This is a fragment of an unwritten, and likely never to be written, larger work. I---the me of the Daria Fanfic Community, the guy you see posting stuff---have found myself in Lawndale, without any idea of how I got there. Also, I know everything I know from obsessive watching of the show. As this scene opens, I’ve had a couple of encounters with some of the minor characters seen in a couple of episodes. It’s dawned on me that I’m in Lawndale---and any fantasy about getting to know Daria or any of the other characters is about to be completely buried in the attempt to survive in this strange, sarcastic world...

#

I sat on the park bench, staring at the statue. It was, indeed, some bearded guy who was famous once, but nobody remembers why. It was just like it said in "The Daria Diaries." I had walked around it, but couldn’t find any sign or inscription.

Lawndale! Somehow, some way, this was Lawndale. It was no dream or nightmare, no delusion. This was too vivid and strong. And my feet never hurt like that in a dream. I was still me, and I had spent the last couple of hours walking around Lawndale.

For the fifth or sixth time, I pulled out my wallet and looked at my drivers license. Yep, the name on it was still ‘Robert Nowall,’ the picture and the date of birth and the address and state were all the same. All the same junk was in my wallet, all the credit cards had the same numbers. I shoved my wallet back into my hip pocket and leaned forward and stared at the statue and brooded.

But where was here, and why, oh, why was I here? I shook my head. Never mind the why, what about the how? I couldn’t remember what I’d been doing before I got here.

I frowned. I remembered some old movie with John Candy---couldn’t think of the title---where he was a soap opera writer who got a bump on the head and wound up living in the world he created. I remembered a couple of science fiction stories like that. Did that happen to me? Was I in a car crash and was, oh, translated into some other universe where the people and events of "Daria" were real? If so, why "Daria," and not, say, "Hey Arnold!" or "The Beverly Hillbillies" or some other show?

I had a wealth of information about Lawndale, but was it enough to live there? There was so much I didn’t know. I didn’t even know what state Lawndale was in! I remembered the long arguments over which details meant what. Now all those mind-numbing arguments were of vital importance to me.

What could I do? How could I live, with only the money in my wallet and the meager contents of my photojournalist vest? I didn’t even dare use my credit cards. The numbers might not mean anything in this state...wherever "this state" was...

Just then, someone sat down next to me. I looked over. It was a young teenaged girl, wearing a denim jacket and those pants that came up to mid-calf. She was sobbing and---

My God, it was Stacy! Stacy Rowe, the so-called "nice" member of the Fashion Club, the "girl next door," favorite character of countless fanfic writers. She was wearing the outfit she usually wore in the later episodes. She didn’t look like the gaunt, elongated, almost El Greco-ish cartoon she was usually drawn as, she looked like a flesh and blood girl to me. She was the first "regular" I had seen so far. My mouth opened in a gasp.

And she was sobbing! I remembered, in "Fair Enough," when Daria and Jane had been trapped on the Ferris wheel with her. She had cried, they had gotten aggravated, and I laughed. But here it was, happening not to Daria, but to me!

Well, it was one thing to watch it on TV, but to have it happening, right on the park bench next to you...it was awful to listen to. I looked at her, then looked away, then looked at her again.

I felt around in the pockets of my photojournalist vest...yes! I had put a couple of tissues, in one of the waterproof compartments, a couple of years ago. I pulled one out---it wasn’t in bad shape, at least there was that---and, without speaking, handed them to her.

Without looking at me, Stacy took them. She bunched them up, and blew her nose. I flinched---the sound was surprisingly loud.

Stacy sobbed quietly. She wiped her eyes, then spread the tissue apart and put it on her lap. Then she turned and looked at me.

Damned if I couldn’t think of anything beyond quoting from an episode! "There, there," I said. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She started bawling again and looked away from me. I looked away, then looked back. "Look," I said, "it can’t be that bad...can it?"

She sniffed and said, "It’s just awful...it’s my boyfriend..."

It’s always a boyfriend, I thought. "What did he do?"

"I just found out he’s been dating one of the cheerleaders!" She stretched out "cheerleaders" straight into another long sob.

"The bastard!" I said. .

"He told me he didn’t wanna see me again!"

I shook my head, to try to focus my thoughts. "Look, things can’t be that bad. You’ve dated other people, haven’t you?"

"Well, yeah, when he wasn’t available---" She cut herself off, took a look at me---I think it was the first time she actually noticed me---and said, with only traces of the tears in her voice, "I’m sorry to have bothered you...thank you for the tissue..."

She started to stand up, and I said, "That’s all right, I don’t mind. Go ahead. Go on."

She sniffed, and said, "I just don’t have anybody I can talk to about this."

"What about---" I bit back What about Quinn and Sandi. Stacy didn’t know that I knew a great deal about her, and, since I didn’t want to come off looking like a forty-year old stalker pervert, I didn’t want her to know that I knew. I said, "What about your friends?"

"I can’t talk to them about this, not now. It’s all a mess. What with Sandi breaking her leg and gaining all that---all that, and Sandi and Quinn both quitting the club, well, that leaves Tiffany, and I can’t talk to Tiffany."

My God! I thought. I’m on the set of "Fat Like Me"! I said, "Let’s start at the beginning. You were dating this guy, who told you---" She started to tear up again, and I said, "Don’t cry!"

But it was too late and she started to bawl again. I let her cry it out. She was definitely the Stacy of "Fair Enough." My mind ran over some of the other possibilities. Was she the secretly smart Stacy of Austin Covello’s fanfics? The suicidal Stacy of Yui Daoren’s latest? The sometimes evil Stacy that popped up here and there? The sometimes smart and sometimes stupid, but always sweet Stacy of my own works? Man, I didn’t know, and every step was a potential minefield.

After a while, when she had subsided, I said, "All right. You went out with this guy how many times?’

"A few times...(sniff)...a few."

"How many is a few times?"

"Umm...three times?"

My eyes widened. "You mean you went out three times with guy? You went out with other people, and he went out with other people?"

She nodded, and started to blush a little.

"I’m sorry, but it doesn’t seem that serious. Maybe you weren’t important to him."

That did it. She started to bawl again, and wipe her eyes on my now battered and soaking-wet tissue. I cursed myself. What did I know about dating, or teenagers, or the two combined? I was only making things worse here.

"Look, I’m sorry," I said. "Here’s what you should do. Obviously this guy is important to you. You should find out."

"Find out?" She sniffed.

"Go to him. Tell him how you feel. You, ah, you might be surprised."

"But I couldn’t---"

"Would you rather go through life not knowing?"

"I don’t know..."

I got to my feet. Slowly, she did the same.

"I think it’s important to know," I said. "You might actually find out you’re important to him." I didn’t think it likely, but it wouldn’t do to say that aloud. "And, after all---" And I smiled, as the line just popped into my head. "After all, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link." I couldn’t help myself, I had to say it aloud.

She blushed, and nodded. "You think I should talk to him?"

"Yes. Go. Right now. Find him and don’t wait another minute wondering about what might have been."

She nodded and turned. I watched her as she threaded her way around the shrubbery around the statue. As she reached a street, she paused, turned, and waved at me. I grinned---Stacy Rowe was waving at me!---and waved back. Then she turned down the street and I lost sight of her behind a bush.

I stood a moment, grinning. I had been a little helpful, and it felt---not awful.

Then the grin faded, and I remembered where I was and what kind of situation I was in.

************************************************************************

DISCLAIMER: "Daria" and the characters and settings from it are the property of MTV Networks / Viacom International.

This parody of "Daria" is copyright © 2001 by Robert Nowall. It is not intended to profit the author in any way, and may not be distributed without permission of the author. (That means please don’t post or circulate this without getting in touch with me first.) For the time being, Robert Nowall can be reached at: RobtNowall@aol.com

This draft is rougher than it would be if it were inside a finished work. If I ever write the long version---unlikely---I’d make a lot of changes...

Written 4/9/01 to 4/10/01

************************************************************************