This is [or should be] the eighteenth episode of The Driven Wild Universe. It follows
I would give this fic a 3S... easily as long as "An Uneasy Marriage." Can we say "On a special hour-long 'Daria'"...?
This is also what you might call an "In-betweener," meaning that it is set sometime after "I Loathe a Parade," but before the events of "Fire!" As I explained, that's because this episode would have been more difficult to pull off if Daria had a boyfriend, and it would have messed with the DWU's continuity to have her date Tom, blah, blah. Yet, because this is an alternate universe, Quinn's embrace of scholastics and Helen and Jake's problems go far beyond the show's portrayal to this date. Don't try to think about where this fic might be placed in the regular "Daria" season, or you'll go nuts...
Music-wise, I decided to honor the Beatles' #1 album, which consists of all twenty-seven of their #1 hits. (Ha, like that album needs promotion, having spent weeks at the top of the charts.) I figure "Daria" would never have a chance to use the #1 album, now that the show is officially departing after the fifth season. By including its songs in this fic, I intend to show posterity that young people today listen to more than just Britney Spears or Eminem. Or rather, cough, to show that I actually listen to music...
Finally, the tone of this fic veers closer to drama than comedy. Get used to it: because we're reaching a "crisis" point in the continuum, there won't really be a comedic DWU until #21. If you want funny, go read some of my past DWU's. If not... enjoy!
Ten Spot Promo: Is there even a Ten Spot promo anymore? The last several
"Daria" eps just started right up after the previous show ended. Oh well
[intro theme music...................]
SCENE 1 (Daria's room, evening)
(Shot of the outside of the Morgendorffer residence. Cut to shot of Daria sitting upright on her bed, scribbling furiously in her notebook. She looks deep in thought.)
DARIA: (thought VO) Dear Diary... How original: I'm writing to you again about some deep, burning issue that I'm loath to discuss with another living soul. Though frankly, this one-way relationship is starting to get to me. I pour my heart out to you on a regular basis, but do you so much as share the secrets that lurk between the spirals? Do you ever open up your outer shell without coercion? I think not.
(Daria pauses to read what she's written. She rolls her eyes at how lame it sounds, then sighs and continues writing.)
DARIA: (thought VO) Well fine, this is the last time. Or else our relationship ends up in the paper shredder. (Bt) Anyway, surprise -- I've been having problems with my family. I just wish I could say they were the usual problems...
(Dissolve to recent flashback of Daria walking up to Quinn's door. She stands there for a moment before knocking softly. Waits a few seconds: silence. Then she knocks harder, waits a few more seconds. When nothing happens, Daria tries the knob with a lack of vigor which suggests she knows the door will be locked -- which it is. She sighs noiselessly.)
DARIA: Hey Quinn? Are you in there?
(Cut to close-up of Quinn sitting at her desk, bent over a math textbook. She is scribbling on one of several sheets of notebook paper. Her expression, one of concentration, hardens at the sound of her sister's voice.)
(Cut to shot of Daria standing outside. She pulls back and stares at the door, wondering what to do.)
DARIA: (faux calm, loud enough for Quinn to hear) Well I guess Mom and Dad were right about you taking the drugs. I'd better go look up a good treatment facility.
(Beat)
QUINN: (from inside) What?!
(Daria steps away from the door as we hear hurried stampeding toward it from the other side. A click, and then it flies open. Quinn pokes her head out, looking freaked and angry at the same time.)
QUINN: I am NOT taking drugs! Drugs make you act weird and look icky, and if you tell Mom and Dad I am I swear to God I'll kill you!!
DARIA: (subtle smirk) Well, well: it's nice to be on speaking terms with you again, sis.
(Quinn looks dumbfounded for a second. Then, when she realizes she's been had, she flashes Daria a dirty scowl and starts to close the door.)
DARIA: (making a move to block it) Wait. (gentler tone.) Don't you think it's time we declared a truce?
(Beat)
QUINN: (flat, wary) I dunno. (Bt) Maybe if you agree not to spy on me anymore.
DARIA: (protests) That's not what I've been doing.
QUINN: (rolling her eyes) Oh right: I guess you're just, like, really interested in the way I do math problems then. Do I look like I was born yesterday?
DARIA: Given the full head of hair and the two extra inches you have on me, I'd have to say no. (Bt) But mentally, the jury's still out.
(Quinn's expression, briefly receptive, at once becomes angry again. Daria winces, kicking herself for a quip that came so easily she didn't even have to think about it.)
DARIA: (pushes harder to keep her from closing the door) Quinn -- wait. I didn't mean --
QUINN: (injured tone) Y'know you keep saying that you, like, want me to care about school, and then you turn around an' tell me how stupid I am. Well that's okay: I don't need you.
(As she says this last sentence, she shoves the door so forcefully that Daria loses her grip on it. Before she can respond to Quinn's retort, Daria finds the door slammed in her face.)
DARIA: Glad we could work things out like sensible adults.
(Cut to shot of Quinn inside her room. She gazes at the door for a few seconds, looking as though she regrets what she did. Then her expression becomes defiant, and she heads back to her desk.)
(Cut to shot of Daria, still looking at the door, her face filled with regret over an opportunity missed. She's also stung by Quinn's tone: while her sister has demeaned her on more occasions than she cares to remember, she's never seemed as angry or hurt. Finally Daria turns and walks slowly down the hall.)
(Dissolve to shot of her, moments later, walking downstairs. Zoom out to show that Helen is seated on the center couch, leafing through papers with a distracted expression on her face. Daria starts toward the kitchen, then pauses to look at her mother. She ends up heading over to one of the side couches and sitting down.)
DARIA: Mom? (Pause) Earth to Mom.
HELEN: (gazing at two papers in her hand like she's not sure what they're for) Yes, Daria?
DARIA: Have you noticed how Quinn's been acting lately?
(Beat)
HELEN: (startled, as if waking from a dream) Huh?
DARIA: (cocking an eyelid at her mom's spacy behavior) I said have you noticed Quinn?
HELEN: (like her mind is on other things) She seems perfectly fine to me.
DARIA: (uncomfortable) I guess she's not not fine. But she's gotten really obsessed with math. The way some people get obsessed with the coming of the messiah. (waits for her mother to respond. When Helen doesn't, she continues.) She hasn't even spoken to her fashion minions for a while.
HELEN: Hmm, really?
DARIA: Not that I'd consider it a loss. But to go from obsessing about fashion to obsessing about math just seems unhealthy to me. (rolling her eyes, quickly adds before Helen can say anything.) And yes, I know this is me talking: the girl who shuts herself in her room to write. But at least I can expand my horizons beyond Language Arts. (more emphatic.) And no, I am not jealous of the attention Quinn gets from her math teacher. Why should I be jealous??
HELEN: (eyes trailing away from her papers, into space) Of course not.
(Beat)
DARIA: (frowning with concern) Maybe I should discuss this with Dad. He might be more focused.
(For the first time, Helen looks at Daria with more clarity.)
HELEN: Your father? Don't expect him home until late tonight.
DARIA: Again?
HELEN: He's got another bowling league practice.
DARIA: I thought he hated bowling. Didn't he think the ball looked like the face of his dead father laughing at him?
(Beat)
HELEN: (absent) Well he likes it now.
(From her expression, it's clear Helen is bothered by the thought of Jake going out so much, but doesn't have the will to do anything about it. She notices Daria's concern over her uncharacteristic behavior and gets a look of contrition.)
HELEN: I'm sorry, honey. (small sigh.) My mind's just been on some very complicated matters of late, and I guess I haven't been as good a mom as I could be. (The guilt in her expression deepens.)
DARIA: (feeling sorry for her, trying to ease her concern) No big deal. It's just some thoughts I had that can wait for another time.
HELEN: About Quinn and school? (shifts into her "responsible parent" mode.) I don't think there's anything to worry about. After a while, Quinn's enthusiasm for math is bound extend to her other subjects. The most important thing for us is to encourage her as best we can.
(Daria sees nothing in her mother's reply that she wasn't expecting. She shrugs half-heartedly.)
DARIA: I guess. (admitting.) I could stand to boost my encouragement level.
HELEN: (smiling) That's the spirit, sweetie.
(Daria stands up.)
DARIA: Thanks for the pep talk. (She moves toward the kitchen, the sees Helen's smile fade quickly and a melancholy expression take its place.) And Mom? (awkward.) If you... um, ever need...
(Helen turns around, surprised at her daughter's implied offer. Looking touched, she pauses as if to seriously consider whether to confide in Daria. Then her familiar "I'm-in-control" smile slides into place.)
HELEN: Oh I'm fine, sweetie. Thank you for asking.
(Daria shrugs and exits the room, her expression faintly grim. Again, she isn't surprised by her mother's response, but she hoped for better. Fade-out.)
(Fade-in to shot of Daria in her room, scribbling away.)
DARIA: (thought VO) So there you have it. Even as Quinn strives to be my academic equal, she and I are pulling farther apart. My mom may be suffering from some level of depression, with my dad's frequent absences being the likely cause... or vice versa. But unless she admits it, she's not going to get any help. (Bt) I don't know what I could do... beyond slipping Prozac into her coffee.
(Dissolve to shot of Daria sitting with Jake at the kitchen table one recent morning. Jake tries to engage Daria in conversation, looking ill at ease and well-meaning, though not necessarily more so than usual.)
DARIA: (thought VO) As for Dad, he acts as though everything is normal, joking away questions about his late nights. But like Mom, something's definitely up with him, and I doubt it's good.
(Cut back to present shot of Daria. After she finishes scribbling this last bit, she allows for her arm to go slack and dangle over the side of the bed as she lies back and stares at the ceiling.)
(Cut to close-up of Jane nibbling on the crust of a pizza, looking thoughtful. She's been given a synopsis of Daria's problems.)
JANE: Too bad this isn't happening to someone else's family. Preferably on a weeknight, between 8 and 9 pm Eastern/Pacific time.
(Cut to wider shot, showing her and Daria sitting in a booth, a pizza between them.)
DARIA: (gloomy sarcasm) On "As Daria's World Turns": where ridiculous melodrama is the norm.
(For a moment, Jane gets a faintly disturbed look, as though she wants to tell Daria about something, but doesn't know how. Then it passes.)
JANE: (more serious, gentle) Look, it sounds as though you're doing all you can do just by being there for them. Try not to beat yourself up about it: things have a way of working themselves out.
DARIA: (not encouraged) Do you realize that last part sounded like something your mother would say?
JANE: (cringing) Ouch. You are cold when you're feeling miserable.
TOM: (off screen, helpful) Jane's right. (Cut to wide shot of him standing over them, having just returned from the "young gentleman's" room.) Maybe you just need to take your mind off. Go out of your way to do something you don't normally do. Get out of the house, take a walk somewhere.
DARIA: (deadpan) A walk. Sounds like too much to handle all at once.
TOM: (tolerant) Just anything to help you keep perspective.
JANE: (pointed, sympathetic) Hey, that's sensible advice, amiga.
(Daria casts a grudging look at Tom, like she'd rather he not be eavesdropping on the conversation. But Jane looks at her with a "C'mon, give it a try," which causes her to relent.)
DARIA: (thought VO) Find something different to take my mind off: what other choice did I have? Nothing else seemed to be working.
(Cut to shot of Daria sitting with Jane and Tom in Jane's room, watching "Sick Sad World." Jane and Tom sit close together on the bed, while Daria sits a short distance apart, eyeing them with discomfort.)
DARIA: (VO) I couldn't count on Jane's place to be my home-away-from-home for obvious reasons...
(Cut to shot of Daria lying on the Lane family, positioned so that she faces the ceiling. Just then Trent saunters in. Oblivious to all but his guitar, he starts strumming loudly and grunting. Daria reaches over and puts a pillow over her face.)
DARIA: (thought VO) So I tried a little bit of everything...
(Instrumental portion of "Eleanor Rigby." Shot of Daria walking down the sidewalk, past the park, and getting nailed in the back of the head by a frisbee. Shot of her standing in a bookstore, trying to read. Shot of Daria walking past an array of businesses in the mall with HELP WANTED signs, looking as though none of them appeal to her. Shot of her sitting at her computer, trying to follow along with an IRC chat group, but looking utterly bewildered.)
DARIA: (thought VO) But nothing took my mind off.
(Shot of Daria walking past a student reading a newspaper toward the bulletin board where school activities are posted. With a sour expression, she reviews the listings, before finally turning around and facing the hall. She then sees Phelps stride past, briefcase in hand, checking his watch.)
DARIA: (thought VO) That could explain why I haven't let go of my wild conspiracy theories about Quinn's math teacher -- in spite of the fact that I've seen neither a discernible motive nor clear evidence of wrong-doing. By imagining the guy really is using Quinn for his own sordid purposes, I create a ready adversary for myself against whom I can exercise control that I haven't been able to find at home or elsewhere. (Pause) And if it's come to that, I truly have reached a nadir point. I never thought I'd say this, but I really need something to go my way.
(cut to)
SCENE 2 (O'Neill's classroom)
(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of O'Neill and OH standing at the front of the room. O'Neill gives Daria an enthusiastic thumbs up, to which Daria reacts with minimal expression.)
O'NEILL: (VO) I'm so glad you've decided to make a positive impact on your fellow students, Daria! Your contributions as a tutor will be immeasurable.
DARIA: As long as you remain true to our no-Kevin agreement. (Bt) I don't get paid, do I?
O'NEILL: Only with the wealth of satisfaction. But sorry, no money.
DARIA: (regretting this already) Damn.
O'NEILL: Here comes your first mentee.
(He and Daria turn to look at a young gentleman entering the room. Daria cocks an eyelid with mild recognition: this guy has lurked in the background of several episodes, always silent. He is tall and slender, with scruffy light brown hair, dark sunglasses, and baggy pants and a T-shirt. He strolls toward Daria and O'Neill, looking wary.)
O'NEILL: (overly-friendly) Daria, you know Vanny, don't you?
GUY: (deadpan, annoyed) Vince. I've told you twelve times already.
(O'Neill chuckles with embarrassment. Daria and Vince just stand there.)
O'NEILL: Well they're... so.... (coughs loudly, tries to break the ice.) Anyway Daria, Vince has been having a little bit of trouble completing assignments. (Bt) And participating and showing up on a regular basis. Maybe you could give him a fresh start by helping him with our most recent paper topic.
DARIA: (deadpan) I'd be thrilled.
O'NEILL: Good!
(Cut to shot of the outside of the classroom. Daria and Vince walk out, in the direction of the library.)
DARIA: (hushed) And then afterward I'll go soak my head in a bowl of bubbling hot oil.
(Vince overhears and for one nanosecond a smirk crosses his lips.)
DARIA: (awkward) So what do you need the most help with?
VINCE: (shrugs, laconic) Whatever.
(Beat)
DARIA: Shall I interpret that to mean everything?
VINCE: If you feel like it.
DARIA: (frowning a little) Great.
(cut to: )
SCENE 3 (LHS library, after school)
(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Daria and Vince sitting at a table by themselves, papers and books spread out between them. Vince has his chair tipped back and arms folded behind his head. Daria shuffles through the papers, frustration piercing through her deadpan expression.)
DARIA: You probably think counting the cracks in the ceiling is more satisfying than doing this assignment. I don't blame you. But if you don't work with me, you'll be wasting both of our time. And I'm too good at doing that myself to leave it to an outsider.
VINCE: (tipping his sunglasses down to look at her) So why don't you go home, then?
DARIA: (rolling her eyes, grudging) I have nothing better to do. (Bt) Besides, don't you want to come out of this knowing how to write better?
VINCE: (sitting up straighter, snide) I know how to write. Just not for O'Neill's class: where a ten year old could turn in an assignment and get an A.
DARIA: (unsure of what this statement could imply of her) Hmmm.
VINCE: That dude doesn't know a thing about "writing from life." Why should I bother with topics like "If You Were a Tree in the Forest of Arden, What Advice Would You Give Rosalind?" when I could write about stuff that hits closer to home??
DARIA: (can't help but ask) If you were a lamp post in Lawndale, what advice would you give drunk drivers at 2 a.m.?
(Vince smirks briefly at her quip.)
VINCE: Like... (looks as though he's about to tell her, then considers who he's talking to and thinks otherwise.) stuff.
DARIA: (sardonic) Sounds very insightful.
VINCE: Doesn't matter, you wouldn't be interested. You must like O'Neill's class, or else you wouldn't be tutoring for him.
DARIA: It was more a case of entrapment He overheard me saying I needed a way to fill time, and before I knew it, I was getting the reach-out-and-touch- someone-with-your-giant-brain lecture. (Bt) I'd have resisted if my other options weren't just as pathetic.
VINCE: (cracking a smirk) Besides, it's a good way to mess with the heads of the easily impressionable.
(Daria lets out a small chuckle, then looks embarrassed.)
DARIA: (warming to Vince a little) O'Neill's not my idea of the perfect English instructor. He's not my idea of an instructor. But I have to do his assignments if I want to get to where the good teaching is.
VINCE: Why do you need good teaching to write well?
DARIA: You know of a better alternative?
(Beat)
VINCE: Maybe. (He looks as though he wanted to say something else, but stops himself.) So I take it you write outside of class, too? (Bt) What kind of stuff?
(Daria is about to say, when inspiration hits.)
DARIA: Maybe if you do the assignment, I'll show you.
(Vince looks surprised by her offer for a moment. Then, after some consideration, he smirks faintly.)
VINCE: Okay. Deal. (He bows his head and starts scribbling on a sheet of paper.)
(Dissolve to shot of the two an hour later. Daria is looking over several hand-written pages, while Vince is reading a short essay she penned as he was doing the assignment. He looks vaguely amused, even impressed. Finally Daria stacks the pages together.)
DARIA: (vaguely impressed) This is pretty good. Although don't you think "I'd embrace the searing pain of the hatchet" might rub O'Neill the wrong way?
VINCE: (shrugs, collects his pages) I just wrote it to weird him out. 'Sides, it follows the assignment, doesn't it?
DARIA: Sure. (Bt) But be prepared for a call from Mrs. Manson's office in a day or two.
VINCE: (cocks a brow behind the sunglasses) I take it you speak from experience. (He stands up and scoops the pages into his backpack.)
DARIA: Um, my essay? (holds out her hand.)
VINCE: Right. (He reaches into his backpack to pull something out, then lays it on top of the essay, which he pushes toward Daria.) Here's something of mine that'll make for some interesting reading.
(He jerks his hand in a gesture that resembles a wave, and leaves without saying "Thank you." Daria cocks a mild eyelid at his behavior before looking down at what he left. The corners of her mouth twitch in a tiny smile.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 4 (Daria's room, that evening)
(Shot of the outside of the Morgendorffer residence. Cut to close-up of a few pages of white paper stapled together. Though we can't read anything on them, we note that the layout of the pages is like that of a newspaper, with columns and headlines. The document itself lacks a newspaper's polished appearance, but we can tell by Daria's expression -- as the camera zooms out to show her holding it -- that its content is worth reading.)
DARIA: (thought VO) So this guy writes for the underground newspaper. That would explain why he never bothers with class assignments...
(Cut to shot of the hallway. Off screen, we hear a door fly open and a whirl of stomping along the floor, as if someone is in a rush to get toward the stairs. Just then, the stomping softens, then stops. We listen to a hesitant pattering across the floor as Quinn comes on screen, carrying a bundle of math-related goodies. Nervous and contrite, she inches toward Daria's door. But before she can knock, fear gets the better of her, and with a look of disgust, she turns around and heads back off screen.)
(Inside her room, Daria is still too busy looking through the newspaper to notice anything around her.)
DARIA: (VO) I'd seen it around school -- usually in the trash, soaking up grease from someone's leftover tuna and onion "surprise." I hadn't read too many issues because I figured it was something reclusive anarchists created to scare people with their immature threats. Fortunately, I was wrong.
(Cut to shot of Jane, phone to her ear, standing at the easel in her room.)
JANE: (interested) Well I'll be: so Slacker Vince Rogers isn't such a slacker after all.
(Split screen to show Daria, on the right, glancing the paper over once more.)
DARIA: I didn't even think high schoolers wrote for this paper. The names aren't familiar, and I've never seen anyone pass it around campus.
JANE: Aliases and general paranoia, methinks. (cocks a brow.) These guys must worry about getting found out by the unforgiving masses. I'm surprised Vince even told you.
DARIA: Yeah.
JANE: Think he'll freak 'cause you told me?
DARIA: I'll hold my tongue so he doesn't find out. Just make sure you do the same.
JANE: (amused/annoyed) Aye-aye, captain.
DARIA: (leafing through the pages) I don't see what they're so worried about: it's regular articles intermixed with commentary on what a screwed up society we live in. (frowns.) I'm almost shocked they haven't asked me to join.
JANE: (smirking) Too optimistic for their taste? Some of those articles do come very close to crossing the line. And their tone can be pretty dark. (Pause) Yeah, why haven't they asked you?
DARIA: (brief, bleak expression) If they did, at least it would take my mind off of home.
JANE: So how are things going?
DARIA: (deadpan) No one's bothered to talk to me lately -- (Cut to brief shot of the hallway outside of Daria's room, empty.) -- so I'd say the same. Tutoring sucks, but at least it gives me the excuse to stay away. Your young Thomas actually came up with a not-so-bad idea.
JANE: (benignly defensive) Yes, my "young Thomas" isn't quite as bad as certain folks have pegged him to be. He was also the one who told you Mr. Phelps was gay, remember? Alleviating certain fears you had concerning him and your sister?
DARIA: Hmm, yeah.
JANE: And he promised to glance through his school's records for any other info that might be useful.
DARIA: (half-smirk) He must be in overdrive to win me over. (Bt., sighs.) But he shouldn't bother: the more he feeds my conspiracy theories, the less likely I am to put them to rest. And it's not like it'll help anyway. (face darkens.) If I came to Quinn spouting a bunch of reliable info about what a creep her teacher is, she'd just accuse me of lying.
JANE: (nodding) Yeah. (softly) And your sister works closely enough with Phelps that, barring the notion she really is an airhead, she would know if what she's doing isn't right. If you want to find out if Phelps is using her, your best bet is to wait until she comes to you.
DARIA: (nodding, resigned) Assuming something bad doesn't happen beforehand. (Bt., switching the subject.) So, are you gonna be in tonight?
JANE: (uneasy expression) Tom and I were gonna go bowling. (A little too quickly:) You could come if you want.
DARIA: (feeling like a third wheel) No. It's okay --
JANE: We don't have to go bowling --
DARIA: No, it's what you planned to do. Don't worry about me.
JANE: (concerned) You sure?
DARIA: Yes. (Bt) Have fun.
JANE: Okay. (Pause) Talk to you later.
DARIA: Yeah. Bye.
(She lays the phone back on its cradle and slumps down a little. Then she eyes the paper she's holding, gets a thoughtful expression.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 5 (Lawndale High, next several days.)
(Shot of the outside.)
DARIA: (thought VO) It was another week before I tutored Vince again. During that time, my mind was so glued to the damn underground paper, I kept seeing it everywhere...
(Cut to shot of Kevin in O'Neill's class. He wears a makeshift newspaper hat on his head and has another copy rolled up like a telescope.)
(Cut to shot of Larry, a member of the Lowdown, first seen in "Breaking the Mold," looking at the underground paper. Cut to wider shot of Daria standing on the opposite side of the hallway, facing her locker.)
LARRY: (idiotic smirk) Man, they don't have any color pictures in here!
DARIA: (thought VO) So was the copy Vince gave me some kind of invitation? Or was it a gesture of thanks for a tutoring job well done? (frowns, shakes her head with frustration.) Would I even care if Vince hadn't sounded so passionate during our tutoring session? He made it sound like he had so many great possibilities open to him. He made it sound -- dare I say it? -- empowering. (A look of wistfulness crosses her face.)
(Her musings are interrupted by a loud cackle from Larry. Daria turns briefly to glare in his direction.)
LARRY: (looking at the paper) No sports... no upbeat articles. How the hell do they ever hope to compete with us??
DARIA: (sotto voice) Maybe by cornering a market you'd never consider: intelligent writing?
PHELPS: (off screen, muttering) There is a thing called intelligent writing, you know.
(Daria whirls around and watches with surprise as he rushes down the hall without uttering another word.)
(cut to: )
SCENE 6 (library)
(Shot of the outside.)
DARIA: (thought VO) Finally I worked up the nerve to talk to Vince...
(Cut to shot of her and Vince in the library.)
VINCE: (puzzled) 'Course it was an invitation. But I thought you weren't interested.
DARIA: What made you think that??
VINCE: (looking up from his paper) You didn't say anything about it. (When Daria looks at him quizzically, he pulls out a copy of the paper and shows it to her.) People on staff don't reveal they're on staff to another person unless they're offering the chance to join.
DARIA: (rolling her eyes) That's very clever. And how exactly was I supposed to know that?
VINCE: (cheeks reddening a bit) I guess I thought you'd come to me sooner. (Bt) Sorry... I don't do this too often.
DARIA: Well now that everything's gone like clockwork, what's the next step?
VINCE: Come with me to tomorrow's meeting. If you're interested.
(fade-out. fade-in to:)
SCENE 7 (Daria's room, where we began)
(Shot of Daria scribbling in her notebook.)
DARIA: (thought VO) Who's to say whether I'll even go? How much do I know about this Vince guy? Maybe he and the other staff writers are drug snorting masochists who pierce their eyelids when they're not cutting school to write articles. (Pause. Briefly, she gets a worried look on her face.) Or maybe not. No matter what happens, for the first time in weeks I've got something to look forward to.
(She lays her pen down, sets the bookmark in between the pages and closes her notebook softly.)
[Shot of Daria getting Quinn's door slammed in her face, followed by shot of Daria, Jane, and Tom at the Pizza King, followed by shot of O'Neill giving Daria a thumbs up, followed by shot of Vince sliding a copy of The Oracle over to her.]
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.
[Warning: this one is going to be extra-long. And I'll say it right now: it's NOT what you think.]
You are now leaving commercial HELL. Aren't you happy you survived?