARIA: You heard me. She's gonna go out and get herself a hobby, while I... (pauses, makes a sour face.)
JANE: You'll what? (leans closer.)
(Pause)
DARIA: Join a... school... activity.
(Jane bursts out laughing. Daria glares at her.)
JANE: Sooo... pep squad or the Civic Boosters society?
DARIA: I won't even dignify that with a response.
JANE: You could always help me out with painting.
DARIA: And risk brain damage from inhaling the fumes?
JANE: Tha-anks.
(They stop at their lockers. Daria falls against hers with a clang.)
DARIA: Look, whatever club I join, I'll be able to quit in a week. My mom can't survive in a non-work-related atmosphere.
JANE: You hope.
DARIA: I know. Then maybe she'll finally learn to respect my privacy.
JANE: But what if she outlasts you?
DARIA: (making a face) Then I agree to let her talk to me whenever she wants, sarcasm-free.
JANE: Boy you must be going soft. That deal's totally in her favor.
DARIA: (glaring) Thanks a lot.
JANE: Could be worse, though. You could have my latest problem.
DARIA: What d--?
(Suddenly Jane spots someone off screen.)
JANE: (calling out) Hey, Jodie! (looks at Daria, smirks.) Who better to help you find your calling than the Activities Queen herself?
(Daria rolls her eyes. We see Jodie walk over.)
JODIE: Hey, guys.
JANE: (to Jodie) You've got a new addition to your army of helpniks.
DARIA: Shut up.
JODIE: (eyes widening with surprise) Daria??
JANE: (faux maternal tone) It's true -- our little Daria's becoming a joiner.
(Daria's face turns bright red.)
DARIA: You know admitting defeat's sounding better and better.
JODIE: (amused, and with some satisfaction) Aw, come on, Daria, it's not so bad on my side of the fence. I think I can find a place where your cynical outlook will feel at home.
DARIA: (sighing) If you're thinking of the same place I was thinking of, then I'll have you know I was already headed in that direction...
(fade-out. fade-in to: )
SCENE 4 (a short time later)
(Shot of Daria and Jane standing in a classroom. Daria's impassive, Jane's smirking. At their back we see several people bent over computers, some others drawing layout on a long table, and the distant sound of someone making a call for ads.)
GUY: (off screen) Welcome aboard, Morgendorffer!
(Cut to wide shot of Daria, Jane, and the editor of the Lawndale Lowdown -- your typical popular, preppy-type.)
EDITOR: We've been waiting for you to arrive!
DARIA: (deadpan) Well your prayers have been answered.
EDITOR: The Lowdown tries to represent all points of view, and yours would really give it some oomph.
DARIA: (to Jane) "Oomph." Sounds almost as good as "edgy."
JANE: (sardonic) And how can you not write for a paper with cover stories like "Seniors Havin' Fun in the Sun" or "Cafeteria Food is Good for You"?
DARIA: Those exact words just crossed my mind.
EDITOR: That's the kind of enthusiasm I like! (fist pump.) So for your first assignment, how d' you like to write an opinion piece about the school?
JANE: Are you sure you know what you're asking?
DARIA: How can I refuse? I'm a (sour expression) "contributing reporter."
EDITOR: You sure are. Welcome to the Lowdown family! (reaches out and claps Daria on the back -- hard.)
(Cut to shot of the door as seen from the hall, a short time later. Daria and Jane walk out, Daria looking slightly stunned and repulsed.)
DARIA: All right, I've let you in on my humiliation. What's your story?
JANE: My mom's teaching a sculpture class to a bunch of middle-aged yuppies. (makes a face.) I gotta help her out.
DARIA: So that's why she's still in town. But doesn't teaching go against her anti-structure philosophy?
JANE: It would -- if she hadn't broken her kiln. She's in desperate need of cash to replace it.
DARIA: So greed overrides principle once again.
JANE: She loved that kiln, Daria. It was like her favorite child.
DARIA: And how does her unfavorite child figure in? (pointed glance at Jane.)
JANE: (resigned) I sort of made a deal with her. I'd be her little gopher for six weeks if she promised to stay out of my room and not criticize my painting.
DARIA: (recalling Jane's earlier words to her) Sounds like she got the better end of the deal.
JANE: (annoyed) And if she promised never to comment on the artistry of me and Tom lip-locking.
(Pause. Daria turns slightly red.)
DARIA: Um... good move.
(cut to: )
SCENE 5 (Morgendorffer house, evening)
(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Daria and Quinn sitting at the kitchen table, while Helen rushes around nearby, on the phone to work.)
HELEN: (crooning) Yes, Eric... (Pause) yes... (Pause) yes... Oh I completely agree...
(We see Daria in the midst of writing her opinion piece for the Lowdown. Quinn has her math book out, but has temporarily pushed it aside to flip through an issue of Waif.)
DARIA: Hmmm... (puts her pen to her mouth in thought.) "Sadistic bloodsuckers" or "hapless followers with no conscience or reason"? (Pause. then finds one she likes, scribbles it down.)
QUINN: (wrinkling her nose) You are so morbid, Daria.
DARIA: Someone in this screwed-up world has to be.
(Helen walks toward them, still absorbed in her phone call.)
HELEN: You know I always go with your judgment on these sorts of -- (spies Quinn.) Quinn, put that magazine away this instant!
(Quinn purses her lips with irritation, slaps the Waif shut and pushes it aside. Meanwhile Helen has returned her attention to Eric. She listens to him with a slightly peevish expression on her face. Tries to conceal it in her tone.)
HELEN: Of course I can have it done by early next week... I mean true (weak chuckle) I have to cancel a few little appointments, but that's perfectly fine -- oh don't worry about me. Oh no... (Pause) Yes, you take care, too, Eric. (Bt) All right. Bye. (hangs up, gets a resigned look.)
(Beat)
DARIA: (smirking) So Mom: how's hobby-hunting going?
(Helen slams the phone on its cradle.)
HELEN: (frustrated) Ha -- who has time to look for a hobby?? Honestly, sometimes I feel the only way I could please that man is if I gave up sleep for good.
(Beat)
DARIA: No time, huh? (sighs, faux resigned.) Then I guess we have nothing more to say to each other. (lays her pen down, wears a look of calm.)
(Pause. Helen turns to her, expression weary and resentful. She makes a few gestures of protest before buckling under the weight of their deal.)
HELEN: (tossing her hands in the air) Look, I've done some searching, all right?? I attended a yoga class over my lunch break today.
DARIA: And?
HELEN: It was very nice, but, um... it was too, um... demanding.
DARIA: O-kay.
(Beat)
QUINN: Well I, for one, totally support you on this whole hobby thing, Mom. Just as long as you don't pick something that'll embarrass me or cause permanent damage to my reputation.
HELEN: (rolling her eyes. sarcastic) Oh no, sweetie -- we wouldn't want that.
(Just then, Jake comes in.)
JAKE: Hey, what's cooking??
DARIA: Take a wild guess.
(Jake walks over to his usual spot at the table and sits down. Helen continues to pace around, exasperated.)
HELEN: Look, Daria, I promise to find some damn hobby. Okay??
JAKE: Hobby?
HELEN: Yes. But it'd be easier if I could decide what I most enjoy doing. (stops pacing. looks at Jake with a thoughtful expression.) What do you think I should do, Jake?
JAKE: Beats me... you're good at so many things.
HELEN: Aww... well thank you. (Bt. it suddenly occurs to her that he might be bluffing. decides to apply pressure to him.) Such as?
(Beat)
JAKE: (getting an uncomfortable look) Well...
(Pause)
HELEN: (hard stare) Well...?
(Pause)
JAKE: Well... erm... um... (Pause) Talk-ing? (cringes slightly as he says it, looks up. his response hasn't helped him.)
HELEN: (annoyed) Really??
JAKE: Yeah. And, um (suddenly springs up out of the chair.) I'd tell you more, but I just heard that pesky loose floorboard creaking again. Better go fix it.
(He leaves quickly. Helen watches him go, curls her lips.)
DARIA: (calm) Just remember that one of us has more than adequately fulfilled her end of the bargain. (gestures at the article she's writing.)
HELEN: (nodding) I know, I know... (Bt. suddenly goes gushy-crooning.) And I think it's super. You've finally found a constructive way to state your viewpoint and reach out to your fellow classmates!
(Daria rolls her eyes.)
DARIA: Damn. Should've known you'd react like this. (Bt) But don't think that little burst of support will get you anywhere. Now it's your turn.
(The enthusiasm fades from Helen's face and is replaced by exasperation.)
DARIA: Get a hobby, or you lose.
HELEN: All right.
DARIA: Which would mean no more interrogations without my approval. (Bt. emphatic) And it can't be work-related...
(cut to: )
SCENE 6 (Lane residence, evening, a few days later)
(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of a fifty-something year-old man seated on a fold-out chair in the Lanes' basement. He's looking off screen and waving some bills in the air.)
MAN: Trent? Hey, Trent?? How 'bout playing a little Jefferson Airplane?
(Trent saunters over, guitar in hand.)
TRENT: Sorry, mister. I only play what comes from the soul.
MAN: Twenty bucks!
TRENT: (thoughtful) Hmmm...
(Suddenly, from off screen: )
PEOPLE: No! Hendrix!/ Peter, Paul, and Mary!/ The Beatles!/ The Grateful Dead!
(Cut to a wider shot. We now see that the basement is filled with middle-aged people, dressed in raggedy clothes, smocks, et cetera. Most are seated upon fold-out chairs or metallic stools at one of three long tables. Others are perched upon some bean bag chairs that have been strewn around, or are leaning against the wall. There are about twenty in all -- and most are waving money and calling out to Trent. Trent looks a tad overwhelmed, but picks up his guitar and starts to play something. Just then, we see Jane and Amanda coming down the stairs.)
AMANDA: My, everyone's here already?
JANE: (annoyed) Yes, where they have been for almost a half hour.
AMANDA: Goodness, time passes so quickly when you're in a meditative trance.
(When she and Jane reach the bottom, Amanda walks over to the middle of the room, while Jane retreats into a corner.)
AMANDA: (to the crowd) Hello, everyone. I hope you all have had enough time to become spiritually attuned to your surroundings. Negative energy is such a downer when you're working with soft materials.
(The crowd murmurs and nods. Cut to shot of Jane standing in her corner.)
JANE: (to Trent, as he comes over) Good thing she's not standing close to me.
(Trent cocks a brow in agreement. Resume wide shot.)
AMANDA: Let's begin class by getting to know each other a little better, shall we? (more nods from the crowd.) I could talk about who I am, your mentor, but who I am's not important. It's you -- you're the ones who will be breathing life and soul into your sculptures, making something out of nothing, and in the process setting yourselves free --
(Cut to brief shot of Jane and Trent. Jane checks her watch. Trent's eyelids are growing heavy.)
AMANDA: But I can't go on. Please tell me about yourselves. (gestures at a woman off to the side.)
(Beat)
WOMAN: Um, well, um, okay -- my name's Shirley and I'm a stay-at-home mom. And I've always been a huge admirer of your work!
AMANDA: (cringing slightly) Please, don't talk about me. It's your moment -- you, you, you.
(She gestures at the next person, an attractive, silver-haired man -- the same one who was asking Trent to play Jefferson Airplane earlier. The man smiles.)
MAN: (warm tone) My name's Greg. Like you, I'm an art instructor, but I'm taking this class because I want to soak up a different atmosphere. Hopefully when it's done, I'll be able to take a little of it back with me when I teach my own class.
AMANDA: (pleased) How nice...
(Cut to shot of Jane and Trent. Trent has started to nod off. Jane takes his guitar -- to prevent it from dropping out of his hand and crashing on the ground. Suddenly, from off screen: )
HELEN: Sorry I'm late! Got stuck in a meeting, then tied up in freeway traffic for an extra twenty minutes because there'd been an accident --!
(Cut to wide shot. Helen's flying down the stairs, still dressed in her work clothes and carrying a gazillion art supplies. She rushes over to Amanda.)
HELEN: Then I had to stop at home and explain to my husband how to properly reheat lasagna then tell Quinn that Waif is not a subject in school so put away the damn magazine then grab some low-nutrition energy booster to get me through the evening because I had no time to eat dinner myself so that's why I'm late. I'm so sorry. (exhales deeply.)
(She's met with silence. Amanda looks delighted to see her, while everyone else appears stunned by her sudden arrival. Cut to close-up of Jane and Trent. Trent's now fully awake, while Jane's smirking -- "Suddenly things have gotten interesting.")
[Shot of Helen rushing down the Lanes' stairs while everyone else looks on.]
You are now entering commercial HELL. Please keep your seat belt securely fastened. You are about to see some of the lamest commercials put on television.
[Btw: I planned this episode long before I knew Tracy Grandstaff was in the "Real World" pilot. My psychic streak continues!]
You are now leaving commercial HELL. Aren't you happy you survived?