All language subtitles for Daria - S04E04 - Murder, She Snored

- I never thought
I would say this,

but the grades on these tests

were miraculously above
my low expectations.

- I like a teacher with
no ambitions for his students.

- Yeah, high standards only
give us something to strive for.

- Yes! I passed,
and I got the extra point.

- All right!

- Kevvy, what's that "a" doing
on your paper?

- Why, Brittany, that's
the most intelligent question

you've asked all year.

- Thanks.
- Kevin?

- I have an "a"
because I got 100?

- That's right, Kevin.

In fact, almost
the entire football team,

despite repeated cranial trauma
and a chronic inability

to solve the maze
on a cereal box,

got 100.

- Go, team, go.

- Only Mr. MacKenzie got a "b."

- Go, mack, go.

- All right.

- Forgive me my suspicions,

but it's obvious
that someone, Kevin,

got ahold of the test
beforehand, Kevin,

which would account
for the jimmied lock

on my filing cabinet, Kevin!

- But who does
he really suspect?

- That Jimmy guy?

- Perhaps you would like
to share with us

your knowledge in this matter?

- But I don't know anything.

- Can't accuse him
of lying there.

- I think you do know something
about the incident, Kevin.

I think that if you didn't steal
the test yourself,

then you know who did.

And is it not true
that you needed an "a"

to get off academic probation?

- Nah, the coach said
he'd fix my--

I mean, hey, I studied.

- Kevin, who were
the principal players

in the teapot dome scandal?

- The New Orleans saints?

- Teapot dome, Kevin,
not superdome.

- Teapot...

The new england patriots.

- How many teams are there
in the NFL?

I want to know if this is going
to run into lunch.

- Where were you
Monday afternoon?

- Um, hanging out with the team?

- Yeah.
- No, no, yeah, with the team.

- It's cool.
- With the team.

- Before you run off to
your next class for your naps,

know that unless
the guilty party comes forth,

everyone will receive
an "f" on the test.

Do I make myself clear?

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

- "F" all the way.
- Dude, we're gonna fail.

That rocks.

- This sucks.

The first time
I get a 95 too.

- Funny.
From here it looks like an 84.

- I grade myself on a curve.

- Everyone knows
you took that test,

so would you just admit it
so we don't all fail?

- Yeah, you know,
if I get an "f,"

I'll be kicked off
the cheerleading squad,

because you need at least
a 1.0 average to stay on,

and then my chances of becoming
a pro cheerleader

will be ruined,

and that will give me
a permanent headache.

- So get one of those
really big bottles of aspirin.

- I mean, kevvy, I'll have a
headache next time we're alone.

- Oh.

So you want me
to bring the aspirin?

- Ooh!

- But, babe,
I didn't steal the test.

- You just copied it
word for word.

Fine, Mr. and Mrs. Jealous-baby.

Now I know what it's like
to be hated

just because you're a brain.

- Did you hear that?

You're no longer
the only brain in the school.

- Hmm, I guess
I'll have to kill him.

- Aw, don't kill him.

You two can start
a support group.

- Sorry, all my support groups
have a one-member limit.

- Damn idiot,
prima Donna, crybaby clients.

That's it, Helen!
I'm changing careers.

- Mm-hmm, and they made that
offer with a straight face?

- Hey, kiddo,
how was your day?

- Fine.

I heard a new voice inside
my head, and Kevin stole a test,

so everyone's getting an "f."

- That's great.

- Daria, you were just kidding
about the voice, right?

- Relax. We don't
have to answer that.

- Daria, if you need
to talk, i--

I know.

It's a clear-cut case
of neglect.

- Can too many carrots
make your head grow leaves?

Uh, what's that, doc?

In one hour,
on sick, sad world.

With the brains
and beauty butt buster,

you too can have a rounder...

- What are we going to do?

Serena's inside the house
with that murderer.

- We've got to save her

before he finds out
she's a private eye.

- What do you have to say
for yourself now, detective?

- I knew the stolen microfilm
had to be sewn into the bikini,

but I didn't count on falling
in love with you.

- I'm surprised Ms. Li hasn't
made Kevin confess by now.

You don't think she's actually
waiting for evidence?

- No, she just doesn't want him
to admit anything

until she's finished building
her new interrogation room.

- Hmm, questioning a suspect
is more fun with a cattle prod.

- What isn't?

Anyway, half the class
already wants to kill him.

- They're just saying that
to get our hopes up.

Clang!

Ouch.

- When did my locker get so big?

- Cyanide.

- Must have come
from the cafeteria.

- Remind me to send
my compliments to the chef.

- Wow, he doesn't look so good.

- Dying can be harsh
on a person's appearance.

- Who would do such a thing

so thoroughly?

- If I may offer
a small observation,

it's a well-known fact that
murderers frequently return

to the scene of the crime
to admire their handiwork.

- You're not suggesting
one of us did it?

- If the shoe fits,
miss Lane!

- Wow, this is just
like cinderella.

- Yes, and you've turned
into two pumpkins.

- Huh?

- Save your breath, people.

I think I know who's responsible
for this heinous crime.

Ms. Morgendorffer,
it is my duty to inform you

that you
are the number one suspect

in the murder
of Kevin Thompson.

- What?

- It's always the quiet ones.

- Now, Ms. Morgendorffer,

you just answer
as truthfully as you can.

Yeah, right.

- Can't I just skip
the investigation

and go straight
to solitary confinement?

- Sorry.

No one is going to deprive me
of the opportunity

to rifle through
the personal property

of individuals totally
unconnected to this case--

oop, I mean, deprive you
of your right to justice.

Now, nail her to the wall.

- Oh, dear.

- Well, well, well.

Miss morgendorffer, where
were you Monday afternoon?

- Hmm, after watching frustrated
faculty members squander

yet another day trying
to teach the unteachable,

I went home and studied

so I won't wind up in a job
that combines

the stress level
of a neurosurgeon

with the pay scale
of a video clerk.

- Your transparent attempt
to derail my line of questioning

with sarcasm has been noted.

- What Mr. Demartino
is trying to say, daria,

is that a more positive attitude

might make
this informal rap session

more pleasant for all of us.

Would you like a soda?

- Isn't it true
that you were furious at Kevin

for causing your "f"

and the black Mark
on your permanent record?

- In other words, daria,
is it at all possible

that perhaps you were just
a teensy bit frustrated

that a fellow student's
alleged transgressions

canceled out
all of your hard work?

- Actually, I believe
you gave me the "f."

- Cookies?
They're chocolate chip.

- Quit avoiding the issue
and admit it, daria.

You hated Kevin.

- What Mr. Demartino
is trying to say--

- that's it.

Oh.

- I can't work
with this amateur.

He's screwing up my delivery.

Do we have to do
good cop, bad cop?

- Anthony, it sounds like
you have issues about--

- out!
- Eep!

- Now, about your hating Kevin.

- Why would I hate Kevin?

Just because he was destined
to go pro

and make millions of dollars

endorsing his own line
of odor-eaters?

Because he had his whole life
in front of him.

- Damn him.

- Because society rewards
brain-dead athletes

with cash prizes
and rv dealerships

while the most you can hope for
is a car roof

that doesn't leak
when it rains?

- I should've wrapped my hands

around his oafish young neck
and--

daria,
quit changing the subject.

- Mr. Pibb?

- Oh!

- Daria, how was school today?

- Let's see.

No one talked to me at lunch,

and I'm the number one suspect
in the murder of Kevin Thompson.

- Good for you.

Say, daria, what would be
an exciting new job

for a youngish,
still vital self-starter

who can bring a lot
to the table?

- Waiter at pizza forest?

- Daria, you were just kidding
about lunch, right?

Damn, where's that abstract?

- Mom, I was wondering if
you could give me some advice

on the legal system

or just teach me how to summon
guards with a tin cup.

- Sure, honey, but right now
I'm late for my meeting,

so it'll have to wait
till I get back.

- Okay;
If I'm not here,

I'll be starring
in the prison rodeo.

- Have fun.

- Great.

- Can I help, honey?

- Not unless you're a detective.

- Detective.

Oh, yeah!

- Oh, no.

And if I don't find out
who killed Kevin,

I'm watching sick, sad world
in the prison weight room.

You try yelling "down in front"
to someone with head staples.

- Look, daria, I'd like to help,

but I've got another crime
to solve.

- I sure hope
Tom hasn't been kidnapped.

- Didn't I tell you?

Trent's dead.

- What?

- Come on, I'll show you.

- Trent.

- I found him
like this yesterday.

I haven't had the heart
to move him.

I can't help but think
that a one-armed man

is somehow involved.

I guess you two will never know
what might have been.

- Oh, hi, daria.

Just catching up on a little
sleep before it gets dark.

Oh, hey, janey, can I have
my back scratcher?

- There you are, honey.

Look, I'm a detective.

I'm ready to solve your case.

- Enjoy prison.

- Sacre bleu.

Your face.

It's so big.

What about me?

Is my face big too?

- I don't believe this.

There's only one place left
for me to turn,

and it's not pretty.

- Angels,
I've got some bad news.

Star quarterback Kevin Thompson
has been murdered.

- Oh, no,
but he was so cute.

- How come they never kill
the ugly people?

- Or the people
who wear sandals with socks?

- You tell me, angels.

You're the detectives.

Now, the chief suspect
in the case has hired us

to prove her innocence,

a Ms. Daria morgendorffer.

- Oh, no.

- Ew.

Upchuck, she's so...

Unpopular.

- Hey, Quinn,
isn't she, like,

your family's cabana girl?

- Actually,
she's our cabana girl's cou--

our cabana girl's
adopted cousin.

- So we'll accept the case?

She's willing to pay up front.

- Well, I could use
a matching case for my gun,

you know, with a Pearl handle
and a built-in makeup mirror.

- Yeah, and my holster
is so pre-glock.

- This is so wrong.

My thighs are all bulgy.

- Tiffany, dear,
what are you doing here?

- I just thought
I'd check and see

if any of you is quitting
to go into movies

so I can be the new angel.

- We're in, upchuck.

- Good work, angels.

I knew I could count on you.

Feisty.

- The first thing we should do

is find out where
the body was dumped.

- Well, not to jump
to conclusions,

but the crime scene tape
might be a clue.

- Really?

I was going to say
the pool of blood.

- Look, a chalk outline.

- I wonder if it belongs
to anybody.

- I hope not.

It's so fat.

- I know.

Don't they have
chalk outline workouts?

- Tiffany, you're not
even supposed to be here

until Quinn leaves
over creative differences.

- What?
- Sorry.

- Quinn, you want me to erase
the chalk outline for you?

- No, me.
- Me.

- No, come on, man.

Hey, get out the way, man.

- Guys, you're smudging it.

- Hmm.

- Two, four, six, eight.

Kevin's on his final date.

Go, Mr. O'Neill.

- I'd like to say a few words
about the dearly departed.

Kevin was...

Kevin, we hardly knew you.

- Come on, let's go grill
the merry widow.

- I wish they'd get
the funeral over with.

This cemetery
is kind of depressing.

- Maybe they should get rid
of all the dead people.

- Good idea.

But they should Bury them
somewhere else,

don't you think?

- Brittany, how were you
and Kevin doing

before his untimely death?

- We weren't doing anything,
I swear.

- A likely story.

He was gonna break up
with you, wasn't he?

- Say, for another girl
with bendable legs

and a Malibu house?

- Daria, Jane,
I can't believe

you're trying to find out
if Kevin's available.

I mean,
hitting on a dead guy?

That's really sick.

- What can I say about Kevin?

That he was--
well, he was, um...

He never made
anyone feel stupid.

Thank you very much.

- I couldn't have said it
better myself.

- Thanks.

It's funny,

but I still can't believe
I'll never see Kevin again.

- It must've been tough being
around Kevin day in, day out.

What was that name
he used to call you?

Mack mama, mack brother,
MacArthur--

- mack daddy. Mack daddy.

I hated that name.

Hated it, do you hear me?

- I would just like to say
that I'm glad Kevin is dead.

I wish all males were dead.

Thank you, and go, lions.

- Lawndale high is proud
to announce the establishment

of the Kevin Thompson
memorial foundation,

which will oversee
public service projects

in the spirit of Kevin,

like, um, or, uh...

So in conclusion,

I'd like to announce the
dissolution of the foundation

and remind everyone that the pep
rally starts in one hour.

- I can't help thinking
there's something in here

that upchuck's angels
overlooked.

- Wow, that's a stretch.

Probably just some
incriminating piece of evidence

that Ms. Li will jump all over
as proof of your guilt.

Right on schedule.

- Ms. Morgendorffer,
you're under arrest

for the murder
of Kevin Thompson.

Book her:

Murder one.

- Dad, I thought
you'd become a detective.

- I got deported.

Lousy immigration officials!

- Jake, would you please act

like you're the law
on these streets?

Honey--i mean you lousy,
two-bit punk--

do you have anything
to say in your defense?

- No, except
that Kevin died of everything

except a gunshot wound.

- Hey, can I see
that cool gun?

I mean, I think I should examine
the weapon for clues.

- Guess you won't be dusting
for fingerprints.

- Huh?

- Look, I don't mean
to interfere

with your rush to judgment,
but if you give me ten minutes,

I think I can prove who's
responsible for Kevin's death.

- Go on, Ms. Morgendorffer,
but be quick about it.

- Round up the suspects.

- Right, chief.

I always wanted to say that.

- Buck up, skinny.

- I just can't stop thinking
about poor Kevin.

- Sure, you can.

Yah!

- Daria, I can't believe
you're still talking about this.

- Oh, yeah.
- Yeah.

- That was so yesterday.
- Totally.

- The reason
I've gathered you all here

is that one of you
killed Kevin Thompson,

and no good deed
should go unpunished.

- Is this going to take long?

Because with poor kevvy gone,

I need to find a date
for Saturday.

- Maybe I should've been
a video clerk.

At least I would've gotten some
free movies out of my lousy job.

"Hello, sir.

Will that be one night or two?"

- Ms. Morgendorffer,
get to the point.

- On the morning of Kevin's
murder, I, by chance,

coated my locker with an
invisible, time-activated paint.

Anyone who came in contact
with that locker

will notice that their hands
are turning a bright pink...

Now.

- See? Innocent.

- Me too.

- Actually, I believe
you are all guilty.

You see, I made up that story
about the paint,

knowing that only the guilty
parties would check their hands.

- Huh?

- All right.

I did it,
but I had just cause.

I worked all my life
for that 84,

and he just came
and took it away, damn it.

I was meeting Tom for lunch

and didn't want
to reek of gunpowder,

so I decided
to swipe Trent's cyanide.

He and the band were saving it

in case they don't make it
by the time they're 50.

I went to the cafeteria
and waited for Kevin

to perform his daily lunch dance
offering to the gods.

I'm a bull with a runny nose.

Get it?

Running bull.

- And then
I slipped the cyanide

into his nutty butter
and banana sandwich.

- What a riot, man.
- Yeah, baby.

- Dude, you rock.

- But that was it.

I didn't strangle him
or shoot him with an arrow

or even club him.

You've got to believe me.

I draw the line
at physical exertion.

- Well--
- wait a minute.

I was nowhere near that locker.

- Too late.
- Damn.

- Oh, all right.

So I may have hit him a little
hard on the head with my club

but only because
I wanted him dead.

- Really?

Me too.

- Oh, I told mom no almonds.

- Later.

Et tu, mack daddy?

- I told you
not to call me that.

- I hope
this arrow thingy works.

Thud!

- A paperboy gets more respect
than I do.

Better Christmas presents too.

Thud!

- It's going to be a good day.

- Your ridiculous portrayal
of a corpse

is an insult to widows
and orphans and me.

Oh, yeah.

This is really working for me.

Mmm.

- And then she said
she doesn't even care

if v-necks make
her shoulders look slopey.

- No.

- We'll finish this later,
Kevin.

Don't go anywhere.

- This is all very well
and good, Ms. Morgendorffer,

but I'm afraid
it still doesn't explain

the gun in your locker.

- There's my antique
water pistol.

Excuse me, but I need this.

The photographer is here
to shoot my calendar.

- What the heck.
Let's execute her anyway.

- Sorry, sweetie,

I mean, you low-life weasel.

- Yeah, hope things work out
for you in the beyond.

- Wait.
Don't I get a say in this?

- Too late; I already ordered
the electric chair

with your height specifications,

and I'd be wasting
valuable school funds

if I didn't put it to good use.

- Don't worry, I'll take care
of your bone collection.

- Can't get auto insurance

because no one
in their right mind

will write you a policy?

- Wow, that's some dream.

It was nice of you to take
the rap for killing Kevin.

- You know, good cause.

- Just as I predicted,

the cowardly guilty party
has refused to come forward.

However, I've decided
not to automatically fail

the rest of you this time.

Those with plummeting scores
on this new test

will be under great suspicion,

as will any individuals
I just don't like.

- Doesn't that
more or less cover everyone?

- I'm dying.

Dying.

- Oh, look,
lord Olivier has arrived.

- Quit it, Kevin.
- So lame.

- Just kidding, guys.

- Just kidding?

Hey, Mr. D...

That kind of hurts.

- Try winning the heisman trophy
without a throat.

- Maybe dreams do come true.

- It could happen to you.

Mr. D...

You can stop now.

Mr. D?

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