_The Look-Alike Series_ Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit Episode 13 (Season 1 Finale): "The Flack-Jacket Mafia" prose adaptation by Austin Loomis "Want a revolution behind your eyes? You got to get up and organize" -- Lo Fidelity All Stars, "Battle Flag" (How to Operate with a Blown Mind) Quinn Morgendorffer came sauntering dreamily down the walk toward her home that night. "Well, well," the bane of her existence called down from above. "Running a little behind, aren't we?" Quinn went into instant panic mode as she realized what time it must be. "Omigod! I...Ted and I were looking at the stars in the park and I..." Leaning out the upstairs window, Quinn's brainy older sister Daria sighed. "You *know* what Mom said would happen the next time she caught you out after ten on a school night." "Omigod, omigod, omigod..." Another sigh. "I don't plan on making a habit of this, Quinn, but...go around to the back of the house, count to ten, and then come in. I'll distract the parental units." "Omigod, omigod..." She realized what Daria had just said. "*What?*" "Move, candy-fluff. Or you get grounded for the rest of your life with nothing but my books for company." *That* spurred Quinn to immediate compliance. * * * Down in the living room of Morgendorffer Home Base, Helen Morgendorffer (nee Barksdale) was pacing around outside the front door. Daria came down and looked at her mother. "Expecting visitors?" "I'm waiting for your sister, Daria," Helen snarled. "And you *don't* want to be here when I get hold of her. She will see her *college* graduation from that bedroom window she's so fond of sneaking in and out of!" "Quinn came home about a half-hour ago," Daria lied smoothly. "You were in the shower. Didn't Dad tell you?" Helen instantly got that "oh, my God, I'm a bad mother" look on her face. "You're saying Quinn's been in the house all this time," she asked warily, "and I haven't noticed?" Daria shrugged, giving herself a moment to think of a story with some factual basis. "Well, not strictly *in* the house." _She said she and the boy genius were looking at the stars._ "She went into the backyard to check out some constellations. I hear she's really into stargazing these days." Quinn made her entrance from above. "Um...hi..." she said rather tentatively. "Hi, Quinn," their mother said kindly. "How was your astronomy?" Quinn looked at Daria. Daria nodded, *very* slightly. Quinn shrugged. "It was okay, Mom. It got a bit cold, but I had fun. I'm ready for bed now, though. 'Night." "'Night, Quinn." Quinn headed back upstairs. "Nice save, Supermom," Daria observed wryly. Helen turned instantly defensive. "Well, I can't be expected to keep track of *everyone* around here!" There was a crash from above, and the voice of jesterfamilias Jake Morgendorffer floated down from the upstairs. "HELEN! GOD, FETCH THE JAWS OF LIFE!" A sigh. "I have enough on my plate with *one* overgrown child..." Daria smirked at that. * * * The next day at Lawndale High, Daria had just finished telling this tale to her look-alike, Lynn Cullen, who was standing on a pile of books while taping a piece of paper to the top of her locker door. The stack of books was badly balanced and, as such, was weaving slightly, and so, consequently, was Lynn. "So you bailed out Narcissa?" the Purple Peril boggled. "Are the nail polish fumes from her room finally going to your head?" "Well, I'm actually trying to encourage this budding relationship with Ted," Daria excused. "After all, she blew the Fashion Club to hell for him. I'm interested to see what other changes happen with him in her life." Lynn snickered as she stepped off the pile of books. "Well, if he couldn't have *one* Morgendorffer..." Daria glared at this invocation of her own brief entanglement with Ted DeWitt-Clinton. "Ha, ha. I've got enough men in my life to worry about, thank you." That obviously reminded Lynn, who asked, while stashing the books into her locker, "Did you ever take A.P. up on his `date-thing' offer? Daria had to blush at that. "Not yet. I've never been on a real date before and don't know what it'll be like." Lynn raised an eyebrow. "We're talking about A.P. here. I know him well. You will be whisked away for a romantic dinner for two at the BSE-burger purveyor of your choice, followed by blowing the virtual genitals off things in the local video arcade. If you're *really* lucky, he will spring for a trip to the movie theatre to see _The Phantom Menace_ for the fifty-third time, may the hype die and be forever buried." She slammed her locker shut. "No problem." "That sounds harmless," Daria mused. "Maybe I *should* take him up on it." Their artist friend Jane Lane arrived just then. "Take who up on what?" "You tell her. I left my notebook in the computer lab. Later." She made her exit, leaving Jane to look at Lynn expectantly. "A.P.," Lynn explained. "Date-thing." "Aw, man," Jane Kevin-moaned. "That leaves me alone in the house with Trent. You can't subject me to this torture. Whenever Daria's not around, he starts playing sad music...and he doesn't know enough chords to do it properly. How many times can I listen to `Without You I'm Nothing' without being sick?" Lynn thought a moment, but finally conceded, "Probably longer than I could." _He's *your* brother, after all._ "You're the devious one," Jane whined. "Can *you* think of a way to stop Trent's mangling of romantic slush?" Lynn considered this a moment. "Well...you could tell him about the potential Daria/A.P. date-thing. That would probably make him trash his guitar again, and you'd have peace until he could afford a new one." Jane gave her what a great writer once described as "a look that only a lungfish could have copied," and Lynn conceded the contest. "Or I could go talk him around. That *is* what you hoped I'd say, isn't it?" "And you fell ever-so-neatly into my trap, too." "Former life as a trapdoor spider?" Jane smirked, remembering Daria's guess on her previous incarnations. "Well, that's one up from a barnacle..." * * * Daria walked into the computer room and approached a desk in the far corner, where her notebook was resting. "Hey, Erudite Emerald!" cried a voice. The owner of that voice, A.P. McIntyre, popped up from behind a computer and made his way toward Daria. "Hey," she blushed. "So," he wondered shyly, "any thought to the date-thing?" She felt her blush deepen. "Um..." He realized he might be coming on too strong. "Hey, no pressure. I..." Jodie Landon, cured superstudent and auxiliary cynic, poked her head into the room, looking a bit wild-eyed. "Have you two been past the bulletin board today?" Daria was instantly suspicious. "No...Why?" Jodie got a trapped look on her face. "Um...I..." She sighed. "I think you ought to see for yourself." Their curiosity piqued, they made their way to the board. Lynn and Jane were already staring at it, completely deadpan. Daria and A.P. joined them, Daria standing to Jane's left, and for a moment they all stood there in a row, just staring at the notice. If you looked at it from the viewpoint of the hidden camera behind the board, their comments ran neatly from left to right. (No, they didn't *know* if there really was a hidden camera -- I don't either, to be honest -- but given that Principal Angela Li's motto for Lawndale High was "High Security for High Performance," none of us would have been particularly surprised to learn of one.) "Damn," Lynn led off flatly. "Someone up there really cannot take a joke." The phrase that provided the poster's title had been her coinage, sure, but she'd never expected it to become a weapon against her and her friends. "I don't even *wear* a flack jacket," Jane chimed in with a faux- dismissive air. "Great," Daria droned. "Now I'm a ringleader." A.P. was more pensive. "Does anyone else see the irony of Ms. Li persecuting so-called Neo-Nazis?" The notice that incited these comments looked very much like a WANTED poster for the four of them. It bore the title THE FLACK-JACKET MAFIA in big black block capitals across the top. In much smaller type below each picture was a dossier, only slightly exaggerated, on that picture's subject. "This sucks..." Lynn muttered. Daria frowned slightly as she read the dossiers. "No, sorry, I *was* the ringleader...then Lynn came and usurped me." "...and bites..." A little clearer that time. Jane continued acting persnickety. "I mean, it's just a man's shirt!" "... and utterly, utterly *blows!*" That one came out in an angry hiss. A.P. looked at his colleague nervously. "Lynn? Blowing your stack is *not* going to help our case any..." Daria was concerned. "Is she okay?" She'd seen people get well and truly mad before -- her father, for instance, or Mr. DeMartino -- but she'd never been actively worried that either of *those* poster-children for the psychological damage done by military school was going to "physically kill" someone (as Mr. Buzzcut had once threatened Beavis and Butt-Head back in Highland). Jane, on the other hand, seemed more aesthetically interested than emotionally concerned. "Yeah, she's turning a really weird shade of maroon..." "This happens," A.P. replied, "but I've never seen her this bad." He spoke to Lynn in soothing tones. "Come on, Lynn, chill, okay? Don't give the Nazi Jackboot the satisfaction..." Daria was still nervous. "When you say `this happens'..." A.P. turned to Art-Smart Scarlet. "You're an artist; you'd be familiar with the idea of an emotional landscape?" Now Jane turned suspicious. "Yeah..." "Well, Lynn's contains a number of *extremely* active volcanoes." He might have been offering a weather forecast for Madagascar. He turned to Lynn, exasperated. "Oh, for...*vent,* Lynn. Vent before you have a stroke." There was another moment of silence while Lynn just seethed some more. Then at least one of those active volcanoes erupted. "I'M AS MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE!" That said, she just stood there, fists clenched, breathing hard. Daria stared, wide-eyed. "Whoa. You weren't kidding." "Feel better?" AP asked. "I...want...revenge," Lynn hissed. "You remember the information I was saving back for an emergency?" "The deadly ace?" Jane replied. "The death card?" Lynn's eyes narrowed. "Well, it's time to use it." Tentatively, not really sure what answer she wanted to hear, Daria wondered, "You're not going to...kill her, are you?" Lynn allowed herself a small smile. "Nope. I have better ways to spend my life than behind bars. Discredit her, embarrass her, strip her of all power and probably get her arrested...but not kill her." She put a hand out, palm down. "Who's with me?" "All the way, Purple Peril!" A.P. replied with a manic grin as he put his hand on Lynn's. Jane had to consider this a moment. "Why not?" she finally decided. "I had nothing else planned..." With that, she put her hand on A.P.'s. The three of them looked at Daria, who looked back stoically. "Oh...what the hell," she finally concluded and added her hand to the top of the stack. "So," A.P. wondered, "do we have a plan?" Lynn frowned for a moment, then looked up with an evil smile. "Indeed." She looked around. "I hate to sound paranoid, but..." "Just because you're paranoid," came Daria's deadpan reply, "doesn't mean they haven't bugged the school." A sigh. "I'd laugh at that if it weren't so true. My house?" "How many times is Subversion_Is_We going to save our butts?" Jane wondered. A smirk. "We're going a little further than *reading* this time..." * * * Daria saw Kevin Thompson, the Lions' quarterback, leaning on her locker, talking to his girlfriend and fellow brain donor Brittany Taylor. As usual, she reached into her jacket for the whistle she knew she could blow to send Lobotomy Ken racing off toward the goalposts in his mind and Ponytail Barbie after him in a huff. This time, though, Kevin caught the movement of her hand into her jacket, out of the corner of his eye, and ran off as if she'd pulled a gun, Brittany trailing behind with a nervous look. Daria stared at the whistle, shrugged and opened her locker. * * * In art class, Claire Defoe watched nervously as Jane plied a sculptor's knife. Jane looked at her and raised an eyebrow, as if to say "what?" Defoe looked away, nervous, probably still remembering how Jane and Lynn, in their "My Dream Day at Greenvale High" project, had depicted "Dana Crusoe" being bloodily mutilated by "Martin DeAntonio" with just such a knife. * * * A.P., sitting at one of the lab computers, typed in his password. The screen informed him, PASSWORD LOCKED OUT. He scowled at the machine. * * * The members of the Flack-Jacket Mafia were standing in a line by the lockers. Ms. Li was conducting a spot locker check, poking around in Daria's locker with the Hindenburg poster. * * * Lynn went up to the library checkout desk with a book titled _The Nazi Death Camps: What School History Books Won't Tell_. The librarian looked at her nervously and shook her head. Lynn scowled, slammed the book down and walked away. * * * Jane stood in front of her half-finished sculpture and looked around for a sculpting knife. The relevant drawer in the supplies cabinet, on the near side of the arts room, had a padlock on it. Jane scowled at Defoe, who had the key to that lock around her neck and was watching Jane with a combination of fear and sympathy. * * * Daria, Jane, Lynn and A.P. were walking down the hall. Sandi Griffin and Tiffany Blum-Deckler, the remnants of the Fashion Club, who'd been walking and chatting in front of them, suddenly rushed out of the way, tripping over each other in their haste. The foursome glared at them and moved on. * * * Up in the padded room, Daria was doing homework at her desk when Quinn popped her head around the door. "Daria," Narcissa led off hopefully, "I wanted to get a new dress for my date with Ted tomorrow and I'm *really* broke right now...so am I ready to learn how to get more money out of Mom?" Daria sighed morosely. A promise was a promise, but still... "I'd wait a few weeks. The teacher I had in mind's not in the best of mental states right now." "Is that the girl that looks like you?" A nod. "Her name is Lynn. You saw the poster, I guess." "Oh, yeah. The whole school has. Everyone's really scared of you guys now." Quinn seemed reluctant to say the next part. "They say you and Lynn drove Mr. O'Neill nuts." Another sigh. "That would explain the weird looks I've been getting from the teachers." Quinn seemed curious. "Did that A.P. guy *really* kill a teacher at his old school?" "Oh, God," Daria moaned, "and we're on the rumor mill. No, A.P. didn't kill anyone; he just made the man go postal." Quinn nodded sagely. "So you're *not* a gang." "Not a gang, not a clique, not a club or cohesive group of any kind. We have no hidden agenda." She thought a moment about that last sentence, then corrected it. "Well, we didn't *used* to, anyway." Quinn stared at Daria for that one, but Erudite Emerald just shrugged and turned back to her homework. * * * The next day, Daria was standing by her locker, looking through it, when Jodie again approached nervously. "Hey, Daria," the Overachiever led off tremulously. Daria was starting to get seriously exasperated. "Not you too, Jodie. *You* know that stuff on the poster is total fabrication." A sigh. "Yeah, but...well, the rumors have started up." Another sigh. "I heard. -- What this time?" "That A.P. is thinking of using the plan he came up with to blow up the school for real." Jane approached, looking a bit shaken, and giving Jodie a perfect excuse to run like the wind. "What's wrong?" Daria asked. "I just got approached by Upchuck." Daria frowned. "What's so new about that?" "For one thing, he's been scared of us since Lynn's first day." Daria smirked as she remembered how Lynn had finally got Charles Ruttheimer III, God's gag gift to women, out of their hair. "Threats of castration will do that to a man." "And for another thing, he kept talking about a menage a trois." Daria felt an eyebrow rising. "*What?*" Jane shrugged. "Word got around that, while you're A.P.'s moll, I have a `thing' for Lynn. Upchuck wanted to join us for a `romp.'" She seemed to be doing a lot of sighing lately. "So I'm a moll now. Great. Who's starting these rumors anyway?" Another shrug. "Well, *that* one's not going any further anyway. Lynn got to him first, and those extremely active volcanoes in her emotional landscape took him out, *big* time." Daria felt her eyes widen this time. "And she's not here because..." Jane confirmed her fears with a rueful smirk. "Ms. Li's office." Lynn approached then, looking immensely pleased with herself. "Well, *that* went according to plan." Daria's mind was just about blown. "You *planned* to get hauled up on the carpet?" "Happy accident. I was pretty sure that, with the rumors flying everywhere, I'd have cause to beat *someone* up over them." She smirked semi-evilly. "The fact that it was Hefner's Folly was an added bonus." "So why'd you want Ms. Li to scream at you?" Jane wondered with a smirk of her own. "Masochistic tendencies finally showing up?" Lynn's eyebrow rose. "What do you mean, *finally?*" She gave them a moment to bask in that, then explained, "I wanted a good look at the surveillance gear in her office. I don't want any nasty surprises after hours." "What *are* we doing, anyway?" Daria wondered. "We talked about a lot of things, but you never gave us your ace in the hole." A sigh. "I want to leave you guys out of it as much as possible for now. If I go down, I'm not interested in taking you with me." "One question," Jane just had to ask. "Why did we have to track down the offices of _Sick, Sad World_?" Another smirk. "Did you ever want to be on television?" Daria and Jane looked questioningly at each other. Lynn just crossed her arms and smirked at them. * * * Outside Lawndale High that night, Daria and Jane were standing beside a utility pole, both wearing black. "Why are we here, exactly?" Daria wondered. "Lynn said to meet her here," Jane reminded her friend. "Are *you* going to argue with her? "I guess not. I don't want A.P. and I to be labelled the latter- day Bonnie and Clyde until my senior year. Notoriety gives me hives." Jane smirked at that. "I thought that was just my brother," she invoked the rash that had put Daria in Cedars of Lawndale for some useless tests. Daria frowned. "Jane, have you been comatose the last few weeks?" A shrug. "Sorry. Force of habit." A Doc Marten fell out of the sky, hitting Jane on the head. "*Ow!*" Now it was Daria's turn to smirk. "Divine retribution?" "Indeed. Grovel before me whenever you're ready." Daria and Jane looked up to see where that voice had come from. Lynn, dressed in black and carrying a bulging book bag, was at the top of the utility pole, missing one boot and smirking. "What are you doing up there?" "Reconnaissance." Jane rubbed her head. "Next time, wear sneakers or something, okay? Those things *hurt!*" _Even worse than paintballs!_ "Hence the name of shit-kickers." She came down off the pole and put her boot back on. "So what's the plan?" Daria wondered. "We go in, get the information we need, wipe all evidence of our passing and leave. Then we put the information together and drop a tape off at the offices of our favorite TV show. After that..." She grinned a decidedly evil grin. "...we just sit back and watch the fun." "And how do you plan to do *that?*" Jane boggled. "The place is locked tight." "Two things. One..." Lynn removed some lock-picking equipment from the book bag. "A skeleton key. Two..." A.P. ambled around a corner. "Hello, fellow conspirators!" "A code-breaker." * * * A flashlight beam shone into Ms. Li's office. A moment later, Daria, Lynn, Jane and A.P. walked in, turning on the lights as they entered the room. "Man," A.P. observed smugly, "that was almost *too* easy!" "Don't *say* things like that!" Lynn hissed. "If you *think* they're too easy, they usually have been. -- A.P., you and Jane go find the control room for the surveillance cameras. Turn everything off. Wipe *everything.* Clean off any fingerprints and make it look as accidental as you can. And you *know* what to do if you run into the sniffer dogs." Jane smirked as the mention of A.P.'s home-brew knockout gas reminded her of something. "Bet you wish you'd had that stuff back at The Horn Dog, Lynn." "Execute plan to kill Ms. Li's career now. Mock me and my misfortunes later. *Move!*" Jane and A.P. moved, leaving Daria and Lynn to wander through Ms. Li's office. Lynn set her book bag down on the desk and removed a digital video camera from it. "What are we looking for?" Daria wondered. Lynn spied something at the corner of the room. "That. Hand me your glasses." Daria was taken somewhat aback. *What?*" "Hand...me...your...glasses," Lynn repeated firmly, as if talking to a small child. "Look, I know what I'm doing. Trust me." Daria looked at Lynn scathingly, and Lynn sighed. "Even if it *is* only marginally farther than you can throw me." Daria sighed and handed over her glasses. Lynn assessed her a moment. "Better...now tie your hair back." She hauled a scrunchie out of her pocket. "Lynn..." Daria warned her look-alike. * * * "We turned off the cameras," Jane pointed out as they made their way back down the hall. "Why are we skulking?" A.P. seemed confused. "`Skulking'?" "You know...creeping, sneaking...don't you *know* the word?" He turned defensive. "Hey...I code for fun. I don't *need* `the word.'" Jane shook her head and sighed. "Why Daria's bothering with *you* I'll never know..." They were approaching the door to Ms. Li's office. "What do you think they're *doing* in there, anyway?" "She wouldn't tell *you* either, huh?" "Hey...Purple Peril walks alone." From the other side of the door, they heard a rather loud electronic squealing noise and a few miserable gurgles. They looked at each other, slightly scared. "Um..." "You go in first." A.P. shook his head firmly. "Huh-uh. Together." Just as they were opening the door, the electronic squealing got louder, and so did the tortured gurgles. They hastily slammed the door shut, their eyes wide. "Are *you* gonna ask?" "No way." He was eerily reminded of back in first grade, when the class hamster Fuzz-Wuzz had died and the Purple Peril had adapted the Dead Parrot Sketch for its eulogy. Probably the phrase _This hamster wouldn't VOOM! if you put forty thousand volts through it_ inspired the connection. * * * When they reached the Mercedes, which legally belonged to Lynn's mother but which the Purple Peril got more actual use out of, she went to the trunk and put her book bag in. Jane and A.P. were staring at her. She finally noticed and looked up, annoyed. "Will you stop *staring* at me like that? Daria, *you* explain." "How, if you won't explain it to *me?*" "I got you angry, then hooked you up to Ms. Li's polygraph machine and told you to think lies. Then I had you make believe you were being electrocuted while your increased pulse rate made the machine go bonkers -- it was the closest thing I could get hold of to something your average peon would think was an electrocution kit. Now, you were acting like you were being given electric shock treatments for a reason. Three guesses." "You want people to think this is a standard form of punishment at Lawndale High." Lynn smirked. "Bob, tell her what she's won! -- Seriously, though, that first day at Lawndale I happened on some *very* interesting reading material on Ms. Li's desk. That's my ace." "*What* reading material?" "A memo she sent to you guys, for one. One that talks about urine samples and sniffer dogs and all that malarkey she's been spending the school budget on for years." "That didn't sound so bad," Jane reflected. "It does if you remove the word `voluntary.'" "Come on," A.P. insisted skeptically, "that *can't* be it. You never explained the electrocution thing." He'd refrained from pointing out that a polygraph isn't a literal "lie detector" -- it picks up on the skewed vital signs of those who are nervous about being found out -- since Daria's heightened heart rate had served the Peril's purpose and explaining the real science would serve *no* purpose. "Li wrote a letter to George W. Bush. She wants to see his electric chair so she can build a model to show students where they may wind up if they don't walk the straight and narrow. *That* beauty doesn't even *need* doctoring. She's asked for another chair, too." _She won't ever *get* that one, since Gary Gilmore died by firing squad, but it's not my fault she's so pig-ignorant._ "And it never says anything about the chairs not being *working* models." "So," Daria put 17 and 23 together, "with that footage of me getting `shock treatment'... " Lynn imitating the voice of a familiar announcer. "Detention... suspension...or should class-cutters ride the lightning? One high school principal's shocking decision, next on _Sick, Sad World_!" "Here we go again..." Daria groaned as visions of alien love goddesses danced in her head. A.P. sighed. "Another in-joke." "You get used to it," Lynn shrugged. * * * The Mercedes pulled up in front of Morgendorffer Home Base. Daria got out, and the car pulled away. Daria ambled toward the house in a tired sort of way -- after all, it was quite late. Then she heard Quinn's shocked voice from an upstairs window. "*God,* Daria, where *were* you? Mom's pitching a *fit!*" Daria checked her watch and realized *how* late it was. "Aw, hell." With a sigh, she resigned herself to the inevitable. "Go ahead. Tell." Quinn thought a moment -- Daria could hear the gears grinding and smell the smoke. "I think I might do that," she announced after consideration. "Whatever I say, go along with it, okay? Daria was instantly suspicious. "But..." "*Trust me!*" Quinn hissed, then called out, "MOM! DARIA'S HOME!" * * * In the kitchen, Helen was pacing the floor in front of the kitchen table. Daria was sitting at the table, looking tired and miserable. Quinn was leaning in the doorway. "I don't *believe* you did this, Daria! I mean, what was it this time, planning more antisocial behavior with your little friends? You're supposed to be the *sensible* one, and I don't see why you can't show a *little* more responsibility..." "Oh, that's *great,* Daria," Quinn interjected snidely. "Let her play right into your hands so she doesn't know what you've *really* been up to!" Helen turned instantly suspicious. "What are you talking about, Quinn?" Quinn got the same smug look she'd worn after convincing Jake that his wife was wrong about double-dating without another girl. "I guess you haven't told Mom about your *boyfriend,* Daria!" You could have knocked Helen over with a feather. "*Boyfriend?* Is this *true,* Daria?" Daria said nothing, but Helen could guess well enough what that blush meant. She went from steel to sap in under five seconds. "*Daria!* If I'd known you were *seeing* someone..." If they could have bottled the smile on her face, the Morgendorffer household could cut its electric bill in half. "Well, that changes *everything!* Look, we'll let this slide for now, but..." She gave up the attempt to be stern. "Just remember to call if you're going to be later than eleven from now on, okay?" Daria was frankly flabbergasted. "But my curfew is..." "You're *not* getting your curfew extended any *further,*" her mother warned her with a rueful smile, "so you can *forget* it. I've heard it all before from Quinn. Now, don't forget it's a school night." And she walked out. Daria looked at Quinn in pure shock. "How did you know *that* would work?" "On *me,* it wouldn't. But whenever I tell her I've been studying, she gets like that, because she wants me to be more like you sometimes, so..." Daria was beginning to catch on. "So if she heard *I* was on a *date,* she'd get like that because she wants *me* to be more like *you* sometimes. -- Maybe we *are* related, after all." "So *now* am I ready to get more money out of Mom?" Daria regarded her nemesister for a moment. "We'll see," she finally decided. "I'll ask." She turned away and headed toward the stairs, then stopped in her tracks. Without turning back, reluctant even to think it, she said it. "Quinn...thanks." And with that, she walked off up the stairs. Quinn just stood there a moment, stunned, gaping at the spot Daria had vacated. "I lied for Daria. -- She *thanked* me." * * * The next day found Daria, Jane and Lynn leaning against the lockers. "Are you *sure* this will work?" Jane wondered. "As sure as I am of *any* of these schemes," Lynn assured her. "The uncertainty is half the fun. And anyway, I know she won't be held for child abuse. I just figure if they get hold of her for *one* thing..." Daria began to catch on. "People will be checking her out *very* carefully." Lynn smirked evilly. "And the years of embezzlement will be brought to light. -- Where's A.P., anyway? He'll kick himself if he misses this." Speaking of the Devil, or at least of a Servitor of Kobal, A.P. himself came rushing down the corridor just then, an excited grin glued to his face. As he was reaching the girls, two policemen barged through the corridor and into Ms. Li's office, followed closely by a camera crew. The video camera bore a familiar eye-in-the-target logo. A man with a microphone began to speak into it in familiar deep, overblown tones. "Detention...suspension...or should class-cutters ride the lightning? A high-school administrator's *shocking* decision as she experiments with capital punishment, next on _Sick, Sad World_!" Lynn shook her head in mock sorrow. "And they barely changed my tag line." The policemen came out of Ms. Li's office with Ms. Li in tow -- literally, as she was handcuffed to one of the policemen. "Now I never claimed to have any fashion sense," Daria observed, "but that's one bracelet I think really suits her." A.P. was suitably impressed. "Wow, Purple Peril, this goes *beyond* beyond!" Lynn struck an "aw, shucks" pose. "You're making me blush." Ms. Li caught sight of the foursome and exploded in rage. "I *know* you four are responsible! I don't know *how* you did it, or *how* I can prove it, but *you* did this to me! I'll see you *hanged,* young persons!" There was probably more, but she was dragged away then, so they didn't get to hear it. Lynn smirked. "That's really going to help her case..." Tim O'Neill, the ubermushy language-arts teacher, came up to the gang then, looking miserable and tormented. "Um," he quavered, "we're going to have to shut down school early for the Christmas holiday. I'm...I'm sure this whole...misunderstanding will be sorted out by then... I mean, Ms. Li wouldn't...would she?" Let it never be said that the Purple Peril let an opportunity slip through her fingers. "I don't *think* so...but then, electric shock treatments have been known to affect the memory. Haven't they..." She turned to Daria in mock confusion. "What's your name again?" Daria picked up her cue without missing a beat. "I was hoping you could tell me." Jane shrugged. "Later, Mr. Onassis! Or is that O'Gilvie?" This was the last straw for the Wimp-in-the-Willows. He curled up in a little weeping ball on the floor and began to rock gently. He didn't seem to be chanting any of the Mantria one might expect in his situation -- no "Make it stop, Joel" or "Can't sleep, clowns'll eat me" -- but it was clear to any onlooker that his mind had snapped like the inevitable dry twig in a Fenimore Cooper novel. The gang looked at him, completely deadpan. "So ... who wins the pool?" A.P. wondered. He'd considered the Iron Maiden, on the basis of how she'd react when she discovered his level of athletic skill, or Doctor Fraud, on the principle that insanity is contagious, but wound up betting on the Penny-Puncher, on the grounds that it's always the quiet ones. Daria considered. Technically, this probably counted as a win for Lynn, as she'd pegged Li to be gone "before Easter" while Jane hadn't expected O'Neill to cave until the spring semester, but the revelation of Lynn's insider knowledge made her whole bet suspect. In the end, Erudite Emerald just settled for a Mona Lisa smirk. "Let's call it a draw. Everybody's a winner." Jane seemed surprised. "Is that coming out of the mouth of the `Glass Is Half-Empty' poster child?" Daria shrugged. "We all have our moments." * * * "So who do you think will replace Ms. Li?" Daria asked as they all walked the streets of Lawndale toward their homes. Lynn shrugged. "Dunno. I hope we have one of those nameless, faceless bozos who hides in his or her office and is scared to death of the students like in *normal* schools." "So...pizza?" Jane asked hopefully. A sigh. "One more mouthful of pizza sauce might make me break out in hives, but..." A.P. grinned. "Live a little, Purple Peril!" And they all went strolling off into the sunset. "God, I wish I had prescription sunglasses," Daria sighed. "No kidding," Lynn agreed. ADAPTOR'S NOTES The "This is an ex-hamster" incident is from the timeline of Lynn and A.P.'s relationship, which Jan was good enough to send me. Thanks to CB for suggesting the Psycho-Maverick's back-up candidates (they're whom she would have had him pick if she'd thought of it), and for giving the reasons why he didn't correct her on the science of a polygraph (or something like the reasons I used, anyhoo). Kobal is the Demon Prince of Dark Humor in Steve Jackson Games' _In Nomine_, the role-playing game of Judeo-Christian mythology (yes, I *know* the Apostle Rufus says God gets all peeved when people call it mythology, but whatever Her personal feelings, I'm sure She's got a sense of humor, unlike Jehovah -- in fact, that was probably a key factor in Their divorce). If anyone out there plays _In Nomine_ and has a better idea what Superior A.P. would be working for, drop me a line and I may include it in an eventual remastering. "Mantria" is the plural of "Mantrium" from SubGenius terminology. Obligatory legal blap: Daria Morgendorffer was created (as were the rest of the Lawndale characters) by Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis Lynn, and she and her neighbors are copyright 1993, 1997, 2000 MTV Networks, a Viacom company. (As Michelle Klein-Haess has pointed out, work-for-hire sucks the yolks from ostrich eggs.) Monty Python quotes and characters are copright 1970, 2000 Python (Monty) Pictures Ltd. They are here used, without the permission of their creators or owners, in the not-for-profit context of fan-fiction. The characters of Lynn Cullen and A.P. McIntyre are copyright 1999, 2000 Janet "Canadibrit" Neilson, as is this storyline, which was adapted by Austin Loomis (to whom the prose format version is copyright 2000) with permission. All other characters, locations and incidents (of which I don't think there are any, actually) are either imaginary or used fictitiously. Any coincidence of names is regretted, and any resemblance to persons living, dead, undead, or wandering the night in ghostly torment is either purely satirical or not my fault. As a "substantially transformative" derivative work, this story is protected by the Supreme Court's decision in re Campbell v. Acuff Rose Music. It may be freely redistributed as long as this copyright notice is maintained intact, but may not be in any way redistributed for profit without the permission of the legal owners of all concepts involved. The present author hereby gives permission for any and all keepers of Daria fanfic pages to archive this work (as if I could stop them). Any publication of this story for profit without the express written permission of Austin Loomis, Janet Neilson and MTV Networks (like any of that'll happen, especially the last) is strictly prohibited, and violators, if I ever decide to track them down, will be strung up by the thumbs, beaten about the head and shoulders with a free-range carrot, and then handed over to corporate lawyers who will do terrible things to them. On purpose. Austin, and good day.