All language subtitles for Daria - S04E10 - Legends of the Mall

- 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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