The scene: a lonely waterfront in Liverpool... Okay, in Liverpool, New York, just outside of Syracuse. A lone figure is standing on the dock with his back to us. We hear the sound of a zipper closing, and he turns around.
Jesse: I guess that's what they mean by not having a pot...
Jesse: This sucks.
He looks out over the water and sighs.
Jesse: Wish we could blow this burg.
He sighs and sits on a piling.
Jesse: No money, the Tank broke down.
He sighs and kicks a pebble into the water
Jesse: Nothing interesting ever happens here.
Behind him, the watter boils, and the Cynic broaches the surface again, the bow rising high into the air, then dropping noisily back into the lake. The resulting wave rises on both sides of the pier, barely missing Jesse. He sighs.
Jesse: Absolutely nothing.
The hatch clangs open and Daria climbs dizzily out onto the conning tower. She is looking a little green. Jesse looks back at her.
Daria waves, clamping her free hand over her mouth. She runs to the other side of the conning tower, and is gloriously sick. Jesse turns back towards us and sighs.
Daria turns around, wiping her mouth. She climbs down onto the deck and strugles to get the gang-plank down. Once on the pier, she ties up the Cynic, then walks over to Jesse.
Jesse: Got a light?
Daria [Taken aback]: Uh, no...
Jesse: Oh. That's okay, I don't smoke anyway.
Daria: Theeen, why did you ask for a light?
Jesse: Dunno. Just trying to break the glass, I guess.
Daria: Don't you mean, "Break the ice?"
Jesse: Oh, yeah... whatever.
Daria [Holding her head and sighing]: Look, I know I'm supposed to go into this big, panicky rant, begging you to help me free Lawndaleland from the tyrannical clutches of the Fashion Club, and the Ecru Meanies, but frankly I have had a very tiring voyage and I am extremely bushed after having to tie up the submarine with no help... [She stares pointedly at Jesse, but seeing no response, sighs and continues,] And you look like the type of person that would need me to go into a far more detailed explanation than I would care to give right now, so let's just cut to the chase, and gather the band, okay?
They walk back into town, to an ancient motel. Half of the neon letters are burned out, and a half of those remaining are buzzing and flickering. The sign on the office door proclaims that rooms can be let by the hour. Daria does not want to ponder why.
Jesse: We stay here. It's cheap.
Daria: No! You're kidding!
Jesse: Nope. THis is my room.
The door opens on a large ball room with a gala celebretion going on. Women swing drunkenly from the chandeliers, while men in ties and tails waltz about with lamp shades on their heads, as confetti rains down from the ceiling.. In the background Dick Clark is conducting Guy Lombardo's Royal Canadians in a rendition of "Auld Lang Syne," while a banner proclaims, "Happy New Year, Y2K."
Jesse: I sometimes find it hard to sleep in here. I think the beds are too hard. This is where Nick stays.
He indicates a closet door. It swings open slowly, with a very eerie creak. Fog rolls out, and Daria jumps back as thousands of bats fly out. An organ plays Bach's "Toccata and Fugue." The bats disperse to reveal the bat-creature from "Bram Stoker's Dracula" hanging upside-down. Daria eeps, as it turns into a pack of rats that run past her feet and congregate to turn, horrifyingly, into Nick.
Jesse: Yo, Nick.
Nick [Slapping Jesse's head]: What're ya doin', you idiot, I was having a sexy dream!
Jesse: This chick needs our help, Nick.
Nick [Turning to Daria]: Well, hello, beauti... ah... Look, we gave at the office.
Daria: I'm not asking this for myself, I'm asking it for my town, Lawndaleland.
Daria: It's being oppressed
Nick: What's that to me?
Daria [Raising her eyebrows to emphasize the word]: By supermodels.
Nick: Well, why didn't you say so? Let's go get the others!
Jesse: But I thought you said...
They go outside to the next room. Jesse opens the door. Behind the door is an immense, oriental stadium. In front of them is a huge, demonic looking man sitting on a throne. Behind him are rows of cheering spectaters. To his right, a blonde woman is chainded to a stake. Before them are Max and a demonic humanoid with a huge smile of sharp fangs.
Max jumps up and hits the creature with a series of bicycle kicks while giving an ululating scream. The creature quickly recovers, unsheathes his forearm blades and tries to vivisect Max. Max leaps into the air, does a forward summersault, and stabs the creature in the eyes with a pair of drum sticks. It's head explodes in a fountain of blood. Max stands over the body, brandishing the drumsticks in a victory pose.
Announcer: Supurb. Max wins. Fatality.
The words "Fatality" appeare over Max in dripping bloody letters. Jesse and Daria clap politely.
Nick: Hmmph, I'll be impressed if he ever gets past Raiden.
Max [Walking over and poking Nick in the chest]: Yeah, well it's better than you ever do. You've never defeated Baraka.
Nick: Yeah, well I don't set my levels on "easy," chump!
Daria [VO]: Okay, explain once again, why we couldn't use the Beatles?
Jesse: Hold it down, you two. We need to get Trent so's we can help Daria fight of the, uh... who was it again, the real-cruel meanies?
Daria: The Ecru Meanies.
Nick: Wait a minute, I thought you said super models?
Daria: It means super models... in Hungarian.
Nick: Oh... okay...
Max: yeah, well there'd better be plenty of action, man!
Nick: As long as it isn't Raiden.
Max: Shut up, Nick! [To Daria] Listen up, chick, you came to the right people. We're Mystik Spyral, and we're criminales. Mess with us, and we will take you down! We obey no master, nor run from any fight. You got that? Hello?
Nick: You put her to sleep.
Daria [Waking up]: Mmmrph... Wha...? Sorry, it was a long voyage. You were saying?
Jesse [Before Max can restart his rant]: We bad.
Daria: Well, I guess it dosn't matter how well you play. Where's the other one?
They lead her to Trent's room. She enters reluctantly. Before her is a luxurant bedroom, with a king-size bed stacked high with plush mattresses, looking as though it would reach to the stratosphere. They look upward, to the top.
Jesse: Yo, Trent!
Trent [From under the bed]: What?
They all jump. Trent pokes his head out from beneath the bed.
Max: What are you doing down there?
Trent: Man, I kept falling off. Anybody got any coffee? [Sees Daria, smiles] Heeey, Daria.
Daria sighs, and puts her head in her hands. It was going to be a long voyage if Trent hadn't read the script.
Three hours and many exasperated explanations later (with time for Trent to familiarize himself with the script), they are once again at the docks. Trent is holding a styrofoam coffee cup. Daria is once again holding her head.
Daria: Okay now, is everybody clear on what we're doing?
Jesse, Max, Nick, and Trent open their mouths.
Daria" Because, if you're not, I may have to get violent.
They close their mouths and Trent sips his coffee.
Trent: I do have one thing to say.
Daria [Groaning slightly]: What?
Trent: You came here in a submarine from Lawndaleland, a magical place far beneath the sea. But Syracuse is landlocked, and Lake Onandega is... well... a lake.
Daria: Let's try to concentrate on the word "magical," Trent. We will be travelling through magical seas, where we will see many weird and unexplainable things.
Nick: Oh! Like when we scored backstage passes to see Marilyn Manson!
Max: Oh, God, I hope not.
Daria [Wearily]: I'm sure it won't be that grim. let's get on board, shall we? Oh, and by the way, DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!!!.
Band: Cool; okay; no problem; what'd she say; where's the can, man; dibs the top bunk; no way, Lane; when's supper; [Together] Are we there yet?
The hatch clangs shut with a grim authority. There are a couple of beats, then the collision horn sounds.
Cynic: Whhooop, whoopwhoopwhoop, WHOOOOOP!
Daria [Muffled VO]: Damnit, Max, I said don't touch anything!