ONE SENTENCE SUMMARY: Why is Kevin Thompson haunting Daria?

I suppose it’s unlikely that anybody who hasn’t read my first two "Daria 2010" stories will be reading this---or wouldn’t be able to read them before reading this. I’ve tried hard to make each one stand on its own, but some background fill does seem necessary.

It’s 2010. ("Duh," I can hear you all say.) Daria is teaching at Lawndale High. Jane teaches elementary school art. Quinn, having taken control of Morgendorffer Consulting, now uses her evil powers to make it a roaring success. The three of them share an apartment in downtown Lawndale, with Quinn, putting up half the money, gets half the apartment. They’re all on better terms than they used to be, so it works out with only minimal bumps.

(Exterior shot of Lawndale High from the front. Except that the trees are taller and there are a few more stories on the round library building in the back, it looks much the same. The camera pans in slowly.)

SANDI (V. O.): We cannot afford to lose an *excellent* teacher.

STRANGE MALE VOICE: (V. O.): (a fast talker) All my client and I need is *some* of her time, Principal Griffin.

SANDI (V. O.): I *could* release her from *some* of her duties, Mr. um...

STRANGE MALE VOICE (V. O): *Randall,* Ms. Griffin. Call me Randall.

SANDI (V. O.): But it’s hardly a good reason. Mr. Randall, our funds are tight. We *cannot* afford to lose a teacher, not for *this.*

(Cut to shot of Principal’s Office door. It says "S. Griffin" now.)

RANDALL (V. O.): Not even for such a distinguished alumni?

SANDI (V. O.): Mr. Randall, as Principal of *Llawndale High,* I *must* look to the welfare of the school.

(Interior of Sandi’s office. The books look the same but the knickknacks are all different. Sandi is dressed similar to what we once saw Ms. Li wear, but with a little more flash to it. Mr. Randall is a rather lean, angular individual, dressed in a simple business suit.)

RANDALL: Ms. Griffin, perhaps we can come to some...arrangement. My client is a wealthy man, and not without influence...

SANDI: It costs a great deal to hire even a *substitute.* Ms. Morgendorffer herself costs this school---

(Just then the door opens. Daria steps in. She’s wearing a white jacket like her old one but is dressed the same as usual, down to her glasses and her boots. She’s a little taller and more physically mature than we’re used to.)

DARIA: You wanted to see me, Ms. Griffin?

SANDI: Yes, Ms. Morgendorffer.

DARIA: If this is about the MacPherson matter, I wish you would reconsider. The Landon Memorial Fund only covers the bare bones of a college education---

SANDI: (holds up a hand) No, Ms. Morgendorffer, this is *not* about Ms. MacPherson and her financial plight. (Pause) Allow me to introduce Mr. Randall.

(Randall rises and holds out her hand. Daria takes it, with a notable lack of enthusiasm. Randall takes it, and pumps with enough enthusiasm for both of them.)

RANDALL: (speaking while shaking) Pleased to meet you, Ms. Morgendorffer. I’ve heard a lot about you. (He lets go here.)

DARIA: (eyeing him carefully) Yes, well, I... (shakes her head) Never mind. What am I here for?

RANDALL: Ms. Morgendorffer, a client of mine has recommended your services to me.

DARIA: My, um, *services,* you say?

SANDI: Ms. Morgendorffer, Mr. Randall represents a prominent graduate of *Llawndale High.*

DARIA: That really doesn’t answer the question.

RANDALL: My client has a contract to write his autobiography. We both agreed that we did not want just *anyone* to write this. We wanted someone who was a personal friend. And my client, well, to make a long story short, he recommended you.

DARIA: But I’m no writer.

RANDALL: I understand you majored in journalism in college.

DARIA: But I’m teaching high school history.

RANDALL: Don’t worry. That you haven’t published professionally is no problem. In fact, for our purposes, it’s even kind of a plus. (Pause) I’ve checked you out, looked into your background, had your college writings e-mailed to my office. You’re a good writer, Ms. Morgendorffer.

DARIA: (a little uneasy, but slightly disarmed by this) Well, uh, thank you, Mr. Randall.

RANDALL: You’re welcome. Now, for the purposes of this assignment, your name, uh, can’t appear as author on this book.

DARIA: Then that’s why you need a non-professional writer.

RANDALL: Yes, but my client, ah, remembered you.

DARIA: (arms folded across her chest) But just who is your client?

SANDI: Ms. Morgendorffer, Mr. Randall’s client is a former alumni of *Llawndale High,* someone who has brought honor and glory to this school on *many* occasions.

DARIA: But a name would be helpful. You say he knows me. (Suddenly thinks of something, puts her hand to her forehead.) Oh, no.

RANDALL: I admit, I was skeptical when my client brought up your name.

DARIA: (weakly) Your client isn’t...Kevin Thompson, is it?

RANDALL: You remember him!

DARIA: How could I ever forget him? (Pause) You want me to ghostwrite Kevin’s autobiography.

RANDALL: (Holds out his hands in front of Daria) No, no, not all of it. We’ve got a portion written already. We want you to research and write the beginning, the grade school and high school years. About ten or twenty thousand words of it, mostly on his high school career.

DARIA: Somebody has his college and pro careers covered?

RANDALL: Yes, but she, ah, (quickly) had to leave the project suddenly. (Normally) You’ll go over what she wrote, and you’ll have transcripts of her interviews. You’ll be the one who’ll put the final draft together, but you’ll have to do all the work for the high school part.

SANDI: You’ll have the full cooperation of the faculty and administration in these efforts.

DARIA: (Reaching a decision) Nno.

RANDALL: No?

DARIA: I mean, I won’t do it. What part of *no* don’t you understand?

RANDALL: But, Ms. Morgendorffer---

DARIA: If you’ll excuse me, I have a class in a few minutes. (She turns and begins to leave.)

RANDALL: We’ll pay you forty thousand dollars!

DARIA: (Shows hesitation, then sets her jaw firmly) I’m sorry you wasted your time. (Leaves, closing the door behind her.)

SANDI: I’m sorry, Mr. Randall, I---

RANDALL: (Holds up a hand) Let’s leave it for a moment, Ms. Griffin.

(The apartment is a big two-story former loft, with one wall taken up by four doors and a step and stairs. Another wall is a large series of windows. The living room is a messy arrangement of chairs, tables, and a couch, but there’s a good deal of open space. Paintings, mostly Jane’s work, hang here and there.

(It’s late afternoon. Daria is sitting on the couch, dressed as she was, reading a book. Over to one side, Jane, dressed exactly as she was in high school, stands in front of an easel and is at work on one of her weird caricatures. But she’s not painting now, but laughing.)

JANE: (laughs, then speaks) Oh, so some guy wanted you to ghost Kevin’s biography.

DARIA: Autobiography, Jane.

JANE: Maybe you should have taken it. You could have put in every stupid thing you ever saw him do.

DARIA: Then it would be too long. The guy only wanted me for the high school years.

JANE: Then at that you saw him in action first hand. (Pause) C’mon, Daria, wouldn’t you like to tell what Kevin did, and in Kevin’s own words?

(Daria turns away shudders slightly.)

(Quinn comes in through the front door. She’s dressed in a blue suit, similar to those her mother used to wear, but it works better on her.)

QUINN: (cheery) Oh! Daria, there you are. I’m glad you’re home. I’ve got an opportunity of a lifetime for you.

DARIA: (glances at Jane, then speaks in even more neutral tones than usual.) Does this so-called opportunity of a lifetime in some way involve writing a portion of Kevin Thompson’s autobiography?

QUINN: (with irritation) Oh! What’s the point? (Continues in a more ingratiating tone.) Look, Daria, I’m not kidding about this lifetime of an opportunity thing. You spoke with Mr. Randall?

DARIA: I spoke with him. If I recall, one of the words I used was *no.*

QUINN: You’ve always wanted to write and be published, haven’t you?

DARIA: Yes, but for some complex reason involving my vanity and ego, I wanted people to know it was me.

QUINN: That can come later. (Pause) Besides, you could use the fifty thousand dollars.

JANE: (gone back to painting now, raises an eyebrow at this) It’s gone up.

DARIA: (to Jane) The price of an artist’s soul. (To Quinn) Look, Quinn, I might not have been as dismissive about it if it had been anybody but Kevin Thompson.

JANE: You *could* tell all the funny Kevin stories you know. (Pause) Remember the time you convinced him to wear glasses to be smarter?

DARIA: A couple of words and I could have convinced him that wearing his football uniform was making him smarter.

QUINN: And don’t you *want* to share this sort of thing with the world?

JANE: Not even for fifty thousand?

DARIA: (to Jane) Who’s side are you on, Lane?

JANE: I’m just saying you could have a lot of fun with fifty thousand dollars.

QUINN: I could double that with good stock investments.

(Jane and Daria both glare at her)

QUINN: (defensively) Well, I *could*!

DARIA: (sighs) Quinn, let me tell you what I told this Randall person this afternoon. I won’t do it. I am *not* writing Kevin’s autobiography, or any portion thereof.

(Their doorbell rings, a buzzing sound. Quinn, standing closest to the door, runs over and presses the button.)

QUINN: Who is it?

CONCIERGE (V. O.): A Mr. Randall to see you and your sister, Ms. Morgendorffer.

QUINN: He’s expected. Send him up.

CONCIERGE (V. O.): Oh, and might I add that this would be an excellent way for your sister to jump-start her literary career?

QUINN: I’ll pass it on.

DARIA: I can’t believe you invited him here. (Pause) I can’t believe you talked to the concierge about this.

QUINN: He’s an easy guy to talk to, Daria.

DARIA: He’s a robot, Quinn. He never moves from that spot. He’s mounted to the wall in front of the door.

QUINN: Yeah, but he’s so sweet!

(A knock on the door disrupts this vaguely disturbing turn of conversation. Quinn hurries to answer the knock and open the door as Daria stands up from where she sat. Randall comes in. He’s dressed the same, but carrying a briefcase. Jane continues to paint, unconcerned.)

RANDALL: Thank you, Quinn.

DARIA: *Quinn?*

RANDALL: Good to see you again, Ms. Morgendorffer. (He extends his hands, but Daria does not take it. Slowly he pulls it back.)

DARIA: I see, Mr. Randall, that not only are you bothering me about this where I work, you are now extending that into my home.

RANDALL: (smiles a little) First off, Ms. Morgendorffer, it’s *Randall,* not Mr. Randall. And I think it’s well worth the effort to try to bring you aboard this project. (Pause) I admit I’m curious. Do you hate Kevin so much that you would turn down sixty thousand dollars?

QUINN: Sixty?

DARIA: I do not hate Kevin Thompson. He was simply an irritation.

JANE: Pearls form out of irritation.

DARIA: And so do bedsores. (Pause) Shut up, Lane.

RANDALL: Certainly you don’t think doing this is beyond your abilities.

DARIA: Certainly I don’t, but it’s not something I want to do.

JANE: (Puts down her paint brush) Um, Daria, could I see you in the kitchen? Alone?

DARIA: (sees the intensity of Jane’s stare) Um... sure. Quinn, don’t promise anything until I get back.

(Daria and Jane go through the doorless door into the kitchen. It’s back to its sloppy state from its scouring by Stacy in my "A Meeting of Two Minefields." The tone of their conversation is soft and quiet, so they won’t be overheard.)

JANE: Daria, you’ve got to take this.

DARIA: (Folds her arms across her chest) I don’t have to do any such thing.

JANE: It’s sixty thousand dollars! That’s a lot more than a year’s pay! C’mon, Daria, you can do this.

DARIA: Jane, you *do* remember Kevin? Always wore his uniform and padding and cleats, all day, all the time? Brain-damaged Kevin? Take a safari months of hunting to find his brain Kevin?

JANE: You’re just writing his school years, Daria. That wouldn’t be hard.

DARIA: But I’d have to talk to him about it. And that could be more than I could stand. (Sigh.) Jane, why are you so eager for me to do this?

JANE: Well, first of all, I’ve seen what not having a literary career has done to you. It’s made you sour and bitter.

DARIA: I am not a kind of candy. (Pause) First of all?

JANE: On top of that...times are tight and sixty thousand dollars won’t fall into your lap every day. Your Montana Cabin Fund is close to being empty, isn’t it?

(Daria hesitates, then nods.)

JANE: Then fill it up again! Sixty thousand could buy a lot of one-room cabins.

DARIA: (Sighs, more loudly than before.) Okay. Okay! Let me go in there. But let me do the talking. I’ve got conditions to lay down.

(They reenter their living room. Randall and Quinn are sitting on the couch. Quinn, not surprisingly, is talking. Randall looks a little dazed, but has a polite phony smile on his face.)

QUINN: ...so if any of your clients need consulting services, Morgendorffer Consulting can help them. (Sees Daria) *Well,* Daria?

DARIA: (lets out another long sigh.) Let me lay out a few things. *If* I do this---I’m not saying I will---I’ll need to set a few things straight first.

RANDALL: (his phony smile suddenly showing more sincerity) Then you’ll consider it?

DARIA: I *will* consider it. But, first and foremost, I’ll have to see the contract.

RANDALL: I can fax you one tomorrow morning.

DARIA: Tomorrow afternoon might be better. First, the matter of sixty thousand dollars for my services. Is this a flat fee or an advance against royalties?

RANDALL: (somewhat embarrassed) I’m afraid it will have to be a flat fee, Ms. Morgendorffer.

DARIA: That is acceptable. Second, though I understand my name *can’t* appear as co-author, or written with, or whatever, I would like my name to appear somewhere within the book. Some statement in the introduction, thanking me for my assistance.

RANDALL: I will have to talk to my client about this, but it sounds acceptable.

DARIA: Very well. Third, since I understand I am completing this from an already written fragment of material, I would have to see that material first.

RANDALL: I’ve got some of that right here, as a matter of fact. (He bends over, opens his briefcase, and pulls out four CD disks.) These should contain everything you need to continue. I’ll send a crate of material over later after you sign on.

DARIA: *Before* I sign on.

RANDALL: Done. Now, you may need a more sophisticated operating system to work with them, but you should be able to read the material on them.

DARIA: You’ll cover the cost of that?

RANDALL: Of course.

DARIA: We can discuss that later. (Pause) When do I talk to Kevin?

RANDALL: (looks slightly embarrassed) Um...you wouldn’t...actually...talk to Kevin while you write this.

DARIA: Not talking to the purported writer. Interesting.

RANDALL: (hastily) It’s just that my client is a busy man. He could do this---

JANE: He could?

RANDALL: --but the demands on his time, well, they’re just too great.

DARIA: It doesn’t matter. In fact, it might be better if I don’t talk to him. Better for me, at least.

RANDALL: (looking relieved) That’s good.

JANE: (To Quinn, quietly) She’s sure one cool customer about this.

QUINN: (whispering) She does know her business.

JANE: All those years of frustrated dreams. She must have thought about this a lot.

DARIA: Last of all, I will have to have my attorney look this contract over.

QUINN: Your attorn... (realizing who Daria has in mind.) Oh.

RANDALL: Right. Then we have a tentative deal?

DARIA: Subject to these conditions...yes, we have a tentative deal.

(Randall stands up and holds out his hand. Daria takes it, ever so lightly. They shake.)

RANDALL: (grinning now) I’ll talk with my client. You review those files and notes. Ms. Griffin gave me your school schedule and I’ll call you at your mid-morning free period. We can tie up any loose ends as they arise. If there are no problems, I should be able to get you a contract draft by, mmm, Wednesday morning. Okay?

DARIA: (now a little dazed) Okay.

RANDALL: Then I’ll be on my way. Thank you, Ms. Morgendorffer.

(Quinn rises and shows Randall out. Once the door closes behind him, Quinn sighs.)

JANE: You realize what you’ve gotten yourself into.

DARIA: I realize. But I have sixty thousand reasons to go ahead with it...as I recall someone pointing out a few minutes ago.

(Jane smiles, shrugs, and returns to her painting.)

(We see the interior of the living room. Except for a large painting of Helen and Jake on one wall, something obviously the work of one Jane Lane, the living room looks the same as always.

(Daria sits on one chair opposite her mother. Helen is dressed in her usual business suit. Her hair’s gone gray and she’s thinner, but she looks pretty good for someone in her late fifties. She’s going through several pages of fax paper.)

HELEN: It’s a good contract, Daria. Sixty thousand dollars sounds good for what this Mr. Randall wants you to do.

DARIA: It seems good to me. You don’t see any problems?

HELEN: None I can see. It’s simple work for hire. (Smiles) It was shrewd of you to insist on some kind of credit within the text.

DARIA: I thought I should get something for my troubles. Since I’ll be writing it, I can see that I’m credited correctly. (Pause) Besides, I don’t particularly want to be a character in Kevin’s autobiography, even if I’m writing it.

HELEN: Right. (Flips a couple of pages of the contract, then looks up) You know you’re budgeted five thousand for an assistant.

DARIA: I saw it, but I don’t need an assistant.

HELEN: Yes, Daria, but don’t you see? You could hire Zoe as your assistant.

DARIA: (sudden look of surprise, followed by one of pleasure) Oh. I didn’t think of that. She could use the five thousand for college.

HELEN: Yes. (Turns her attention to the contract.) You’ve reviewed all the material Mr. Randall provided?

DARIA: I went over the data on the CDs, and the crate is in my living room right now. (Pause) It seems fine. I’ve only had time to skim it. The book is half written.

HELEN: And you’re confident you can finish it?

DARIA: As confident as I ever am.

HELEN: (lost in reading) Then...I would say...(sharply, now) sign it, Daria. Sign it and do it.

(Daria nods.)

(The lounge looks the same as it always did, except maybe a little grungier. Couch, table, refrigerator, copy machine. The dart board has a picture of some previously unseen student, unknown to us, on it.

(Daria and Randall, joined by Sandi, are sitting at the table. A fourth person, an unfamiliar but relatively attractive woman about their ages, has joined them. A sheaf of papers, obviously the contract in question, is in front of Daria. She is just signing her name to one page. She slides the papers over to the woman, who puts her rubber stamp on them.)

DARIA: It’s done.

RANDALL: (To the girl.) Take them back to the office, Phyllis.

(Phyllis nods to Randall and stands up, straightening the papers. She leaves. Randall starts to stand as well.)

RANDALL: I had better be going, too. I’ve got a lot of work to do, and (smiles) you’ve got a lot of work to do, too, Ms. Morgendorffer. (Pause) Oh, by the way, did I mention we want Kevin to look sharp?

DARIA: What?

RANDALL: We need an image, uh, let’s say, consistent with his public image.

DARIA: You mean you want Kevin to seem smart?

RANDALL: Well, not exactly that, but let’s just leave it at that. (Glances at his wrist) Oh, look at the time, I’ve got to hurry. (Leaves).

DARIA: Smart?

(commercials)

(It looks much the same as before, except a large crate sits in front of the couch where the coffee table was. (The table is over to one side) Jane sits on the couch, reading a pile of papers that obviously came out of the box.

(Behind her, Daria is pacing back and forth.)

DARIA: Smart! I have to make Mister D-Average-and-Still-on-the-Team look smart.

JANE: (not looking up) No you don’t. You just have to make him look not stupid. It’s different.

DARIA: The difference being?

JANE: (still reading, starts grinning) Hah! Daria, you’ve got to put this in the book. (Daria stops pacing and looks over Jane’s shoulders as she reads.) This is from Doug Thompson, Kevin’s father.

DARIA: I *know* Kevin’s father.

JANE: Listen to this. (Begins to read) "Once he got thrown off the football team, for bad grades or something. They took his uniform away from him. I found out about it when I came home from work and found him sitting there, naked as a jaybird, on the living room couch. To this day, I can’t believe he actually walked home from school like that." Hah! You’ve got to use it.

DARIA: I remember him getting thrown off the team a couple of times. (Pause) Jane, you’re not helping. How will something like that make him look brighter?

JANE: (shrugs) Daria, you’re making it way more complicated than it has to be. There are a couple dozen things just like this in these files. Go and get a couple dozen more, string them together, file off all the serial numbers, and you’ve got a book.

DARIA: And just who do I talk to?

JANE: (puts down the papers, looks thoughtful) Well, there’s always you and me. Between the two of us we must know every funny thing that Kevin ever did in high school.

DARIA: That’s not good enough. Who else is still around?

(Jane still looks thoughtful)

(Daria is sitting in front of Sandi’s desk. Her back is to us. We can she she’s wearing her usual green jacket. A disk recorder is on the desk in front of her; a paper notebook is in her hands and she’s scribbling in it.)

SANDI: Of course I was always fond of Kevin. We went out on a date once...well, we didn’t actually go *out* on a date...well, he asked me. I prepared myself and waited...and I waited...and I came down and found him, playing football on my front lawn with my two brothers! (Suddenly angry, slams a hand down hard on her desktop) The bastard!

(Daria crosses a line through what she’s written.)

(Same setup as before, with Daria’s back to us, except the table in the Teacher’s Lounge is the location.)

(Ms. Dodge, a pale, thin-as-a-rail, dark-haired forty-something woman, sits behind the table.)

MS. DODGE: Of course Kevin *wasn’t* the brightest student I’ve ever had. He had trouble in math class. Lots of people have trouble in math class. (Pause) But he pulled himself up and got by.

DARIA: According to his transcript, he didn’t fail.

MS. DODGE: Well, no.

DARIA: But you passed him. (Pause) He didn’t *get by,* you gave him a *by.*

MS. DODGE: Daria, you’ve been a teacher long enough to know how things work. If I hadn’t passed him, I would have lost this job.

DARIA: You see that as a bad thing?

MS. DODGE: I’m not the best teacher, Daria. I’m not like you. I needed this job. (Pause) Ms. Li and Coach Gibson made it quite clear what would happen if I didn’t. (Smiles weakly). It all worked out for the best. I mean, I’m still here, and Kevin made a big success of his life, didn’t he?

(Daria crosses something off in her notebook.)

(The tape recorder is still on the table, the notebook still in Daria’s hands. Now Mr. O’Neill is in the seat.)

O’NEILL: I remember casting Kevin in our little production of scenes from "The Canterbury Tales."

DARIA: I remember that. My sister played opposite him. Why did you cast Kevin?

O’NEILL: Why? (Shrugs) Well, we needed a strong male presence in the role, and the only other option was this one student who, um, was...less strong a presence.

DARIA: I wasn’t at the play. What happened?

O’NEILL: Well, he was fine up until the performance. He didn’t come. The play--- (Suddenly breaks down, sobbing.) I felt like such a failure! (Continues sobbing.)

(Daria crosses off another line in her notebook.)

(Andrea sits opposite her now. She’s shed her Goth image and gear and wears a jogging suit and baseball cap in Lawndale High colors. She doesn’t wear makeup as heavy and has shed her piercings...but the overall effect of her face is still dark and brooding.)

ANDREA: ...Naturally I’m familiar with Kevin Thompson’s football record, but I didn’t go to football games in those days. I never saw him play.

DARIA: But what do you remember about him? You knew him longer than I did.

ANDREA: Hmm. (Rubs her chin and looks thoughtful) I remember one time, me and a couple of buddies were walking home from school. These jocks rode by in their convertible and threw these water balloons at us! Bastards! (Looks angry) I complained to Ms. Li, and not only was nothing done, *I* got suspended for making threats! Oooh...if I could just (makes neck-wring gesture with her hands) get my--- (Abruptly calms down). Oh, but you wanted to hear about *Kevin,* not my problems. That’s past and done.

DARIA: Was Kevin the one who threw the water balloons?

(Andrea shrugs and makes an "I don’t know" sound. Daria crosses off something written in her notebook.)

(They’re sitting at their coffee table: the box of Kevin Thompson material is gone. The layout is much the same: we see Daria from the back. Quinn is talking.)

QUINN: ...I remember one time I tried to get a date with him. You remember, Daria, it was that time the two of you were doing that mouse project. (Shakes her head sadly.) Nothing seemed to work on him. I just couldn’t get him away from the living room TV. (Pause) Come to think of it, Daria, how *did* you get him to do his share of the work?

DARIA: I didn’t.

QUINN: (suddenly realizing, looks embarrassed) Oh...ohhhh! I get it now. (smiles weakly) Mmm. Just like this, huh?

(Daria crosses off yet another line in her notebook)

(Same setting, same table, same tape recorder. Mr. DeMartino is there now. He’s wearing an eyepatch over his eye and is completely gray.)

DEMARTINO: Kevin! Kevin! Gaaaaaaaaaah!

(DeMartino gets up and runs out, pulling at his hair. Daria crosses through yet another line in her notebook.)

(Same old same old. This time, Mack is sitting in the hot seat. He’s dressed in a business suit.)

MACK: I can’t believe you agreed to do this.

DARIA: Sixty thousand dollars is still sixty thousand dollars.

MACK: Mmm. And maybe for that price I’d have done it, too. (Pause) Well, I remember the time Kevin won the game for the Lions. He had hurt his knee a couple of weeks before. (Laughs) He was goofing on a motorcycle and ran into the Tommy Sherman Memorial Tree.

DARIA: So what happened?

MACK: Well, I tried to cover for him as quarterback but I just couldn’t cut it. (Sigh)

DARIA: And you...?

MACK: (shakes himself out of it) He came back and we won the game. When the team carried him off the field, we dropped him. But he wasn’t hurt this time. He landed on his head.

DARIA: At last. Something I can use. (Scribbles in her notebook.)

MACK: Weren’t you there? I thought you---

DARIA: (curtly) I’m not writing this from *my* point of view.

(The living room looks much the same. A computer workstation has been set up in one corner. Sitting at it is a young girl, a teenager, just old enough to be out of high school. She’s got short red hair, wearing a T-shirt and jeans. The overall effect is that of a plumper, less fashion-conscious teenage Quinn. She’s wearing a pair of headphones around her neck. Daria is standing right behind her.)

DARIA: Now, Zoe, your job is to transcribe these interviews.

GIRL (ZOE): (smiles weakly) I’m to transcribe. (She puts her headphones against her ears and plugs the jack into a slot. Immediately she begins typing.)

DARIA: Remember, Zoe...Zoe? (Daria taps on her headphones. Zoe jumps, pulls them off her ears, and looks at Daria.) Remember, Zoe, it’s important to transcribe these *exactly.*

ZOE: I understand. (Pause) Tell me, Daria, is Kevin Thompson really as dumb as people say he is?

DARIA: (looks uneasy) Umm...just transcribe these interviews and that should tell you everything you need to know.

(Zoe nods and puts her headphones back on and resumes typing. Daria steps away. The camera pans to reveal Jane standing there.)

JANE: (in a whispering tone) How much are you paying her?

DARIA: (in the same tone) Five thousand, the whole budget. (Pause) That, and the Landon Memorial Fund, and her parents, and the money she’s made waitressing at Park ‘n’ Eat, *should* get her through the first year of college.

JANE: The concierge could have transcribed those notes for you at a tenth the price.

DARIA: The concierge doesn’t need any more education *or* money. Since when did we start tipping him?

JANE: Since Quinn found out we get better service that way. (Pause, looks at Zoe) She’s a bright girl. Daria. She’ll get by. (Pause) How much does a waitress make? The way my purse feels I might need a summer job myself.

DARIA: You can barely handle the *one* job you have now.

(They look at Zoe, intently transcribing. They watch as she stifles a giggle and smile, and continues.)

DARIA: I wonder what funny bit *that* was?

JANE: The one where Kevin gave Coach Gibson his notes from economics?

DARIA: I’m glad *they* were able to dig that Neanderthal up. (Sigh) Jane, I just don’t think I have enough stories to cover it.

JANE: You’ve talked to everybody.

DARIA: Everybody I could find. (Pause) O’Neill and Barch and Dodge still teach at Lawndale High. DeMartino is hanging in as assistant librarian. Mack’s football coach. Andrea’s the girl’s gym coach. Sandi is principal. (shrugs) The rest of them have moved on. I only wish I could have gone with them.

JANE: What about other students? Upchuck is---

DARIA: (surprisingly cold) I don’t want to talk to him. Ever.

JANE: Mmm...okay. How about Stacy? Isn’t she, um, Kevin’s cousin, or some such?

DARIA: I can’t confirm it. (Pause) Besides, she’s in Chicago with Danny. They won’t be back for another month.

JANE: Too bad Jodie isn’t still around. (Pause) But when you fall asleep at the wheel---

DARIA: (holds up index finger to her mouth in a classic gesture) Shh!

JANE: (holds up hands) All right, all right. I’ll be good. Any other blasts from the past? Some of them *must* still be around Lawndale. (Puts hand on chin and strums fingers on cheek, looks thoughtfully into the distance) I wonder what became of Brittany Taylor. She’d know lots of stuff about our Kevin Thompson.

DARIA: Now *there’s* one I’d like to talk to. For this book, if no other reason.

JANE: And there is no other reason. (Pause) Ask around, Daria. *Somebody* must have seen her since graduation.

(Zoe giggles aloud, much louder than before, and Daria and Jane both turn to look)

JANE: Oh, to be nineteen again, and knowing what I know now.

DARIA: Plan on doing anything, um, different?

JANE: No, I’d probably do everything just the same. But I can *pretend* to have regrets, can’t I?

(Daria’s room is much like her room as a teenager, except without the padding. A bed, a desk. Clothes and books and papers and such are sorted into untidy piles. It has the look of a room where the occupant knows where everything is and would clean the clock of someone who fiddled with it.

(Daria is at her desk, typing. That box of Kevin Thompson material has moved to one side of it. She looks frustrated.

(The phone rings, once. The ringing stops and a voice is heard, speaking in a tone similar to the America Online greeting.)

VOICE: Call for...Daria.

QUINN: (O. S.) Phone for you, Daria!

DARIA: (loudly, fast) I heard it! I’ve got it! (Picks up phone receiver) Hello?

(The picture becomes a diagonal split screen, with Randall to the left of Daria)

RANDALL: It’s Randall, Daria. Just calling to see how things are coming along.

DARIA: Oh, as well as can be expected. (Pause) I’ve got the college years well underway. I’m still in research in the high school years.

RANDALL: You don’t anticipate any problems?

DARIA: Only if my ever growing case of writer’s block gets in the way. (Pause) Does Kevin know where Brittany Taylor is?

RANDALL: Kevin’s ex-girlfriend from high school. (Smiles) We tried to find her when we had the other guy working on the book, but no luck. If it means anything to you, her mother lives in L. A. and her father in Reno.

DARIA: Reno, hmm. I guess that lets out interviewing her stepmother.

RANDALL: Which one? She had three.

DARIA: (looks a little surprised, then sighs) I suppose I’ll have to make do with what I can get. I just don’t want to fill up the high school section with my own memories. Besides, most of them are embarrassing.

RANDALL: Such as?

DARIA: Such as the time I was in the hospital for a rash, and Kevin came by, thinking he was going to operate on me.

RANDALL: (laughs) That’s Kevin, all right. How did the operation go?

DARIA: The extra arm eventually fell off, but I’ve got the scar on my knee to this day.

RANDALL: (laughs again) Ah, that’s a good one. Well, fill it with what you’ve got, and we’ll make do. The high school part is less important than his college and pro years.

DARIA: I’ve got *them* rewritten and well under control, thank you.

RANDALL: Tell you what. E-mail what you’ve over to me so I can take a---so *Kevin* and I can take a look.

DARIA: (trying to imitate Randall’s tone of voice) *Kevin*?

RANDALL: Yes, *Kevin.* This *is* supposed to be his autobiography.

DARIA: (sighs) Well, I’ve got a lot of work to do.

RANDALL: Then I’ll leave you to it. Remember that we’ve got a deadline coming up.. ‘Bye, now.

DARIA: Good-bye.

(Both hang up. The split screen disappears. Daria pauses a moment, then resumes typing.)

(The kitchen: a flamboyant disaster area. None of the three of them really know how to cook, or clean up, and it shows. It’s dinner time, and Daria, Jane, and Quinn are sitting around the kitchen table, eating some unrecognizable mess. Zoe is also there; she looks marginally less grim than the other three. Daria is also reading a book.)

QUINN: This is the worst.

JANE: More so than usual. (Pause, looks at Daria.) Daria, you really let us down.

DARIA: (Does not take her nose out of book) Um.

(Quinn looks at Jane, then at Daria, then at Jane again, then shrugs and gets up. She dumps what’s left of her dinner in the sink, turns the water on, and flips the disposal switch for a moment. After a couple of seconds, Jane does the same. Daria does nothing.

(Zoe continues eating in silence.)

QUINN: Daria? (Pause. Daria does not respond. Quinn frowns.) Earth to Daria!

DARIA: What? (Looks up, finally.) What’s going on?

JANE: (giggle in her voice) You’re so into that book you don’t even know we’re in the same room.

(Daria looks at the book in her hands, then closes it and tosses it on the table and leans back.)

DARIA: Not this book. (Pause) It’s Kevin’s book. I’ve got three fourths of it done. I just can’t get anywhere on his high school career.

QUINN: Daria, you were there. Just, um, write what you know.

DARIA: I *can’t* do that. I can’t write a book about how great Kevin was in high school.

QUINN: Because...why?

DARIA: (her tone angry now) Because he was a jerk in high school. (Gets to her feet) He’s an idiot, a moron, an imbecile. He never had a thought in his head that *ever* got past the field.

JANE: Couldn’t you just fake it? Y’know, like he did?

DARIA: It’s impossible. I just can’t lie like that.

QUINN: Then finish the book and make him a moron! What’s the big deal?

DARIA: (groans, puts her head on the table.) You just don’t understand.

ZOE: Um...Daria?

DARIA: Yes, Zoe?

ZOE: Um, I’ve read what you’ve written. I think you, like, need a different point of view.

DARIA: (raises head) What point of view *could* I use? Anybody who knew him in high school would *automatically* think Kevin’s a jerk!

ZOE: Brittany Taylor didn’t, at least some of the time.

DARIA: (sits up, looks at Zoe) She didn’t. But I can’t find her.

ZOE: *I* know where she is. Or I think I do.

(Daria looks a little hopeful at that. Jane and Quinn smirk at each other.)

(Buy ‘n’ Bag is a decrepit supermarket, where customers still select things from the shelves themselves and put them in a cart and take them to the cashiers themselves. (Remember, this is 2010, and there’s sure to be a better way to do it by then). The store has been updated to include scanners and credit card machines, but not much else. The customers we see are older and set in their ways. It’s also kind of dingy.

(We see customers moving through the store as the camera slowly pans across to one aisle and focuses in on Daria. She’s wheeling a cart through the aisle. She’s wearing a purple jacket, just like her usual one, right now. There are only a few items in it. She takes one more from the shelves and starts wheeling the cart rapidly to the front.

(At the front, Daria selects one cashier and unloads her groceries onto the conveyor belt. We see the hands of the cashier sliding them across the scanner, and we hear beeps and see flashes of prices displayed on the cash register screen. After the last item is scanned, we hear an bored-sounding but irritating voice speak. The voice is familiar...)

CASHIER: That’s thirty five eighteen, please.

(Daria carefully hands over two twenties, then counts out a dime, a nickel, and three pennies. We see the cashier’s hands punch keys, and $5.00 CHANGE displayed on the screen. The cashier hands Daria a five.)

CASHIER: Thank you, come again to Buy ‘n’ Bag.

(Daria looks at the cashier for a moment)

DARIA: Hello, Brittany.

(We finally see the cashier’s face, and what should have been obvious throughout this scene is revealed for sure. It *is* Brittany!)

(commercials)

(It’s your typical fast-food sit-down restaurant, booths and tables, a salad bar, pictures of local Lawndale sites on the walls. Daria and Brittany are sitting in one booth in the back.

(We get a better look at Brittany at the table. She’s wearing the uniform she wore at the Buy ‘n’ Bag, which, by strange coincidence, is the same blue-and-yellow colors as the Lawndale High cheerleaders. Her hair is no longer in the double ponytail; it’s short and a little unkempt. She’s gaunt and thin and looks incredibly beat down by the weight of the world.

(Zoe is their waitress and has just taken their orders and is leaving.)

DARIA: So how are things with you?

BRITTANY: (listless) Oh, fine, Daria. (Something in her tone and manner suggest she doesn’t want to talk about it.) How are things with you?

DARIA: Things are as well as expected. I’m teaching at Lawndale High now.

BRITTANY: (some surprise) You’re a teacher? Well, I never...I mean, I *knew* you were *smart* and all, but I never thought...I mean---

DARIA: Well, I just fell into it. (Pause) And I’m also researching and writing a book, Brittany.

BRITTANY: Wow! Well, that *doesn’t* surprise me.

DARIA: It’s, uh, Kevin Thompson’s life story.

BRITTANY: Eep!

DARIA: I was hoping you could help me.

BRITTANY: But, Daria! I haven’t seen Kevvy in...um...ten years.

DARIA: I know that, Brittany. I need help with his high school years. You knew him better than anybody else then, didn’t you?

BRITTANY: Um...yeah.

DARIA: Weren’t the two of you engaged?

(Brittany’s head begins to shake.)

DARIA: Brittany?

BRITTANY: Mmmmm!

DARIA: Are you all right?

BRITTANY: Ooohhhh! (explodes) I didn’t know that Kevvy would be such a big hit in football or I never would have gone out with that guy and I would have stayed with him I really would have but he didn’t mean anything to me and I’m sorry and my life is over and I had to get this lousy job at the store when my father lost his money and I blew it!

(Daria is a bit taken aback by this.)

DARIA: Um...yeah.

(Brittany has pulled out a tissue from somewhere and is sobbing and gasping out squeaks every so often. Daria interprets, somewhat broadly.)

DARIA: Your father tried to help...

(squeaks)

DARIA: ...but he lost his money...

(squeaks)

DARIA: ...and your stepmother moved to Nevada...

(squeaks)

DARIA: ...your father moved out there to chase her...

(squeaks)

DARIA: ...but couldn’t find her before they split...

(squeaks)

DARIA: ...you’ve maxxed out seven credit cards...

(squeaks)

DARIA: ...your brother’s in a nut house...

(squeaks)

DARIA: ...you didn’t have anywhere to live...

(squeaks)

DARIA: ...you took the job at the Buy ‘n’Bag...

(squeaks)

DARIA: ...you live in a---what was that?

(Brittany looks up at Daria, squeaks a little more softly, and longer, but it’s still utterly meaningless to us.)

DARIA: ...you live in a one-room apartment down past Dega Street...

(squeaks)

DARIA: ...your life is over...

(squeaks)

DARIA: ...you’re thinking of selling yourself...

(Brittany shakes her head and squeaks with some negative content)

DARIA: You’re thinking of killing yourself. (Daria shakes her head, to remove the dust on her thought processes rather than to say, "No," and leave the messy situation behind.) Brittany, your life isn’t over. You’ve, um... (practically forcing herself to say it) got a lot to offer the world.

(Brittany takes a deep breath and pulls herself together a little.)

BRITTANY: But, Daria! I’m a girl with *no* brains and *no* skills. What *could* I do?

DARIA: Um...tell you what. You help me with this, then, together, um... (Daria’s voice has got this "I can’t believe I’m doing this!" tone now) ...we’ll figure out some way to get you out of this life.

BRITTANY: Um, you will?

DARIA: Yeah, um, sure.

(Brittany begins blubbering again, managing to sound grateful. Daria looks disgusted with herself.)

(The computer workstation, having served its purpose, is gone. Daria is sitting on the couch, reading a manuscript. Jane is standing behind her, reading over her shoulder, her lips moving, her voice muttering. Daria slowly burns, then holds the MS close to her.)

DARIA: Don’t you have anything more uplifting to do?

JANE: Forgive me if I show an interest.

DARIA: Never mind. (Sighs) I got everything I wanted from Brittany, and more.

JANE: And all you have to do in exchange is build her a brand new life.

(Daria turns her attention to the MS again. She shakes her head.)

DARIA: It won’t do at all, Jane.

JANE: How do you mean? You’ve got *more* than enough to build a pretty good high school portrait of Kevin Thompson.

DARIA: You don’t understand. I could use all these stories and more, and build up a picture, but that picture would add up to one single thing. Kevin Thompson is a jerk.

JANE: And?

DARIA: *And* it wouldn’t be just that. It would be Kevin Thompson saying "I am a jerk." (Pause) I can hear his voice in my head when I write, Jane.

JANE: Instead of the usual one that just says, "Kill! Kill!"?

DARIA: (puts MS down, glares at Jane) *Har! Har!* (more soberly) Damn. I’ve got an unfinished book, a deadline looming, and I just can’t meet it.

JANE: (shrugs) Look, Daria. Does it really matter what you say or how pinhead boy comes off?

DARIA: I can’t write first person phony, Jane. (Pause) What’s he going to say when he reads it? He won’t thank me for making him look stupid...more stupid.

JANE: (shakes her head) Daria, Daria. We’re talking about Kevin Thompson here. You know full well he’s never going to *read* it.

(Daria opens her mouth to reply, but then suddenly gets hit by inspiration.)

DARIA: Um, I gotta go.

(Runs off, as Jane watches with a crooked grin on her face.)

(It’s considerably later in the given time frame. The place has been cleaned and a party is in progress. Everyone is dressed formally: suits or tuxedos for the men and evening gowns for the women. We see several familiar faces moving through the crowd, people who were students at Lawndale High when Daria and Jane were there. Not all of them are familiar, though. There are also several of Lawndale High’s "under twenty" crowd there, dressed as if they were at the prom.

(Most of the furniture has been moved. A table, with platters of cold cuts and vegetarian alternatives, is set up against one wall; a lot of people hang around that. There’s a drinks table, and even more people are around *that.* There’s one very large display piece: a stand (probably Jane’s easel) with a blown-up photo on it. The photo is of Kevin Thompson, in Lawndale High football uniform, grinning and giving himself the "thumbs up." Plastered across the top of this are words: I’M THE QB, and below that, in smaller type, KEVIN THOMPSON’S INSPIRING LIFE STORY. Obviously it’s the cover of the book Daria’s just finished ghostwriting.

(The apartment door is wide open and people come and go through it as we watch. Also, just for the party, a swinging door has been put on the kitchen door.

(We can see Sandi, Stacy, Andrea, and Jamie along the way as the camera pans over to Daria and Jane. Mack is standing with Daria and an unfamiliar man (David, from my "Destiny Deferred," if anybody remembers, a shorter man with a salt-and-pepper beard) is with Jane. The two men are deep in conversation with each other, while Daria and Jane stand, non-alcoholic drinks

(Daria and Jane are dressed quite stunningly, given what they usually wear, and seem to be enjoying themselves. Quinn, dressed even more stunningly---we all know she could beat out Daria and Jane in this department---comes up.)

QUINN: If I know you for a thousand years, Daria, I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.

DARIA: (sarcastically innocent) Why, what do you mean, sister dear?

QUINN: Don’t give me that! This party! It’s so---so---not you!

DARIA: That I’m not the party or that I don’t host parties?

QUINN: Play your little word games some other time. (Pause) You know I’ll find out what you’re up to. I always do. (She walks off. We see her corral Jamie, and whisper something to him. They both look at Daria, and then move off into the crowd.)

JANE: You know, your evil sister does have a point.

DARIA: Hey, I could have had this at the Vichyssoise Room at Chez Pierre. I thought this would be cheaper and easier.

JANE: No, it’s not that. I don’t mind the disruption to my life and home. I mean, you *are* up to something.

DARIA: We’ve been through this before, Jane. I finished the book and agreed to host a Lawndale pre-publication party. Randall is covering the bills for it. (Smirk) Besides, how often do we get the opportunity to poison all these people?

JANE: High school reunions don’t come often enough.

RANDALL (O. S.): ---and you don’t get a shot at that many of your friends. (Randall walks up, dressed in a tux.) I *hope* you were kidding about poisoning these people. We need all the sales we can get.

DARIA: Oh, well, then we might as well forget it and send everybody home.

RANDALL: You’re not getting off that easy. (Grins) Say what you want, you did a terrific job. Hippolyta-dot-com reports advance orders are exceeding expectations, and the MS reviews are uniformly positive. (Pause, stops grinning) *Despite* how Kevin comes off.

JANE: You don’t seem too down about it.

RANDALL: (back to grinning) Hey, if it makes more money this way, it’s more money in *my* pocket.

DARIA: And Kevin will be here later?

RANDALL: He said he would. (Shrug) But you know Kevin.

(Just then, Kevin Thompson puts in an appearance. He walks in the open door, his arm around the waist of what appears to be a bleach-blonde fashion model. He’s wearing a tailored suit, and regular shoes, but does still look like he’s wearing shoulder pads under the suit. We can’t see them, though. His neck thingy is gone. He looks much the same as he always did, despite it all, down to the vacuous grin.)

KEVIN: Hey! Randall! (Waves)

RANDALL: (Waves back) Kevin, my man!

(The crowd sees him and cheers and applauds. Kevin waves and grins back at them.)

KEVIN: Yeah! All right! I’m the QB! (The applause dies down. Kevin whispers in the model’s ear, loud enough to hear.) Carli, babe, see if you can get me a can of beer, yeah?

CARLI: Sure thing! (She walks into the crowd.)

KEVIN: (calls after her) And a sandwich! Yeah! (He turns to Randall) So, man, is everything all set?

RANDALL: Everything’s according to plan. The book will be out in two weeks. With a little luck, it will be on the bestseller lists the week after.

KEVIN: Yeah, man! I’m the king.

RANDALL: Hey, Kevin, you remember Daria Morgendorffer.

(Daria takes a step closer. Kevin and Daria look at each other Kevin’s expression confused, Daria’s her usual glum solemn. Finally, Kevin breaks out into a goofy grin.)

KEVIN: Hey, Daria, long time no see!

DARIA: (neutral) Hey, Kevin.

KEVIN: So, um, what’ve you been up to since high school?

DARIA: (a little testy) I’ve been ghostwriting your autobiography.

RANDALL: (speaking quickly) And a great job she’s done on it, too. I mean, the high school section alone is a masterpiece.

KEVIN: Yeah, I was cool in high school. (Looks past Daria and grins.) Hey, Mack Daddy! (Walks past Daria.)

MACK: (O. S.) Don’t *call* me that!

JANE: You didn’t actually *expect* him to read it?

DARIA: Well, I didn’t write it expecting him to.

RANDALL: (hastily) I’m sure it’s just an oversight. I’ll talk to him. (grins) You did a great job, Daria. Don’t worry about that. (He gives Daria a "thumbs up" sign, then leaves.)

JANE: Worried that your little plan won’t come off?

DARIA: Not at all. And I’m still not telling you what it is. Or even if there is one.

JANE: (snaps her fingers) Curses! Foiled again!

(Little has changed. Kevin is now surrounded by a crowd of admiring would-be sycophants, none of whom are his fellow high school alumni. Daria and Mack, Jane and David stand next to the group, looking on it, but not part of it.)

KEVIN: ...so the Coach tells me to pass to Fowler. I throw a short pass to this new guy instead. He runs it into the end zone from the thirty and we’re thirty seventeen!

(The crowd makes a noise of appreciation. Lots of "oohs" and "aahs.")

DARIA: He doesn’t mention that Fowler was open and could have run it in from the five yard line.

MACK: So he’s embellishing it.

DARIA: He also doesn’t mention that the coach screamed at him for fifteen minutes after the game was over.

DAVID: You really know your material, Daria.

DARIA: Mmm.

(On the other side of the crowd around Kevin, we see Zoe, looking attractive in a black strapless gown. Next to her is a boy close to her age, blond hair, blue eyes, built like a football player but wearing a tux. They’re both listening.)

KEVIN: ...so we’re a field goal away from victory now, see, and I set up for it, but the kicker sends it to the right, right? And I go, "Hey, man, what did you wanna go and do that for?" And he goes, like, it was too far away...

ZOE: (looking disgusted) I can’t stand listening to this any more.

BLOND GUY: Yeah, I play football, but I don’t want to hear it about all the time. (Smirks at her) I just wanted to see if what Daria said about him matched up with what they say about him on the sports page.

ZOE: So does it?

BLOND GUY: Not at all.

(They step away from the crowd.)

ZOE: You know Daria?

BLONDE GUY: She used to baby-sit me when I was a kid. She’s my history teacher now. (Holds out a hand) I’m Tad Gupty, by the way.

ZOE: Zoe MacPherson. (Shakes his hand.) She’s an old family friend.

TAD: The one who got the Landon Memorial Scholarship this year?

ZOE: The one and the same.

TAD: (grins) I’ve heard a lot about you.

(They walk out of shot together. Meanwhile, Kevin has just reached the end of one of his interminable anecdotes and the crowd around him laughs. He grins, happy with himself beyond all reason. Then a voice, too familiar to us, speaks.)

BRITTANY: Kevvy?

(Kevin looks towards the voice and at once sees Brittany. The crowd magically parts. Brittany wears an outfit similar to the one she wore in "Just Add Water," but now carries it with more maturity. She’s a figure of great beauty and glamour. Her face is serious. Kevin’s grin vanishes, too.

(We see the next shots from their distorted points of view. The crowd has parted more widely, leaving a clear space between them. The lights have dimmed, except for spotlights on both of them. The rest of the world is black and white and they’re in color.

(There are shots of both of them looking at each other, and just beginning to smile. Some of the shots show them still wearing the clothes they wore in high school: she in her cheerleader’s uniform and he in his football jersey.

(Music plays, as they walk towards each other. Celine Dion singing "My Heart Will Go On."

(They walk towards each other. When they’re just about face to face, Kevin grins and speaks.)

KEVIN: Hey, babe!

(The mood, such as it is, is broken. The crowded party comes back full blast; Kevin and Brittany wear the clothes they came to the party in. Brittany’s face, heavily made up, bears some signs of the life-draining struggle that has been her life since she and Kevin broke up.)

BRITTANY: Daria said you would be here.

KEVIN: Yeah, I couldn’t get out of it.

(The crowd around them breaks up. Kevin and Brittany eye each other.)

KEVIN: (Uneasily) So...how’ve you been?

BRITTANY: I’m okay. How about you?

KEVIN: (More at ease) Hey, I’m great! I’ve just written my automa-bogrophy. (Grins) Wanna read it?

BRITTANY: Am I in it?

KEVIN: (back to unease) Uh...

BRITTANY: Oh, Kevvy---Kevin. I already talked to Daria. *She* wrote it, didn’t she?

KEVIN: Um...yeah, yeah, she did.

BRITTANY: (a little coy, with some hint of her old bubbliness) Oh, that’s all right, Kevin, I’m sure you *could* if you put your mind to it.

KEVIN: Like, right, um, Brittany, ‘cept I didn’t have the time.

BRITTANY: Really?

(Carli, Kevin’s date / fashion accessory for the evening, stands at Kevin’s elbow and coughs with anger.)

KEVIN: (To Carli) Hey, could you, like, uh, leave us alone for a while?

CARLI: Hhmph! (Walks off in anger.)

KEVIN: Um, so, ba--Brittany, let’s go some place, um, a little more...private?

BRITTANY: (cheery) Okay!

(The two of them walk off together. They walk by Daria, Mack, Jane, and David, who have taken up a position near the food table.)

JANE: So that was you plan!

DARIA: (with deader than usual deadpan sarcasm) I don’t know what you’re talking about.

JANE: You! You intended to get Kevin and Brittany together all along, didn’t you?

DARIA: I’m not discussing this.

MACK: (smiles) It really doesn’t matter what she had in mind. (Speaks fast) Even though it’s obvious what it was. (More slowly) So, Daria, want to dance?

DARIA: There’s no music.

MACK: We can do that in our heads.

DARIA: Well, concentrate on the music and pretend I’m out there with you. Then I and my two left feet can watch from the sidelines. Meanwhile, I’ve got a party to attend to. (Looks at the food table.) Looks like we should haul out another platter.

JANE: What do you mean *we,* Daria, it’s *your* party.

DARIA: Be that way, then.

(Daria walks over to the nearby kitchen door, a closed swinging door today. She opens it and looks into the kitchen. We see Kevin and Brittany in each other’s arms, kissing and moaning passionately, Brittany’s leg wrapped around Kevin’s, so close that they’re damned near behind each other. They take no notice of Daria, who closes the door and steps away.)

DARIA: (to Jane, Mack, and David, who have also seen it) Um, there’s enough food. (Her face is expressionless.)

(The party has mostly broken up, only a few guest left now. The place is as messed up as a place usually is after a party. The big picture of the book cover has fallen off the easel.

(We see Mack, Daria, Jane, Randall, Jamie, and Quinn, standing around and chatting. David is still there, having taken the couch that’s been pushed to one side, and is lying on it with tie-and-jacket loosened and eyes closed.)

QUINN: So who would figure Kevin and Brittany had the hots for each other after all these years.

JAMIE: Not me, Quinn.

JANE: Not me, either. Or ever. (Looks at Daria) But someone did.

QUINN: (To Daria) So that was your wicked little plan, was it? Get Brittany and Kevin together again, and solve your little problem of how to help Brittany.

DARIA: All I’ll say is I thought they should meet again. (Smiles her usual smile) How was I to know they’d announce their engagement right in front of us?

MACK: And you know they’re going straight back to his hotel room to, ah, resume their relationship.

JANE: Not a half bad idea. (Looks over at David) I’ll talk to loverboy about it after this party closes down for good. (Pause) Any loose ends not taken care of?

JAMIE: Didn’t Kevin have a date?

QUINN: That kind can always find somebody else.

RANDALL: Well, the book will need a new ending, maybe a few changes here and there.

DARIA: I’ll get on it. No additional charge. (Looks at Randall) You don’t seem upset about this.

RANDALL: (grins) Why should I be upset? Kevin is an adult---

MACK: Now *that’s* debatable.

RANDALL: An adult, I say. So what if he marries his old flame from high school?

QUINN: So you’re not in the least concerned about it?

RANDALL: I figure they’ll get hitched, and then she’ll dump him a year later and drain him of everything he’s got. (grins again) Hey, I get my money right off the top.

DARIA: A sensible attitude. (Pause) Now that everything’s, let’s say, over and done, you can tell me. Just how *did* Kevin recommend me to write this?

RANDALL: (shrugs) What the hell. The writer we hired dumped us, screaming obscenities about life in general and Kevin in particular.

JANE: I can just see why.

RANDALL: She interviewed him. That was another reason I kept Kevin away from you, Daria.

DARIA: A favor I’ll be forever grateful for.

RANDALL: After that, I talked it over with Kevin, and what writers he liked. Among...well, the gibberish he put out, he said something along the lines of, "Hey, Daria’s a cool writer." I did a little checking, and, well, I found you. (shrugs again)

DARIA: What the hell. I got paid, and stuck him with Brittany too. All in all, the experience was a positive one.

RANDALL: Hey, I’ll call tomorrow. We’ll discuss where to make changes. (Turns to leave) Great party, all around. ‘Bye, now.

(The rest of the group says their good-byes to him as he leave through the still-open door.)

JANE: All in all, you’re not getting off *that* easy.

QUINN: Right.

MACK: Come to think of it, I’m curious, too.

DARIA: (a little irritated) What’s to get off on? I worked on a project, and even if that project didn’t work out the way it was supposed to, I made sixty thousand dollars. (Walks towards the kitchen) And Brittany *is* off my hands now. I suppose I should be grateful, but I admit, I think there’s something I’ve forgotten---

(Opens the kitchen door to find Tad and Zoe in a passionate embrace. They let go of each other immediately and look embarrassed.)

ZOE: Um, uh...uh...

DARIA: That’s putting it well. Zoe, you’ve got to put it all together better than that when you go to college.

(Tad and Zoe look a little put out by that.)

(Daria is at the desk in her office. She’s wearing a bright blue jacket now. The phone speaks.)

PHONE VOICE: Call for...Daria.

QUINN (O. S.): Daria! Pick up!

(Daria picks up the phone. We see a split screen with Randall on the left and Daria on the right.)

DARIA: Daria Morgendorffer here. You have five seconds to hang up before the electrical discharge I am generating will kill you where you sit.

RANDALL: Hello, Daria, it’s me, Randall, remember me?

DARIA: (faux fervent) How could I possibly forget you, Randall? (more normal) Yes, I remember you. What’s your motivation in calling me this time?

RANDALL: I’ve got a great new autobiography package, just for you. It’s more money, and billing this time. This time it’s from scratch, though. You can do the research on summer break from school.

DARIA: I see. Who’s this person I’m supposed to be interested in writing about this time around?

RANDALL: Oh, you know her, that supermodel you went to high school with. How would you like to ghostwrite the Tiffany Blum-Deckler story?

(Daria looks shocked. We see an image of her thought. A spinning book cover, that when it stops, has a big picture of Tiffany, with the words, DOES THIS MAKE ME LOOK FAT?: THE TIFFANY BLUM-DECKLER STORY. And in smaller type below that, AS TOLD TO DARIA MORGENDORFFER.)

(Shot of Randall talking into his phone.)

RANDALL: Hello? Hello?

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DISCLAIMER: "Daria" and the characters and settings from it are the property of MTV Networks / Viacom International.

This parody of "Daria" is copyright © 2000 by Robert Nowall. It is not intended to profit the author in any way, and may not be distributed without permission of the author. (That means please don’t post or circulate this without getting in touch with me first.) For the time being, Robert Nowall can be reached at: RobtNowall@aol.com

Astute and insightful readers will have noticed that I have used incidents from both selected episodes and selected fanfics as incidents in Kevin’s life. (I might have included more if I remembered more.) Here is a list:

Daria (first): from "Through a Lens Darkly"

Doug Thompson: from "The Education of Dumber-Than-a-Tree," by John Berry.

Sandi Griffin: from "Let’s Be in Love," by Wouter Jaegers

Ms. Dodge: from "See Jane Run"

Mr. O’Neill: from "Fair Enough"

Andrea: from "Clothes Make the Manson" by Michelle Klein-Häss

Quinn: from "The Lab Brat"

Mack: from "A Tree Grows in Lawndale"

Daria (second): from "Ill"

Almost anything Kevin did would likely upset Mr. DeMartino.

And fanfics which make use of Ms. Bennett’s diagrams as football plays are too numerous to mention.

Please note that I have just used (or misused) certain incidents, and not the actual plots, from these episodes. I have not sought or secured anyone’s permission---if anybody does have a serious objection, I will rewrite, revise, and repost. I’m doing it in "the spirit of fanfic."

I have concealed several other fanfic references here and there. I’m sure they’re all blatantly obvious, but I’ll just leave them as an exercise for the reader.

If any reader is aware of any minor inconsistencies between the three stories in this series, feel free to point them out at any time. I’m aware of several myself: some are deliberate, and some are from being too lazy to check things out before final posting. Some are even a combination of these two.

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Written 9/13/00 to 11/22/00