Standing on the Sidewalk

I haven’t done one of these in ages.  My thanks to The Angst Guy for uploading this to the Daria Wiki. Daria: Jane, you dyed your hair again, didn’t you? Jane: Um, no. Daria: And it’s green this time.  Why green? Jane: I’ve over here, Daria. Daria: And why are you standing there with your arms up like that? Jane: Daria, put on your glasses. Anyone else care to come up with a...

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Daria works got posted over at Gromet’s

Just a quick note to mention that a pair of my Adult Daria works got posted over at Gromet’s Plaza site. Do note that this is an adult site before you go over there. 🙂 Two Hours Early In the Trunk You can also read the first work, the one that started all of this here: Late Night Nightmare. You can also read the works here on my site: Two Hours Early and In the Trunk. I’ve been asked if there will be a sequel. I had started one but never finished it. I thought I had saved it with my other Daria works but have yet to find it on any of my Archive CDs. I’m still looking though. edit: The forum for Gromet’s site is here in case you’re...

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Daria Iron Chef: Write what you know

  Daria slapped her arm and said, “Die, you unclean spawn of Barch.” She lifted her hand to see the mangled remains of a mosquito. Quinn looked over. “Ewwwww!!!! Daria, how could you?” “Don’t worry. We can fix him.” Daria pulled out a device and slowly passed it over the dead blob on her arm. After a few moments, Daria paused and looked at the device. “Oh, my mistake. That’s a salt shaker.” She tossed it over her shoulder, pulled out a second device and began passing that over the blob. This device gave off a siren type...

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“Helen? Look what I did today!”

This is going to be hard to explain to Helen thought Jake as he watched the Prince’s guards escort Daria and Quinn, now dressed in silks, to the waiting limo. He paused to peek into the briefcase once again. All those Benjamin Franklins looking back at him made him feel giddy. He snuck a bill out and used it to light a cigar. On second thought,he thought as he puffed away and watched the limo and its escort pull away, maybe Helen would understand.  

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But it was just a kiss…

(How a famous Daria scene should have gone.) Daria: I kissed my boyfriiend. I kissed Tom. Jane: What!? You mean you kissed *my* boyfriend? Daria (smirking): Not anymore he isn’t. “…and,” Daria sighed. “He’s not anyone’s boyfriend anymore.” Jane looked shocked. “You mean…” Daria nodded. “That’s right. He’s run off to join the priesthood.” “Damn…”

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Tom and Jerry

This was going to hard to explain Daria thought when MGM announced the release of Tom and Jerry – The Next Generation… …which now stared Tom Sloane as Tom and Jamie White as Jerry thanks to Quinn, now a producer at MGM, not being able to get his name right. OK, so it takes a little imagination on this one. -drmike

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Daria knew…

Daria knew it was going to be a strange day when she opened her eyes and saw Quinn, Tiffany and Ms. Li passed out naked on her bedroom floor.

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Another tidbit….

A short piece I wrote when I was thinking about doing a Daria – Dragonlance crossover A short piece I wrote when I was thinking about doing a Daria – Dragonlance crossover The parties continued into the night. The warriors ignored how the peasants hadn’t lifted a finger to help, refused them all the permits that they needed, tripled the taxi fare rates within the city, and shorted their linen exchange. The battle was over. They were victorious. Any excuse for a party. And a chance to lift as many purses as possible from the hung over crowds. Greyhound was expensive and the remaining warriors wanted to leave first thing in the morning. They had already heard about the upcoming “Winning the War” tax that was going into effect in the morning. The frail figure nearly tripped over the broken walkway. She rubbed her foot as she considered blasting the block into the 572nd layer of Hell but decided that it wasn’t worth it. She had already blasted three rocks there just this week. The rocks never learned. She drew in her robes tighter around her as she resumed her travel towards the Tower. Daria the Cynic kept one eye on the broken stones and another on the closed and run down shops that lined the street. It had to be because of the Tower. Daria knew that having Magi as neighbors was usually seen as a good thing by the community. Increase in property values. Better schools. Free lunch meat giveaways whenever an experiment went wrong. Towns used to fight over where the next Tower was to be built. “No more,” Daria mumbled as she lifted her head to look at her destination, the Tower of Cynicism. Years ago, there had been more of them. Some said a total of five had been constructed. Some said eleven. There were only three left now that she knew of. She had taken her test and been officially recognized as a Magi at the Trump Tower over in Jersey. There was also the London Tower. Most of the “old guard” resided at that one. Every couple of years, they had to tear it down and move it to a new location. The official excuse was to insure the protection of the last few remaining wizards and their work. What was probably more likely was one of the old gizers knocked up the daughter of a local official or they had tried to cash too many worthless checks and they had been run out of town. Daria paused again as a shiver passed through her. She wrapped her black velvet cloak even tighter around her as she stood a distance from the gate. Lows in the sixties my ass she thought with a curse as the back of her hand brushed against the religious symbol of her alignment hanging from around her neck. The dead smiley face with a bullet hole in the forehead never stopped making people pull back in horror and disgust. It also marked herself as a worshipper of her god, Nixon, and the lesser god, Checkers. Her mind drifted back to when she was first growing up and how she had followed the ways of the more neutral god, Whatever, and the goddess, Whenever. She had then worn the rainbow colored robes with the peace sign around her neck. The symbol had hung heavily as no matter what she did, she never felt comfortable with that alignment. The local high Priest by the name of Trent had taken the words of their holy book to heart and held...

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For Roger

A short fic in answer to one posted by Roger E. Moore. This fic is Daria characters dropped into a DragonLance scene. For Roger… by Dr. Mike by Dr. Mike   The evening was in full swing as Tika stepped over passed out farm hand and set the loaded tray down on the table. As she passed out the plates of potatoes, her eyes kept roaming back to the old man sitting in the corner with one child on his knee and surrounded by many others. He had entered the Inn during the slow afternoon, past mealtime and continued into the evening. He had spent most of it talking to the patrons as if they knew each other for their entire lives but no one could figure out what his name was or where he was from. She shrugged as she remembered the many times she had tried to refill the geezer’s mug of ale but it had always been full. Whenever she had passed him during the day, he had been taking long drinks out of it but never seemed to need a refill. She shrugged as she passed out the last heaping plate and moved over to another table which needed more ale. As she poured, the door to the Inn slammed open. Four young woman entered, wrapped in hooded travelling cloaks. They approached an empty table, sat down, and threw back their cloaks. “I can’t believe we had to climb up all those stairs,” moaned Sandi as she rubbed the backs of her legs. “Whose idea was it to put an inn so high up in the trees? Some of us have four inch heels and could have tripped or gotten a heel caught.” “San-di. All those stairs are good for your legs,” supported Quinn as she too started to rub. “And the new heels are wider to prevent catching them in holes.” “Are you suggesting that my thighs and legs need help, Quinn?” pouted Sandi. “Or that there’s a problem with the way I walk?” “Oh no. Not your legs, Sandi. They’re just too perfect. And your walking is just superb!” “Even though. I’m going to have to mark your rather unflattering remark towards me as a demerit on your Fashion Club scorecard.” “I didn’t know we had Fashion Club scorecards,” questioned Quinn. “Neither did I,” Stacy defended as well. “Me.” She paused and counted on her fingers fairly quickly. “Three.” droned Tiffany. This earned Stacy and Tiffany an evil glare from their club president. Stacy gets a bit nervous while Tiffany ignores it. Sandi went on. “And who ever heard of a fashion show in a small hick town? Stacy, where is it again?” “Solace. It’s on the map.” “Tiffany, are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” “Sure. My. Family. Goes. There. Every. Year. South. On. I. Ninety. Five. And. Then. On. I. Four.” Tiffany holds out the map, which Quinn takes and holds out between herself and Sandi. “Tiffany dear. This is a map of Florida. Your family goes there every year for vacation.” “I. Like. Mickey.” mentioned Tiffany as she stares off into space. “Guys, look at everyone’s clothes.” Stacy was staring around the hall. They all turned and looked at the other patrons. “Don’t they wear something besides brown in this town?” “Brown is so last year.” Quinn knew her clothes. “EEWWWW!!!” went all four as Tika comes up to stand at the table in between Quinn and Sandi. She outweighs them by a good twenty pounds and, *cough*, has a good five inches on them if you know...

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Your Honor

Combine Lawndale residents with a well-known third-shift courtroom, and what do you get? A short crossover with the characters from the sitcom “Night Court” and a member of the Daria cast. Your Honor by Dr. Mike We start with an upper body shot of Helen. She’s dressed nice but professional. From the background, it appears that she is standing in a courtroom that has seen better days. Helen: Your honor, my client was simply trying to defend himself from what he felt was an unprovoked attack by a bunch of wild, uncontrolable animals. I move for dismissal. The camera changes to show the bench. Judge Harry T. Stone sits behind it holding his gavel. He looks very serious about his work. (Yeah, right.) Judge Stone: (He turns in the direction of the prosecutor.) Councilor? Dan: Your honor, he tried to wipe out an entire flock of penguins at the city zoo with a handful of funny colored dice. The camera pulls back to show the set of Night Court. For those of you who don’t remember, it was a television comedy show set in a New York City courtroom during the third shift hours. Standing between Helen and Dan is a deranged, older gentleman. The older gentleman: They were making fun of me. Dan: The prosecution would also like to point out that the defendant thinks he’s a famous British movie star. Judge Stone: Aren’t they all dead? Dan: Almost, your honor. He thinks he’s Roger Moore. Roger: I am Roger Moore, Roger E. Moore. I’m not British, I used to work as a fantasy author. Those penguins were mocking me! Helen: Your honor, maybe this man is telling the truth. Dan: Oh, you just want to star in his next movie. Helen: Dan?!?! Judge Stone: Defense, he tried to knock off one of the zoo’s prized exhibits. Helen: With a bunch of funny colored dice? They wouldn’t have done any damage. Dan: Unless he rolled a natural twenty. Judge Stone: (He sighs but bangs his gavel) Guilty. Fifty dollar fine and time served. (Mr. Moore is escorted out.) OK, Mack. Who’s our next lucky contestant? Mack: (He climbs up onto the bench.) Case Number 85865214. People vs. the Fashion Club. (They are escorted up to stand in front of the bench. They are of course animated. They’re also covered in grime from the holding cells.) Judge Stone: What’s the charge? Mack: Resisting arrest, assault, harassment… Quinn: We were just trying to correct for fashion errors. Is that a crime? Tiffany: I. Can’t. Believe. I’m. A. Criminal. Stacy: What if everyone at school finds out we were arrested? What are we going to do? Sandi: Sta-cy, try and control yourself. Quinn, as president of the Fashion Club, I am holding you responsible for this little side trip. Quinn: How was I supposed to know those two ladies were vice cops? I just wanted to comment on their choice of shoes and how they didn’t match their dresses. Judge Stone: (To Mack.) Call for a paddy wagon, Mack. *** Heh heh heh. Surprised no one’s touched this one yet with Helen being a...

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