Original subtitles

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

God, this is dull.

So much for my silly childhood dream

of becoming a supply-side economist.

At least you're not reading kant.

This guy gives dry, ponderous intellectuals a bad name.

Speaking of intellectuals.

Ugh, I just had the worst date of my life.

Not only did he wear white pants,

his car cd player skipped,

and if that weren't bad enough,

he spent the whole dinner talking about himself

and then accused me of not paying attention

just because I had to quickly check my lipstick

in the butter knife.

Wait, where are you going?

To check our mascara in the salad tongs.

But you can't go.

I really need someone to talk to,

and all the normal people are out on dates.

Oh, well, you wouldn't want to barge in on someone's date.

Exactly.

Tiffany?

I had the worst evening.

Fine, hurry up and order dessert.

So you see, Toby, a top-notch marketing consultant

could really beef up your business.

Er, Jake, we're a Sushi bar.

Don't you mean "fish up my business"?

Here, have some more sake.

Don't mind if I do.

Jake, haven't you had--

hey, Helen, why aren't you eating?

Not trying to keep your girlish figure at your age, are you?

Actually, I had a late lunch...

Followed by an insufferable dinner.

What is that?

Either a traveling band of eunuchs,

or Quinn's figured out how to turn on the radio.

God, Daria, why didn't you tell me

things were so bad at home?

I didn't want you to worry.

Oops.

Oh, god.

We've got to get you the hell out of here.

Works for me.

I'll go myself. It'll be quieter.

I'm starving.

Sushi sucks.

Sake rocks.

Hey, got to remember that.

Where's the lasoony?

Hey. Mr. Morgendorffer.

I can explain. Tom.

Oh, hey, you know, that door sticks on me too.

Let me get it for you.

Hey, you ever try any of that sake?

It sucks-- I mean, rocks.

Um... no.

You know, the age thing.

Oh, yeah. Good for you.

Nice guy, that Tom.

No wonder you can't sleep.

Tokyo Toby's is poison.

Is not.

Hey, I forgot to offer Tom some lasan-y.

What?

Damn.

One, one thousand. Two, one thousand.

Three...

Daria, I need to talk to you right now.

One thousand.

All right, Daria.

I guess I can believe your story.

Though it seems pretty far-fetched to me

that two teenagers with raging hormones--

my hormones don't rage.

Oh, sure, they get mad sometimes,

but then they just stop speaking to each other.

All right. So you weren't, you know--

I certainly do know, and no.

Then tell me once again

why Tom was slipping out the door at 4:00 a.m.

Like a common criminal.

Phone.

Gee, could the sneaking around

have been part of a futile attempt

to avoid an unnecessary all-night lecture

about responsibility?

All right, I admit I was a little upset,

but I'm sure you can understand that when a mother

sees her daughter,

her little baby girl to whom she gave life--

nothing happened. I'd tell you if it did.

You would? Really?

Um... anyway, you believe me, right?

Stacy. Stacy.

I can't talk any louder, you dope.

I'm trying to tell you my sister had a guy in her room all night!

Seriously, Daria, if the time comes

when you decide that-- you know--

I hope you will come to me first.

Um, what?

Not that I would ever try to talk you out of it,

which is not to say I'm trying to talk you into it.

It's just that I'd like to have the chance

to discuss things with you first.

I only wish I could have gone to my mother

before I made such an awful mistake.

What is it about stunt drivers

that makes otherwise level-headed teenage girls

just whip off their--

okay. Okay.

Um... I've got to study.

Big test. Big test.

Helen, I think I've got something in my throat.

Can you see anything down there?

Ah.

Daria, I, uh--

Jake, nothing happened.

The problem with going to restaurants

is that they're not in my room.

I know what you mean.

I have the same issue with hiking trails.

My, my, my.

Is that the lovely miss morgendorffer?

Congratulations. You've passed your vision test.

Please proceed to line "b" for your written.

And you've passed your admission test to club d'amore.

Please check your inhibitions at the door.

What's wrong with him?

His parents forgot to put decals

on the sliding glass doors.

Hey, Daria's guy. Wait to go, man.

Excuse me?

You know, you did the wild walk,

made a touchdown, signed the deed.

Tonight's babel chat was hosted by Kevin Thompson.

Oh, Daria, now we can have womanly talks.

What the hell are you ranting about?

You know.

Let's go, babe, and leave the love-babes alone.

That was weird, even for them.

We'd better get out of here

before the parmesan fumes get to us too.

Damn it, Helen, I know there's something crawling up my throat,

and I think it's a parasite

courtesy of Tokyo Toby's parasite restaurant.

If I stand still, I can even feel it laughing inside of me.

Now you're being ridiculous.

Even if that horrible Sushi did have a parasite,

it couldn't have survived that much sake.

Daria, I, um, uh--

your father thinks he picked up a parasite eating Sushi.

You mean the kind that drill through your intestines,

twisting and turning and driving you slowly insane

until they grow eight feet long

and corkscrew out through your vital organs?

Daria.

Help me, Helen, before the madness sets in.

Any further. Daria.

Hello? Oh, Toby.

Listen, about your so-called fresh Sushi--

I got the job?

How much? Wow!

I mean, I think I could live with that.

See you tomorrow.

Helen, I got the job.

And all the parasites you can eat.

Parasites? You know, you were right.

It's probably just a sore throat.

I think I'm gonna throw up.

Hey.

Ah, I've been expecting your call.

Huh? All right, I'm listening.

But for god's sake, at least spare me the squishier details

and the rapturous declarations of undying love.

What are you talking about? What are you?

I was hoping you could tell me.

Tom and I ran into some people from school,

and they kept alluding to-- I'm almost afraid to guess what.

Is something going on?

Come on, Daria. You know. Know what?

You don't know? What? Just tell me.

Well, there's this rumor going around

that you and Tom... Slept together.

Huh?

And that your father walked in right--

well, right in the middle of things.

Oh, my god.

And, Daria, since when do you own a pair of black high heels?

That's not right either.

Oh, the curse of having two good shoulders.

Daria, what are you doing in here?

I want to know exactly what you told everyone at school

about me and Tom.

I didn't say a word.

Besides, I swore Stacy to secrecy,

but then she told Sandy and Tiffany,

so if you're mad at anyone, it should be Stacy and not me.

Uh-huh.

Look, damn it, nothing happened--

stop!

I don't want to hear any of the sordid details.

I don't care what couple people do.

And I'm telling you, nothing--

okay. Okay.

Look, I got to, um, go shopping.

Big sale. Big sale.

Quinn, listen to me for one-- half off. Got to go. Bye.

Can I talk to you for a second?

Sure, what's up?

Um... you've probably heard the rumor about me and Tom.

Hey, it's no big deal, right?

This isn't the '50s,

when women had to worry about their reputations.

But it's not true.

I never slept with Tom, and I don't own any high heels.

I don't even own any low heels.

Daria, it's okay, really.

Besides, you and Tom have been going out for so long,

I'd think by now you'd want

to do more than just hold hands... Right?

Um...

Hey, sex is nothing to be ashamed of

as long as you're responsible.

So then you and mack have... Been responsible?

Um, I really don't want to discuss that right now.

I understand.

I promise, soon as my parents are dead,

I'll tell you all about it.

Okay, just so long as there's nothing to be ashamed of.

And I thought the whole point of being unpopular

was that no one knows you exist or talks about you.

It's been a slow news week.

Don't worry, they'll go back to not recognizing you soon enough.

Easy for you to say.

You never had a rumor circulating around school

that you slept with someone.

Well, if that ever does happen,

I hope the guy's a professional wrestler.

Look, why does this bother you so much, anyway?

It can't be you're worried Kevin won't respect you.

No, I guess it's the assumption

that if you're in a relationship,

you're having sex.

So if you're not,

does that make your relationship any less of one?

I knew I should have jumped Tom when I had the chance.

Kidding.

I told you, I'm waiting till college,

11:00 a.m. on move-in day.

At least you've got a plan.

Anyway, being in a relationship

can't possibly hinge on physical intimacy,

'cause that would mean our parents are still doing it.

Which is absurd. No chance.

I'd join the circus. Right behind you.

Thanks for your insight. What I'm here for.

You really think once some new rumor comes along

everyone will forget about me and Tom?

I'm sure of it.

Good, because my sister's got

a rare form of Malaysian toenail fungus.

Ooh, that can be terminal.

Whoa, that is one hell of a parasite.

Now hold on. One, two, three.

Here. Take a look.

Ew.

Um, must have gotten it

from that damn food-rotting tupperware.

Tupperware? I don't think so.

When was the last time you had Sushi?

Last weekend at Tokyo Toby's.

Tokyo Toby's?

When is the health department

going to shut that worm factory down?

This is the third anisakid I've seen

come out of that place in two months.

Oh.

Can anger management training

really help gorillas avoid extinction?

Maybe, but it's not doing much for the psychiatrists.

"The apes of wrath," today on sick, sad world.

Are you okay?

You hardly said a word

when the monster attacked the girls' swim team,

all those vital organs bobbing around in the water.

I know I shouldn't let it bother me,

but there's this rumor going around school

that you and I slept together.

Really?

Can we get that rumor started at my school?

It's not funny. Come on, Daria.

Since when do you care what other people think?

It's not that... So much.

It's just that the implication is, well,

to be really close,

couples need physical as well as emotional intimacy.

Boy, people will believe anything.

Look, you said you weren't ready, so okay.

Oh, fine. Just take me at my word.

That is what you said, right?

I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, please.

Hey, far be it from me to pressure you into anything.

Daria, you're the one who doesn't want to, remember?

I backed off 'cause I thought that's what you wanted,

but I can be persuaded otherwise.

See? All done.

Okay, fine.

In the interest of moving our relationship forward

and taking it to a new, deeper level,

I've decided I'm ready too, damn it.

Really? Are you sure?

Sure, I'm sure.

Of course, there's the issue of... You know.

No problem. I've got one right here.

You know, my parents won't be home--

wait, you just carry one of those things around?

Wishful thinking?

God, guys are all the same.

What, responsible?

You know, maybe we are rushing into this.

Forget I brought it up.

Forget you brought it up? Jeez.

Hey, I didn't expect to be put on the spot.

I thought you just said you wanted to.

Not so much that I'm running around town

with a neon birth control device in my purse.

Look, I've been a good guy about this.

You said you're ready,

so I tried to be conscientious,

and now you don't want to again.

Make up your mind.

And it's not neon.

I'm ready.

You're sure? Positive.

Um, okay.

When were you thinking, um, we would, you know?

Um, anytime. But not right now.

Um, okay.

It's definitely not neon, right?

So, um, should we pick a date?

Well, my parents are going out of town next weekend.

How about then?

No fair. Home court advantage.

Fine. Your place.

Like I'd ever find all the microphones

mom's hidden around my room.

The rendezvous motel? You know, on route six.

Gee, don't make me feel too special.

All right, the boathouse at the lake

with the stars, the moon, the water?

And the mosquitoes, the splinters,

the security patrol?

Okay, how about Mars then,

soon as that whole colonization thing gets going?

Your room, next Saturday night at 8:00.

Yo, kinky shoe girl, good news.

The Malaysian fungus has your sister down to three toes,

and one of them is dangling.

That's so sad.

Yeah, and that hot news flash from the lawndale gossip mill

has left you and Tom in the proverbial dust.

No one cares about your sex life anymore, or lack thereof.

Um, make that former lack thereof.

Daria!

Or rather, future former lack thereof.

Oh. So when?

Soon. This weekend.

Ah.

You seem a tad-- what's the word?

Scared witless.

Okay, so I am a little very nervous.

Of course you are.

This is a big decision, a defining moment in your life.

Oh, good. That's not too much pressure.

Or possibly just another adolescent embarrassment

you'll need to repress in adulthood

just to get out of bed in the morning.

Huh.

So far, that makes everything after my 12th birthday.

Um, you don't think that'll really happen, do you?

No, no, it's gonna be great.

Well, then, congratulations

or whatever they say in situations like these.

I think it's "s.O.S."

You said I was being ridiculous.

You said it couldn't be a parasite.

Okay, Jake. You were right. I was wrong.

Oh, sweet music to my ears.

Which only proves that I was right

about Tokyo Toby's being poison in the first place.

Oh, yeah.

Um, Daria.

Daria. Hi. Anything new?

Well, you didn't hear it from me,

but Quinn's played her last game of this little piggy.

Hmm, it's Friday night.

Aren't you going out with Tom?

Sorry. Only one question per customer.

Please try again tomorrow.

Daria, about that talk we were going to have.

We don't have to wait. We could have it--

no, no, the end of time is fine for me,

and speaking of the time--

okay, even if you were right about Toby's,

I was right about the parasite,

and it was a double-wide parasite,

so that makes me doubly right.

Jake, not now. I'm talking to Daria.

Daria?

God. Saturday already?

When is Quinn going to stop storing her nail Polish in the--

ooh, sunrise sublime.

Hello? Oh, hi, Tom.

Daria? No, I haven't seen her.

Sure, I'll tell her.

Bye.

Daria, is everything all right?

Sure. Fine. Never been better.

You know, I've never known you not to want to speak to Tom

or wear slicky fingers nail Polish.

Um, I believe you should try everything once,

no matter how unmistakably stupid it is.

Almost everything.

Anyway, got to go. Lot of homework.

Big essay due. Big essay.

I thought you said you were seeing Tom tonight.

Daria?

I don't believe this.

Daria.

Dear Tom, I'm sorry about last night,

but when I thought about it for the 50th time,

I realized I'm just not ready.

Please let this letter serve as my acceptance

of the inevitable breakup.

Daria.

Damn.

Oh. Um, you got my note?

Daria, how could you do this to me?

I can't help it if I'm not ready.

I can't change the way I feel.

Not that.

I mean, how could you dump me without even talking it over?

Look, we both agreed that sleeping together

would bring us closer,

so not doing it must be driving us apart.

No, you said it would bring us closer,

and I said, "fine, if that's the way you feel."

I wasn't pushing this. You were, remember?

I was perfectly happy with our relationship

just the way it was.

Perfectly happy?

Okay, very content. The point is, you're not ready.

I understand.

No, you don't understand. It's not that I'm not ready.

It's that I'm scared.

Same thing. No, it's not the same thing.

I just admitted that I'm scared.

The thought of that much intimacy,

it's just overwhelming to me.

Oh.

Daria, you know I would never do anything

to make you uncomfortable.

And even if I could handle it, what if you were disappointed?

Our whole relationship could be ruined.

You don't want to have sex

because you're afraid it'll hurt our relationship,

and then you break up with me.

Doctor, my head.

I thought that's what you'd want.

Think again.

You know, I think that, despite ourselves,

we just reached a new level of intimacy.

And lived to tell about it.

Hmm, free air fresheners with the fragrance of tuna?

Let me think about that,

and, hey, Toby, speaking of thinking,

now, you know I think your Sushi's delicious.

Especially that rice and roundworm filling.

But you might want to change suppliers.

See, I got a parasite from it.

No, it wasn't a little parasite.

It was a big, mean parasite.

Well, I'm fine now. I am not whining.

Hey, it's not my fault I missed the draft.

The war was winding down.

Oh, yeah? Listen, you big fat blowfish--

can I have a raise? Damn it.

Daria, do you believe the nerve of that guy and his rotten fish?

If that rotten fish

has restored communication between us, father,

then I say hooray for smelly old rot.

Oh. Oh.

Jake, is everything all right?

Yeah. I mean no. I mean--huh.

I think I feel something else in there.

I bet that parasite

laid a whole extended family of eggs.

Where's that mirror?

Daria--

does anyone know how I got on the mailing list

for tootsie tech,

world's largest supplier of prosthetic toes by mail?

Ooh, do they have those vintage wooden ones?

Ugh.

Um, Daria--

Tom and I didn't have sex,

and we're not going to any time soon,

unless, of course, a bomb goes off

and as earth's last two survivors,

we must replenish the human race.

Although, frankly, that's not motivation enough for me.

Well, I can't say I'm not somewhat relieved.

I just want you to know that whatever decisions

you make in life, I'm on your side and--

so instead, we've decided to sublimate our urges

by traveling cross-country with a motorcycle gang.

All right.

You just remember to call home on Sunday nights.

Hey. Ha.

Damn it, I think I can see their beady little eyes.

God help me.