The coolest girl on the planet is in my class. She ‘s got a psychic who’s pretty cool too, but she’s bad ass. If I weren’t an atheist, I’d throw offerings at her boots. I’m exagerating. But I mean : they’re intimidating, they’re not approachable, they cut people off. they rule.
So… What disturbed our jolly mister O’Neil’s fragile sensitivity, today? Oh. A theft at « alt lawndayle.com », the brand new cyber café. Halleluja. Seems the world is finally ending.
Everyone has got to express their feelings. Kevin’s turn. I picture miss Barch in my mind, yelling : « Shut up, Kevin! » love this woman. Jodie’s turn to peak up, when I hear :
« Oh, come on! »
Ah! Daria’s speaking.
« Come together with the planet? By staring at a screen for hours? Sitting in a room full of people you never say a word to? »
You tell them. Replace screen with board, and that’s called a classroom.
« Right here and now, let’s pledge to make Daria’s dream a reality! » goes the teacher. What did he have for breakfast? Fairydust?
« You mean : the ones where people walking down the streets burst into flames? »
Did Mr O Neil get this? No. he decides to do what he does best : turn whatever Daria says into an assognment, and ignore the sarcasm. That’s right! It seems we’ll be forced to help turn « alt lawndayle.com » into a coffehouse. Why just stick to virtual relationships? let’s pretend to communicate for real. Everyone is told to participate. Daria intends to resist. Jane looks at Mr O Neil like : « Na. I won’t even pretend to give a shit. » I just slip out of the classroom. Hopefully, he’ll forget I exist.
O Neil? Froget one of his beloved students for one of his exciting new projects? What was I thinking? I slip in the corridors like a ghost, i hide in the corners, but he still manages to catch me before lunch :
« Andrea! »
Damn you, and your perky voice. I might have to worry he’s the Devil himself come to my school, because i keep telling ma jesus freak parents worship him. Come to punish me… because of course, I don t worship imaginary entities. Still, as I listen to this Julie Andrews in a teacher’s suit trying to convince me to join the party, i picture him with horn. That would make sense, wouldnt’ it?
Ok, it’s lunch time. Means i’m hungry. means i’ve got to stop this conversation – aka monologue – now. Where do i begin? :
« Well… »
– WONDERFUL! »
Oh, that’s gotta be the pixie dust again! I didn’t say anything!
« I’ve been thinking you could read us one of your dark poems. »
-I think you’re the Devil. »
-Metaphysical? Good! Thank you, Andrea! That would be amazing! »
Off he goes. I need tot drink
Read? In front of everyone? One of my poems? how do i get out of this? Thanks god, Daria and Jane will probably be away, chilling and making fun of eveyone else. I wouldn’t want them to see me on that stupid stage. I d be mortified! Imagine! Toying with my smashed potatoes, i start to think. No way, man! My poems are personal? Plus, what tone would best befit such a brainless highschool public? Violent, or depressing?
Talking about brainless, Tiffany and kevin are passing by:
« Oh, KEvy! We will be such a HOT Romeo and Juliet couple at the opening of that COffeehouse… Or something. »
-Sure, babe. »
-Oh, my Romeo! »
And if i knocked on your heads, the sound would be hollow. This is hopeless. Oh, well. Depressing. Bingo. I’m in the mood for a poem:
Shapes in a uniform, seemingly fresh
Bones underneath. Bones that do not rest
Now, Ruttheimer is passing by. He’s trying to hit on yet another girl. And failing. Am I really the only one who likes the freckles? Weird. The boy has got something. More than two words of vocabulary, for starters. Well… he does sound like a perv. And his lines are cheesy. But it’s an artistic level of cheese, so if he gave me a try, i would take his virginity. Maybe. but Mr Freckles doesn’t seem to notice me. And since he does notice pretty much eveyone else, that’s upsetting.
Oh, my heart! I feel it breaking!
But has it ever been beating?
By your hollow, empty chest
I’m here, but are you?
Sure, I see your body.
Anybody home, in that rotten bag of flesh?
D day is at hand, and i see Daria and Jane in the coffeehouse. What are they doing here? I should kill myself before having to do this. Except i m not suicidal enough to wanna die, actually. Coffeehouse, my ass. This time, i really need a drink.
After Kevin and Tiffany are done butchering Romeo and Juliet s balcony scene, it’s my turn to die of shame, shile my classmates stoically watch my agony. If there was such a thing as life after death, i would deserve my place at valhalla, at least. The problem is : there is no scientific evidence dying of shame is a real thing. Sigh. Let’s pretend they’re all in their underwear, and daria and jane have just been abducted by aliens.
Shapes in a uniform, seemingly fresh…
Tell scientists that unfortunately, shame doesn’t kill.
Wait… Is Daria on stage?! No way! O’Neil’s evil work. maybe, i should consider some serious Devil worship.
Daria is reading a gruesome spy story, full of expensive costumes, and brutal murders of evil communists. By the end, everyone’s thrilled. She might have created vocations; I think she’s starting a cult. Ok, Daria. i m in. What do we do? Kill communists? If the people around me weren’t really stupid, i wouldn’t be slightly worried. I’ve got to get out of here.
As i move towards the excit, i hear Brittany yell at Kevin because he forgot his shakespeare lines. but, i mean… kevin…
As i almost reach the excit, a fence of uniforms is in my way. They try to understand Daria’s story:
« So, she killed him. »
-And the other guy too. »
-The guy she’s been with? »
-Yeah »
-He was a communist as well? »
-Yeah! »
-But he was wearing an armany shirt! »
-They’re everywhere! »
-yeah! »
-Communists suck! »
-Yeah! »
-Let’s stone the russian embassy »
I say rolling my eyes as i push through the excit.
Les pattes de mouche de la puce polichinelle 