_The Look-Alike Series_ Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit Season 2, episode 12: "It's a Passable Life" (Chaos Theory and Practice, II) prose adaptation by Austin Loomis "May you gain the notice of those in high places, May you live in interesting times, And may your every wish come true." -- traditional Chinese curse ACT 1: WOULD? (HIGH PLACES) "This is the butterfly of the storm. "It flaps its wings." -- Terry Pratchett, _Interesting Times_ Lynn Cullen and longtime partner-in-crime Andrew Philip McIntyre were seated at a table in the Lawndale High cafeteria. "So it all worked out in the end?" Lynn confirmed. With no irony that A.P. could discern, she added, "I'm glad." "Yeah, well," he allowed as, "it's nice to know that we can be... you know...adult about these things." He paused to gather his courage, such as it was. "So...and hit me if I'm prying but...I guess you know I know about you and Sir Naps-a-Lot?" Lynn was wary of being questioned on the New Year's incident. "Yeah..." The Psycho-Maverick seemed hesitant to continue. "Well...you and he...you're..." Lynn sighed loud and long. "There has been no real discussion about Trent and I becoming an item as yet. I suppose it's possible -- although perhaps it smacks slightly too much of Donny and Marie." "Come again?" Lynn rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to explain...but her look-alike, Daria Morgendorffer, approached the table from A.P.'s side carrying a bag lunch, and their other friend, Jane Lane, approached from Lynn's side with a tray. Each stopped as she saw the other approaching, and they glared at each other. Lynn and A.P. looked at the two in confusion. "Hi, guys," Lynn greeted them. "The school food might bite, but the seats don't..." Daria and Jane broke their glares and turned away, walking off in deliberately opposite directions and finding tables. Lynn and A.P. look at Daria, then at Jane, then at each other. "So," A.P. wondered, "now what?" "You talk to Daria. I'll talk to Jane. We meet up later and compare notes." They nodded at each other and got up. * * * Later, A.P. wandered up to Lynn's locker with his report. "Two words and two words only. `Not speaking.'" Lynn groaned as her fears were confirmed. "Oh yeah. We may as well just rename them Scylla and Charybdis." A.P. got Greek mythology references about like Daria's bubbly younger sister Quinn (half-sister, actually, but Lynn didn't know that) got abstract art. "Come again?" "You are Daria's boyfriend and therefore exempt from this. But I am what is known as the mutual friend and therefore am expected to take sides by both parties." She extended her right hand. "Rock." Her left hand. "Hard place." She brought her hands together. "Me." "Oh. Yeah. Ouch. So what are you going to do?" "Take the fence-sitter line. Encourage both of them to put aside their differences and be neutral. What else is there to do?" "So you have to be...um...diplomatic?" He stifled a snigger, poorly. "Good luck..." She punched him, not quite 100% playfully, on the shoulder. He grinned. She sighed. * * * Daria and Lynn were standing at the lockers. Jane passed by, and she and Daria glare at each other. Lynn rolled her eyes at this display, but waited until Jane was out of sight before speaking her mind. "Isn't this getting a little excessive?" "She all but called me a bossy arrogant cold fish," Daria replied. "And you called her...what was it again? Oh yeah, sounded a lot like `whining manipulative man-trap.'" "If the boot fits..." Under her breath, she added, "I wish I'd never been her friend at all." Lynn turned on Daria angrily. "I always knew you were a little defensive, but I never thought you were stupid." Daria was shocked nearly beyond the capacity for speech, but managed to reply, "Excuse me?" "You don't know *what* your life would have been like -- what *any* of our lives would have been like -- if you and Jane hadn't been friends. I mean, remember chaos theory -- a butterfly flaps its wings in Kyoto and a hurricane levels Philadelphia." "I think you're being over-simplistic..." "I think *you're* being narrow-minded and stubborn. Every little thing we do changes the world -- even if it *is* in a small and potentially detrimental way. Just remember that before you make stupid little wishes without remembering that there are consequences." She stormed off, leaving Daria completely thrown. Slowly, carefully, Daria said to nobody in particular, "Um... okay..." * * * That night in her padded room, Daria sat on her bed in her normal night- wear of scrub shirt and boxers, despondent. "This is stupid. I mean, why should I be getting so upset over this? What do I care what Jane thinks of me? Or Lynn?" Something occurred to her. "I'm doing it again. Talking to myself and waiting for a reply. And even though I realize this, I have yet to stop." She considered that. "Oh, shut up and go to bed, Daria!" And she promptly followed her own advice and turned out the lights. * * * Daria found herself in her daywear -- T-shirt, skirt, boots, green jacket -- standing in the center of a large darkened space, confused as to how, exactly, she'd gotten there (wherever "there" was). "Hello..." she said tentatively. A voice came out of the gloom. "Daria, right?" The owner of the voice moved forward and revealed herself to be a young woman in her mid-twenties. She had long dark hair and green eyes, and wore jeans, a T-shirt and a long black duster coat. "Yes. Who are you? And where are we?" "They call me Celeste. And we are currently inhabiting limbo. Welcome to it. Shouldn't be too much different from...Lawndale, wasn't it?" She pulled a notebook out of her pocket and flipped through it faster than anyone should be able to. "Yep, Lawndale. That's the one." "How did you know my name?" "Part of the job description," Celeste replied. "What job description?" "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." "Try me." "Guardian angel." She was right -- Daria *didn't* believe it. *Any* of it. "I'm dreaming," she insisted, mainly for her own benefit. "First singing in a hurricane, then anthropomorphic personifications of the holidays, now guardian angels. My subconscious mind hates me." "Wake up then." There was a pause as Daria tried to do just that -- and failed. "Fine. I'll accept that. But that's not proof that you're an angel." "I took you to limbo and you *still* don't believe me." "I'm an agnostic. I don't take leaps of faith." Celeste sighed, pulled a cellular phone out of her pocket and hit a button, presumably a speed-dial setting. In the time it took her to get the phone to her ear, she presumably got pickup at the other end, because she started talking into it almost at once. "It's Celeste. What the Hell are you pulling here?" Daria could half-hear incoherent squawking from the other end. "She doesn't believe a word of this. You assign me a teen and it's a freaking *agnostic,* for crying out loud!" More squawking. "Do you have any idea how overdone that is?" *Loud* squawking. "Okay, okay; I'll do it but this had *better* mean a good grade." She hit the END button and pocketed the phone with a sigh. "Fine. You know you're not dreaming. So here's some proof for you." She took off her jacket, revealing a fairly impressive set of wings protruding from her back. They looked a lot more realistic than the wings Matt Damon and Ben Affleck had had in the final scenes of _Dogma_ when Loki and Bartleby appear in their full Heavenly glory -- their wings were hinged in the middle if you looked closely enough, while these were articulated more like a real bird's wings. She ruffled the feathers on them, then fanned them out and beat them a few times, carrying herself several inches into the air. "Impressed?" "Um...if it was a movie, no. If this is real, yes." "So that settles the belief issue." As Celeste settled to the ground and slipped her regulation _City of Angels_ coat back on, something obviously registered. "That was *you* that got those slacker punks back to the Island? I'm impressed. This shouldn't be too hard *after* all." Daria was amazed and appalled. "That *happened?*" "Sure. It was a big thing in the immortal realm, you know." "I don't think I can take this." "Don't let it get you down. Anyway, I'm basically here to show you the world you might have inhabited if you and Jane hadn't become friends." "Oh, *God,* now I'm having an _It's a Wonderful Life_ experience." "Hey, look; this is *not* my idea. Basically it breaks down like this -- I do the _It's a Wonderful Life_ thing, you learn a valuable lesson, I go back with a really good performance review and maybe get promoted to muse. That's how it works. Let's go." "Go where?" "Where the streets have no name?" "Great," Daria sighed. "Not only have I now got a guardian angel, she's a U2 fan." ACT 2: PAST THE PLACES (INTERESTING TIMES) "Out of the island, into the highway Past the places where you might have turned Never did notice, but you still hide away the Anger of angels who won't return" -- Vertical Horizon, "Everything You Want" Daria and Celeste materialize in the middle of a Lawndale sidewalk, near a gas station. People sort of wandered around them without seeing them, raising a logistical question in Daria's mind. "So is this like _It's a Wonderful Life_ as in people will see me but not know me, or like _A Christmas Carol_ where people can't see or hear me?" "Like _A Christmas Carol_, if you must know," Celeste replied. "For now, anyway. Have a look." They watched as a very familiar young man -- thin with raven hair -- pumped gas into an equally familiar yellow convertible. The driver got out of the car and leaned over to the attendant. "And, like, I want those windows *sparkling* when I get back," Sandi Griffin said in her usual imperious way. "I mean, when you look as good as *I* do, being seen through grubby car windows is *such* a crime." "Sure," Trent Lane grumbled. "No problem." Sandi walked into the little snack shack. Daria was shocked. "He got a *job?* He always said he'd never... but what does this have to do with me and Jane not being friends?" "Well, you remember going to Alternapalooza?" Celeste quizzed her. "You're not going to show me some flashback, are you?" "Of course not. There's nothing to flash back *to.* You didn't *go,* because Jane didn't *invite* you. In fact, you don't know that Trent *exists.*" "At least *one* thing's right in this universe." "And you weren't around to give those words of encouragement that got him to stick with his dreams. So he went out and got the first job he could find, leaving Mystik Spiral completely in the lurch." _Think of something else to ask her, Morgendorffer or whatever your name is. It'll save you from having to work out the logistics of kicking yourself in the ass for that last comment._ "And what happens to Lynn without the band? She was almost enjoying that." "You'll find out about that in awhile. Can we just get on with standard operating procedure here?" "Fine. What happens to me? Or would that wreck the dramatic moment at the end?" "What makes you think I'm angling for a dramatic moment?" "The evidence of several very cornball TV sitcoms." Celeste waved her hands in an exasperated gesture obviously meant to substitute for a fluttering of currently-confined wings. "Oh, look, we've barely started! Can we get on with this, because I have other places to be!" Daria shrugged, then looked back at Trent -- who was now washing the windshield of Sandi's car -- with some sadness. Then she and Celeste vanished. * * * At least, that was probably how it looked from the outside. From the inside, it was more like a camera dissolve. One moment they were on the street, then another scene appeared behind it as the street grew insubstantial, and almost before you knew it, they were in the hollowed halls of Lawndale High. Nothing looked different right off the bat. Daria looked at Celeste with a raised eyebrow. In reply, the angel pointed down the corridor...to where Jane was standing with Evan, that jerk from the track team, his arm casually looped over her shoulder. Daria was appalled. "She's going *out* with him?" "There was no one to appeal to her sense of fair play about the whole math test bye thing," Celeste explained. "Therefore, she stayed on the track team. She started going out with Evan a week after she *would* have quit." "Oh. I guess she's...happy, then." "Don't bet on it." She gestured down the hall. Evan embraced Jane. "So you're coming to this kegger, right?" "Not this time, Evan," Jane replied. "I've really got to study for this math test." "Oh, come off it, Jane. You'll get a bye." "I don't *want* a bye. I want to pass on my own." "Only *losers* study," Evan sneered. "Like her." He pointed down the hall...at another Daria, looking pretty much the same as the one observing the whole incident. "You don't want to end up like *her,* do you?" Jane seemed uncertain. "No...but I *do* want to say I got an education instead of just a piece of paper." "You don't think I'd go out with a *geek,* do you? You want to be a *geek?*" That prospect obviously made Jane miserable. "Guess not." "Good," Evan replied cheerily. "Give me a kiss, and I'll pick you up at eight." Daria was disgusted. She had to look away from the kiss, rather than give Celeste the logistical problem of concealing a puddle of "phantom" vomit. "She gave up her principles for *that?* And I *wanted* to be friends with someone that weak." "It's because you *weren't* friends that this happened," Celeste explained patiently. "Look...she didn't have the guts to talk to you at that self-esteem workshop -- you got out on your own at the end of the course and she took it again...until she tried out for track and met Evan. She latched onto that jerk because you weren't there, in essence. She's lonely and she likes the attention...and doesn't care that it's not because of who she is. As her friend, you helped her bolster her courage and stand up for her principles -- something to do with your constant refusal to speak anything but your mind." "And because we didn't speak that day, she doesn't care so long as she keeps her boyfriend?" "Got it in one. So that's Jane's life now." "Yeah, but...nothing *else* has changed." "Um...true. And that's the problem." They walked on a little further and found Michael Jordan MacKenzie and Kevin Thompson talking. "Hey, Mack Daddy, how's Jodie?" Lobotomy Ken led off. "Call me that again," Mack gritted, "and I will hit you. I'm not in the mood to be patient." "Sorry. So how is she?" "Not good. They're thinking of prescribing tranquillizers." "*What?*" Daria boggled. "Why?" "She *that* stressed, bro?" Kevin wondered. "You *saw* what she did to Brittany," replied Mack. "What did she do to Brittany?" Daria asked Celeste. "Aw, man," Kevin moaned, "those hospital people *still* won't let me visit Britt." Daria was shocked. "*What?* What did Jodie *do?*" "Better that you not know," Celeste replied. "Look," Mack interjected, "I'd better go -- I'm collecting her homework." "Hey, Mack?" Kevin said as his best bud walked away. "What?" "We miss you on the team. We're all really bummed about what Barch did." "You expected any *less?*" Daria was confused. "What's the deal here?" she asked as Mack walked away. "Mack's not on the football team? Jodie went psychotic? Brittany's in the hospital? What happened?" "It's what *didn't* happen," Celeste replied before launching into her recurring theme. "No one was around to help Jodie when she got overly stressed about her overload of activities. She went...a bit off when Brittany asked for her help in organizing a fundraiser for dry- cleaning the mascot costume. And no one was around to blackmail Barch into letting Mack back on the football team. They've lost every single game they played since Barch's overreaction, including Homecoming." Something didn't quite add up. "Wait a minute...why didn't Lynn and I coach Jodie in the art of brushing people off?" "You're not going to find that answer here..." * * * That time, the transition was more sudden, more of a jumpcut. It brought them to a dorm room in a boarding school -- Celeste didn't say anything to indicate that to Daria, but you can always tell a boarding school. Lynn was sprawled across the bed -- she was wearing a navy blue blazer over a white blouse and a long navy skirt. Amazingly enough, she'd kept her boots. A school's crest was emblazoned onto the blazer. She looked miserable. "Where are we?" Daria wondered. "St. Francis College, Hertfordshire, England," came the angelic reply. "This is the school Lynn's mother decided on when she got expelled." _Expelled?_ "But...I...the protest..." She trailed off as the folly of *that* question hit her. Obviously, that was the point, that she *hadn't* conducted the "Speak Out in Silence" protest -- but it left a question unanswered. "Why didn't I do anything? Jane didn't have anything to do with our friendship..." "A lot has changed without your friendship with Jane. Without Jane in your life, your own self-confidence was low. The new presence that resembled you so strongly was perceived as a threat rather than as an ally. You two never became friends either, so you didn't set up the protest and your mother didn't get involved. Anyway, even if you *had* wanted Lynn reinstated, you didn't have the nerve to set up a protest against Ms. Li's treatment of her -- not without Jane to back you up. And so..." Daria sighed as it sank in. "And so Lynn got expelled and *stayed* expelled." "And this school was the first place her mother sent her. It's a rather strict Catholic school. Lynn is constantly on probation and confined to the dorm. And that is why you see her as you see her." "Damn. I mean, if it was just me and Jane, that'd be one thing, but..." "You ain't seen *nothing* yet..." Daria didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?" "Um...watch and find out." After a moment or two, Lynn pulled out a bottle of pills from a pocket. She sighed and, with a very bland look on her face, opened it, pouring several into her hand. As she started swallowing them dry, one at a time, Daria gasped and took a step forward. Celeste put a hand on her shoulder to hold her back. "Let go!" "She can't see or hear you, remember? What do you think that's going to accomplish?" Daria was stricken. "But...but *why?*" Then she had an idea, a logical way to undercut these implications. "What about A.P.? I mean, they're best friends! She has *someone* to fall back on..." "You got everything but the tense..." * * * This time, they materialized on a path somewhere. Daria looked around -- and was completely appalled to realize they were in a graveyard. "You're not telling me he's *dead,* are you?" Celeste didn't answer. "And if you keep pulling this Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come crap on me..." "Well, actually, yes, I *am* telling you he's dead. Badly planned prank backfired. He's been gone since...ooh, sometime in late November." "But that's when he moved to Lawndale!" "That's when he got expelled. You had the pattern a minute ago." Slowly, talking herself through it, Daria worked it out. "Lynn got expelled in early November...got sent to England...wasn't around to remind him that some things should only be taken so far..." Then it hit her, as she remembered *why* Oakwood had expelled the Psycho- Maverick. "That guy he made go semi-postal..." "Went *completely* postal. It wasn't a good way to die. And anyway, with Lynn expelled, he never would have made it to Lawndale anyway -- not without Lynn giving that lying recommendation for him." "But..." _But what? But nothing._ "Well? Do you want to know what happens to you?" "Not really." "Too bad. Gonna tell you anyway." ACT 3: LETTING THE CABLES SLEEP (EVERY WISH) "Each man's life touches so many other lives -- and when he isn't around, he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?" -- Clarence Oddbody, 1947 Daria's room looked about the same. They appeared just in time to see the other Daria pulling a cardboard box out from under the bed. "I don't want to see this," Daria insisted. Still, she couldn't seem to make herself look away as her counterpart sat on the bed and began pulling notebooks out of the box, tossing them into a metal waste- basket on the floor in front of her. The pother then went over to her desk and grabbed a stack of floppy disks and a can of lighter fluid. She dumped the disks into the wastebasket along with the notebooks and empties the can of fluid on top. The Daria watching all this was shocked. "What am I...?" "Your parents don't notice," Celeste observed. "Your sister could care less. You have no friends. Something had to give." Daria didn't even notice the misuse of _couldn't care less._ "But..." "Nothing really matters, for this version of you. Especially not the writing that no one appreciates and always gets you into trouble." "I..." The other Daria reached into her pocket and pulled out a book of matches. Her face was blank and completely emotionless. "Of course, lighting fires in your bedroom is something that your parents *are* going to notice, clueless or not. They'll see you burning your life's work -- your ambition -- and they are going to have you dragged into a shrink's office in nothing flat." The other struck a match and dropped it into the basket. Daria watched the flames with miserable horror -- she looked away for a moment, into her counterpart's eyes, but the bland hopelessness she saw there made her turn her gaze back to the (comparatively) comforting flames. "No..." "And you'll go, because you won't care enough to resist. You won't say anything, though, because what does some shrink care? And he'll decide you're a chronic depressive and advance that idea to your parents, who'll at least *try* to have you committed..." "I don't want to hear this. This *can't* be right. I mean, Jane's just one person..." "Who shaped the way you looked at the school. Nothing you remember of Lawndale actually happened." "But..." "You're not convinced." "*I'm not like this!*" Daria screamed. Celeste sighed. "Damn." She shrugged. "Well, I tried. And a wish is a wish." Daria wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. "What?" "You were supposed to be convinced that your friendship with Jane was more than just some idle thing -- that it changed everything. You believe *most* of it -- that I can see -- but you won't accept the way it would change *you.*" "But...I'd never *do* that!" "No...not yet. But you wished. And I had to either convince you it was stupid or make it come true. So you're going to wake up feeling the way *this* Daria feels. And maybe you won't give up. But I don't like the odds." Celeste snapped her fingers, and the Daria on the bed vanished. "It's your world now, kid. The emotional weight should catch up in about..." And it did. After Jake's heart attack, back when she still thought he was her father, when he was back on his feet and the Party Van had finally moved on, she'd articulated to Jane the realization the whole double- barreled annoyance had given her: that, bad as Morgendorffer Home Base and Lawndale High both might be, they could be a lot worse. But until now, she hadn't really known how *much* worse. In a horrified whisper, she gave voice to her latest discovery. "I would, wouldn't I?" Celeste smirked. It was not the kind of smirk you ever want to see on *anyone's* face, let alone an angel's. It was the kind of smirk that had appeared on Loki's face a couple of times while he was explaining to Mooby's board of directors why he was going to kill them all. "Works every time." The smoke alarm started going off... * * * ...and Daria sat up in bed with wide, frightened eyes. "GAH!" she cried out in the near pitch-blackness. She put a hand to her heart, breathing deeply in an effort to stay (maybe, to *become*) calm. Then she grabbed her glasses off the trundle table next to the functional television and looked at the digital clock there -- 2:53 a.m. A horrible thought hit her, and she rolled off the bed, sweeping an arm underneath in a search. After a second, she pulled out the cardboard box and peered in. Finding that her papers had *not* in fact gone up in flames, she sighed in total relief. Then another thought struck, and she reached for the phone. She'd just dialed the sixth digit when she looked at the phone handset, then hung up, then ran for her closet. * * * Daria was running down Howard Drive, but stopped when she heard a "chink- chink-chink" sound. Hiding behind a tree for a moment to catch her breath, she peered out from behind it to see a miserable and angry- looking Jane hacking away at a lump of granite by moonlight. Daria breathed a light sigh of relief and began to gather her courage. Then she heard a car motor and retreated back into the shadows. She looked over at the source of the noise -- the Tank, which was stopping in front of Casa Lane. The side door slid open, and Trent and Lynn staggered out and shut the door again. The horn honked twice and the Tank drove away. Jane looked at the new arrivals. "How was the gig?" "Oh, the whole thing went to hell in a hand-basket after three chords. *Someone*," Lynn punctuated this with a light slap upside Trent's head, "wasn't paying attention due to worry over a certain family member of his. Not to mention that family member's friend." "Ex-friend, Lynn," came the miserable reply. "There's no such thing as an ex-friend, Janey," Trent begged to differ. "I mean, Jess and I have had...oh, I don't know how many fights." "Six thousand, two hundred and thirteen. If you count when you both went after Monique in high school." "You've been counting?" "Curiosity." "But we're still friends. I mean, you couldn't have said anything *that* bad." Jane looked downcast. "Come on inside, Janey. You've been working on that all night." "I'm going home," Lynn interjected. "Next time remind me to bring the car here." "Why didn't you get Max to drop you off?" Jane wondered. "She was worried too," Trent explained. Jane looked at Lynn, a little surprised. Lynn looked back impassively. "Damn. You're blowing my tough- girl image. I'm out of here before you figure out I have a heart. See you." She walked away. Trent and Jane stood there for a moment, looking at each other. "It's hard," Jane half-pleaded with her brother. "To apologize to Daria? You've done it before." "But not for something this serious..." "It's not as hard as you think. I've done it. And I bet she feels as bad as you do." _I hope neither of us can feel any *worse* than this_, Daria thought. Jane sounded dubious. "Yeah..." The siblings walked into the house together. Daria raised an eyebrow, thinking this over. Then she smiled a slightly worried Mona Lisa smile and turned around, heading back toward Glen Oaks Lane and home. _It'll keep 'til morning._ "Everything you want is not everything you need." -- Clark Eddy, "Everything You Want" music video ADAPTOR'S NOTES No Python reference this time. Maybe I'm not thinking of the wings on _Dogma_'s angels -- maybe I'm thinking of the "Losing My Religion" video. 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.