Categories > Cartoons > Daria > Slight Return

Which is Exceedingly Muddy

by minkhollow 1 review

The Horsepersons continue trying to cope with this turn of events, Daria and Jane start to notice something's up, and we find out where Famine's got to.

Category: Daria - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Crossover - Characters: Daria, Jane, Quinn, Sandi, Stacy, Trent - Warnings: [!!] - Published: 2005-07-16 - Updated: 2005-07-16 - 2321 words

Slight Return
Part 2: Which is Exceedingly Muddy

Crossover with /Good Omens/: Lawndale gets to deal with fallout from the end of the world... well, sort of.

Disclaimer: Neither involved universe is mine; just shoving them together for the hell of it.
Also, this will make a lot more sense if you've read /Good Omens/. If you want to carry on wihtout, do so, but... it's a wonderful book.

Jamie didn't feel like doing much at football practice. He didn't know exactly why. Part of it, at least, was his stomach - maybe not eating lunch on a practice day wasn't such a good idea.

And for some reason, he was thinking the football field was far too green to be allowed.

He stuck out practice as long as he could, but had to stay out after the water break. Staring in the general direction of the Tommy Sherman Memorial Goalpost, but not really looking at it, he contemplated the greenness of the grass and what could be done about it. Maybe if they left the sprinklers on all night -

"Hey dude, you all right?"

Jamie looked up - Joey had posed the question after the scrimmage-team huddle broke. Instead of heading for his spot, he was standing there waiting for an answer.

"Think so. If not, I will be."

"Okay. It's just... I don't know, you've been acting kinda weird all day. Thought I'd see if anything was up."

"Not that I know of," Jamie replied, shrugging. "You may want to get into the formation before you get run over."

Joey adopted a facial expression that clearly stated, "Eep!" as he scrambled for his spot - as it was, he barely made it. Jamie's thoughts wandered back in the general direction of that green business.

No, maybe the sprinklers weren't the best idea. They'd have to play in a complete mud pit tomorrow. Then again, weren't those the best possible conditions?


"So, like, that should catch you up on everything," Sandi finished as she put the final touches on her eyeliner. "Oh, except for the part where Quinn's been weird this week."

"Weird?" Stacy Rowe wondered. "Weird how? I thought all she was doing was putting more into school..."

"Sta-cee, it's not that kind of weird. I don't know how to describe it other than not-Quinn. Maybe if you talk to her, or something, you'll get an answer. She's been too busy, like, arguing with me to tell me anything."

"Um..." Stacy couldn't think of anything to say - nothing that wouldn't land her in hot water for thinking, anyway. A song she hadn't heard in a while started lodging itself in her mind. Trying to think around that, she finally said, "That's a good idea, Sandi. Thanks for the update."

Her first clue as to what was up came when Quinn actually made an appearance in the building. She was wearing a red camouflage-print tank top, khaki pants (but at least they were the light kind of khaki), and her usual brown shoes. 'Weird how' indeed. I obviously missed something important...

"Um, hi, Quinn."

"Stacy! You're back! Feeling better?"

"Yeah, I guess." She stuck on the next part for a few moments. "Er... interesting outfit."

Quinn sighed. "If you don't like it, just say so. I'm experimenting with some different stuff. And no matter what happens, I'm not going near the army green stuff."

"That's good. You know Sandi'll give you a hard time over the khakis, right?"

"It's either this or mixing primaries for the second time this week. What's it matter?"

What's it /matter/? Stacy boggled in the privacy of her own head. Since when does Quinn treat fashion like that? She was about to ask, but her red-headed friend was already off down the hallway.

And there was that song again. She'd have it stuck in her head for the rest of the day now. With a sigh, she opened her own locker and fished her history book out.

< Daria Morgendorffer watched her best friend wolf down lunch with the slightest hint of worry in her expression, though it would have taken a trained eye to notice. As it was, the only trained eye in Lawndale High's cafeteria was more interested in the fork-to-mouth path of her food.

"Jane." Jane Lane's attention remained focused on matters of the stomach, so Daria tried again, a little louder. "Jane." Having finally captured the apparently starving artist's attention, she continued, "You're actually eating mystery meat. Please tell me there's a rational explanation for this."

"You see any other food options in here?"

"That still doesn't cut it. You eat breakfast."

"Not today. I don't know what possessed the cats to get into my cereal last night, but they did. Ate everything but the box. So the only thing in the house this morning was coffee, unless I felt like taking my chances with the fridge. Last time I checked, that red stuff was going fuzzy."

"You Lanes and your lurking refrigerator. Anyway. You didn't go by Do Me a Donut or something on the way to school because..."

"Not enough spare cash," Jane replied. "And it didn't seem worthwhile to spend one of Mom's blank checks on doughnut holes. I did have some coffee before I left, but I'm starting to think tired and hungry may have been the way to go."

Daria considered. "No, at least you're alert enough to know you need food."

"Oh! Speaking of alert, Trent was actually awake by the time I left this morning."

That sentence and knowledge of Jane's brother's sleeping habits did not mesh. "No way."

"Yes way, Daria. I think the Spiral's practice ran late last night, or possibly early, but I didn't bother asking." A pause for thought (and chewing), then: "Come to think of it, he may have been getting up a little earlier every day for the last few weeks."

"Strange things are afoot in the mind of Trent, I guess."

"He's a Lane, it's to be expected. You gonna eat that?"

Looking down, Daria realized Jane was referring to her own neglected tray of unfood. She sighed and shoved it across the table, and Jane commenced stuffing her face like there was no tomorrow (which actually would've been more accurate about a month prior) - or like she hadn't eaten in a week.


Scarlett got her first good laugh since what had been passed off as Armageddon when she saw the job White had done to the football field.

"It gets better," he said. "Stick around for the halftime show. Now, if you'll excuse me, duty calls..."

"Wait a minute. I thought you got benched?"

"Yes, but I still have to sit on the bench. If it's any consolation, I don't understand the rules either." With that he was off to the locker room, leaving the stadium in her more than capable hands.

How long had White been working on this? Three weeks? A month? It explained why she hadn't seen many signs of his presence in the building. True, the cafeteria tables had gone unwashed and the occasional ballpoint pen exploded, but that all seemed to lack his usual enthusiasm.

That would be because he'd been putting most of his energy into this mud-pit business. Maybe, Scarlett pondered, some of it was to make up for that Antarctica thing he kept meaning to do. On top of being closer to their present location, this would likely prove to be infinitely more interesting.

She hardly paid attention to the game itself, mainly because she'd never had the time to familiarize herself with the rules (though she'd meant to). After giving the matter a bit of thought, she decided White had probably landed in exactly the right person. They both had the same last name, at least as things stood at the moment,and the poor kid's given name was forgotten by everyone, giving him that lurks-in-the-background element.

Halftime provided Scarlett with her second really good laugh in one day. The home band presumably had learned better than to try marching, but the visitors couldn't benefit from that foresight (or else they had a sadistic director). The entire saxophone section got a bonus shower when one of them tripped over a sprinkler and set it off. By the end of their show, the band members had slipped so often they looked like they'd been playing the football game.

During the second half a fight broke out in the stands after a referee made the right call on the wrong team. (Then again, from what little Scarlett knew about the sport, the calls were always on the wrong team. It all depended on your perspective.)

The game wound up being a close one, for reasons unrelated to the teams' respective abilities. Lawndale High finally won, three to nothing.

"So, what did you think?"

"Hmm? Oh, you're down there. That was brilliant. I still don't understand the game, but that bit with the band made up for it. I imagine you enjoyed it more when both bands were out there. Great job." She reached down to give him what could pass for a high five, under the circumstances, and got some mud on her hand in the process.

Once Jamie had started back toward the locker room (or wherever), Quinn looked down at her soiled hand. She didn't remember going anywhere near the football field, but still...


< Raven Sable was not enjoying himself.

He hadn't seen either of the others. Come to that, he didn't even know if they were all in the same town. How could he when this guy hadn't left the house in five weeks?

Along with that, he was quite possibly narcoleptic. It had taken a fair amount of Sable's energy just to institute a regular sleeping schedule. He also had yet to see the inside of the refrigerator, so presumably food was a rare happening in this house without his help.

There was one bright spot. The girl seemed to have felt his presence, even if she hadn't put the pieces together. Even to the point, if he'd heard correctly, where she was investing in Mystery Meat CHOW (TM) at lunch. In a way, it was nice to know the business was still on its feet.

And then there was the matter of those other three guys, reportedly part of a band. Sable had no idea what the band in question was meant to sound like. They kept aborting practices in favor of grabbing a pizza.

That was it - pizza. Something that would both get him out and handle some business. With a slim smile he hadn't found an excuse to use since the day before Armageddon-or-something, he sat down to wait. The proper time would present itself sooner or later, and he was determined to sit there on the couch until something happened...

Or maybe that was just the slacker within.


Joey suddenly realized Quinn hadn't had a date in weeks. Sure, she'd been talking to Jamie a lot - and about some suspiciously trippy stuff - but that didn't mean she'd gone exclusive. Word would have gotten out, and knowing Quinn, she'd have done a screening process.

So why didn't he try asking her?

"Hey, Quinn. I noticed you haven't had any dates for a while. Can I take you to Chez Pierre tomorrow?" (Strange, he realized, neither of the other two were there to one-up the invitation...)

"Sorry, Joey, but I'm busy all day." Then she smiled at him. "Maybe Friday?"

"Erm..." Joey wasn't quite sure what to make of that smile. It almost made her look predatory. "Uh, never mind. I-it's not that big a deal. See you later." And at that he was off like a shot, or possibly a cannonball.

Quinn watched him go with a very confused look on her face. She was used to guys coming to her, not running away.

It's that stupid smile. Does it every time.

"It does not!" Not long after she realized she'd said that out loud, she also figured out not enough people had noticed to really dent her popularity.

Then she started wondering precisely what her plans were for the next day. Whatever they were, they had to be worth turning down a date. After all, she'd made them... hadn't she?

< "Remind me, what are we doing tomorrow?"

"Going to the pizza place," White replied. "He's bound to get out there eventually. I'm sort of surprised he hasn't yet."

"And then what?"

"I don't know. And do be careful, you nearly sounded like a five-year-old there."

"Hey, can I help it if I want to get out of here? I mean, it's obviously loads better than Limbo, but... it's freaking Suburbia. You're perfectly happy here, or in fact anywhere so long as it's got the proper mess potential. I'm better off in a desert environment." Scarlett let out a sigh. "Besides, I want my truck back."

"Does that mean you're getting back into arms delivery?"

"Possibly. I don't know whether my position with the one pulp magazine was held, so I may have to, for a while. Thing is, I just might be able to fix the thing now."

"You mean if it hasn't been sandblasted to bits by now..."

"Whatever." She set Quinn's history book on the table, opened it at random, and started reading. After a few moments she flipped forward.

White looked at the page she eventually stopped on, and was not at all surprised to see a battle map. "I'd ask if you ever got enough of that, but I don't think it's necessary."

"You have to remember I knew a lot of the people doing this stuff. Usually these books are so far off the mark all they're good for is a laugh."

"If you say so." Thinking it over, White realized he'd never actually read an accurate description of one of his projects. Maybe she had a point after all.
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