Original subtitles

- It's legal and tender,

but someone's getting shortchanged.

Little cross-dressers and the women who love them

coming up next on sick sad world.

- If that woman were Judy garland,

this might make sense on a couple of levels.

- Come on, start!

Move!

You're a car; That's what you do!

That's all you do!

Now, do it.

- Ah, the eternal struggle between man and machine.

- And this time, it's personal.

- Hello.

- You're nothing but a damn radio with doors.

- No, dad and his inner child are playing in the driveway.

- But he's supposed to pick us up at the mall.

- He's discussing that with the car right now,

but the cars seems to be saying, "you're taking the bus."

- The what? - The bus.

It's like a bigger car,

only with old men sleeping sitting up.

At least I hope they're sleeping.

- Hello. Hello?

Great, the phone's dead.

- So when is your father gonna pick us up?

- He's not.

Um, someone said we have to take the bus.

- Quinn, no offense or anything, but humor is not your forte.

- Sandi, I would never joke

about taking public transportation.

Some things just aren't funny.

- I can't believe no guy would give us a ride.

- Maybe we shouldn't make them wait

in the car anymore while we shop.

Remember last summer when Jeffy got all dehydrated,

and his tongue was hanging out and stuff?

Well, yeah...

- Guys, I think the bus is this way.

- But I told Helen I'd pick Quinn up.

Now she'll never trust me to do anything again.

"I'll pick up Quinn, Jake.

"You'll just forget.

"Stay out of the kitchen, Jake.

"You'll just break the stove.

"Don't Polish your father's boots, Jake.

You haven't earned the damn right."

- He's not gonna start looking for wiretaps

under the floorboards, is he?

- No, I think speaking in tongues is next.

- And what if Quinn gets lost?

It will be my fault.

It's always my fault.

- As long as she gets lost with the fashion club,

I don't see the problem.

- Shallow graves for shallow people.

- Well, I'll show Helen.

I'll pick up Quinn and make the lasagna.

When Jake morgendorffer says he'll do something,

he dos it--i mean, does it, damn it.

Daria, if I don't come back,

remember to take the plastic lid off the lasagna

if you cook it in a conventional oven.

- Oh, father, don't even think such things.

Are you giving Quinn a ride home on piggyback

or taking the horse?

- That's right, damn it, no car.

- Wait, Trent's got a car... Sort of.

- Great, we'll take his car.

What's wrong?

It's safe, isn't it?

- Well, it's no pinto.

- Yeah, you have to hit those

before they'll burst into flames.

- Excuse me, but this isn't my street.

- No problem

just click your heels and say, "there's no place like home,"

only do it outside.

This is the end of the line.

- This place is weird.

- What was that noise?

- Stacy, you're not wearing those bangles again, are you?

- Of course not, sandi.

Oh, no.

It's the rattling girl of lawndale!

- Stacy, everyone knows that story was just made up

by unpopular people to try to scare popular people

into becoming unpopular.

- What story?

- You know...

It was, like, 100 years ago.

There was this girl who was really cool.

I think they said she was a "groovy chick."

Anyway, she was popular.

- Like, the way you're hanging that bunting is a real drag.

- Yeah, a draaaag.

- How about this?

- Solid. - Boss.

- Far out, but it would be farer out if it were higher.

- Really?

- Just a 1/16 of an inch.

- Hey, why didn't you take my word for it?

- Because she's more with it.

- Yeah, she's almost perfect.

- I thought I was perfect.

What's "almost perfect" about me?

- That's when the whole thing started.

She looked at, like, every square inch of her body

trying to figure out what was wrong,

and then...

- It's my eyelids.

They're fat.

- So she cut her diet in half

drinking only one one-calorie tab a day,

and she lost, like, 1/8 of an ounce

just in time for the big dance.

- That chick is a tangerine dream.

- Oh, no, she's perfect.

- Dig it.

Ooof, bummer.

- And she was perfect, the most popular girl ever.

- Can I, um, dance near you?

- Oh, all right, but not too close.

I don't want you to block anyone's view.

- That was the first time they heard it.

- That noise is laying a head trip on me, man.

- I can't groove.

- Who let the third world solidarity club pick the music?

- It's not the music.

- Eep, it's her.

- And it was her.

It was the rattling of her bones.

- Oh, I'll get even for this.

- And that was the last anyone ever saw of her,

but it wasn't the last they heard of her.

- Ahhh!

It was terrible.

I closed my eyes for one second,

and there she was trying to bite off my eyelids.

- We can never close our eyes again.

- I know, not even to take off mascara.

- She stalked all the popular girls,

even some medium-popular ones.

They were afraid to sleep,

and their eyes got all bloodshot and icky-looking.

Hi, what's happening?

- Whoa, your face.

It's freaking me out, man.

- And here's the scary part:

One by one, they became...

Unpopular.

- Well, I for one don't believe that story.

I mean, everyone knows you can't be too thin.

- Oh, yeah.

Were anyone's eyelids really eaten?

- Tiffany, dear,

eyelid-consuming monsters simply do not exist.

Only an extremely gullible loser

would believe such a laughable tale.

- Yeah, heh-heh.

Arf!

- You say this thing's safe?

- It's an adventure on wheels.

- Adventure on wheels?

Adventures can be good.

Um, you're gonna steer with both hands

when we're actually moving, right?

- Unless I think of some lyrics on the road

and have to write 'em down.

You understand.

- Oh, sure.

Help me.

- Maybe these two shouldn't be left alone.

- I was starting to feel the old wanderlust anyway.

- But how are we gonna fit four more people in the car?

- It's been done before,

and this time, there's no drum kit.

What's that funny smell?

It wasn't so funny when it happened,

but it's a really great story.

And that's why you use a bottle and not one of those

little milk cartons, especially when you're driving.

Uh, oh.

- What? What? What happened?

- Janey?

- 7, 8, 9, 10.

- Nice counting.

- I can go all the way up to 20.

- Whew, I thought we were gonna be stranded there for a minute.

- No way.

We don't want to be caught out here by these woods,

especially at night.

- Really? Why not?

- Roving bands of embittered squirrels?

- Nah, it's because of...

Metalmouth.

- What? - Metalmouth.

- Oh.

- Metalmouth started out as a metal shop teacher.

Make a shoeshine box,

a real shoeshine box born iron and flame and sweat!

Not like the sissy shoeshine boxes

those hammer-tapping punks are making in woodshop.

Substance of strength and honor.

- Is the class where you make surfboards?

- Argh.

- But the teacher had this bad habit.

He'd grind his teeth...

- See this?

This is a Chuck.

Does anyone know what happens if you turn on a drill press

with a Chuck left in it?

- Um, it'll fly off, hit your head,

and make it squirt blood and stuff.

- Very good.

Blood, cool.

- Arrgh.

- Even when he slept...

- Kids!

Varnish in their hair!

Makes 'em stupid!

Arrrgh.

Ahhhhhhhhhh!

- Until he ground his teeth down to nothing.

- That's the last of them.

Now, normally, this is where we'd fit you for dentures,

but you're a teacher, right?

- Mm-hmm.

- Okay, then, here's some baby food coupons.

Oh, the strained carrots are gonna take some getting used to.

- He was kind of hoping no one would notice

he didn't have any teeth, but they did,

especially one kid.

- As I wath thaying.

- Yeah, what were you thaying?

- What do you think you're doing?

You're gonna piss him off.

- Hey, he knows I'm just kidding around.

- As I wath thaying,

you may find thith of great uthe to you

inside your prithon thell.

Thomething I thee in most of your futures.

Now, who can tell me the difference

between a file and a rathp?

- A what?

- A rathp.

- Excuse me?

- A rathp!

- Some say that's what drove him to madness.

Others say, you know, no.

Anyway, one night, he got this idea.

- Yo, dmc, watch this.

Um golly, teach,

I seem to have forgotten what you taught us yesterday.

What did you say this was?

It's a rassssp!

- He'd made himself a set of hand-forged steel dentures...

- Would anyone care to see my new teeth in action?

But those dentures had one fatal flaw.

- Of course, some of you may take comfort in the fact

that the rocks inside your heads are harder than wood,

but I assure you that...

- They picked up radio stations.

- So if I may return to our discussion on drill safety,

this is the Chuck, and...

Wait a minute, Chucks...

That's why you don't...

- What a doof.

- Hey, I know what's fun.

Let's drill a hole in my shoe.

- Yeah, he was finished at lawndale high,

but he wasn't finished teaching some kids a lesson or two.

- Did you hear something?

- Um, my lunch?

No, stomach stuff is gurgly.

This was... Different.

Raccoons, baby, raccoons.

- Oh, I like that song.

- Oh, babe, it's a chick song.

- In case you haven't noticed, I'm a chick.

- All right, I'll turn it up.

Hey, the radio's not on.

- Did you hear that? - Not me.

I didn't hear anything scratching at the door.

I'm not scared.

Babe...

Ahhhhhh!

- I'm sorry I got so scared.

- Hey, you can't help it

if you've got a female scaredy-cat brain.

- I mean, now that I think of it,

it was all pretty funny.

Ha, ha, you know.

- But she was right to be scared.

- Because all four tires were flat,

bitten... to... flatness.

- Oh, my...

- And there on the door handle, a set of steel...

Hand-forged... teeth.

- Eww.

- And the moral of this story is,

don't open car doors with your molars.

- I don't get it.

Why was the same song always on the radio,

and why didn't he get sports and weather?

- Hey, the truth isn't always rolled up

in a neat little package you can carry in your wallet.

- Nor should it ever be washed and re-used.

- Daria, you don't think Quinn's lost in those woods, do you?

- I doubt it.

There's nothing to buy there.

- You're right, maybe we should all try to think like Quinn.

- Okay, who wants their frontal lobes removed first?

- But, sandi, I'm afraid to knock on that door.

What if some fat old man in an undershirt answers?

- Brrr.

- Fine, let's go to the next house.

I don't like that statue thingy anyway.

- What about here?

- Striped curtains.

- Cutsie mailbox?

Please.

- By the time we find a house, we'll be home.

Hey, how about this one?

- Carport.

- Just a little steam.

We'll let it cool off for an hour.

- An hour?

Jane-o, can't you do that counting thing?

- It doesn't work if the car's on fire.

- On fire?

Hmm, better make it two hours.

- Damn it, let me take a look at it.

- Um, dad.

Hot! Hot! Blisters, damn it!

- You try to raise them to think.

- Hey, what do you know?

The car died right in front of that house...

- Not asking.

- The haunted house.

- Not encouraging in any way.

- The house of bad grades.

- Why do I not bother?

- This happened back when america was all upbeat,

clean-cut, and expecting to get blown up any minute.

This family had just built your average bomb shelter

in their back yard.

- How do you like the shelter, kids?

- It's swell.

- Oh, you.

You've been showing off that bomb shelter all day.

- You've got to admit, it's the best on the block.

- I'll give you that, you big lug.

Now, you all come in for dinner.

Casserole.

- Mom, can't we eat in the bomb shelter?

I feel so safe there.

- Kitten's right.

We can all have canned peaches and evaporated milk,

you know, break the place in.

- But, honey, if you eat the food now,

there won't be anything left for post-nuclear survival.

- Aww, I guess mom's right.

Okay, everybody in for dinner.

You know, honey, sometimes you really think like a man.

- Thanks.

- Honey, do I have time for a few cigarettes

before seconds on your pork, cheese,

and mashed potato surprise?

- Yep, it was a different time.

- Why don't you have a smoke later,

when you tack up the asbestos in the shelter?

- You know, if the cold war ends,

that bomb shelter's gonna make

for a pretty depressing rec room.

- The cold war? End?

But then I'd look like a g-d idiot.

- Then let's all cross our fingers

and hope they do drop the big one.

Only problem is, there won't be anyone left

to tell you how smart you were.

- I hate you. I hate you.

I hate you.

- Why do you have to scare her like that?

You know how your sister worries about the lack of survivors

affecting her popularity.

- After a while, everyone forgot about getting blown up,

everyone except that girl.

- If I'm not getting vaporized,

then I'll have to switch to plan "b"

College.

- So one night, she sat down to write an early admissions essay.

It had to be in the mail the next morning.

And then...

- I can't write with all this noise.

- Come on, guys, watch the toes now.

Hey, how do you like what the boys are working up

for the jamboree?

No one will ever accuse these kids of being reds.

- Don't you think you could

protect democracy better outdoors?

- What? Can't hear you.

- One more page of green stamps

and I can get that radium-dial clock.

- Mom, there's too much noise.

I've got to write my college essay.

- You can do it here,

while you help me get these walnuts out of the jell-o.

I keep forgetting the boys don't like walnuts.

- College?

Ah, you'll get over that after you meet the right man.

- Or even the wrong one.

- And then she remembered the little house

that paranoia built.

- "Why I want to attend college:

First and foremost, college is not here."

- I got the idea from that Pete seeger fella

on Steve Allen.

We're all brothers.

If we learn to live together, we won't need bomb shelters.

That's why I'm putting in a deluxe barbeque pit:

Weenies for all men... And for you girls too.

- The kids will be so surprised.

- That was putting it lightly.

You see, the girl fell asleep, and no one knew she was there.

Otherwise, I doubt they would've entombed her.

- Well, at least I can have canned peaches for breakfast.

Great, no can opener.

Then it dawned on her:

Not only could she starve to death,

she might never, ever get out of lawndale.

- Dad, you g-d idiot.

- You know, neighbor, you're right.

Weenie roasts can promote understanding.

- Your kids can come to our school anytime.

They won't even need the national guard.

- Say your daughter's a pip, but where's your other daughter?

The one that's not a pip?

We think she ran off to be a beatnik.

Never should've bought her those bongos.

Hey, who wants a weenie?

- Forget the weenies.

Get me a damn can opener.

- Did you say something?

- Nope, you?

- Nope.

Maybe we better lay off the martoonies.

- Time passed.

The family moved away, and other families moved in.

The wheel of life turned,

but it had a major stick in the spokes.

- Another "f"?

How can I feel better about myself

when you're failing every course?

And don't you dare give me that tired old excuse.

- But, mom,

the answers were right last night, I swear.

Another "f"?

Way to go, Einstein.

- Ahh!

- You see, the vengeful spirit of that girl

remains there still

exacting her terrible retribution

on the living and those not yet born.

- If I can't leave this god-forsaken town

and go to college, no one will.

- Oh, come on.

- Scoff if you will,

but every kid who's lived in the house of bad grades since

is working minimum wage in lawndale to this day.

What do you say to that?

- Scoff.

- Quinn! Quinn! Over here!

Quinn! Quinn!

Honey, I was so worried.

- This spirit, does she also possess fathers

and turn them into public embarrassments?

- Wait, that is Quinn.

- There goes my new sewing room.

- Dad, it's you and... Some people.

Um, anyway, gotta go.

- But how will you get home?

- Duh, dad, we're only two blocks away.

Bye.

Gee, Quinn, what were your father

and that girl who lives with you doing with that car?

- What girl?

I didn't see any girl.

- Two blocks?

- Why didn't you realize that?

- I don't know.

Is that the house

of deteriorating senses of direction?

- Guess we might as well start walking.

- What about your car?

- It'll be here in the morning.

No one ever steals it, don't know why.

- Done.

Just in time.

Hi, honey.

See, we're all home and eating the lasagna I prepared.

Yep, give old Jake a task and it gets done, by golly.

- Hmm, I'd better get my car to the shop

first thing in the morning.

- Your car's broken too?

I can't live like this, mother.

- Not that a little auto trouble stopped me from making sure

our daughter got home safely, not big Jake morgendorffer.

- That's nice, dear.

You know, it was the strangest thing.

I was at a stoplight on that road near the woods,

and I heard this song, but the radio wasn't on,

and then the door started making the funniest sound,

a metallic sound.

Maybe the door's broken or something.

Well, the noise stopped after I drove away,

but I still think I should get it looked at in...

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