04x03 - A Tree Grows in Lawndale

[bunniefuu]

Kevvy, you look like such
a rebel in your new jacket.

Thanks, babe.

Yo! Check this out.

Is this what you Earth
people call "necking?"

No, I mean check out the new Kevin.

You'll note he didn't say "improved."

That's 'cause he's a rebel.

Where's the bike?

Huh?

That's a motorcycle jacket. It's made
out of leather to protect you from scrapes

when your head's bouncing
off the grille of a truck.

If you're just wearing it for style then
it's a waste of a perfectly good cow.

You wouldn't wear shoulder pads
if you didn't play football.

Or would you?

Is your cutlery holding an edge or going
over one? "Diary of a mad steak Kn*fe,"

tonight on Sick, Sad World.

Honestly, Rita, I don't care if
mother's paying for your new family room.

Maybe she can get a new
family to go with it.

What? That was Daria. She's,
uh, practicing for a school play.

A salesman's got to dream, boy.

Damn neighbor's dog got into the trash
again! Now there's garbage all over the

street! Next thing you know there'll
be abandoned cars on the front lawns!

I'll run out and pick up some cement
blocks before they're all sold out.

Jake, calm down. Rita, I'll have to call
you back. Yes, I will! Very, very soon.

Helen, do you know what happens
when property values collapse?

Is it anything like
when good pets go bad?

What if we can't get a decent price
when we sell this place? You think we're

going to move in with your sister?

Or should I also pick up a copy of
the Jonestown bartender's handbook?

Oh... !

Yah... !

Jake, you're being ridiculous. Nothing
is going to affect the value of this

house short of an earthquake.

We're on a fault line, too?!

Oh, look, the circus is coming to town.

On what appears to be
a very fast lawnmower.

Hey, Jane, Daria.

Mean machine. Where's
your Shriner's fez?

Don't we look like rebels?

Oh, yeah, that cricket in your
front teeth is very James Dean.

What?!

I'm sure the guys in woodshop
can come up with something.

Before first period? Don't think so.

You know, you aren't supposed to
ride those things without a helmet.

Hey, I don't follow
rules. I'm rebellent.

Did he say repellent?

Seems like he should have, doesn't it?

Well, well... what do we have here? A
babe magnet with a seat built for one.

Hold on tight, luscious lady.

Hey! Pop a wheelie.

Yeah, yeah.

Gee, this won't end badly.

You know, we are the ones who
told him to get a motorcycle.

Hey, if we told him to jump
off a bridge, would he do that?

Dunno. We'll try that next time.

Now, I know I saw that
Paunch guy do this on CHiPs...

My knee!

Uh-oh, I think the wild
one's got a boo-boo.

Hey, you broke the Tommy
Sherman Memorial Tree.

Good thing he's dead or
he'd really let you have it.

This is sort of like what happened at my
fourth birthday party, only it involved

a tiny tricycle and a chimp.

The difference being?

Oh, Kevvy, I don't care if you squished
the Tommy Sherman Memorial Tree. I still

love you.

Tommy Sherman was the greatest Q.B.
Lawndale ever had. I, too, was a quarterback

once. Now I'm just a... one-knee guy.

But your knee will heal.

When? Face it, Britt, you've got
cheerleader-type active womanly needs. And look

at me... look at me! Kissing me now would
be like kissing one of those guys who

wear old man pants and
watch Touched By an Angel.

Kevvy, no!

Babe, it's gotta be this way.

No! It can be like before.
Let me bring you a Gatorade.

No! Only sportsmen can drink sports
drinks. From now on, I drink Yoo-Hoo.

No... !

Then he said that his armpits would
know only the embrace of his crutches.

What does that mean?

I don't know, but it sounds bad. Like,
Kevvy's armpits have feelings, but not

for me. Now what do I do with
lips so empty, so yearning?

Lips? So, we're off the armpit thing?

You know, if you break up Brittany's
attempt at thought, it looks like a Mystik

Spiral song.

"Armpits have feelings, but not for me.
Now what do I do with lips emp-ty?" Eh.

Are you sure you don't want
to replace "lips" with "skull?"

It's a work in progress.

Oh, what's this?

Nothing.

Please, Daria, any form of expression
is cause for celebration. I see you've

chosen to celebrate in the way of verse.

The only thing here in the way of verse
might be its complete lack of quality.

You're being judgmental, Daria. And you
know what they say: judge and you get mental.

And you know what I say.

Life sucks and then you die?

This is so deep, but so sad. Daria, are
you depressed? I mean, more than usual?

Not me.

Brittany?

What? Um... here. Present?

Come on, man, it's just a sprained
knee. You gotta play. The team needs you.

No, it doesn't. The only team that needs
me is the one that sits all the time:

the chess team.

But you don't even
know how to play chess.

Oh, yeah? King me, king me, king me!

I'll talk to you when
the painkillers wear off.

Kevvy! Mr. O'Neill just gave me an "A"
for a poem I didn't know I wrote and said

I should get counseling for my troubled
mind and it's all because of you, so we

have to get back together or my
mind will never untrouble itself.

Babe, the only wide receivers I've got
are my crutches here, and they only catch

the sweat of my defeat.

But what about our eternal love that
was supposed to last till graduation?

Could you really date a guy who isn't
going to be in any yearbook team pictures?

I... I... Oh, no! It really is over!

No team. No babe. I guess
I'm, like, on my own.

Is it me, or does study hall go
faster when you're somewhere else?

Life goes faster when
you're somewhere else.

Aw, look... the Tommy Sherman
Memorial Tree's still dead.

I guess now we're going to have to
plant something to memorialize it.

Oh, Angie, I miss my Kevvy. Life just
isn't the same without his big, brown eyes

and spellbinding dimples.

I'd rather remember the tree
than remember Tommy Sherman.

Hey, that's not nice. You wouldn't
like that if you were Tommy Sherman.

I wouldn't like anything if I were Tommy
Sherman. If I were Tommy Sherman, I'd

be dead.

Tommy's tree is dead and
now he's back to haunt us!

As the fourth quarter winds down and
the score remains Oakwood , Lions

zipparino, does your humble announcer
dare to venture that the mighty Lawndale

"grr... " has turned
into a plaintive "mew?"

Lawndale's replacement quarterback, "Mad
Mack," has the ball, and it looks like

he's going to pass it to...

... nobody!

Bad break, "Mad Mack." We
felt that one in the box.

Guys, I don't know what happened. Sorry.

"L".

Give me an "A".

"A".

Give me an S-U-X!
Lawndale sucks. Ha!

This is no good. No good at all.

And the Lions once
more go down to defeat.

I've got to do something
about all this losing.

I just hope a new wardrobe is enough
to take our minds off that abysmal game.

Yeah... abysmal.

If this keeps up, we may have to hold
an emergency meeting on the date-ability

of the football team.

Oh, no!

Look, isn't this adorable? It's so
neck-slimming. I wonder if they have it in

chartreuse. Excuse me, miss?

Where is everybody? I can't believe no
one's even offered us fitting rooms yet.

Yeah, it's like they want
us to get shopper's cramp.

Miss? Oh, miss?

Guys, something weird is going on.

Come on. Let's get to the
bottom of this. Ahem...

Theresa, is there a labor stoppage we
should be apprised of? No one's helping us.

It's your football team.
They're... well, losers.

What does that have to do with
us? We don't play football.

You go to a loser school, and it's not
good for Junior Five's image to have

losers wearing our clothes.

But we're not losers!

Look, if you don't mind taking turns,
I can give you fitting room eight.

The unpopular people's dressing room?!

It says here on your transfer forms that
you've been in high school for six years.

Yeah. I have trouble learning
stuff when people make me mad.

But you don't seem to have trouble with
the old pigskin, eh? Um, why was your

season cut short last year? This says
your offensive line had a quote, mishap,

end quote.

They made me mad.

Ah!

Zippity do da, zippity ay, make
Tommy's spirit go far, far away.

All right, girls. Puffing party's over!

Oh, no! You ruined it! Now Tommy
Sherman's ghost will never go away!

Well, forgive me if I didn't see the sign
on the door that said girls' exorcism room!

And then Sandi said she didn't know if
she could show her face anymore and is

thinking about the witness protection
program, although not if they make you dye

your hair that brassy blond.

That's just what Sammy
"The Bull" Gravano said.

Hey, here's another good town we can
move to. It says the schools have produced

three pro quarterbacks.

How many pro wrestlers?

Quinn, I don't think you're
considering the rest of the family.

I am. We live in a loser town now, and
that can't be good at that job you go to.

Only losers live in loser towns. Do you
want your clients thinking you're a loser?

Hmm...

Oh, dear, your father's braking
with his angry foot again.

If we moved to a popular
town, he'd be happier.

Quinn, we're not moving.

That's it, we're moving! Look at this ...
it say Lawndale High's football team is

the worst in Lawndale history. It says
Lawndale High is a school for losers!

Jake, that's the Lawndale Shopper. It's
written by an -year-old man who, if

you recall, had to be taken off his
roof by the fire department because he

thought he was being
chased by screaming mice.

That doesn't mean it isn't true.

Oh, Daddy, mice don't scream.

Yeah, you're thinking of
lobsters. Who's up for seafood?

The value of our home... destroyed.
Our life's investment... gone! Good-bye,

retirement. Good-bye, condo on the golf
course. Helen, we're ruined! Don't you see?!

I see you shopped angry again. Now
what are we going to do with five pounds

of... "Jay-Tees' Jellied
Pork Shoulder?" Ecch...

Don't look at me that way. It was that
Lawndale Shopper guy. The store... this

town... they all tricked me!

Which is why we have to move!

So my sister's scouting out new zip
codes, my father's so mad he can only see

the color red, and the other day, when
my mother was paying bills, I caught her

trying to smudge her return address
labels. My home life's becoming intolerable.

Becoming intolerable?

Is there such a word as "intolerabler"?

Hot stuff. Hey, you look familiar.

No, I don't.

You go to Lawndale High, right?

No. We're reform school gals looking
for love in all the wrong places.

That's good, because if you went to
Lawndale you'd be losers. What a loser

school. Enjoy now!

Great. And just when I
was feeling like a winner.

I take it your quarterback is
still wallowing in self-pity.

I wish he'd try self-immolation.

Sportboy needs a reason to feel good
about himself, and there just aren't any.

We could try sending him back to the
third grade, where winning a paste-eating

contest still counts for something.

Actually, why not send him
back to elementary school?

Because he'd never meet
the academic requirements.

I mean as one of those safety lecturers.
He could talk about how stupid he was

to wipe out on his bike. The kids would
probably rather listen to him than their

teachers, so he'd have a c*ptive
audience and feel self-important again.

So simple, and yet so perfect.
Daria, why didn't we think of that?

'Cause we're Lawndale losers who
wallow in our own ignorance and filth.

Who wants another slice?

Mr. O'Neill?

Oh! You startled me. I guess all that
talk about ghosts and exorcism has put me

a little on edge.

Hey, want to see me twist my
head around and around and around?

We want to talk to you about Kevin.

We think it might pull him out of his
slump if he became a safety lecturer. Tell

kids how reckless
behavior leads to injuries.

They don't have to know he was
brain-damaged before the accident.

Hmm, turning a bad experience into
something positive. Girls, I do believe we're

on the same page.

We are? Now I'm in a slump.

Kevin, the wisdom you impart to these
impressionable young minds could have a

profound effect upon their lives.

Cool!

Remember: a man is never taller than
when he helps the smallest child.

But what about when he's wearing cleats?

Um, just go out there and
try not to hurt yourself.

My name is Kevin and I'm a...

Louder!

My name is Kevin and I used to be a
rebel! But now I'm just a big fat loser.

Everywhere I go, it's like, "Look at
that loser." "Nice day, loser." "More

chocolate milk, loser?"

But it wasn't always like this. Before
my bike accident, I was the Q.B. Chicks

love that.

Hot chicks?

Cheerleaders.

See, motorcycles are dangerous, especially
when you fall off them. I'm one of

the lucky ones. I could have fallen off
the Grand Canyon and hit my head on a

rock or something.

Then I'd be one of those guys with their
brains sticking out of their eyes and

their guts all over the place.

Cool!

In collusion, motorcycles can wreck
your life and make it so you can't play

football. And that's not cool...
safety's cool. Any questions?

Tell me about the cheerleaders!

I want to hear about
the blood and guts again!

And that's how I've saved countless
youth children as a walking safety don't.

And when kids are about to do something
dangerous, they go, "Hey, I don't want

to do this. I want to be
like that cool safety guy."

He'd be such a wonderful father.

Of a coconut.

Now, my crutches are
like my best feature.

Taking over the role
formerly played by his car.

Well, this plan backfired perfectly.

Kevin, that report was peachy!

Thanks.

Although what it has to do with the
League of Nations, which was your assigned

topic, I fail to understand!

Um... did everyone
get to see my picture?

This isn't working. The new
guy, he's got some weird rules.

Weirder than sticking your butt in
the air and making a football appear?

It's called a hike.

Now, I'm going to throw this. If you
catch it, you get to kick me in the head.

If you miss it, I'll k*ll you.

You think I'm kidding? Well, try me,
punks! Now go out for a pass or I'll waste

you right now.

Okay, that's good.

Hey, stop. Hey! You're not supposed to
run across the street! Man, this happens

everywhere I go. Nobody
knows how to play football.

What's with Quinnie O?

She's dressing incognito until she can
persuade my mother to relocate us to Bermuda.

You should really keep her away
from open bottles of nail polish.

Or scatter a lot more of them around.

Daria? Jane? Would you like to contribute
to the Tommy Sherman Memorial Tree

fund? We're hoping to get his
ghost out of the girls' room.

It takes a tree to get him out of the girls'
room? Did he turn into a dog or something?

I don't think so.

You know, if you can just get those
crutches away from Kevin, you can plant one

of them instead. That's sure to appease
Tommy's restless bathroom spirit.

You're right!

You know you're going to hell.

Anything that gets me out of Lawndale.

See, by teaching the kids about safety,
I'm giving something back to society.

I'm like a philanderest.

Yeah, yeah. How about suiting up and
giving something back to the team? This new

guy's got the receivers
hiding in a dumpster.

But the kids... they look up to me, bro.

Hey, we look up... we look at you,
too. Now come on back, will you?

Hi, Kevvy.

Hey.

Um, I was wondering, can I borrow
one of your crutches? Please?

Can't spare it. I need it for my
motivated speaking. Say, Britt, you know

there's no law that says a
motivated speaker can't have a babe.

But there is a law that says cheerleaders
can only date football players, remember?

Darn! You know, that's recrimination.
I mean, just because I don't wear a

uniform doesn't mean
I'm not the same guy.

Yes, it does. My Kevvy is a football
leader of men. My Kevvy wouldn't let the

whole team down. My Kevvy wouldn't
let Lawndale become a loser town!

Wait, babe, come back!

Forget it, Kevvy. You're on your
own. You're a... a man on an island.

But, I don't want to be on an island. I
get seasick. Besides, I need... the love.

Huh?

I mean, what's saving lives if
there's no one to make out with?

I believe Gandhi asked
that same question.

It's why he had to be eliminated.

Britt, I realize that without you, I'm
by myself. Your love has healed me, babe.

I'm... I'm cured!

Oh, Kevvy. I've missed you so much.

Like, me, too, babe.

Care to join me in the
girls' room for a jolly puke?

Sure... but not if that
Tommy Sherman's in there.

That Tommy Sherman. He ruins everything.

Look, the new Tommy
Sherman Memorial Tree.

Lovely.

I wonder why it isn't blossoming?

Did you take the little
rubber thing off the bottom?

Oh!

Oh, mmm, Daria? Maybe we should go inside
before lightning strikes you dead and

bits of you mess up my nice shoes.

And star quarterback Kevin
Thompson scores again!

Yes! Yes! Helen! Give me your phone.

We're not losers! We're not losers!
We're not losers! Lawndale rules!

Brittany worked all week writing that.

It shows. The reiteration? Powerful.

Like getting hit in the head
repeatedly with a sock full of quarters.

And here he is, the miracle man. Let's
hear it for Kevin and his magic knee!

Yeah, I'll bet you didn't try to drive
down property values. Well, Lawndale

High's quarterback's fit as a fiddle and
Lawndale's got a winner school and the

best people are going to want to live
here and they buy houses at market value,

no thanks to you, loser. Oh, yeah?
Well, I want my mommy, too! Ha!

Do you feel better now that you've
set the Lawndale Shopper man right?

Actually, that was his six-year-old grandson,
but I'm sure he'll give him the message.

Oh, no! Has the mighty Kevin
Thompson injured his knee again?

Praise the Lord! He landed on his head!

This is a day of miracles.