Daria s04e03 Episode Script

A Tree Grows in Lawndale

Kevvy, you look like such a rebel in your new jacket.
Thanks, babe.
Yo! Check this out.
Is this what you Earth people call "necking?" No, I mean check out the new Kevin.
You'll note he didn't say "improved.
" That's 'cause he's a rebel.
Where's the bike? Huh? That's a motorcycle jacket.
It's made out of leather to protect you from scrapes when your head's bouncing off the grille of a truck.
If you're just wearing it for style then it's a waste of a perfectly good cow.
You wouldn't wear shoulder pads if you didn't play football.
Or would you? Is your cutlery holding an edge or going over one? "Diary of a mad steak knife," tonight on Sick, Sad World.
Honestly, Rita, I don't care if mother's paying for your new family room.
Maybe she can get a new family to go with it.
What? That was Daria.
She's, uh, practicing for a school play.
A salesman's got to dream, boy.
Damn neighbor's dog got into the trash again! Now there's garbage all over the street! Next thing you know there'll be abandoned cars on the front lawns! I'll run out and pick up some cement blocks before they're all sold out.
Jake, calm down.
Rita, I'll have to call you back.
Yes, I will! Very, very soon.
Helen, do you know what happens when property values collapse? Is it anything like when good pets go bad? What if we can't get a decent price when we sell this place? You think we're going to move in with your sister? Or should I also pick up a copy of the Jonestown bartender's handbook? Oh ! Yah ! Jake, you're being ridiculous.
Nothing is going to affect the value of this house short of an earthquake.
We're on a fault line, too?! Oh, look, the circus is coming to town.
On what appears to be a very fast lawnmower.
Hey, Jane, Daria.
Mean machine.
Where's your Shriner's fez? Don't we look like rebels? Oh, yeah, that cricket in your front teeth is very James Dean.
What?! Don't worry.
It's dead.
Eww! I'm going to need new teeth! I'm sure the guys in woodshop can come up with something.
Before first period? Don't think so.
You know, you aren't supposed to ride those things without a helmet.
Hey, I don't follow rules.
I'm rebellent.
Did he say repellent? Seems like he should have, doesn't it? Well, well what do we have here? A babe magnet with a seat built for one.
Hold on tight, luscious lady.
Hey! Pop a wheelie.
Yeah, yeah.
Gee, this won't end badly.
You know, we are the ones who told him to get a motorcycle.
Hey, if we told him to jump off a bridge, would he do that? Dunno.
We'll try that next time.
Now, I know I saw that Paunch guy do this on CHiPs My knee! Uh-oh, I think the wild one's got a boo-boo.
Hey, you broke the Tommy Sherman Memorial Tree.
Good thing he's dead or he'd really let you have it.
This is sort of like what happened at my fourth birthday party, only it involved a tiny tricycle and a chimp.
The difference being? Oh, Kevvy, I don't care if you squished the Tommy Sherman Memorial Tree.
I still love you.
Tommy Sherman was the greatest Q.
Lawndale ever had.
I, too, was a quarterback once.
Now I'm just a one-knee guy.
But your knee will heal.
When? Face it, Britt, you've got cheerleader-type active womanly needs.
And look at me look at me! Kissing me now would be like kissing one of those guys who wear old man pants and watch Touched By an Angel.
Kevvy, no! Babe, it's gotta be this way.
No! It can be like before.
Let me bring you a Gatorade.
No! Only sportsmen can drink sports drinks.
From now on, I drink Yoo-Hoo.
No ! Then he said that his armpits would know only the embrace of his crutches.
What does that mean? I don't know, but it sounds bad.
Like, Kevvy's armpits have feelings, but not for me.
Now what do I do with lips so empty, so yearning? Lips? So, we're off the armpit thing? You know, if you break up Brittany's attempt at thought, it looks like a Mystik Spiral song.
"Armpits have feelings, but not for me.
Now what do I do with lips emp-ty?" Eh.
Are you sure you don't want to replace "lips" with "skull?" It's a work in progress.
Oh, what's this? Nothing.
Please, Daria, any form of expression is cause for celebration.
I see you've chosen to celebrate in the way of verse.
The only thing here in the way of verse might be its complete lack of quality.
You're being judgmental, Daria.
And you know what they say: judge and you get mental.
And you know what I say.
Life sucks and then you die? This is so deep, but so sad.
Daria, are you depressed? I mean, more than usual? Not me.
Brittany? What? Um here.
Present? Come on, man, it's just a sprained knee.
You gotta play.
The team needs you.
No, it doesn't.
The only team that needs me is the one that sits all the time: the chess team.
But you don't even know how to play chess.
Oh, yeah? King me, king me, king me! I'll talk to you when the painkillers wear off.
Kevvy! Mr.
O'Neill just gave me an "A" for a poem I didn't know I wrote and said I should get counseling for my troubled mind and it's all because of you, so we have to get back together or my mind will never untrouble itself.
Babe, the only wide receivers I've got are my crutches here, and they only catch the sweat of my defeat.
But what about our eternal love that was supposed to last till graduation? Could you really date a guy who isn't going to be in any yearbook team pictures? I I Oh, no! It really is over! No team.
No babe.
I guess I'm, like, on my own.
Is it me, or does study hall go faster when you're somewhere else? Life goes faster when you're somewhere else.
Aw, look the Tommy Sherman Memorial Tree's still dead.
I guess now we're going to have to plant something to memorialize it.
Oh, Angie, I miss my Kevvy.
Life just isn't the same without his big, brown eyes and spellbinding dimples.
I'd rather remember the tree than remember Tommy Sherman.
Hey, that's not nice.
You wouldn't like that if you were Tommy Sherman.
I wouldn't like anything if I were Tommy Sherman.
If I were Tommy Sherman, I'd be dead.
Tommy's tree is dead and now he's back to haunt us! As the fourth quarter winds down and the score remains Oakwood 21, Lions zipparino, does your humble announcer dare to venture that the mighty Lawndale "grr " has turned into a plaintive "mew?" Lawndale's replacement quarterback, "Mad Mack," has the ball, and it looks like he's going to pass it to nobody! Bad break, "Mad Mack.
" We felt that one in the box.
Guys, I don't know what happened.
Give me an "A".
Give me an S-U-X! Lawndale sucks.
Ha! This is no good.
No good at all.
And the Lions once more go down to defeat.
I've got to do something about all this losing.
I just hope a new wardrobe is enough to take our minds off that abysmal game.
Yeah abysmal.
If this keeps up, we may have to hold an emergency meeting on the date-ability of the football team.
Oh, no! Look, isn't this adorable? It's so neck-slimming.
I wonder if they have it in chartreuse.
Excuse me, miss? Where is everybody? I can't believe no one's even offered us fitting rooms yet.
Yeah, it's like they want us to get shopper's cramp.
Miss? Oh, miss? Guys, something weird is going on.
Come on.
Let's get to the bottom of this.
Ahem Theresa, is there a labor stoppage we should be apprised of? No one's helping us.
It's your football team.
They're well, losers.
What does that have to do with us? We don't play football.
You go to a loser school, and it's not good for Junior Five's image to have losers wearing our clothes.
But we're not losers! Look, if you don't mind taking turns, I can give you fitting room eight.
The unpopular people's dressing room?! It says here on your transfer forms that you've been in high school for six years.
I have trouble learning stuff when people make me mad.
But you don't seem to have trouble with the old pigskin, eh? Um, why was your season cut short last year? This says your offensive line had a quote, mishap, end quote.
They made me mad.
Ah! Zippity do da, zippity ay, make Tommy's spirit go far, far away.
All right, girls.
Puffing party's over! Oh, no! You ruined it! Now Tommy Sherman's ghost will never go away! Well, forgive me if I didn't see the sign on the door that said girls' exorcism room! And then Sandi said she didn't know if she could show her face anymore and is thinking about the witness protection program, although not if they make you dye your hair that brassy blond.
That's just what Sammy "The Bull" Gravano said.
Hey, here's another good town we can move to.
It says the schools have produced three pro quarterbacks.
How many pro wrestlers? Quinn, I don't think you're considering the rest of the family.
I am.
We live in a loser town now, and that can't be good at that job you go to.
Only losers live in loser towns.
Do you want your clients thinking you're a loser? Hmm Oh, dear, your father's braking with his angry foot again.
If we moved to a popular town, he'd be happier.
Quinn, we're not moving.
That's it, we're moving! Look at this -- it say Lawndale High's football team is the worst in Lawndale history.
It says Lawndale High is a school for losers! Jake, that's the Lawndale Shopper.
It's written by an 80-year-old man who, if you recall, had to be taken off his roof by the fire department because he thought he was being chased by screaming mice.
That doesn't mean it isn't true.
Oh, Daddy, mice don't scream.
Yeah, you're thinking of lobsters.
Who's up for seafood? The value of our home destroyed.
Our life's investment gone! Good-bye, retirement.
Good-bye, condo on the golf course.
Helen, we're ruined! Don't you see?! I see you shopped angry again.
Now what are we going to do with five pounds of "Jay-Tees' Jellied Pork Shoulder?" Ecch Don't look at me that way.
It was that Lawndale Shopper guy.
The store this town they all tricked me! Which is why we have to move! So my sister's scouting out new zip codes, my father's so mad he can only see the color red, and the other day, when my mother was paying bills, I caught her trying to smudge her return address labels.
My home life's becoming intolerable.
Becoming intolerable? Is there such a word as "intolerabler"? Hot stuff.
Hey, you look familiar.
No, I don't.
You go to Lawndale High, right? No.
We're reform school gals looking for love in all the wrong places.
That's good, because if you went to Lawndale you'd be losers.
What a loser school.
Enjoy now! Great.
And just when I was feeling like a winner.
I take it your quarterback is still wallowing in self-pity.
I wish he'd try self-immolation.
Sportboy needs a reason to feel good about himself, and there just aren't any.
We could try sending him back to the third grade, where winning a paste-eating contest still counts for something.
Actually, why not send him back to elementary school? Because he'd never meet the academic requirements.
I mean as one of those safety lecturers.
He could talk about how stupid he was to wipe out on his bike.
The kids would probably rather listen to him than their teachers, so he'd have a captive audience and feel self-important again.
So simple, and yet so perfect.
Daria, why didn't we think of that? 'Cause we're Lawndale losers who wallow in our own ignorance and filth.
Who wants another slice? Mr.
O'Neill? Oh! You startled me.
I guess all that talk about ghosts and exorcism has put me a little on edge.
Hey, want to see me twist my head around and around and around? We want to talk to you about Kevin.
We think it might pull him out of his slump if he became a safety lecturer.
Tell kids how reckless behavior leads to injuries.
They don't have to know he was brain-damaged before the accident.
Hmm, turning a bad experience into something positive.
Girls, I do believe we're on the same page.
We are? Now I'm in a slump.
Kevin, the wisdom you impart to these impressionable young minds could have a profound effect upon their lives.
Cool! Remember: a man is never taller than when he helps the smallest child.
But what about when he's wearing cleats? Um, just go out there and try not to hurt yourself.
My name is Kevin and I'm a Louder! My name is Kevin and I used to be a rebel! But now I'm just a big fat loser.
Everywhere I go, it's like, "Look at that loser.
" "Nice day, loser.
" "More chocolate milk, loser?" But it wasn't always like this.
Before my bike accident, I was the Q.
Chicks love that.
Hot chicks? Cheerleaders.
See, motorcycles are dangerous, especially when you fall off them.
I'm one of the lucky ones.
I could have fallen off the Grand Canyon and hit my head on a rock or something.
Then I'd be one of those guys with their brains sticking out of their eyes and their guts all over the place.
Cool! In collusion, motorcycles can wreck your life and make it so you can't play football.
And that's not cool safety's cool.
Any questions? Tell me about the cheerleaders! I want to hear about the blood and guts again! And that's how I've saved countless youth children as a walking safety don't.
And when kids are about to do something dangerous, they go, "Hey, I don't want to do this.
I want to be like that cool safety guy.
" He'd be such a wonderful father.
Of a coconut.
Now, my crutches are like my best feature.
Taking over the role formerly played by his car.
Well, this plan backfired perfectly.
Kevin, that report was peachy! Thanks.
Although what it has to do with the League of Nations, which was your assigned topic, I fail to understand! Um did everyone get to see my picture? This isn't working.
The new guy, he's got some weird rules.
Weirder than sticking your butt in the air and making a football appear? It's called a hike.
Now, I'm going to throw this.
If you catch it, you get to kick me in the head.
If you miss it, I'll kill you.
You think I'm kidding? Well, try me, punks! Now go out for a pass or I'll waste you right now.
Okay, that's good.
Hey, stop.
Hey! You're not supposed to run across the street! Man, this happens everywhere I go.
Nobody knows how to play football.
What's with Quinnie O? She's dressing incognito until she can persuade my mother to relocate us to Bermuda.
You should really keep her away from open bottles of nail polish.
Or scatter a lot more of them around.
Daria? Jane? Would you like to contribute to the Tommy Sherman Memorial Tree fund? We're hoping to get his ghost out of the girls' room.
It takes a tree to get him out of the girls' room? Did he turn into a dog or something? I don't think so.
You know, if you can just get those crutches away from Kevin, you can plant one of them instead.
That's sure to appease Tommy's restless bathroom spirit.
You're right! You know you're going to hell.
Anything that gets me out of Lawndale.
See, by teaching the kids about safety, I'm giving something back to society.
I'm like a philanderest.
Yeah, yeah.
How about suiting up and giving something back to the team? This new guy's got the receivers hiding in a dumpster.
But the kids they look up to me, bro.
Hey, we look up we look at you, too.
Now come on back, will you? Hi, Kevvy.
Um, I was wondering, can I borrow one of your crutches? Please? Can't spare it.
I need it for my motivated speaking.
Say, Britt, you know there's no law that says a motivated speaker can't have a babe.
But there is a law that says cheerleaders can only date football players, remember? Darn! You know, that's recrimination.
I mean, just because I don't wear a uniform doesn't mean I'm not the same guy.
Yes, it does.
My Kevvy is a football leader of men.
My Kevvy wouldn't let the whole team down.
My Kevvy wouldn't let Lawndale become a loser town! Wait, babe, come back! Forget it, Kevvy.
You're on your own.
You're a a man on an island.
But, I don't want to be on an island.
I get seasick.
Besides, I need the love.
Huh? I mean, what's saving lives if there's no one to make out with? I believe Gandhi asked that same question.
It's why he had to be eliminated.
Britt, I realize that without you, I'm by myself.
Your love has healed me, babe.
I'm I'm cured! Oh, Kevvy.
I've missed you so much.
Like, me, too, babe.
Care to join me in the girls' room for a jolly puke? Sure but not if that Tommy Sherman's in there.
That Tommy Sherman.
He ruins everything.
Look, the new Tommy Sherman Memorial Tree.
I wonder why it isn't blossoming? Did you take the little rubber thing off the bottom? Oh! Oh, mmm, Daria? Maybe we should go inside before lightning strikes you dead and bits of you mess up my nice shoes.
And star quarterback Kevin Thompson scores again! Yes! Yes! Helen! Give me your phone.
We're not losers! We're not losers! We're not losers! Lawndale rules! Brittany worked all week writing that.
It shows.
The reiteration? Powerful.
Like getting hit in the head repeatedly with a sock full of quarters.
And here he is, the miracle man.
Let's hear it for Kevin and his magic knee! Yeah, I'll bet you didn't try to drive down property values.
Well, Lawndale High's quarterback's fit as a fiddle and Lawndale's got a winner school and the best people are going to want to live here and they buy houses at market value, no thanks to you, loser.
Oh, yeah? Well, I want my mommy, too! Ha! Do you feel better now that you've set the Lawndale Shopper man right? Actually, that was his six-year-old grandson, but I'm sure he'll give him the message.
Oh, no! Has the mighty Kevin Thompson injured his knee again? Praise the Lord! He landed on his head! This is a day of miracles.