"Emancipation" is my second fanfic, "The Whole Truth" being the first. I wish to thank Kara Wild and Renfield and Thomas for beta-reading it, and I’ve made revisions based on their comments and suggestions, much to the benefit of the piece. "Emancipation" was essentially complete before "Aunt Nauseam" and "Prize Fighters" aired on MTV, and its content was not affected by them. I suppose I spend way too much time refining and polishing my stories. Maybe if someone was waiting to give me money when I finished... Well, here it is. Hope you like it.

 

By Galen Hardesty

Quinn (teeny bit too casual): "Mom, can I borrow your platinum card? I need to pick up a couple of things at Cashman’s."

Helen (touch of sarcasm) "I believe you picked up that "couple of things" yesterday with your father’s card. Perhaps you forgot."

Quinn (caught, trying not to sound guilty): "Oh, yeah, but there were just one or two teensy little things that I missed."

Helen: "Oh, I see. Teensy. Okay, Quinn. Go ahead and use your own money."

Quinn: Mo-OOOM! Ohh!! (Stomps out in a snit)

Daria: To the victor! (toasts Helen with cranberry-raspberry juice. Helen smiles a little but doesn’t look up from her papers.)

Daria: (gets up, puts glass on table, sits down normally) I realize this is pathetically bad timing, but I’d like to get a swimsuit and a couple of running outfits. And I’m thinking of taking some sort of self-defense class.

Helen: (puts down her pencil, looks up, smiles.) That’s wonderful, sweetie! You certainly may! But why the sudden interest in fitness ?

Daria : Well, besides the usual benefits, the particular type of swimming I have in mind increases blood flow to the brain. The self-defense course- well, self defense. I’d feel safer, more confident.

Helen: I understand that. In fact, I’d like to take such a class myself if I could scrape together the time. But... (sigh). But tell me more about this swimming class, and what it does.

Daria: It’s not a class, just an exercise. What I’ll do is spend one hour a day, five days a week, swimming at a depth of six feet or more. I’ll swim as far as I can before coming up for air, and train to stay under longer and swim farther. It benefits the brain by expanding the carotid arteries, permanently. It’s said to be good for about a 5% IQ increase every month I do it.

Helen: That's amazing, if true. But is it safe? Where did you hear about it?

Daria: Well, it's just swimming. As far as I know, no one has ever drowned themselves in a pool by deliberately staying down too long. My people told me to do it when they contacted me recently. They said it was time I began preparing to assume my place among the Gray Eminences.

Helen: Who?

Daria: You know, The Next Wave, homo superior. We Who Rule From The Shadows.

Helen: (studies Daria's expression for a momemt) Just kidding?

Daria: (tiny smile) Just kidding. I read about it on a cognitive enhancement website. Of course, the website is probably run by We Who Rule...

(Quinn comes back in, gets diet soda from refrigerator, opens it.)

Helen: Quinn, would you like to help Daria pick out an attractive swimsuit? Something NOT gray?

Quinn (crafty look) Sure, Mom. Uh, can I pick up that couple of teensy items I mentioned while we're out shopping?

Helen: (sadly) Quinn, will you ever stop being an extortionist and start being a sister?

Quinn: (attempts pouty look, but Helen has successfully guilt-tripped her.) Uhh, sorry. Sure, I’ll help her. Shopping for someone else beats not shopping at all. (looks at Daria, starts to say something, hesitates.)

Daria: (looks at Quinn, waits expectantly.) Yes?

Quinn: Come upstairs a minute. I need to show you something.

Daria: (slightly puzzled look) Uh, sure. (rises, follows Quinn out)

Quinn: (re-entering kitchen a few minutes later, behind Daria) It’s not all that bad.

Daria: Bicycle-seat-sniffing despoilers of innocence! Running-dog lackeys of the sexist fashion cartel! Voyeuristic g-string pushers! Perverts!!

(Helen looks up from her work, startled)

Quinn: I’m not crazy about it either, but that’s how it is. It’s your decision, but you’ll have a much wider selection if you do.

Daria: (resumes her seat) Rrrrrrr... Perhaps you could update me on the latest in bikini line treatments. How is the Fashion club doing their hair this season? A simple trim? Flower and butterfly shapes? Bald is Beautiful? (stares darkly into the crimson depths of her juice)

Quinn: Daria.

Daria: (sighs) Sorry. Sarcasm brought on by outrage at having to do such a humiliating thing just to be able to try on the majority of this year’s swimsuits. Before, I've always been able to find swimsuits with full crotch coverage. I always thought that was the primary requirement of a swimsuit.

Quinn: I'll explain the concept of reveals to you sometime. Assuming you decide to do something, forget tweezers and shaving. Depilatories might give you a rash. You probably wouldn't go for a wax job, especially when you hear what they cost. I've got a jar of that Tasmanian tree sap you can use. On second thought, I'll do it for you. That stuff takes a bit of getting used to, and you don't want to be practicing on your bikini line.

(Helen has given up on her papers, is listening with growing interest, wondering if she should say something, but having no idea what that would be.)

Daria: (surprised) You're offering to do it for me?

Quinn: Yes, I am. Mom was right, I'm your sister. Besides, how can I pass up a chance to rip out my big sister's pubic hair by the roots?

(Helen scoops up some papers, buries her face in them)

Daria: (laughs out loud, can't believe Quinn actually said that in front of Helen.) And how can I deny my kid sister such fulfillment? If society demands that I be tortured on the altar of fashion, why let some stranger have all the perverted fun? Especially when I have family who'll really enjoy it. I dedicate my agony to you, Quinn. Savor it. File it away among your precious memories. (stands, knocks back the rest of her juice western-saloon style, thumps empty glass down on the table.) Lead the way!

Quinn (heads out of kitchen) What was that, your Valedictory address?

Daria: Just working up my nerve.

Quinn: Maybe we can do a butterfly, if your pain threshold is high enough.

Daria: (blushing) I think I'll stick with my natural eagle.

Quinn: An eagle? Really? This I gotta see!

Daria: (blushing harder) Just be sure you don't clip his wings.

Quinn: HIS wings??

(Helen's papers crackle softly as she slowly rotates her head side to side in a "no" movement.)

Daria (pauses at entryway to family room, turns): Mom, in case of... sounds, can you keep Dad from charging upstairs?

Helen: (lifts her head, papers slide onto table and floor) Uh, okay, dear. I will. (puts her face back in her hands; after a moment her shoulders begin to shake and a low, rhythmic sound is heard. As Helen lifts her head, we see that she is laughing.) This wasn't in any of the books! (Shakes her head, rises, goes in search of Jake.)

Jane: So, you wanna take in a movie tonight, or just hang out at my place, or what?

Jodie: (realizes Jane is talking to her) Oh, uh, I can't. I've got to finish that extra-credit math project, and practice my lines for...

Jane: Jodie, you've got to have a life, too. How many really close friends do you have? Friends you tell all your secrets to? Who can complete your sentences?

Jodie: Well, um... (her expression turns very sad)

Daria: I know. Making friends is hard when you're deficient in brain damage. Very limited selection.

Jane: So I was thinking, who says you can only have one best friend? (Daria gives her a sideways glance) Aside from English teachers and nitpickers, that is. And what with Daria always getting thrown in the booby hatch ... (Daria gives her a withering sideways glance)

Daria: I feel a psychotic episode coming on right now.

Jane: (grins) See, there she goes again. But that kind of friendship takes time. Time to lie around on my bed while I paint, inhaling the paint fumes...

Daria: And the running shoe fumes...

Jane: Time in Daria's rubber room watching her bounce off the walls.

Daria: Time inside my closet, reading the poetry the madwoman carved into the wall with an old key.

Jane: Time on the school roof analyzing our teachers and fellow students.

Daria: Time at the pizza joint analyzing weird foreign movies.

Jodie: In short, time. Of which I have none.

Daria and Jane: We know.

Jane: Therefore we, your fellow support group members, have decided to get you some.

Jodie: ("yeah, right" expression) Great! And how are you going to do that?

Daria: That's the topic under discussion. Tell you what, Jodie. Write down your schedule as it is now, then another schedule as you want it to be, indicating which activities you'd drop or cut back on to get there. Drop a few extra, in case the discussion with your parents degenerates into haggling.

Jodie: More likely it'll degenerate into aphorisms, when-I-was-your-age stories and naked parental authority.

Daria: That, we must avoid. Jane, see if you can figure about how many hours a week we spend together. That'll give us a handle on the magnitude of our task. Oh, not that it'll make a difference to the Reclaiming-Jodie's-Life project, but... Jodie? Will you be my other best friend?

Jodie: (looking like she's about to tear up) I'd be honored, Daria. And would you and Jane be my co-best friends?

Daria nods, smiling.

Jane: I'll be yours if you'll be mine. Group Hug!

Daria: Not here, we'll start another rumor. I need to drop by the library for a minute.

Jane: Okay, see you naked in thirteen minutes.

Daria: (blushing) What’s the matter with "see you in gym class"?

Jane (evil grin) Doesn’t make you blush.

Daria: (turning away) Kill you slowly.

Jodie: What have I done?

Daria: (pumps fist in air) Yeah! Twofer! (sees another ball coming from far left, tries to spin away. Too late, the ball hits her thigh with that "spang" sound peculiar to that type of ball. Retracing its trajectory, she sees Jane grinning at her from the enemy lines. Daria shakes her fist at Jane as she turns and heads off-court.

Ms. Morris: Getting better, Morgendorfer. But you need to pay more attention to your peripheral vision.

Daria: Glasses frames.

Ms. Morris: Contacts. You can get blindsided by worse things than a rubber ball, you know.

Daria: Do I ever. Oh, I've been thinking of taking a self-defense course. Do you have any recommendations?

Ms. Morris: (smiles approvingly) The Girls' Club offers a free course taught by police officers. It's pretty basic. The best from a self-defense standpoint is the Jeet Kune Do school on South Aspen. If you think you might want to compete, check out Mr. Park's Tae Kwon Do dojo in Westgate shopping center. Can't miss it, the front window is full of trophies.

Daria: Thanks. I'll start with the Jeet Kune Do place.

Ms. Morris: If you stick with it, it counts as an extracurricular. (looks at watch, blows whistle.) All right, ladies! Two laps around the gym, then hit the showers!

Daria: (consults notebook) So we have: Value of Friendship, Irreplaceable Teenage Years, It’s My Life, Approaching Burnout, Valedictorian Locked Up, I’ll Snap And Go Apeshit, and You’ll Never See Me Again. We should probably save those last two for emergencies.

Jane: Rename the second-from-last one Teenage Quaker Syndrome. That expresses the concept better, I think.

Jodie: It certainly sounds better. Do you really think I have a lock on Valedictorian?

Daria: Unless you burn out or go apesh- uh, Teenage Quaker. We both have 4.5 averages, and you’ve totally buried me with extracurriculars.

Jodie: Does that... bother you? I know you’re smarter than I am, Daria.

Daria: And I’ve proved it by tricking you into doing the Valedictory Address. I don’t think I could withstand the temptation to be honest.

Jodie: But you’ll be Salutatorian. You have to do a speech too.

Daria: A shorter one, and everyone will be asleep by then. I’ll be able to say almost anything I want, and only a handful of people will notice.

Jodie: Are you saying my address is going to put everyone to sleep?

Daria: See, who said I was smarter than you? You picked right up on that!

Jodie: (giggles) Seriously, Daria, won’t it bother you a little?

Daria: Seriously, Jodie, the only things I want from Lawndale High are a diploma and away. I’ll be able to get into any college I want without any honors. I don’t need a videotape of me giving a boring speech that I don’t mean, that I’ll never watch. I need professors who can really teach, and intelligent fellow students I can really talk to, like you and Jane, but more of them. That’s what my sights are set on.

Daria (into phone) Next Tuesday sounds great. What about uniforms and equipment? Uh-huh. Maybe I can get down tonight. And how many openings do you have? Good, I may be able to dragoon a friend or two. Thanks. ‘Bye. (hangs up, dials another number.) Mom, Daria. What’s your twenty? ..Present location. ..I was gonna ask you to pick up a catalog, but you’ve passed it. Can I use your car when you get here? Sure, a ride would be fine. I’ll be at the curb. (gets up, puts away phone book, heads for front door.)

Daria: Take a right, toward downtown. How was your day?

Helen: Same old same old. The Mama’s Home Cookin’ v. Momma’s Home Cooking case is still dragging on and... (Daria listens with an attentive expression, picking her mother’s feelings of overwork, underappreciation, and resentment out of the stream of details, injecting an occasional hmm or uh-huh to keep it flowing.) ...and I almost had the stack down level with the top of the in-box when Eric came in with a huge... oh, Daria, you don’t really care about what I do at work, do you?

Daria: I care more about what your work does to you. How it wears you down and keeps you away from us. But I wasn’t just providing good-listener therapy. I know you love the law. I was listening to see how much of the challenging, stimulating stuff you’re getting to do, amongst how much boring, grinding scut work.

Helen: Sweetie! You do care! If I wasn’t driving I’d hug your neck!

Daria: If you start to pull over I’m diving for the cargo area.

Helen: All right, Daria. I’ll try to restrain myself. Actually, there’s a big, nasty, complex case coming up. It’s got industrial espionage, tax evasion, export ban violations, everything. I’m in charge of the class action suit, which I think will turn out to be bigger than it looks now. I’m looking forward to a lot of court time. I just hope it doesn’t get really ugly.

Daria: No, you don’t.

Helen: (smiles) No, I don’t.

Helen: (after companionable silence) This school we’re going to- are you just checking it out, or do you plan to enroll?

Daria: I’ll sign up if it looks okay. My gym teacher recommends it for self-defense. The other good school is more competition oriented. They have a class starting next Tuesday. Tuesdays and Thursdays, 6 to 8 p.m. There are still four openings. Whaddya say? I know you want to.

Helen: I do want to, sweetie, but I just have so much work right now.

Daria: And you’ll keep getting more and more. It’s a manager’s maxim. Give the new work to the one who’s already doing the most, ‘cause she’s the one who’ll get it done somehow. Isn’t that right?

Helen: Daria, sometimes you scare me. How do you know things like that?

Daria: (waves hand) Common knowledge. I read it somewhere. Mom, when you look back on your life, what will you regret more, not doing more work for Eric, or not doing more stuff with your family?

Helen: And this is definitely one of those times. All right. Sign me up.

Daria: Speaking of which, here we are. Ahead on the right.

Helen: I thought Bruce Lee was just an actor who died mysteriously. I didn’t know he was really that good, or that he founded his own school.

Daria: Me either. Or that he was a philosopher. The Tao of Jeet Kune Do. Have to read that. (puts down brochure, picks up a blouse from atop matching slacks. It has a floral pattern, a network of stylized scrolling vines supporting multicolored flowers, leaves, and occasional small birds. The background color is peacock blue, and it is trimmed in gold piping. The front panel buttons down the left side with cloth covered buttons in gold loops. It looks very Chinese, as does the outfit next to it on the seat, identical save for a Chinese Red background. Daria rubs the material softly against her cheek, smiles that Mona Lisa smile.) These are so beautiful. And real silk. I can hardly imagine using it as a martial arts uniform.

Helen: They are lovely, aren’t they? But silk is incredibly tough. You’ll probably pass that on to your granddaughter.

Daria: Granddaughter... hmm. Weird. I believe that’s the first time I ever thought about having a granddaughter. You know, I’m sure I saw an outfit just like this in one of those old chop-socky movies.

Helen: Maybe that’s where they got the idea.

Daria: Assuming you want to try yours on too, let’s get chinese takeout and wear them to dinner.

Helen: That sounds like fun... but Quinn doesn’t like chinese food.

Daria: Well, I do. Tell you what. We’ll get her a package of tortillas and tell her they’re snack size cheeseless pizzas.

Helen: Haha! Daria, that’s mean! But I guess we can find something she’ll like.

Daria: Here’s the chinese restaurant. There’s a chicken place half a block down. Quinn likes roast chicken, right?

Helen: Yes. Get her a two-piece dinner. White meat, roasted, lemon pepper if they have it. Here’s a five. 

Young man: Uh, ‘scuse me, miss, but I ain’t had nothin’ t’eat all day, an’ I’m real hungry. Could ya help me out? (continues to scan his surroundings, also continues to close the distance that separates him from Daria)

Daria: (sees that the man is not much older than she, about 19, but considerably taller and heavier.) Uh, this isn’t mine. (moves left off sidewalk toward street, turns to keep facing young man, putting the sun at her back)

Mugger: Selfish bitch!(expression turns angry, lunges toward Daria, left hand reaching for plastic bag, right hand balling into a fist)

In mid-lunge, the mugger’s speed seems to decrease drastically. Daria’s right foot moves toward the mugger’s left knee, much less slowly. The toe of her boot catches the bottom of his kneecap, lifts it much higher up his leg than it is supposed to go. Daria’s body rotates 90 degrees left, moving the bag away from the mugger’s grasping hand. Her right leg draws back, shoots forward again. The outside edge of her boot sole impacts his right kneecap. Through it Daria feels a crunching sensation. A look of shock and pain is now beginning to register on the mugger’s face. A part of Daria’s mind is thinking "Who’s controlling my body? I want my body back!" as her right leg retracts again. The mugger’s head and upper body are now bending forward in reaction to the pain in his knees, and his hands begin to reach for his kneecaps. Daria’s upper body has tilted back, away from the mugger, and her right foot, now aimed higher, shoots out for the third time, her boot sole impacting his forehead with a loud smack. The mugger straightens back up suddenly, then continues leaning backwards, as the impact shock sends ripples through his body. His feet leave the ground, and he floats backwards through the air. Daria’s right foot returns to the ground, but she seems unable to stand flatfooted, bouncing slightly instead. A part of her mind realizes that the fight is essentially over, but continues to watch the mugger, not relinquishing control until he hits the ground, and does not move thereafter.

Daria: (as the world resumes normal speed) Hunh!! (swivels head in all directions, taking in her surroundings, causing her hair to whip wildly) What the hell was that? (She sees no one else who appears to be a threat. Through the window of the chicken place, a young couple, chicken pieces halfway to their open mouths, stare wide-eyed at her. Across the street, five people gesture and make noises, apparently cheering. Realizing she is still bouncing slightly, she wills herself to stop. She has a feeling of tremendous strength, coupled with an urgent need to do something with it, but there is nothing to do other than carry Quinn’s dinner. Daria sets out again for the chinese restaurant, forcing herself to walk, her breathing ragged. After a seemingly endless march, with frequent backward glances, she enters the parking lot. The restaurant’s gold trimmed red door, gleaming in the reddish-gold light of sunset, beckons like the gates of Heaven. Daria takes a deep, shuddering breath, clamps her poker face down tight, puts forth a hand to push open the door.)

Daria: Stupid wind. (puts hand to disarraranged hair, sits on bench beside Helen, puts chicken box down)

Helen: Is everyth... (Daria springs to her feet, walks past Helen into the dining area, summons a waitress)

Daria: (to waitress) Could you get me a cup of ice water, please? (hands waitress two quarters. Waitress smiles, nods, hurries away. Daria turns back toward Helen, her movements jerky.)

Helen: Daria, is everything all right?

Daria: Hmm? Yeah. Fine.

Helen: Uhh, I hope their food is good. I don’t believe we’ve ordered from here before.

Daria: (sits down beside Helen) Smells good. (seeking diversion) Have you noticed there seem to be two types of chinese restaurants? The ones like this (waves hand) with good food, good service, nice atmosphere; and then the ones with very low prices, too much oil in the food, that seem to have more chinese staff in back than customers out front. (leans toward Helen, lowers voice) I think those other places are fronts for Chicom spy rings.

Helen: (Chuckles) You’re probably right, dear. But keep your voice down, just in case it’s this type instead. (they exchange conspiratorial smiles)

Daria: (takes plastic cup of ice water from waitress) Thank you. (presses cup to forehead, closes eyes, sighs raggedly.)

Helen: Daria, is anything wrong?

Daria: Totin’ chicken is hard work sometimes. (smiles a bit for Helen)

Helen: Oh. Well, here’s our order. (gets up, goes to checkout counter. Daria drinks deeply, puts cup back against her forehead, closes her eyes again.)

Helen: Come on, Daria, let’s go. (lifts bags of takeout from counter. Daria rises, holds front door open for Helen, they exit.)

Daria: (shivering, but not from cold water) Guess I have a drinking problem. (Helen doesn’t seem to get the reference.) Well, let’s get out of here before the crowd forms. (brushes ice off top of head, takes up shotgun position in SUV. Helen collects her wits, hurries around to driver’s door, gets in.)

Helen: (starts car, backs out) Daria, please! What’s wrong?

Daria: Too much adrenalin. Uh-oh. Crowd’s forming. Drive. (points ahead. Over twenty people stand around or approach a young man clinging to a signpost, attempting to stand. He pulls himself up, grimaces in pain, and falls.)

Helen: Oh, my goodness! That boy’s been beaten up! (gasps) Look! There’s a bootprint on his forehead! And why are those people waving at us?

Daria: (crouching below the window) That boy’s a mugger, and that’s my bootprint, and I guess those are my fans. Please take me home.

Helen (accelerates south down Aspen, heading homeward) Daria, for pity’s sake, tell me what happened!

Daria: (resuming her seat) He tried to mug me for Quinn’s dinner, and I... went off on him.

Helen: Good grief, Daria! You fought a mugger for five bucks’ worth of chicken?! Just give it to him! Throw it at him and run! It’s not worth you getting hurt over! What were you thinking?!

Daria: That’s just it, Mom. There was no thinking involved. I totally agree with everything you just said. But I never had a chance to think of any of it. I’d just barely realized that he was about to hit me when something ferocious seized control of my body and... BamBamBam! He was flying through the air and I was walking back to the restaurant. What does that mean? What am I turning into?

Helen: Oh. (pause) That’s not as bad as it sounds, darling. Some sort of instinctive reaction. That thug got what he deserved. But you should have told me immediately. I could have called the police and had him arrested.

Daria: (groans) Ohhh, no. I really don’t want to spend the night at the police station filling out forms and being interrogated. This already feels like the longest day of my life.

Helen: Daria, you need to make a statement to protect yourself against a possible complaint or suit. But I know some of the police. I’ll make a call later to give them a heads-up, and if necessary, they’ll call me back and we can go down. Otherwise, tomorrow is soon enough. (makes a turn) We’ll be home in a few minutes. I don’t suppose you still feel like wearing these outfits to dinner.

Daria (picks up her chinese silk blouse and matching slacks) Uhh, yes. I do.

Helen: (smiles) I do too, actually.

The car rolls homeward down familiar streets. Daria gazes out her window into the twilight, the blue silk blouse caressing her cheek. Words from an old song, heard once on the radio, rise unbidden to her remembrance. After a minute she begins singing, very softly, to herself.

Jake: You two really look cute in those outfits! Are you going to be in a play or something?

Helen: We’re going to take Jeet Kune Do lessons. These are what we train in.

Quinn: Jeep coon doe? Eeww-w-w! Sounds like roadkill!

Daria: It was developed by Bruce Lee out of Wing Chun Kung Fu, the only style of Kung Fu created by a woman.

Quinn: Hey, did you know there’s a woman Kung Fu master here in Lawndale? It was just on the news. They showed this mugger being loaded into an ambulance, and there was this perfect boot print right across his forehead! (faint snort from Daria)

Jake: His knees were messed up, too. The eyewitnesses said he tried to steal a chicken dinner from this little bitty woman and she Kung Fu’d the doggydoo out of him! (tiny strangled noise from Daria)

Quinn: Yeah, they said she was fast as lightning! Faster than Jackie Chan! Do you think one day you guys will be that good?

Helen:. Apparently Daria is already that good. She’s the one they’re talking about. You have the chicken dinner to prove it.

Quinn’s jaw drops. She gapes, dumbstruck, at Daria.

Daria: (fighting to swallow and to keep from cracking up) Didn’t you recognize the boot print?

Jake: It was Daria?? But... the reporter asked an eyewitness for a description and he said it was an old black woman with blonde hair and a red beard! (Daria jerks her head to one side just in time to avoid spraying the table with Kung Pao chicken., but the effort costs her her balance, and she and her chair topple slowly over, leaving Daria rolling on the floor, laughing helplessly.)

Helen: (laughing herself) Quinn, wet a towel in cold water and bring it here. Jake, witnesses often give false descriptions in cases like that. The man approved of what Daria did, and didn’t want to get her in trouble. (from under the table, Daria lets out a peal of silly-sounding laughter that sets Helen off again.)

Quinn: (coming back with wet towel) Here. (gets no response from Helen, goes around table, kneels, covers Daria’s face with wet towel. Daria’s laughter tapers off to chortles, to giggles, then dies away. She groans, sets her chair back on its legs. Quinn helps her to her feet.) Daria, did you really do that?

Daria: Yeah, it was me.

Quinn: (resumes her seat) Were you really as fast as they said?

Daria: Fast as lightning? No. Faster than Jackie Chan? I’d have to say... yes. For that one second or so this evening, I was faster. Of course, I was seeing it all in slo-mo.

Quinn: You mean that really happens? I thought that was just a movie thing.

Daria: It happens. He approached me with this haven’t-eaten-all-day, please-help-me crap, then when he was close enough, started to make his move. Right then he slowed down to molasses-in-January speed, and I kicked him in the left knee, the right knee, then, as he doubled over from the pain, in the forehead. Then I watched him float backwards through the air for a while. When he finally hit the ground, time sped back up to normal.

Jake: WOW! How far did you kick him?

Daria: His head travelled about nine feet, the rest of him not so far.

Quinn: (plaintively, enviously) Is there no end to your abilities? How many more superpowers do you have?

Daria: (can’t resist an opening like that) Other than this, just the two. Near-instant healing and the power to cloud peoples’ minds. Plus a couple of super-senses.

Quinn: Near-instant... you’re pulling my leg now.

Daria: I used it last year when you ratted me out for getting a navel ring*. I saw through the window that you guys were waiting to ambush me. So I took out the ring, healed up the puncture, opened the door and walked in. The rest you know.

Quinn: That was a fake ring. It must have been!

Daria: You know it was real. You examined it very closely. You saw me pull on it.

Jake: You did get pierced?! Now, see here, young lady...

Daria: (holds up hand, speaks authoritatively) More than one year has elapsed. The Statute of Limitations has run out.

Jake: Oh, yeah. Darn...

Quinn: What about the power to cloud... (Daria makes tiny head/eyeball gesture indicating Jake) Oh. (Helen rolls her eyes, puts hand to forehead.)

Helen: As long as we’re having this somewhat strange conversation, tell us about your super-senses.

Daria: Super is stretching it a bit. My echolocation is pretty good. I’m just starting to work on infrared vision.

Jake: Echolocation?

Daria: The sense bats use to navigate in the dark. Like sonar. I saw this blind boy on TV who could do it so well he could ride his bicycle on the streets, so I started teaching myself. I can walk around the house in complete darkness, and/or blindfolded, and not bump into stuff. And no, it’s not memorization. I can do it in places I’ve never been before. I still can’t move very fast, though. And I need to experiment more with the noise I use.

Helen: I’m impressed. And infrared vision?

Daria: It’s not really vision. I use my forehead, cheeks, and palms as sensors. A month or so ago, I was echolocating through the kitchen blindfolded, and I picked up heat radiation from forward right low. I zeroed in on a range burner that had been left on. Since I first picked it up from ten feet away, and it was directional, I thought it was worth working on. Like I said, I’m just starting with it. You guys could probably do as well.

Quinn: You have the weirdest hobbies.

Daria: Mom and Dad couldn’t afford to send me to superhero school in Gotham City, so I had to teach myself. Pretty soon, Jane and I will finish my skintight spandex costume, and I can start fighting crime. Oh, wait. (Mona Lisa smile) I already have.

 Amy: Hello? 

Daria: Hi, Amy. How’ve you been?

Amy: Doing well, nothing special. What are you up to these days?

Daria: Got two best friends now, tortured by Quinn, studying Jeet Kune Do with Mom, getting in touch with my inner terminator.

Amy: Whoa, whoa! You’re trying to sneak something past me here. Tortured by Quinn?

Daria: She did my bikini line for me. Enjoyed it way too much. Try again.

Amy: (laughs) Then unless you bisected Jane, it must be the inner terminator. Give.

Daria: This punk tries to steal a chicken dinner from me, and... something...possesses me and half-kills him in about a second! Then it’s.. gone.

Amy: Omigawd! You’re the Kung Fu Queen of Lawndale?!

Daria: Ohhh, Nooo!! Please tell me it hasn’t gone national!

Amy: Not yet. It was on the local news, as a human interest story. Tell me all about it in excruciating detail, starting with Are You Hurt?

Daria: I’m fine. He never touched me. Mom was getting some Chinese takeout for dinner and I... [insert time-passes thingy here] ..and then the world resumes normal speed, and I get my body back, and I’m standing there wondering what the hell happened, and what am I going to do with all this adrenalin?

Amy: Sounds like the mugger triggered your fight-or-flight reflex. I assume you know of it.

Daria: Only in conjunction with stress and ulcers.

Amy: Well, now you know what it’s there for. Sounds like yours works quite well.

Daria: The fight part, anyway. Wonder why it didn’t have me run away at great speed?

Amy: You got me. Unless it was your boots. I’d say they’re much more suited to fighting. So,What’s this about you and Helen taking Jeet Kune Do?

Daria: Not much to tell at this point. We signed up today, classes start next Tuesday. Got cute outfits. Maybe next punk who jumps me, I can kick him around without all the weirdness.

Amy: It’s always good to have options. And your second best friend? Hmm, that didn’t sound quite right.

Daria: Jodie Landon, the massive overachiever. I’ve mentioned her, haven’t I?

Amy: Lessee... Two type "A" parents? Worked to death?

Daria: That’s her. Really nice kid, but she has no friends because she has no time of her own. Jane and I decided to attempt a rescue.

Amy: Uh, that’s really good-hearted of you, Daria, but I hope you’re not doing this just out of pity. If so, it’s doomed to failure. I know whereof I speak.

Daria: You’ll have to tell me about that sometime, but no, I’m doing it because I really want Jodie for a friend. I came to realize how precarious my sort-of-happiness is with just one real friend. The thought slowly took shape, if Jane means that much to me, and she does, why did I stop with Jane? And I think Jane sort of picked up the idea by osmosis.

Amy: I think I was there in the kitchen with you guys when she osmosed it.

Daria: Yeah, I guess you were. Anyway, we’d been friendly with Jodie, on a stolen-seconds basis. But going from titular co-best friend to actual co-best friend is going to take a lot of time, and we’re gonna have to fight for that time for her. Poor Jodie is so overloaded. Sometimes when she walks by I swear I can smell hot bearings and smoking insulation.

Amy: When you say "fight", I hope you don’t mean any sort of actual confrontation. That would be hugely counterproductive. Never try to come between a child and its parents. That triggers an instinct every bit as powerful as the fight-or-flight reflex.

Daria: Hmmm... we were working on sort of a discussion. Developing talking points and stuff.

Amy: You can do better. The best thing would be to make them think it’s their idea that Jodie needs a couple of really good friends. Try hanging out at her house. Let them see how you relate to each other, how much Jodie enjoys it. Stuff like that. You’re devious and manipulative. If you need even more deviosity, get Quinn to help.

Daria: Is "deviosity" a word?

Amy: If it isn’t, it needs to be. I’m gonna copyright it right now.

Daria: You’re still coming this weekend?

Amy : Yeah, guess so. Couldn’t come up with any emergencies that would force me to cancel. Look for me sometime late Friday night, depending on how many State Police I have to seduce on the way.

Daria: Getting there is half the fun, huh?

Amy: You know I only do it for you, Daria.

Daria: Of course. Well, I have one more call to make before I can rest my weary bones. See you soon.

Amy: See ya. ‘Bye. (hangs up. End split screen. Daria dials another number. We hear one ring, then a pickup. Reestablish split screen, this time with Tom, sitting at his desk, reading.)

Tom: Hello.

Daria: Hi. How was your day?

Tom: Incredibly dull. I perish of boredom. Please tell me you did something interesting today.

Daria: Got you covered.

Jodie: That shot of the mugger with that bootprint on his forehead was so cool! Imagine how surprised he must have been when that tiny woman turned out to be this mighty Kung Fu warrior!

Daria: (rolls her eyes) Yeah, imagine. Now that you’re warmed up, imagine you’re the tiny woman, and haven’t the faintest idea that you’re this mighty Kung Fu warrior, and then the mugger lunges at you.

Jodie: Huh?

Daria: Now imagine it’s next morning, and everyone’s talking about you, and trying to guess who you are, and news crews and paparazzi are scouring the town, hunting you down like you’re the guest of honor at one of those English foxhunts.

Jane: Uhh, Daria, are you working on a new short story?

Daria: Eventually, I guess. If I survive. But the fox never does, does he? The hounds always tear him to shreds. Or her.

Jodie: Daria, are you saying you’re the mi- (stress begins to show in Daria’s eyes) the tiny woman?

Daria: If I’d known this was gonna happen, I’d’ve made Quinn eat chinese like the rest of us. Or better yet, locked all the doors and eaten frozen lasagna.

(cut to: Extreme closeup, Jane’s face, shocked, ½ second; Extreme closeup, Jodie’s face, shocked, ½ second; Extreme closeup, Daria’s face, grim, ¾ second, each accompanied by one shreiking, crashing chord. Then cut back to previous scene.)

Jane: Setting aside my astonishment for the nonce, don’t you think maybe you’re awfulizing a bit here? I haven’t seen any paparazzi or news crews. (a TV remote van passes them from behind, heading toward Lawndale High) Oops.

Daria: (giving Jane a dirty look) Had to say it, didn’t you?

Jodie: Likewise putting aside my astonishment, it’s not really all that bad. What’s the worst that can happen?

Daria: I get trampled to death in the media feeding frenzy.

Jodie: C’mon, Daria. Aside from that, what’s the worst that can happen?

Daria: Every mugger in the country comes gunning for me, to make a rep for himself.

Jane: Jodie, Daria’s never been defeated at "What’s The Worst That Can Happen". She’s a natural.

Daria: I catch Dengue Fever from a contaminated microphone shoved in my face. I get prosecuted for violating the mugger’s civil rights.

Jodie: All right, all right, I give!

Jane: Realistically, Daria, all they want is a few seconds of face time and a sound byte. Enough to round out the story for a filler toward the end of the day’s news. Then you’ve had your 15 seconds of fame and can languish away in obscurity and die in poverty like the rest of us.

Jodie: Right. All you have to do is stand up, look straight into the lens, and say, "I kicked the mugger in the head because..."

Jane: Yeah. Retrieving my astonishment, why the bleep did you kick the mugger in the head? And for Quinn’s chicken snack? And how did you do it with such spectacular success?

Daria: You ever hear of the fight-or-flight reflex? That’s what Amy says it is. Apparently the fight part of mine works quite well. And now the flight part is telling me to run for the tall timber and stay there for at least two weeks.

Jodie: You’d get ‘way behind on your homework. Come on, Daria. Tell us what it was like.

Daria: (head shot. Slow zoom in on Daria’s deadpan face, target: the bridge of her glasses) Mnnrrr...All right. Imagine you’re the star of one of those stupid movies they’re making from video games these days. They’re prepping you for battle. They give you eight or ten times your normal strength and four times your normal speed. Then they disconnect your brain and hook up a ruthless combat computer preprogrammed with all the best moves, tactics, and strategies, a computer so fast that, even as fast as you now are, to the computer it seems like half or quarter normal speed. Then they plug your brain into the computer’s monitor port so you can watch but not interfere, and send it into combat in control of your body. Now imagine all that happening instantaneously, with no warning or explanation. That’s what it’s like. (back to group shot)

Jodie: Great Googly Moogly!

Jane ( bug-eyed, struggling to grasp the concept) Um, Daria, are you exaggerating hugely just to see if my jaw will drop totally off my skull?

Daria: Nope. You’ll see one day if you keep walking on the wild side. The mugger never had a chance. I kicked him left knee, right knee, forehead, in about a second. I’m a little surprised he survived.

Jodie: Wow! So how did you get out of killer computer mode?

Daria: Popped out automatically when he hit the ground and lay there.

Jane: There must be some sort of price to be paid for all that speed and power. Are you all right?

Daria: Yeah. I guess even a flabby little body like mine can deliver three kicks to an unchallenging target. There was a price, though. The physical mechanism that provided all that strength and speed was, of course, adrenalin. When I got my body back, it was full of the stuff. I had urges to uproot trees and flip cars over, just to get rid of it. And there were control problems. I almost ripped the door off the chinese restaurant.

Jodie: Oh, my gosh. Look. In front of the school.

Jane: The media circus is in town. (all three stop walking)

Daria: Damn, they’re fast. But why? Why me? That sort of thing must happen hundreds of times a day, all across the country. I’ve never seen a single nerdy-girl-saves-chicken-from-mugger story! Not one! Why me?

Jane: It’s mediagenic. That great visual of the bootprint on the mugger’s forehead, plus the witness’s funny description of the old black woman with blonde hair and red beard. Plus the fact that he’s obviously protecting the heroine, the mysterious mistress of the martial arts . Plus, there’s been a juicy-news drought for over a week now. They’re desperate.

Daria: Awww, hell! Why do you have to make it sound so plausible? Well, I have to assume they know my name by now. And that Ms. Li also knows, and is prepared to take me into custody as soon as I show myself.

Jodie: That’s not so bad. Better her than the mob.

Daria: True. But she won’t have my welfare in mind. She’s only thinking of one thing. Say it with me now—

Chorus: The ~Honor~ of Laaawnndaaale Hi-i-i-igh!

Daria: By which she means the personal aggrandizement of Angela Li. She’ll take me into her office, stand me up against the wall, put her arm around my shoulder, and call in the thundering herd. Does that sound about right so far?

Jodie: You’re nailing it. Repugnant, but not life-threatening. You knew you weren’t going to enjoy it, right?

Daria: Right, up to that point. But what if the press doesn’t want to leave? What if they keep thinking of one more question, shooting a few more seconds of video? How will Ms. Li get rid of them? Bet she hasn’t thought of that. There’s only one exit. The jackals have me cornered. They close in. What if that trips my fight-or-flight reflex, with the now-freshly-travelled neural pathway? How many do you suppose I’ll take with me? How many philistines can I slay with the strength of ten and a twenty-pound TV camera?

Jane: Daria, you’re awfulizing again. They’re not really jackals.

Daria: They do get like that sometimes. We all know it. There is a definite non-zero chance my worst-case scenario will occur. Considering the consequences, I’m not willing to risk it. I’ll have to talk to the media now, at some point, but I don’t have to do it in Ms. Li’s office. Oh! (slaps forehead) I have to make a statement to the police today, too. Forgot about that. So did Mom, I’ll bet. The police station would be a much better place to meet the press than Li’s cul-de-sac office. Must get to a phone. Can’t go home. If they know my name, they’ll have my address.

Jodie: My home’s less than three blocks. Less than two, if we cut through a couple of yards right up here.

Daria: Lead the way. (the three turn, head back the way they came at a run.)

Quinn: Hey, guys! What’s going on?

Sandi: We were just going to ask you that, Quinn. They’re looking for a short girl, brown hair, big round glasses, green top, black skirt, black combat boots, expert in martial arts. Sound like anyone you know?

Quinn: (gasps, whirls around, looks back the way she came) Ohh, no... (sees Daria, Jane, and Jodie in the distance; to herself:) Go back! (begins to run in their direction, stops as she sees them turn and move rapidly away; barely audible:) Yes! Run, Daria, run!

 Sandi: (coming up behind Quinn, with Stacy) Quinn?

Quinn: (turns to face Sandi and Stacy) Well, I don’t know any martial arts experts...

Sandi: (more insistent) Quiinnn?

Quinn: ...But the description does sound like Daria.

Tiffany: (approaching from crowd) Yeaaahhh.. I told them there’s only one personnn that could beee... 

Quinn: You told them?! You IDIOT!! This isn’t the fashion press! These people play rough! And now they’re all gonna be camped in my front yard!! (advances on Tiffany)

Sandi: (steps between Quinn and Tiffany) That is a definite rule violation, Tiffany. All statements to the media must be cleared through the president. We will discuss disciplinary action later. And, Quinn, there is also a rule against killing a fellow fashion club member. Now, perhaps you’d be so kind as to inform your friends why the national media are so interested in your weird cousin, or whatever.

Quinn: (sighs) Sister, Sandi. Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, or will be very soon. You know that mysterious woman who kicked the crap out of the mugger yesterday? It was Daria. And the chicken wasn’t even hers. It was for me.

Stacy: Really? That’s amazing, Quinn! But I thought you said she didn’t know martial arts.

Quinn: She doesn’t. (sighs again) Apparently she doesn’t need to. She has superpowers.

Jodie: Mom, Daria needs to use the phone.

Michelle: Certainly, Daria. (gestures at phone) Jodie, is something wrong? (Daria picks up phone, starts dialing)

Jodie: The media are after her. They-- (looks questioningly at Daria, who gestures "Sure, why not?") found out she’s the one who beat up the mugger yesterday.

Daria: (split screen; Helen at her desk at work) Mom? The media are onto me. They have the school surrounded. I can’t walk into that. I was thinking, if I go to the police station and make my statement, they’ll be waiting when I get through, and I can talk to them on the station steps, and they’re likely to be better behaved. What do you think?

Helen: Good grief, Daria, you make it sound like there are hundreds of them. That makes no sense. How many, really?

Daria: (slightly exasperated) I didn’t count them, but it looked like nearly a hundred to me. At least fifty. (Michelle’s eyes widen at this. Andrew Landon appears from the family room.)

Helen: What the... All right. The police station sounds good. Where are you now?

Daria: At the Landons’. Should I call a cab? Ask for a police car?

Michelle: (pushes the speaker button on the phone base unit) Helen? Michelle Landon. We’ll drive Daria to the police station. Don’t you worry.

Helen: Thank you so much, Michelle. Daria, I’ll meet you there. I’m bringing Wanda, the firm’s PR specialist. Love you, sweetie!

Daria: Love you, Mom. ‘Bye.

Michelle: Andrew, Why don’t you drive Daria to the police station, and be sure she gets inside okay. Jodie, you’re going to be late! Here, hold Evan. You and... Jane, is it? (Jane smiles and nods) get in my car. I’ll take you to school.. (All exit)

Andrew: (grins) So it was you who beat up that mugger yesterday! I must admit, you were pretty far down on my suspect list.

Daria: (tiny smile) I was pretty far down on mine, until it happened.

Andrew: How close are the news stories to being accurate?

Daria: Well, the description’s pretty far off. (Andrew grins again) The part about it happening very quickly is true. I know nothing about martial arts except what I’ve seen in movies. Oddly enough, Mom and I were on our way home from signing up for Jeet Kune Do lessons. We’d stopped to pick up some chinese takeout, and I was getting the chicken for my sister Quinn. This guy was gonna knock me down and take it, and... something bad kind of happened to him. I was more surprised than he was.

Andrew: Ahh. It sounds like he triggered your fight-or-flight reflex. The extreme brevity of the encounter suggested that to me last night.

Daria: That’s what my Aunt Amy thought. But you sound as if you speak from experience.

Andrew: You’re right. Once in college, seven guys jumped me, and triggered mine.

Daria: Only seven? You demolished them, right? I felt like I could have handled at least ten myself. You probably could’ve taken out the whole football team.

Andrew: Actually, they were on the football team. Yes, after the power and speed kicked in, it was pretty one-sided in my favor. But they got in quite a few punches before that.

Daria: That’s odd. For me it kicked in as soon as I realized I was in trouble. He never touched me. Or even the chicken.

Andrew: Hmmm.. As soon as you realized... Well, I’ll be! I bet that’s it! It took me that long to admit to myself that I was in trouble! I’ve wondered about that... Well. You say you and your mother signed up for Jeet Kune Do lessons?

Daria: Yes. Ms. Morris, our PE teacher, said they were the best in the area for self-defense. It even counts as an extracurricular activity.

Andrew: Hmmm... I’ve been thinking about a self-defense course for Jodie. A father can’t always be around to look after his children, much as he’d like to.

Daria: That’s true. This class is Tuesdays and Thursdays, 6 to 8 pm., starting next Tuesday. There are two slots left. It would be great to be in the same class with Jodie, and if we were both signed up, we could probably get Jane to sign up, too.

Andrew: It sounds like something she would enjoy, and that would benefit her at the same time. I’ll mention it to her this evening.

Daria: (thinks: Omigod, what have I done? We’re supposed to be getting Jodie out of activities!) Uh, Mr. Landon, how about letting me ask her? If she thought I was going behind her back...

Andrew: (slightly puzzled) All right, Daria, if you think so. She is kind of sensitive about her activities. We do want her to have friends, even if she doesn’t always think so.

Daria: Friends are very important, Mr. Landon. In fact, it was just a few weeks ago that I found out how priceless a real, true friend can be. I’d like to tell you that story, but it takes a while, and it’s still kind of painful for me.

Andrew: Why would you want to tell me that story if it would hurt you?

Daria: For Jodie. When you hear it, you’ll understand.

Andrew. Hmm. I see. No, I don’t. Well, here’s the police station.

Daria: There seem to be too many people standing in front of the entrance.

Andrew: Yes. Let’s check out the back door. (Andrew drives past the station, turns the corner. Behind the station is the lot where police cruisers are parked. It is enclosed in a razorwire–topped chain link fence, and the gate is guarded. Andrew pulls up to the gate.)

Guard: Only police vehicles beyond this point.

Andrew: I know. This young lady wishes to make a statement regarding an attempted mugging last night, and there are media people blocking the front entrance.

Guard: In that case, you can go through that door over there, Miss. It’s a double door. I can buzz you through the first one, but the officer inside controls the second one. I’ll call him, but you may have to wait a minute.

Daria: (gets out of car) Okay, thanks. And thank you, Mr. Landon. I enjoyed talking with you.

Andrew: My pleasure, Daria. (smiles, backs out onto the street, drives away.)

Daria turns and heads for the rear entrance.

 Ms. Li: (hurrying from crowd, agitated) Miss Morgendorfer, where is your older sister?

Quinn: Uh, I don’t know, Ms. Li. I left the house before she did this morning.

Ms. Li: I want you to notify me the minute you see her coming. In the interest of maintaining order and discipline, I must escort her directly to my office. And for her own safety, of course. (spins on heels, marches back toward front doors)

Quinn: (waits till Ms. Li is well out of earshot) Yeah, right

Stacy: Quinn, you’re really protective of your sister. I think that’s great, but...

Quinn: But what changed? Yeah. It’s like, she used to be this really weird, creepy brain. But lately, I got to know her better, and she’s, like, a whole other person, like really strong, but vulnerable, and, kind of... sweet.

Tiffany: I rememberrr. Soo, she’s not a... weirrd brainnn any more?

Quinn: That’s the strange part. She’s even weirder and brainier than I ever realized, but... in a good way. Not creepy.

Sandi: Well whatever she did, Quinn, tell her if she can do it to my brothers, I’ll give her, like, all my stuff. (gasps from other three FC members) That is, of course, as long as I get to go out and buy new stuff. (all four laugh)

Stacy: I’m glad I’m not her right now. What do you think she’ll do, Quinn?

Quinn: Well, she won’t be walking into that. (indicates media mob with thumb over shoulder) Or Ms. Li’s office either. I’ll bet she’s got it figured out by now.

Man: (shouting in background) She just showed up at the police station!

Quinn: Ha! Way to go, kiddo! (the four turn to watch the chaos unfold)

Tiffany: What are theyy dooingg to Mizzz Leee..?

Stacy: Bet they’re not hugging.

Quinn: Haha! Got that right!

Tiffany: Staacyyy! Eewwww!

Sandi: Whatever it is, Ms. Li is pissed! I recommend we not be the last students through those doors.

Quinn: I second that. C’mon, guys! (the FC make their way rapidly to the main entrance, then inside)

Police officer: Well, that looks fairly complete. Daria, if you’ll look this over and sign it, we’ll be through here. (hands statement to Daria) That neighborhood will be happy to be free of Mr. Johnson for awhile.

Daria: (speedreads statement, hands it to Helen) Looks correct to me. (Helen and Wanda begin reading the statement) When will he go to trial?

Police officer: He’ll plea bargain. But he’s a habitual offender, so he’ll do five years minimum. You know, Daria, I’ve had to type up over a dozen statements and reports that include references to this fight-or-flight reflex, and it’s a tough thing to put down on paper. Your description is the clearest, most concise and lucid I’ve seen. It’s likely to be used as an example around here for some time to come.

Daria: (tiny smile) Why, thank you. I’m always happy to help out my local police.

Helen: (handing the statement back to Daria) Go ahead and sign it, sweetie, and we’ll discuss your press statement.

Daria: (signing statement) I can’t believe you’re using a typewriter for this! Did you do something heinous, like forget the donuts?

Officer: (chuckles) Some long-ago supply genius ordered a ton of pre-printed forms the week before typewriters went obsolete. We have to keep a couple around till they’re all used up. Which will be about the week before I retire.

Daria: (hands over form) Don’t you ever arrest any skilled arsonists? (turns, walks to Helen and Wanda. The officer is seen making a "hmmm" gesture on his chin.)

Wanda: Hi, Daria. I’m Wanda. Helen, do you think you can get a policeman to bring your car to the rear entrance? Let’s walk over here and get a look at the audience. (heads toward front windows) Since this is a pretty short story, and not headline stuff, I think your best move is to tell them an abbreviated version of what you just told the police, then take some questions.(they look out the windows. Below are upwards of a hundred people, but most are engineers and technicians.) This won’t be too bad. Use small words, answer questions briefly, say you were scared, you don’t understand what happened, you need to get to school. Make a funny or two if you get a chance. You want to give them all they need for the story so they won’t keep after you. When the questions start repeating, say thanks and goodbye and duck back inside. Helen?

Helen: It’s being brought around now.

Wanda: Great. Let’s go downstairs. Daria, any questions?

Daria: ...Then I walked back to the chinese restaurant, and we picked up our food and went home. (A babble of questions rises, most unintelligible.) No, I have no martial arts training. No, I’ve never been mugged before. Yes, I was very frightened. ...I didn’t know what to do. ...it just happened. ...I need to go to school now. ...Lawndale High. ...A’s ...I still think Lawndale is a good place to live. ...I hope he recovers and turns his life around. ...No, never before. ...the chicken was for my sister Quinn. ...No, next time she eats chinese like the rest of us. ...I really need to go to school now....No, He was going to hit me but he didn’t get to. ...I don’t know. ...Yes, I was very frightened. Thank you. Gotta go. Bye. Wanda, Helen, and Daria disappear inside. The two police close in and stand stolidly, blocking the doors.

Mr. O’Neill: Now, class, today, in honor of Daria’s- Oh. I wish Daria were here.

Daria: I’m not here? I thought I was here. Where am I?

Mr. O’Neill: Oh, there you are, Daria! I didn’t recognize you in those clothes. Uhh, you look very nice today. Heh.

Daria: (underwhelmed) Thanks.

Mr. O’Neill: As I was saying, in honor of Daria’s courageous battle with the malefactor yesterday, I want us all to write about an incident in our lives in which we could have used the superhuman strength Daria displayed, and how it would have changed the outcome of the incident. It can be a real or fictitious event, and you don’t have to specify which.

Daria: (sotto voce, to Jane) Courageous battle? Didn’t he listen, or does he just not get it?

Jane: (also sotto voce) Does it make a difference? Are you gonna set him straight?

Daria: (s.v.) Would it make a difference? (normal voice) Mr. O’Neill, in our fictitious incidents, can we commit fictitious felonies? If so, how many? And can they be homicides? (Mr. O’Neill shows horrified expression)

Kevin: Mr. O! Can this be, like, something that happened to Ratboy? (Mr. O’Neill’s expression turns to frustrated resignation, partially obscured by his hand.)

Mr. DeMartino: ToDAY, students, we will postPONE our study of the battle of CRECY and instead examine a special group of PEOPLE. Members of several NORDic tribes, these men would WHIP themselves into a RAGE...

Daria: I begin to sense a pattern emerging here.

DeMartino: ...giving themselves SUPerHUman STRENGTH in BATTLE!

Jodie: Be strong, Daria.

Daria: Very funny.

DeMartino: FEARED alike by FRIEND and FOE, these men were known as BERSERKERS!

Daria: Mmnerrrghhh!

Daria: (finishes signing a series of autographs) Is every teacher in school doing this? Or just every one of mine?

Jodie: You’re surprised? They all go to the same conferences and seminars. They’re just striving for relevancy.

Jane: I’m waiting for PE next period. Think Ms. Morris will ask you to do a demo?

Daria: She should be careful what she asks for. She just might get it.

Jodie: Your outfit really threw Mr. O’Neill off this morning.

Jane: You mean he was on before? I missed it. But why did you wear that today? You look great, but...

Daria: I didn’t want to wear my usual, because that was what the witnesses saw me in.

Jane: You mean you were wearing your trademark outfit when you kicked that oaf in the forehead? Daria, do you realize what that means?! You gave him a panty shot!

Daria: (thumps head down on table, attempts to cover it with arms) Ohhhh!

Jodie: Jane, you’re awful! Shame on you!

Jane: (grins) I thought that was what you liked about me.

Daria: (muffled by hair and arm) I didn’t give it to him; he paid for it. (straightens up) And I seriously doubt he managed to retain that particular memory, coming as it did a few thousandths of a second before severe brain trauma.

Jane: Strangers paying to see your panties on the street. Hmmm...

Daria: Rein in your entrepreneurial spirit, pimp girl. There’s plenty more brain trauma where that came from.

Ms. Barch: Class, today, instead of the assigned topic of red and brown dwarfs, we are going to discuss the fight-or-flight reaction. Daria, could you give us an example of the fight-or-flight reaction, please?

Daria springs from her stool and dashes out the door.

Ms. Barch: Umm...

Daria: Mack, speaking semi-hypothetically, what would you think about a standing date with Jodie every Tuesday and Thursday from 6 to 8 pm?

Mack: That would be a huge improvement on our current social life. Could we get slightly less hypothetical?

Daria: How about Jeet Kune Do lessons? (Mack frowns slightly) Plus driving her to and from? (Mack brightens a little) She’d be wearing a really cute chinese kung fu outfit. (Mack smiles) and practicing all these Bruce Lee- type moves. (Mack’s smile widens) Perhaps you could be her partner. (Mack’s smile is approaching fatuous) Or my mother’s.

Mack: What?!

Daria: (Mona Lisa smile) Oh, didn’t I mention Mom and I are signed up for this class? We have cute outfits, too. But you don’t have to practice with Mom if you don’t want to.

Mack: (rueful grin) Conversing with you is like driving the Baja 500 sometimes. You never know when you’ll hit an arroyo. Okay, I’ll risk it. What do I do?

Daria: (handing Mack a scrap of paper) Call this number. Ask how many slots are left in the class starting next Tuesday evening. If the answer is two or more, reserve two. Then walk to Jodie’s house with us after school today and help me talk her into it. I happen to know her father will approve, but don’t tell her that.

Mack: Gotcha. Thanks, Daria. (turns, heads for pay phone down the hall.)

Daria: (sotto voce) Thank you, Mack. What’s a Baja 500?

Jodie: ...Ms Barch just said "Umm... " and stood there with her mouth open! Her expression was priceless! I’m really sorry you couldn’t see it, Daria.

Daria: Yeah, me too. I usually don’t do physical comedy, but I just couldn’t pass up a straight line like that. Especially since I’d been fighting the urge to run out of classes all day.

Jane: You don’t do physical comedy? How do you classify that demo you did in gym class? You fell over seven times!

Jodie: I’m glad you came back when you did. I think she was about to do something really bad to Chuck.

Daria: I rescued Upchuck?! Darn! I came back because I was afraid she’d do something to Mack! (Jodie, Mack, and Jane laugh. Mr. And Mrs. Landon smile.)

Jane: Oh, Daria! You won’t believe this! Just as we were about to go inside this morning, a guy came out of one of those transmitter vans, yelling, "She just showed up at the police station!" , and then everyone was swarming around Ms. Li with their hands out, and she was giving them wads of money! She had SOLD them access to your press conference! All these tech types were running out of her office loaded down with equipment, and all the trucks and vans and rent-a-cars peeled out, and there she stood, mad as a wet hen! Talk about priceless!

Daria: Gee, you don’t think this will jeopardize my most-favored-pupil status, do you?

Jodie: Ooh. Gosh, Daria, maybe you should be extra good for the next week or so.

Daria: And/or put Mom on retainer.

 Mack: (nudges Jodie’s elbow)

Jodie: Dad, Mom, I want to take a self-defense course at the Jeet Kune Do school. Ms. Morris says it’s the best course available in the area, and I’ll get extracurricular credit for it.

Michelle: It sounds good, sugar, but do you have time for it?

Jodie: I’ll have to drop the yearbook and piano lessons. I’ll still be able to list them on my applications.

Michelle: But Jodie! You play so well!

Jodie: I can pick it back up later, when I have more time. I really want to take this class, Mom. Daria’s in it, and Mack. And the world is a dangerous place. Ask Dad. Or Daria.

Michelle: Andrew?

Andrew. I think It’s an excellent idea, Michelle. I worry about Jodie off at college all alone. You’ve read those statistics.

Michelle: Well, if you think so, I guess I agree.

Jodie: Great! Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad.

Daria: Mack, how many slots did they have when you called?

Mack: Three. So there’s still an opening.

Jodie: Jane, how about you? Let’s all do it!

Daria: It’s not like you’ll have anything better to do in that time slot. All the cool people are already signed up.

Mack: You know it’ll be full of hunky guys.

Jane: Guys, I’d really like to, but I don’t think I can afford it right now. Dad’s in Turkey, and the exchange rate for Turk Lira is lousy.

Andrew: Jane, if you would like to, will you allow me to pay for your lessons? Michelle and I really do want Jodie to be with her friends more.

Jane: Well, uh, I guess it doesn’t violate any of my core principles. Sure, Mr. Landon, that would be great! Thanks!

Mack (hands Jane a scrap of paper) Why don’t you call and reserve the slot, and I’ll go get my car and drive us down to sign up.

Mack: So, Jane, what’s your dad doing in Turkey?

Jane: He has a contract with their Ministry of Antiquities. He’s doing a photo essay on King Midas’ flush toilets.

Mack: King Midas was real? I don’t suppose he really had the Midas Touch?

Jane: Dad said his Midas Touch was really the location of his kingdom, Phrygia, athwart the Silk Road to China. Hey, I used "athwart" in a sentence!

Jodie: Mmm, silk. I wouldn’t mind importing a little silk from China.

Daria: You can, as soon as you get signed up. They have practice outfits just like what the actors wear in those old-timey kung fu movies. They’re real silk and they’re gorgeous.

Mack: Wow. Daria’s granting wishes left and right today. I wish Jodie and I could spend some time together at the pool. Daria, can you do that?

Daria: Granted. An hour a day, five days a week. I’ll even throw in extracurricular credit, if Jodie’ll help me with the paperwork.

Jodie: (gasps) Daria,don’t kid about something like that! That would be so great, if we could do it, but my parents would never let me have that much time, especially just after I dropped yearbook and piano lessons!

Daria: (sighs theatrically) Landon, your lack of confidence pains me. All right. I’ll... I’ll increase your IQ by five percent every month. I think your parents will approve that.

Jodie: (sadly) I knew it. You’re kidding. Not funny, Daria.

Daria: I am not kidding. The IQ boost is the object of the exercise. The catch is you have to actually swim, not just lay around looking hot. I found it on a cognitive-enhancement website. I can’t guarantee it works, but I’m going to try it.

Jodie: I think I love you! Uhh, but not in that way. But can I rip a whole hour out of every day? What time will this class be?

Daria: It’s not a class, just an exercise. We don’t all have to do it together, although that would be nice. What you do is...

Mack: (interrupts) This is the place, right?

Daria: Yeah, this is it.

Jodie: Mack, you should have gotten that silvery-gray one. You’d look so ho-err, sharp in it. (puts fingers to lips in "oops" gesture, might be blushing)

Mack: (grins) Ho-err Sharp, huh? In that case, I’l definitely get it.

Jane: (mischievous grin) Hey, look! A chicken place, just past that chinese place! Hey, Daria, want some chicken?

Daria: Hey, Jane, want an unscheduled kung fu lesson? Drive on!

Mack: Drivin’, Miss Daria.

La la LA la la

The End.

Well, that’s it- my second Daria fanfic. Hope you liked it. If you got this far, please tahe a ferw minutes to email me and let me know what you thought of it, or just that you read it. That’s all the pay we poor fanfic authors get, you know. My address is below.

Notes: 

IQ enhancement by swimming underwater- I really did see this on a cognitive-enhancement website about a year and a half ago. I was going to provide a link, but couldn’t find it again. Expanded carotid arteries = increased blood flow to brain = more oxygen = brain works better = higher IQ. I think it’s in a book by Win Wenger. I haven’t tried it.

Fight or Flight reflex- What I wrote is based partly on my experiences and partly on what I read about it- none of it very recent.

King Midas’s flush toilets- He had ‘em, I’ve seen ‘em. When I was at the palace dig, they hadn’t yet determined whether they were constant-flow or sluice gate operated. Parenthetically, his tomb is at the bottom of the world’s biggest burial mound- and still growing. He promised he’d grant a wish to anyone who’d schlep a basketful of dirt to the top of the mound and dump it. You can see it for about 30 miles. 

As I worked on this story, I began to feel a need not to go directly to the "Amy’s weekend visit" story (whatever that might turn out to be) but to write a Season One-ish story. Then last night (June 24) an idea came. Daria fixes a Lions football game by... writing a Melody Powers/Ratboy crossover fic. I see several possibilities here, and I want to be sure I go with the best one. It’s still just an idea, but I’m hoping it’ll help me get through the dark, bleak days ahead. As I type this, two hours ago, I finished taping #513, Boxing Daria. But I’m not going to kill myself. I’m not. I’m going to write "Blood Oath of the Patriots". (working title)

Disclaimer

 "Daria" and all related characters are trademarks of MTV Networks, a division of Viacom International, inc. The author does not claim copyright to these characters or to anything else in the "Daria" milieu; he does, however, claim copyright to all those parts of this work of fiction which are original to him and not to MTV or to other fanfic authors. This fanfic may be freely copied and distributed provided its contents remain unchanged, provided the author's name and email address are included, and provided that the distributor does not use it for monetary profit. (as if.)

  Galen Hardesty [gehardesty@yahoo.com]