The Plot in a Nutshell--Part 1:  "The Misery Mouse"
(a Daria/Pinky and the Brain crossover)
By Jonathan M. Sweet,  a/k/a Dr. Belch 
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[opening title sequence to DARIA--"You're Standing On my Neck" by
Splendora--plays]

[Show opens with a shot of the exterior of Acme Labs, then
dissolves to interior shot of PINKY and BRAIN inside their cage.
PINKY, as usual, is running on his wheel. BRAIN is standing at
the far side of his cage with his hands behind his back, facing
the bars.]

PINKY: Gee, BRAIN, what'cha wanna do tonight?

BRAIN: The same thing we do every night, PINKY... [turns and
faces audience, tiny fist in air and face in shadows]...try to
take over the world!

[theme song swells and plays: "They're Pinky and the Brain",
etc., etc.]
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ACT I
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 Scene 1

[Fade in on Acme Labs, interior. The scene is darkened but for
quick sporadic flickers of light, as if from a TV in the BG. The
camera plays over countertops covered with typical laboratory
clutter: beakers, graduated cylinders, chemicals, a Bunsen
burner, a test tube rack, etc. The title flashes at the bottom of
the screen in white letters as BRAIN's voice--the deep, rich
tones of Orson Welles--fills the silence. He speaks in careful,
measured tones.]

BRAIN: The humble peanut. In Spanish, it is called el cacahuate.
It is the pride and joy of both former President Jimmy Carter and
of Dr. George Washington Carver, who discovered one thousand uses
for this wonderful multipurpose legume. Tonight I, the Brain,
have discovered the 1001st use--[voice rises a bit]--global
domination! [The camera has panned in on BRAIN during this
speech; he is standing next to a thick biography of G.W. Carver
placed upright and open before him. He pauses, ponders over the
book for several seconds, then turns.] PINKY, I need you.

PINKY [from his accustomed seat in front of the lab's TV]: I'm
over 'ere, BRAIN. [Camera pans in on PINKY and the TV. The
audience can now see what it is PINKY is interested in. BRAIN
walks up behind PINKY and glances at the screen casually. The
theme and logo of "Sick Sad World" is heard and seen briefly,
then--]

ANNOUNCER's VOICE [superimposed over an image of a man seated in
a chair, his face electronically distorted]: This man claims to
be a high level paid assassin for the Clinton administration. Is
there any truth to his claim?
[pan in on the MAN]

REPORTER [off camera]: How many deaths have you been responsible
for?

MAN [voice electronically distorted to sound like Ned from "South
Park"]: I whacked Vince Foster and left his body in Ft. Marcy
Park to make it look like a suicide. I arranged to have Ron Brown
shot on that plane over the Middle East by a kamikaze gunman, had
the plane crash and kill everyone aboard to hide the evidence and
make it look like an accident, then burned the X-rays of his
skull myself; I killed James MacDougal in prison. Heart attack,
bull[bleep]. [distorted chuckle]

REPORTER: Who is next on your hit list?

MAN: Yo' mama. [another distorted chuckle]

ANNOUNCER: That's next up on "Sick Sad World"!

PINKY [thoroughly impressed, in a breathy voice]: Na-aa-arf!

BRAIN [thoroughly disgusted]: Turn that garbage off, please.
Conspiracy theories are for small minds and left-wing whackoes.

PINKY: But, BRAIN--

BRAIN: I said now, PINKY. [PINKY reluctantly obeys, stepping on
the remote with his foot. The TV clicks off.] Tonight's plan to
take over the world has two parts, my friend. The first part
involves a common, everyday household item with a multitude of
purposes. It can be used for minor cleanup jobs, decorating trees
and houses in childish Halloween pranks, and to augment the flat
chests of prepubescent girls. Do you know what this marvelous
invention is, PINKY?

PINKY [uncertain, tentatively]: Ummm...toilet paper, BRAIN?
[winces in preparation for a blow to the head]


BRAIN [pleased]: Yes, PINKY. Correct. Perhaps you are not a
complete and utter loss after all.

PINKY [overjoyed]: I got it right! I got it right!! [dances
about] Heeheehahahaha! Zort!! [He gives BRAIN a rousing backslap,
causing him to stumble. His forward momentum carries him
face first into the book of Carver, which slams shut with BRAIN
inside and hurtles over the edge of the table. PINKY runs to
watch helplessly as the book hits the floor with a thud.]

 PINKY: Poit! Oh...I've done it now! [scrambles hurriedly down the
leg of the table and over to the book. He opens it and flips
pages until he finds a very flat--and furious--BRAIN pasted to
one of the even-numbered pages.] I'm sorry, BRAIN!

BRAIN [slightly dazed]: Did you know that this book has an entire
chapter devoted to peanut butter recipes?

PINKY [interested]: Smooth, or crunchy? [peels BRAIN off the page
and flaps him like a towel to pop him back into shape. BRAIN
seizes PINKY's snout and glares angrily into his eyes.]

BRAIN: Thick and nutty...much like you, PINKY. [releases the nose
in his grip and paces away a few steps, hands behind back. PINKY
giggles stupidly and emits a "poit". BRAIN looks back at him.]
But back to the plan. You see, PINKY, humans take toilet paper--a
rather plentiful and relatively inexpensive commodity--for
granted. They purchase by the roll, the package, the family pack.
Six rolls for a dollar. A family pack for two-fifty. When
administering it, some people use a basic wad-and-stuff motion;
others prefer the "beehive" technique. But--[hand in
air]--suppose there WAS no toilet paper?

PINKY: Egad, BRAIN! Brilliant! [going from excitement to
confusion] But...um...'ow'll you pull it off?

BRAIN: From over the roll, my friend. [dry laugh]. Ha. Ha. Ha.

PINKY: Oh, BRAIN! You're funny! Troz!

BRAIN: I am not wholly devoid of the ability to make an
off-the-cuff humorous remark. But I fear I digress. My point,
PINKY, is that we shall make arrangements to buy out the word's
supply of toilet paper.

PINKY: But 'ow?

BRAIN: Simple, my dense friend. We'll simply make a few phone
calls to every major toilet paper and toiletry manufacturer on
the planet and buy out their entire inventory...using my top
secret world domination slush fund account.

PINKY: You mean that shoebox of cash you 'ave buried under the
junk'eap in the alley behind the lab?

BRAIN [sighs]: Semantics aside...once we have purchased the
goods, we shall store them in the abandoned concrete bunker under
the facility. It was built during the Cuban missile crisis in the
early sixties, but never used and eventually forgotten. It will
be perfect for storage. And now for the second part of my plan.
Do you know what that is?

PINKY: Er...ah....Yes! I do! We put on funny-looking rubber masks
and sheets and then we run about going door-to-door ringing
doorbells and asking for candy--and if they don't give us any, we
T.P. their 'ouses! Narf! We'll T.P. the whole bloomin' country!
We'll T.P. the WORLD!! Troz!!

BRAIN [exasperated and thickly sarcastic]: Yes. We'll cover the
planet in T.P. And maybe we'll put a giant flaming sack of dog
excrement on the White House lawn.

PINKY [anxiously]: Oh, BRAIN, can we? That's be so much
fun-fun-silly-willy! Heeheehahahahahahaha!! Narf! Poit! Zort!!

[BRAIN can no longer restrain himself. He kicks PINKY in the butt
and sends him flying. He flops down on the floor and rolls over,
giggling idiotically.]

BRAIN: I'm so glad you're enjoying yourself.

PINKY [ceases laughing, jumps to his feet, and dusts himself
off]: I try.

BRAIN: Once we have the world's toilet paper in our possession,
we shall implement part two of the plan. There exist certain
military satellites in space that are capable, if properly
calibrated, aligned, and conjoined, of magnetically altering the
orbit of the planet on its axis. Even a tiny alteration in the
planet's revolution will affect global weather patterns--i.e.
precipitation. More rain means that the crop yields will
double--no, triple. But there is one crop that interests me more
than any other. An opportunity, PINKY, to redeem yourself in my
eyes. Can you guess which crop I refer to?

PINKY [ponders a second]: Um...one of them toilet trees you
mentioned before?

BRAIN: Peanuts, PINKY. Peanuts. A very versatile and delicious
foodstuff...but overconsumption of them can lead to excess water
vapor collecting in the digestive tract, thus resulting in
intestinal spasms, discomfort, and excessively liquid bodily
excretions.

PINKY: You mean a right wicked case of the 'ershey squirts,
BRAIN?

BRAIN [raises an eyebrow at PINKY's crude slang]: Ye-es, PINKY,
in the vernacular. [clears throat.] Due to the plentifulness of
peanuts, the low prices and peoples' own hubristic tendencies
will lead them to consume them in excess...thus rendering
themselves helpless with fits of explosive diarrhea. but without
toilet paper to wipe themselves with, they will be trapped in
their bathrooms experiencing foul and painful stomach discomfort
until doomsday. With the world stuck on its collective toilet,
everything will shut down. Schools...factories...
transportation...government...the media. With no one around to
run these institutions, we shall step in and commandeer the
reins. This--[bumping the table leg to send a shelled peanut
teetering over the edge falling into his arms]--precious little
legume will be my key to ruling the world! [kisses the peanut. An
aside:] Mmmm...salty. [comes back to himself] We stand on the
crux of a new age, PINKY. Are you pondering what I'm pondering?

PINKY: Well, I think so, BRAIN. But if Othello was the Moor of
Venice, who was the less?

[BRAIN hefts the peanut in his hands and clobbers PINKY with it,
cracking the shell and sending the kernels flying. PINKY
staggers, dazed, then giggles again. BRAIN tosses the split shell
away and continues speaking]

BRAIN: No, my friend. The plan, much like you, is simple. Take
away the world's toilet paper and render them completely helpless
to their own bodily functions.

PINKY: Um--no, wait, wait. What if people decide to wipe their
bums on the towels, BRAIN?

BRAIN [doesn't miss a beat]: Nonsense. People would never use the
towels for the purpose of wiping themselves. It's socially
impolite. You must understand that there are certain societal
norms--

PINKY [interrupting]: Heeheehahahaha!! What a fun word you 'ave
there, BRAIN! Mind if I pinch it for me vocabulary? [bugles in a
thick, throaty tone] NORM! NORM! NORM!! Heeheehahahahahahahaha!!
NORM!!

BRAIN [stands on tiptoe and looks him square in the eye]: Put a
cork in it, PINKY, or I will be forced to beat you mercilessly.
[PINKY gulps. BRAIN turns around with hands behind back and walks
off. PINKY's attention turns to the peanuts lying on the floor,
and he runs over to them and sniffs them, licking his lips. Zip
pan to BRAIN, not looking at PINKY but seeming to have eyes in
the back of his head.] And don't eat those. They'll upset your
stomach. [Too late. Zip pan back to PINKY, whose cheeks are
bulging and his mouth full of chewed-up peanut. He swallows.]

PINKY [in questioning tone]: Norm?

BRAIN [approaches him with a mean smile on his face]: You ate
both those peanuts after I explicitly told you not to, didn't
you?

PINKY: Er--no. [PINKY's stomach gurgles loudly, betraying him. It
sounds like someone blowing air through a straw into muddy water
or a clogged drain coming unstuck. PINKY suddenly clutches his
stomach, whoops, and runs into the bathroom, slamming the door
shut behind him.]

BRAIN [pleased at this display, throws his hands into the air]:
YES!!
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Scene 2

[Montage shots of THE BRAIN walking across the pages of phone
books, carefully consulting the listings; talking into the
mouthpiece of a giant telephone with the receiver leaned up
against some books, and making marks on a blackboard with a piece
of chalk the size of his fist as he crosses names off a list. BG
MUSIC: P&B theme, instrumental.]

[A black screen with large white letters: "4-6 WEEKS LATER".
Dissolve to overhead shot of Acme Labs, where BRAIN is furiously
pacing back and forth in front of the door, casting furtive
glances every two minutes. PINKY is sitting a short distance
away, playing with his toes and giggling.]

BRAIN [grunts frustratedly]: Blast it all! The first shipment of
toilet paper was due to be delivered days ago! Oh...I fear all
those hours of consulting phone directories and endlessly dialing
digits were for naught! [heaves angry sigh]

PINKY: You should have dialed 1-800-COLLECT. It saves up to 44%
on the people you call most, anywhere in the United States,
including Alaska, 'awaii, and Puerto Rico. Narf!

BRAIN: Can it with the inane celebrity testimonials, PINKY, or I
shall have to--in the Negroid vernacular--break a cap inside your
gluteus maximus. You're being a--

[BRAIN's rant is interrupted by the sound of letters tumbling
through the mail slot, and he eagerly races over to the pile and
proceeds to shuffle through it. PINKY joins him, holds up a
letter, and squints at it, reading slowly.]

PINKY: "Nom...eavah...advebev...avawah...uahoha...Ha ha ha!
Zort!! Look at this silly thing, BRAIN!

BRAIN [flatly]: Turn it right-side-up and read it, PINKY.

PINKY: Oh-hh! Ha ha! Troz!! [flips the letter over, looks at it,
and gasps] 'ey, BRAIN! You might already 'ave won ten trillion
dollars! But they right misspelled your name, they did.
O-C-C-U-P-A-N-T.

BRAIN: Never mind that. [seizes a letter and tears it open with
gusto] Why should human money interest me when, once the
population is confined to their toilets, it shall be worthless
as--as--

PINKY: Umm--toilet paper, BRAIN?

BRAIN [scowls]: I'll pretend I didn't hear that. {pulls the
letter out of the envelope and reads it. A moment later he howls
furiously, his eyes bulging and threaded with red veins.]

PINKY: Egad!! What is it, BRAIN?

BRAIN [breathing heavily and swallowing thickly, angry beyond
belief]: Those blithering idiots at the post office have
misplaced my mail! They were supposed to deliver it to THIS
address--but they transposed the last two digits, and now some
other party is receiving MY delivery! The world's entire supply
of toilet paper is in the hands of--[consults the address]--HELEN
and JAKE MORGENDORFFER of Lawndale.

PINKY [thoroughly amused]: Heeheehahahahahahaha!! [in a throaty
tone] MORGENDORFFER!! Heeheehahahahaha!!

BRAIN [with a disapproving look and tone]: It isn't polite to
make fun of people's names, PINKY. Stick to "narf" and "poit" and
[winces]..."norm".

PINKY: All right, BRAIN. [giggles] Norm!! Norm!! [giggles again]

BRAIN: We must figure out how to rectify this situation. I can't
have the most important part of my plan winding up in the greedy
grasping hands of mindless suburban yuppies. [The camera pans on
a close-up of BRAIN, his face in shadows, tapping his chin with
his finger as he ponders. PINKY stands in the BG. Suddenly he
raises his hand and begins to "ooh" and "Ah" like an impatient
child in a classroom. BRAIN sighs.] Yes, PINKY?

PINKY: 'ow about we write Mr. and Mrs. MORGENDORFFER and tell 'em
there's been some kind of mistake and that we want 'em to send us
our toilet paper back?

BRAIN: That's absurd. There's no way that would work. I can't
believe you'd say such a stupid--[suddenly brightens]--YES!!

PINKY [runs over to him]: Egad, BRAIN, what is it?
 
BRAIN: In your own unique fashion, my friend, you've hit upon the
solution. [The next part of this dialogue is superimposed over an
image of PINKY and BRAIN climbing into a large box full of
Styrofoam packing peanuts. The MORGENDORFFER'S address is clearly
printed on the exterior of the box and there are air holes
punched in the side and lid.] We shall mail ourselves to this
address, and, once there, reclaim what is rightfully ours and
drag it back here to the lab.
 
[Pan in on close-up shot of PINKY and BRAIN inside the box,
hip-deep in foam peanuts. BRAIN is holding one flap of the box
lid, PINKY the other.]

BRAIN: Once I have their precious toilet paper--[lids close
behind PINKY and BRAIN, muffling their voices]--the world will be
on its bended knee!

PINKY: But I thought they'd be squattin' on the 'opper with the
squirts--not barfin', BRAIN. [muffled bopping sound] Ow! Narf!!
[high silly giggle]

[P&B theme, instrumental, swells as scene fades to black.]
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Scene 3

[Fade in on an exterior shot of Acme Labs with a mail truck out
front, gunning its motor. The side of the truck is marked FED-UP:
"It'll get there when it damn well gets there." The truck drives
away from the Acme Labs building. Cue up P&B theme, instrumental,
and hold throughout following montage.]

[A whirling montage of shots culled from old
black-and-white/color file footage of things like the exterior of
a post office, a line of mail trucks driving down a road, a line
of mailmen with bulging mail sacks marching down a long hallway
with their backs to the audience, people dropping letters and
packages through those little slots in the P.O. marked "local",
"out-of-town", etc.; a shot of the other side of one of those
things showing all the mail dropping into the same big canvas
cart, letters being sorted and filed by a giant machine that
drops them onto a little slotted conveyor belt, some stock news
footage of crazy postal workers blowing people away with
semiautomatics, etc. Then we see the package containing our two
heroes--looking like two people with muddy boots threw it on the
floor, stomped on it, then pulled down their pants and passed gas
on it--rolling down a long conveyor belt through a little
window-type thing with those plastic strips dangling over the
opening.]

[Cut to exterior of the MORGENDORFFER house and play a burst of
"la la la la la"s over it. Cut to interior shot of QUINN's
bedroom. QUINN is looking at her reflection in her three-way
mirror and holding a pink button shirt over her chest, pondering
it and turning to and fro for the full effect, with one sleeve
folded and the other spread out along her extended arm. BG MUSIC:
"Pink" by Aerosmith.]

QUINN: Uck! Guh-ross! [tosses away the shirt] That's MUCH too
salmon! I need something in coral...or at least a dusky rose!

[DARIA passes by her open door, munching a kiwi fruit, and looks
into the room at her sister, who is preening furiously at the
glass. T-shirts and stuff are strewn all over the bed and floor.]

DARIA: Hmmm...looks like a cyclone just whacked a Gap.

QUINN [gasps]: God! Don't even joke like that! [holding up
another shirt--carnation pink--poses with it, makes a face, then
tosses it away in disgust. Glowers at her sister.] What in hell
do you know about fashion, anyway? That field jacket and combat
boots ensemble went out after we kicked that So-damn Insane guy's
butt in the Golf War back in the 80's! [Camera pans on DARIA,
rolling her eyes off to the side sarcastically at her sister's
impressive grasp of history. Pan back to QUINN, arms folded over
her ample chest, then back to DARIA.]

DARIA: Well, not much... [picks up a hot pink leather miniskirt
draped over the top of a nearby chair and holds it aloft between
thumb and forefinger]...but I know enough not to put on a skirt
so short I need to have two hairstyles to wear it.

QUINN [after a few seconds--it takes her a bit to figure out she
has just been insulted]: Oo-ooh!! [snatches the skirt out of
DARIA's hand fiercely] Get out of my room! [shoves DARIA out and
slams the door hard]

DARIA [staring at the door, with the camera at her back, the
half-eaten kiwi in her hand. To the closed door]: And I was going
to be nice and offer you a bite of my kiwi, too. [walks down the

hall to her room, finishing off her fruit. Camera follows her
down the hall to the door, then cuts to the interior of DARIA's
bedroom, where we see the top of a wooden crate filling the lower
half of the screen. DARIA enters, licking her fingers, and pauses
with her tongue out and the tip touching her middle finger. She
steps in for a closer look at this mysterious foreign object,
putting her tongue back in her mouth and lowering her hand.]
Great. Is Mom using my room for storage again? [pushes the lid,
which is loose and ajar, aside, and a bit of loose straw spills
out on the floor. She reaches into the straw and fishes out a
package of Acme toilet paper.] Wha--?

[A black and white stop-frame shot of BRAIN whacking PINKY with a
peanut, with a chorus of "la la la la la"s sung to the tune of
the P&B theme in the BG.]

[cut to commercial]
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ACT II
------------------------------------------------------------
Scene 1

[The scene dissolves to the interior of JANE's room. Several days
have passed since the end of the last scene. BG MUSIC: Bob
Dylan's "Queen Jane Approximately" from stereo. JANE is reclining
on her bed next to a dissection tray filled with a mixture of
clay and of various colors of paint. She reaches into the tray,
scoops up a handful of the mixture, rolls it up into a ball,
and--closing one eye and putting out her tongue a bit--throws it.
Zip pan to other end of room, where the ball strikes an easel
placed there with a satisfying wet THWACK. The splattered remains
of several other paint-and-clay balls decorate the board in a
similar manner.]

JANE [pleased]: Stee-ee-rike!

[The phone on the night stand jangles, and JANE seizes an old
towel nearby to wipe off her hands--she has shmutz clean up to
her elbows. She lifts the receiver to her ear.]

JANE: Y'ello.

DARIA's voice: This is DARIA. Can you get over here pronto? I've
got something here you might be interested in.

JANE [hopefully]: A "Sick Sad World" marathon?

DARIA: No--even sicker and sadder than that. [The screen splits
in two halves, diagonally, JANE at top half and DARIA at the
lower.] You'll never guess what's been coming in the mail all
week. Get this--crates of toilet paper.

JANE: Toilet paper? Could be somebody's trying to tell you
something, if you catch my drift. [balances phone on her shoulder
to free her hands for rolling another clay-and-paint bolus] T.P.,
huh? That's pretty darn sick and sad, all right.

DARIA: What do you make of it?

JANE: Sculptures, sometimes...little water, flour, salt, and a
couple rolls of the stuff make great paper mache for--oh, wait,
you mean what do I think about it?

DARIA: Yeah.

JANE: Dunno. Maybe QUINN and the fashion clubbers need it for a
big bra-stuffing seminar this weekend. You try talking to your
folks about it?

DARIA: Captain Oblivious and Persephone, Queen of Hell, you mean?
Lotsa luck. Every time another shipment comes in, Mom has the
delivery boys stash it in my room. I asked her about it the other
night at dinner, and she gave me something about my room being
the biggest space upstairs, mumbled the words "menstrual cramp"
and "headache", then-- [JANE finishes rolling the ball and lets
it fly. Full screen pan on her. DARIA hears the THWACK as it
makes contact.]--what the hell was THAT?

JANE: Oh--my newest masterpiece is in the works. I'm trying a new
thing...lobism.


DARIA: Lobism?

JANE: You get a bunch of clay, squirt some paint in there [gives
the goop in the tray a squirt of cadmium yellow, grabs up a
handful, and rolls it as she talks] and [THWACK] let it fly.

[Screen splits again vertically--DARIA on right, JANE on left.]

 DARIA: And people go for that kind of stuff?

JANE: Shoot, yeah. I just heard about a lobist who got $37,500
for a piece. Green paint and mud thrown at a canvas. Called it
"The Tragedy of the Rain Forests".

DARIA: The tragedy here is that those artsy-fartsy types'll buy
anything if they think it's uplifting and helps fund their pet
causes.

JANE: You mean enslaving the populous and corrupting our kids'
minds?

DARIA: Bingo. Look at the guy who took a piss in a jar and stuck
a crucifix in it. What was he trying to say with that?

JANE: "Hey, look at this really cool kidney stone I just passed?"

DARIA: My point exactly. Why not just puke all over a canvas and
sell it to some poor sucker?

[cut back to full screen of JANE.]

JANE: Oh, you mean bulimism. They don't sell for much more than
fifteen, twenty grand--mostly because they're a bitch to keep up,
especially on hot days. I heard of this one called "World Hunger"
that was displayed during some show in New York City during July,
right smack dab in the middle of this heat wave. Wooo!! [waves
her hand in a damn-that-stinks motion] The smell cleared out the
joint toot sweet, and a couple of the arts-and-croissants
crowders fainted and had to be dragged out on stretchers. All in
all, not worth wasting the price of a good meal on making one of
those babies.

[Split screen again horizontally, DARIA at top and JANE on
bottom.]

DARIA: You don't say.

JANE: Oh, I say. Last year, some guy came out with this new thing
called "nasalism". He would chug down a swig of paint and then
blow it out of his nose onto the canvas.

DARIA: Sounds like a charmer. Where'd you hear about that joker?

JANE: "Sick Sad World" documentary on art. His name was Pinkasso.
Crazy little guy with a cockney accent, always giggling and
saying things like "narf" and "poit". His manager was this dude
with a big frigging head. They tried to pull off a scam to sell
more paintings by claiming that Pinkasso was dead. Turns out he
was very much alive all along, and when the artsy types figured
it out, they ran both their asses out of town on a rail. A big
riot kicked up, and they both just vanished. [makes spooky music
with her mouth]

DARIA: Yeah...him and Jimmy Hoffa. [sighs, holds up a roll of
toilet paper, and begins to toss it in one hand] So how do I make
a ton of tushie tissue just disappear?

[cut back to JANE, full screen]

JANE [wryly]: I can think of several ways right off the bat, but
none of them are fit to print.

[cut back to DARIA, full screen]

DARIA: Just get cleaned up and get on over here. I've got the
goods stashed in the spare shed out back, by the compost heap.

[cut back to JANE, full screen]

JANE: Good place for a load of T.P.--right next to a big pile of
crap.

DARIA's voice on phone: Cut the quips, Gracie. Just be here in
twenty. Bye.

JANE: Adios. [phone clicks. JANE places receiver back on cradle
and begins to wipe her hands on her towel, her eyes closed and
her head lowered. Then she stops and looks up suddenly, eyes
wide.] Tushie tissue?!?

[Cue "SSW" theme in BG to connect the end of this scene with the
opening of the next one.]
------------------------------------------------------------
Scene 2

[Cut to MORGENDORFFER house, interior. "SSW" theme is thudding
away as the scene opens. DARIA is seated on the sofa waiting for
JANE and watching TV...although it seems her mind is elsewhere
because her facial expression is blank and distant--well, more
than usual, anyway. Camera moves to DARIA P.O.V. shot of TV,
which is showing--natch-- "Sick Sad World".]

TV ANNOUNCER: Is the new revised television ratings system
actually a secret code designed to give marching orders to
liberal conspiracy group operatives working on college newspapers
across the country? [show image of a college campus with a
newspaper front page covered with TV ratings blocks superimposed
over it] That's next up on "Sick Sad World"!

[close-up of the show's rating--TV14--appearing in the top left
corner. Camera on DARIA.]

DARIA [to herself]: And I thought the whole shebang was just a
plot to give America free eye exams. [tosses remote into the
corner of the sofa]

[QUINN, wearing a lavender button shirt open over her baby tee,
bell-bottom jeans with big pink hearts stitched on her back
pockets, and the same atrocious coral lipstick she had in "Pinch
Sitter", breezes in, passing behind the sofa.]

QUINN: Did I hear Johnnie Mack's car outside?

DARIA: You mean the guy you've been talking dirty to over the
phone every night for the past six months and have pledged your
undying love to forever and a day, even though this is the first
time you've ever met face to face?

QUINN [chipper, not missing a beat]: Yeah. If fives didn't look
so much like sixes on a push-button phone in a bad light, I might
never have gotten to know him at all. Is he here?

DARIA: Not yet. I'll call you when. Just don't do anything I
wouldn't do, little miss I-can-get-three-fingers-between-my-legs.

QUINN [shocked]: Oooh!! Have you been listening to my private
phone conversations?

DARIA: No. I would never do anything so horrible. [pause, slight
smile] I had JANE listen to them and then run down all the juicy
stuff for me.

[Camera zip pans to QUINN, who is trembling furiously. Zip pan
back to DARIA, holding the TV remote up and clicking to another
channel. DARIA P.O.V. shot of screen to see FLIP WILSON dressed
as Geraldine.]

FLIP WILSON [in a high pitched voice]: What you see is what you
get! [laugh track plays] Ooooh! I'm gonna get Killer after you!
[laugh track]

[QUINN takes a deep bosom-heaving breath and prepares to yell for
her mother, but then stops and turns her head when the doorbell
chimes.]

DARIA: Ah...that old familiar bing-bong.

QUINN: I'll get it. [starts to head for the front door]

[Cut to outside of the house. JANE is standing on the porch
holding a small and rather dog-eared package in her hands,
turning it over and over and examining it. Camera pulls in for a
close-up of the package. Dissolve to interior shot to show BRAIN
and PINKY, amongst a nest of Styrofoam peanuts, sliding about and
bumping into the sides.]

BRAIN [colliding into the left side and nearly buried in foam
peanuts]: By the food-stained beard of Copernicus! What in the
devil is going on out there? I--

PINKY [off-camera]: 'eads up, BRAIN!

BRAIN: What? [grunts sharply as PINKY collides sharply with him
and the two are covered in foam peanuts]

[Cut back to close-up of JANE peering at the package in her
hands, trying to see into the air hole. QUINN opens the door
suddenly, startling her and causing the doorknob to knock the
package out of her hands. It hits the step and then bounces into
the air, landing on the sidewalk. The sound of PINKY and BRAIN
grunting as the box impacts on the concrete is heard twice.]

QUINN [disappointed]: Oh, it's just you. [suddenly furious] And
don't go blabbing to my sister how many fingers I can get into my
bodily orifices! [kicks the package violently, sending it flying
into a tree. A muffled "oof" and a "narf" are heard upon impact.]

JANE [a bit perplexed at this outburst]: What bug crawled up YOUR
butt, miss pert 'n' perky?

[QUINN opens her mouth and heaves another figure-enhancing
breath, preparing to let JANE have it, then hears a car horn honk
from off-camera. QUINN P.O.V. shot of a red Dodge Viper across
the street, a shadowy figure waving from the driver's seat.]

QUINN: Ooh! That's my ride! Bye-eee! [skips off, passing by the
tree where the package is lying and steps on it in her
exuberance. Pan down the drive to QUINN entering her date's car
and on the car as it peels out.]

[Cut to interior of MORGENDORFFER house, with DARIA still
watching TV on the sofa. HELEN breezes by, talking rapidly into
her cell phone.]

HELEN: Okay, Eric. I'll be at the office in twenty minutes.
Fifteen, if I make all the lights. [brief pause] Don't worry,
Eric, I'll have the research on the Schittana Shingle Corporation
suit wrapped up and on the big guy's desk by dinnertime. [pause]
Yes, the usual drill. Cancel all my other appointments, route all
my incoming phone calls to the outer office, order in
Chinese--Double Happy, extra egg roll, plenty of soy sauce. Got
it covered? Oh, Eric, you know me so well. [titters girlishly]
Bye. [clicks off phone. To DARIA:] Okay, honey. There's TV
dinners and a big jug of Kool-Aid in the fridge for you, QUINN,
and your father. Microwave the dinners for one minute, take them
out of the oven, turn the mashed potatoes with a fork, put them
back in, and let it cook for two more. You know the drill.
Buh-bye. [kisses DARIA on the top of her head. Her face remains
unchanged. HELEN goes to the window to wait for her carpool,
tapping her foot impatiently.]

[JAKE breezes in a moment later, half in and half out of his
suitcoat, his tie loose, his shirt-tail untucked, and slurping
coffee from a mug.]

JAKE [to DARIA]: Got a big client to meet with today, kiddo, so I
won't be home in time for dinner. Sorry. There's TV dinners and
Kool-Aid in the fridge for you and your sister. Nuke 'em for one
minute, stir the potatoes with a fork, and let 'em cook for--

HELEN [by the window, not looking around]: I already gave her the
cooking instructions, dear.

JAKE: Oh. Okay. [throws back his head and slurps down the last of
his coffee. A car horn honks outside; he turns his head and asks
in a hopeful tone:] Is that my carpool?

HELEN: It's mine, JAKE. [another honk] That's yours.

JAKE: Gotta go! See ya later, kiddo. [ruffles her hair with his
left hand and puts his empty mug in her hands with his right.
DARIA's eyes show her contempt for this, though her face remains
blank.] He and HELEN nearly bowl JANE over on the porch, causing
her to step out of the way abruptly and nearly tumble into the
bushes. The camera pans along, following them across the yard
(going stage right), and in the rush HELEN tramples on the
package by the tree, then JAKE steps on it. A few seconds later
BUDDY (the gritty-voiced canine from "Spring Break in Hell"--boy,
when he gets out of the yard and runs off, he REALLY runs off!)
dashes in from stage right (to the tune of "Pop Goes the Weasel"
played on the harmonica, tempo prestissimo, in the BG), steps on
the package, looks behind him furtively, then bolts out of the
scene going stage left. A moment later a grotesquely obese
dogcatcher with a huge flabby beer belly and a net in one hand
enters stage right, steps on the package, pauses, then resumes
the chase, heading stage left. By now the package containing
PINKY and BRAIN resembles a tattered, filthy accordion. JANE
enters stage left, picks up the package, and takes it into the
house. Cut to interior.]

JANE [holds package in right hand, closes door with left]:
Where're the parental units off to in an all-fired hurry?

DARIA: I don't know. [sets JAKE's mug on the table] Mom said
something about drilling her boss on her desk, covering him in
Double Happy, and turning him over with a fork after one minute.

JANE: And your old man?

DARIA: I think they're letting him watch. [notes package] What's
that?

JANE: It's for you. [hands it to her] I passed the mail truck on
the way over here, and the mailman asked me if I knew this
address. I told him I was headed that way, so he asked me to see
it got to you. So here ya go.

DARIA [reads the red stamped address on the box's side]: "ACME
LABS". Hmm. Funny. My samples of anthrax virus weren't due to be
delivered for another couple of weeks. [shakes package, hears a
rattle]. Looks like it went through hell to get here.

JANE: Must have been another postal strike. Damn unions.

DARIA: Mm-hmmm. [puts her ear on the package, eyebrows raised]
That's the damnedest thing.

JANE: What?

DARIA: Thought I heard a noise. [presses her ear closer. Pull in
for a close-up of the box and dub in muffled-sounding voices from
within.]

BRAIN [groaning in pain]: When...does...the hurting...stop?

PINKY [oddly chipper]: Oh, I think it's stopped now, BRAIN.
Wasn't that ride just fun-fun-silly-willy? Narf!

BRAIN: Yes, PINKY. Now...please do me a favor and push that
broken rib protruding from my anal orifice back into place, would
you?

PINKY: Oh, it's not so bad in 'ere, BRAIN. [chewing] And these
peanuts are great! Poit! And these don't make my stomach feel all
goo-ooo-oo-ooshy like them others did!

BRAIN: Those are Styrofoam packing peanuts, PINKY. I've told you
that before. Now please stop the shenanigans and try to focus on
our mission.

[Cut to shot of JANE and DARIA, staring at the package in
astonishment.]

JANE: I'll be damned! A talking box!

DARIA: Give me your penknife. I'll cut it open.

[JANE produces a Swiss army knife from her back pocket and
depresses the button in the handle. A four-inch blade pops out.
She passes it to DARIA, who draws her arm back and plunges the
knife into the package. Cut to interior shot of the box, where
BRAIN and PINKY are pressed against the side of the box in
terror, staring wide-eyed at the probing metallic intruder and
looking for all the world like a bit in a "Three Stooges" short
film. The blade draws back, and a torrent of light pours in as
there is a thick, loud ripping sound--the lid tearing open. Cut
to exterior shot of DARIA lifting the box up, turning it upside
down, and pouring out a shower of foam peanuts, as well as BRAIN
and PINKY, who hit the surface of the table and bounce like
little rubber balls.]

JANE [surprised]: Eww! Rats!! [seizes a nearby telephone book--a
big thick one--and slams it down on top of them. She lifts the
book to show BRAIN and PINKY squashed flat on the table.]

DARIA: Who in hell would want to send me a box of rats?

JANE: Early birthday present from Grandma?

[Close-up of BRAIN peeling himself up off the table with one hand,
making a thick noise like Velcro tearing, and popping back into
shape. The shot shifts angles to show the girls' faces towering
over BRAIN, whose back is to the camera. They change from bland
regard to twin wide-eyed looks of surprise as BRAIN speaks.]

BRAIN: We are not rats, Madame. We are two genetically-enhanced
laboratory mice who have delivered ourselves parcel post as part
of an intricate scheme to take over the world!

[JANE and DARIA turn their heads and stare at each other with
looks of "Do you believe this shit?"]

[A black and white stop-frame shot showing a four-way
split-screen of images of QUINN, HELEN, JAKE, and BUDDY trampling
the package in their haste, with a chorus of "la la la la la"s to
the tune of the P&B theme in the BG]

[cut to commercial]
------------------------------------------------------------
ACT III
------------------------------------------------------------
Scene 1

[Scene opens exactly as it closed out before, fading in to 
show DARIA and JANE staring at BRAIN and then at each other.
Note that all through this scene the camera angle should
switch back and forth as it cuts to show shots of both the
girls and the mice.]

DARIA: I'm going crazy. Did I just hear that mouse talk?

JANE [raises phone book]: Want me to whack 'em again?

BRAIN: That won't be necessary, Madame. My companion and I have
simply come in search of something that was sent here by mistake.

JANE: What's he talking about?

DARIA: Maybe he's come for QUINN. Maybe after fourteen years, the
stork realized there was a clerical error in the shipping
department, and this is his repo guy.

BRAIN: I'm afraid I don't know what in blazes you're talking
about. I'm afraid you've been receiving misdirected mail that
rightfully belongs to me, and I need it back desperately.

DARIA: I don't suppose you mean a few thousand rolls of Charmin.

BRAIN: Yes! Where is it?

DARIA: In the shed out back. But why--?

BRAIN: No time. Come, PINKY. [seizes PINKY's hand and tugs it,
popping him back into shape, and prepares to scurry off, but JANE
nimbly seizes BRAIN in her left hand and PINKY in her right.]
Ugh!! You unwashed savage! Release me this instant!

JANE: Not until you tell us what the score is, Bobby Big Head.

BRAIN: The name is BRAIN, Madame.

JANE: Don't call me Madame. The name's JANE LANE.

PINKY [singsong]: Egad! JANEY and BRAINY, sitting in a tree!
K-I-S-S-E-I-E-I-O! Narf! Zort! Heeheehahahahaha!!

BRAIN: Move me closer to my associate, please, Miss LANE. [JANE
moves her left fist closer to her right. BRAIN frees his hand
from inside her fist, bops PINKY a good one in the noggin, then
tucks his fist back inside hers.] Thank you. That was
quite...cathartic.

JANE [squints at PINKY]: You look familiar to me. Hey...wait a
sec--! DARIA, this is Pinkasso, the guy I told you about!

DARIA: The guy who blew paint out of his nose and called it art?

PINKY [embarrassed giggle and snort. Modestly]: Actually I called
it a big mess. Poit! BRAIN called it art when 'e needed money to
fund 'is scheme to put two big speakers at the ends of the earth
and torture the world with the sound of a big drippy faucet.

BRAIN: No, that's what I started that ritzy nightclub in Vegas
for. I stated nasalism to fund my scheme to stick mirrors in the
surface of the moon and turn it into a giant disco ball.

PINKY: I thought that's what you became leader of the Rhennish
clan of Minnesota to do.

BRAIN: No, you're confused. I led that quaint and backwards lot
of people in an attempt to mine a rich load of sinusite for my
plan to render the world helpless with fits of sneezing.

PINKY: So we could break into Ft. Knox and steal all the gold to
fund a plan to buy a giant magnet to throw off the world's
gravity.

BRAIN: No, no. I wanted to steal the gold to render the nation's
economy helpless, and I used a special pollen derivative I cooked
up to render the guards sneezing and helpless. I went on a game
show to earn the funds for the magnet.

PINKY: Which you used to bring the earth to life to do your
bidding.

BRAIN [impatient sigh]: No, that was an accident you caused
through your bungling with one of my devices, a machine that
harnessed the aura of inanimate objects and gave them life.

PINKY: Like the statue of Abe Lincoln in the Washington Monument.

BRAIN [angry sigh]: The Lincoln Memorial, PINKY. And no, that was
us hiding under the statue pretending that President Lincoln had
come back to life. Honestly, you have the short-term memory of a
piece of fecal matter.

PINKY [touched]: Oh...thank you, BRAIN. You too.

JANE [shakes her head sharply to clear it]: Wait. Hold it. I'm
all mixed up. How often do you two goobers try to take over the
world?

BRAIN: To date, there have been nearly 100 attempts.

JANE: Like...every single night?

PINKY: And twice on Saturdays. [BRAIN scowls sharply at him; he
flinches and pulls back, with an apologetic grin.] Troz?

BRAIN: Ahem. Yes. My associate and I have suffered a
few...setbacks. In fact, that is why we're here. The
misappropriated toilet paper you've been receiving was supposed
to be sent to Acme Labs...but there was an error in shipping due
to the last two digits becoming switched.

DARIA: And now I'm the proud owner of enough toilet paper to sop
up Lake Michigan?

BRAIN: I am the rightful owner of the commodity in question, Miss
MORGENDORFFER

DARIA: DARIA. Please.

BRAIN [impatiently]: --and I must ask you to return it. It's of
no use to you. I must have it stored away under Acme Labs before
I can commence with the second part of my plan.

JANE: Swipe everyone's soap so they can't bathe either?

BRAIN: No, that would be ridiculous. [grandly] I plan to increase
the world's peanut crop in order to confine the population to
their toilets with explosive diarrhea!

JANE: Um-hmmm. And that's NOT ridiculous?

DARIA: What I can't figure out is how a lab rat--

BRAIN [indignant]: Mouse!

DARIA --mouse managed to buy up all the toilet paper on the
planet.

BRAIN: Very simple. I made a phone call to every bathroom goods
manufacturer on the seven continents and asked them to send me
their entire stock C.O.D., A.S.A.P.

PINKY [whispers]: Um...I think these girls know 'ow to spell,
BRAIN.

[BRAIN growls at PINKY savagely, who flinches and "poit"s
apologetically.]

DARIA: So they just gave you what you asked for, no questions
asked?

BRAIN: Yes. Humans are extremely gullible, trusting creatures.

[JANE's fist suddenly closes around BRAIN, producing a cracking
sound and making his eyes bulge out. She releases the pressure,
and he emits a hacking cough.]

BRAIN [weak, pained]: Present...company...excluded, of course.

[JANE smiles self-satisfiedly.]

PINKY: Oh, yeah. They sent 'im everything they 'ad--just like the
time me and 'im built a life-size model of the world out of
paper-mache, and BRAIN 'ad to order all them newspapers. Poit! 'e
ordered a few thousand copies of every newspaper in the
world....well, except the Arkansas State University 'erald, of
course.

BRAIN [sniffs]: Well...I do have my standards, after all.

PINKY [leans closer to JANE and whispers]: BRAIN 'asn't been the
same since they got rid of 'is favorite columnist. Oo-oooh!
Troz!!

BRAIN: [grandly]: They shall regret their mistake and rehire
him...mark my words.

PINKY [sigh}: Right, right. Whatever you say, BRAIN.

DARIA: A life size model of the world? You mean Chia Earth?

BRAIN: Yes!

DARIA: I saw an expose about that on Sick Sad World a couple of
years back--right before my family and I packed up and moved out
of Highland and came to live here in Chia Lawndale. Lots of new
Chia people, nice Chia house, plenty of available Chia jobs.

JANE: Nice Chia pitch. You should get a job with Chia Century 21.

DARIA: Have you ever noticed that when you say a word over and
over again like that, it just starts to sound silly?

JANE: No. Can't says I have. Hmmmm....Highland...
Highland...isn't that where those two guys you were telling me
about lived?

DARIA: Oh, yeah...those two. They died right before I left the
old neighborhood, right before the comet trashed the old world.

JANE: I dunno...I heard on "Sick Sad World" that it was all an
elaborate hoax pulled by two deviant masterminds.

DARIA: I don't know about that. But it's possible that the comet
got them.

JANE: We can only hope.

[Cut to scene of BEAVIS and BUTT-HEAD's house, interior. They are
watching TV together on their threadbare sofa. Both are wearing
"I LOVE CHIA WORLD" T-shirts.]

BUTT-HEAD: Uh...Chia World sucks.

BEAVIS: Heh, heh. Heh, heh. Yeah. Gimme the Chia remote, BUTT-HEAD.

BUTT-HEAD: Like, no way...Chia buttknocker.

BEAVIS [screaming]: Don't call me Chia buttknocker!

[The two fall to the floor, fighting violently, kicking and
punching and hollering.]

[Cut back to DARIA's house, interior. JANE is still holding BRAIN
and PINKY in her fists.]

DARIA: So how do you and Trent like Chia World so far?

JANE: We haven't told him yet. My folks and I just picked up and
moved everything to Chia Lawndale...including Trent. He slept
right through the whole move. He doesn't know the difference.

DARIA: And the giant half-finished paperwad in the sky didn't tip
him off?

JANE: What can I say? Boy don't get out much.

DARIA: Mm-hmmm...so let me get this straight, Mr. BRAIN. You made
about ten zillion phone calls to the newspaper companies as part
of a plan to slap together a model of the world and get every
human being on the planet out of the way. Now you're making ten
zillion phone calls to the toilet paper plants as part of a plan
to give the world the runs and get every human on the planet out
of the way.

BRAIN: Well...yes. I fear repetition is the scourge of genius, my
dear

DARIA. [DARIA scowls slightly at this epithet, but says nothing.]

JANE: Maybe you just need new writers.

PINKY: Oh...'e tried that, too, JANE. Right after 'e tried to
'arness steam power to give every bloke in the world tight,
tingly 'ats, but about the same time 'e used these steam-powered
legs to dance out a 'ypnotic message to control everybody at the
World's Fair.

JANE: Damn, I'm confused. Did he build Chia Earth before or after
he brought the planet to life?

PINKY: Oh...before that. 'e brought the world to life just after
'e dressed up as Cher to get into a pro-am golf tournament to win
this right smart metal golf club 'e wanted to use as a needle to
tattoo "PROPERTY OF BRAIN" on the planet. Of course, before BRAIN
made Chia Earth, 'e tried to take over France by pretending to be
Napoleon Boney-parte, and before that, 'e tried to start up 'is
own country in order to get a big fat aid check from the
government. But then the 'ole bloomin' island went up in a
bi-ii-ig volcano! Bang! Zoom! To the moon, Alice! Zort! And then
there was this one time 'e wanted to around the world in
seventy-nine days to beat out this bloke what looked like David
Niven, 'e did, and 'e'd 'ave made it too, except we 'ad a bit of
trouble with this cab driver in New York what looked like Latka
from Taxi and we couldn't figure out 'ow to speak 'is language.
[laughs, snorts] And then there was the time....[prattles on
nonsensically]

JANE [murmurs]: My ears are bleeding. Make the hurting stop.
Please.

BRAIN [weary sigh, interrupts PINKY]: Thank you, Mr. Exposition.
It's comforting to know you keep a record of all my past snafus.

DARIA: Why not just throw in the towel and give up this
obsession with taking over the world?

PINKY: Oh--'e did that, too. Tell 'er, BRAIN.

BRAIN: Very well. I created a device to see into the future, and
what I saw, I didn't like. I was old, gray, senile, and still
trying to take over the world even though I could barely recall
my own name. In the throes of a mid-life crisis, I had a
heart-to-heart talk with my neighbor--

PINKY [interrupts]: --that nice Mr. Sultana, who accidentally got
our red rubber nub in the mail that one time, remember, BRAIN?

BRAIN: Yes, PINKY--and it's interesting to note that the mail
service hasn't changed a bit since then. [glowers nastily at JANE
and DARIA, then continues]--with my neighbor, Mr. Sultana. He
suggested a change of life. I consulted with an expert, who
suggested that I had the sufficient aptitude to become
a--[shudders]--ski instructor.

JANE: What happened with that?

BRAIN: I nearly died in an avalanche. If it hadn't been for PINKY
 and that accursed future-seeing gadget--

DARIA [finishes]: --you'd have been a frozen treat for a cat.

BRAIN [raises eyebrow]: Ye-es...something along those lines. Now
if this little detour down memory lane is concluded [wiggles out
of JANE's grip and hops down onto table. PINKY follows his
example.], I have some business to attend to.

[JANE's hand comes down and blocks BRAIN's escape off, forming a
wall between him and the table edge.]

JANE: Not so fast, Speedy.

BRAIN: You have me confused with another mouse, Madame.

JANE: How's a little squirt like you going to move a couple of
thousand pounds of squeezably soft goodness? Eat a can of
spinach?

[BRAIN's eyes widen as he realizes he failed to calculate this
part of the plan. In a flat, defeated tone:] PINKY...she's right.
Are you pondering what I'm pondering?

PINKY: Well, I think so, BRAIN. But I don't think my tongue is
long enough to lick myself all the way down there.

BRAIN [angry grunt]: No, PINKY. Don't you get it? We can't
possibly transport all that toilet paper from here to the lab
alone. We lack the physical strength and stature for such a
Sisyphian task. We require assistance.

JANE [raises her hand]: We'll do it.

DARIA [raises her eyebrow]: We will?

BRAIN: Excellent! [eyes narrow suspiciously] What's the catch?

JANE: No catch, Shorty. When you and Slim take over the world,
just don't forget to cut off a slice of the pie for us. I've got
dibs on Hollywood and San Francisco. Always wanted my own freak
show. DARIA?

DARIA: Well...I have always like the shape of Baja California.
Looks like we're peeing on Mexico.

BRAIN: Done. It's yours. In addition to your labor, my assistant
and I need a neutral base of operations from which to launch out
attack, and the lab is too much of a hot spot. Any ideas?

JANE: Why not right here?

DARIA: Right where?

BRAIN: Very well. I'll require a new identity, however, to be
able to move about inconspicuously.

JANE [sotto voce, to DARIA]: A talking mouse is worried about
other people figuring out who he really is?

DARIA [sotto voce, to JANE]: How often do you see a mouse who can
talk? He's short, articulate, crabby, abusive, and has a head
like a casaba melon. He could pass for Danny DeVito.

JANE [snaps her fingers]: I've got it. Hasn't your mom been
looking for a tutor for QUINN?

DARIA: Yes...she's been flunking Spanish class really badly
lately. All she can seem to remember is what she's picked up
standing in line at Taco Bell...and she can barely get that
right.

BRAIN: That's excellent. I do have a working knowledge of the
language as a result of being forced to listen to a series of
"Schnookered on Phonics" tapes as part of an experiment on
subconscious linguistic second language acquisition.

JANE: Does Slim there speak Spanish, too?

BRAIN: No...I fear PINKY was used for the tests of a rather
unsuccessful prototype of the company's other language series,
"Schnookered on Ebonics".

PINKY: Poit! Yo, yo, yo! Pink-Daddy is in the his-ouse! Bust a
move and bust a rhyme and pump up the jam, homeboy, home slice,
mack-daddy, befo' I bus' a cap in yo' skank ass, you punk
motha'[bleep]ers! Narf! Zort! Heeheehahahahaha!! [dances about
like M.C. Hammer]

BRAIN: You do the honors...I insist.

[JANE brings down her fist sharply on PINKY and withdraws it,
showing PINKY flattened like an accordion on the tabletop.]

JANE [massages her fist with her hand]: You're right. That IS
cathartic.

BRAIN: Then it's agreed. I shall pose as a live-in Spanish tutor
as a cover while we transport the world's supply of toilet paper
to the bunker below Acme Labs. And once that's done, we can
commence with part two of the plan.

DARIA: Which is?

BRAIN: No...I've said too much as it is. I shall tell you when
the time is right. [extends hand] Agreed?

DARIA [sotto voce, to JANE]: Are you sure we're doing the right
thing, going along with Rizzo the Rat in taking over the world?

JANE [sotto voce, to DARIA]: Don't sweat it, kiddo. If nothing
else, it'll make a great term paper for DeMartino's class. That
bulging eye of his'll pop right outta its socket. And taking over
a planet always looks good on a college application. [DARIA
scowls] Besides, if we don't like the way Mickey here is doing
things, we'll give him to Brittany's little brother to play with.
No sweat.

BRAIN [hand still extended]: Well?

DARIA [to BRIAN, with a resigned sigh]: Agreed. [offers hand]

[Close up of Brain shaking tip of DARIA's index finger. Fade out
on this image, with the P&B theme, instrumental, tempo
 prestissimo, in the BG.]
------------------------------------------------------------
Scene 2

[Dissolve to MORGENDORFFER kitchen, interior, following evening.
The family is together around the table, with DARIA at the head,
QUINN seated to her right, and JANE and HELEN at her left. They
are in the middle of dinner--lasagna, as usual, with
corn-on-the-cob and ruffle-cut french fries smothered in melted
cheese on the side. Dinner is a silent affair, with nothing but
the sound of clinking flatware and nervous fidgeting. HELEN's
sickeningly sweet voice breaks the silence.]

HELEN: So-ooo-oo-o, QUINN....how was your lunch date with Jimmy
Ray?

QUINN: Johnnie Mack, Mom. And it was terrible! He had, like, this
big unibrow [indicates it by running index finger across
forehead] from here to here! Uck! Guh-ross!

 DARIA [murmurs]: Maybe you should have shown him your
three-finger trick. That'd impress Mr. Cro-Magnon. [QUINN gasps
and shoots her a dirty look.]

JAKE [chipperly oblivious, as usual]: A trick, eh? I once dated
this girl who could do tricks. She could shuffle tarot cards with
one hand and pull coins out of your ear with the other.
Ooh-hoo-hooo! And with her tongue, she could--

HELEN [sharply]: JAKE!

[JAKE falls silent.]

QUINN [gasps, flounces]: I don't do tricks, Dad.

DARIA [murmurs]: Most guys around here can't meet her price.

[QUINN makes an absolutely horrid face--like the one she made in
"Pinch Sitter" (after DARIA called her "unbelievably deceitful
and shallow")--at her sister, arching her eyebrows and putting
her tongue out. When her parents look at her, the face is gone
and she's all peaches-and-cream again.]

[The doorbell rings from the direction of the living room.]

DARIA: Yep. That's the old familiar bing-bong.

JAKE [rises from table]: I'll get it. [exits stage left]

[Cut to shot of living room interior. JAKE enters stage right and
heads for door. The old familiar bong-bong does its thing twice
more.] JAKE: Dammit, I'm coming, I'm coming! Keep your drawers
on, fella! [reaches door, opens it. Camera angle switches to
exterior shot of doorway to show JAKE's confused face. He sees no
one on the porch.]

voice of BRAIN, off-camera: Down here, sir.

[JAKE P.O.V. shot as camera pans down to two diminutive figures
on the porch--PINKY and THE BRAIN. BRAIN is smartly dressed in a
three-piece suit cut to fit him, with accommodations for his tail.
He wears tiny pince-nez spectacles and a fake black beard. PINKY
is dressed head to toe in a tiny uniform of the sort favored by
Catholic schoolboys--tiny jacket with a crest on the pocket,
white starched shirt, shorts, knickers, shiny black shoes, and a
knit cap, which he doffs respectfully.]

BRAIN: Allow me to introduce myself. I am Professor Don Juan
Montgomery Braindulce, and this is my protégé, Ignatz
Pfutzenreuter Rembrandt III--known as "PINKY" to his schoolchums.

JAKE: I see. What can I do for you, Professor Braindulce?

BRAIN: It is what I can do for you, Mr. MORGENDORFFER. I was told
you had a daughter whose performance in her Spanish class is less
than stellar. I was referred her by one Mrs. ANGELA LI.

JAKE [bluffing]: Oh...oh, yes, of course! I--ah--remember my wife
telling me that. Please come in, Professor.

PINKY: Egad! We're in, BRAIN! Narf!

JAKE [eyebrow raised]: Narf?

BRAIN: Eh? Ah...yes. Er...that is an all-purpose greeting native
to the dialect of certain parts of northern Spain...high up in
certain remote mountain villages. It signifies both "hello" and
"good-bye-like "aloha" or "ciao".

JAKE [believing every word]: Oh! Ha! Ha! Ha! [makes a Vulcan sign
with his first two digits] Narf to you, young man! Live long and
prosper, and may the force be with you! Ha! Ha! Ha! [turns and
heads in the direction of the kitchen. BRAIN seizes PINKY's nose
in his grasp and looks him square in the eye.]

BRAIN: Control your moronic outbursts before you get us both
thrown out of here. Understand? [PINKY nods]

[Cut to interior of kitchen. JAKE enters, grinning from ear to
ear.]

HELEN: Who was at the door, dear?

JAKE: A new Spanish tutor for QUINN, honey! Isn't that great!

QUINN [sulkily]: I don't need a Spanish tutor. It's not like I'm
ever going to Spain or something.

HELEN: Now, honey...you know that a foreign language requirement
is a law according to the school board in this state.

QUINN [being snotty]: Well, you're a lawyer! Why don't you change
it?

HELEN: Nothing doing, QUINN. JAKE, bring in the tutor.

[JAKE steps aside to admit BRAIN and PINKY. PINKY looks about the
kitchen with a dopey look on his face. BRAIN bows deeply.]

BRAIN: Greetings, Madame. I am Don Juan Montgomery Braindulce,
the Spanish tutor your daughter's school sent over.

PINKY: And I am
Igneous-um-something-something-poit-whatever-shire-the third...or
something! Narf!

JAKE [goes up to HELEN and whispers in her ear]: That means
"hello" in Spanish.

[Fast cut to DARIA, who is drinking milk, and we see her eyes
rolling over the rim of the glass.]

HELEN: Forgive me for asking, but is that boy all right?

BRAIN: Yes. you must forgive young PINKY. His English isn't very
good.

PINKY: But I speak English fine, BRAIN.

BRAIN [grits teeth]: You speak English very poorly, PINKY.

PINKY: Oh! right! Zort! I speak English right poorly, so I do!
Narf!

[QUINN's face is the dreamy expression of a girl having some
delicious orgasmic fantasy. She leans her head on her palm and
her elbow on the back of her chair as she tilts her head to get a
better look at PINKY. QUINN P.O.V. shot of PINKY, superimposed
over a hazy pink background. BG MUSIC: strumming harps and
twittering birds.]

QUINN [breathy, dreamy voice]: PINKY....

[DARIA gags and chokes, spewing milk out of her mouth all over
the table surface. No one bothers to show concern or pat her on
the back. She scowls slightly at this lack of sympathy.]

[Cut back to shot of QUINN, still with that orgasmic look on her
face.]

[Cut to half-screen, QUINN on left, credits on right. Dissolve to
character morphs over left side. END CREDIT MUSIC: "Tiny
Montgomery", Bob Dylan and the Band, "The Basement Tapes", 1975.
------------------------------------------------------------
VOICE CAST:

TRACY GRANDSTAFF as Daria

WENDY HOOPES as Quinn Morgendorffer, Jane Lane, 
Helen Morgendorffer

MIKE JUDGE as Beavis, Butt-Head

MAURICE LAMARCHE as Brain, "SSW" reporter

ROB PAULSEN as Pinky

JULIAN  REBELLEDO as Jake Morgendorffer

JONATHAN M. SWEET as man in  chair, Flip Wilson

JOHN W. LYNN, JR.  as "SSW" announcer
------------------------------------------------------------
SESQUIPEDALIAN:  USING BIG WORDS
------------------------------------------------------------
THIS STORY CONCLUDES IN "THE PLOT IN A NUTSHELL:  PART 2:
DIARRHEA-CHA-CHA-NARF!"

[CLICK HERE TO GO TO PART 2!  NARF!  ZORT!  POIT!]