ENJOY ~

(DARIA):

APRIL SATURDAY MORNING

11 AM

I've been gawking at an old fashioned car from the comfort of my upstairs bedroom window for about an hour now.

That car had been parking in the same spot for an entire week. It pulls up right in front of my family's residence, next to the neighbor's driveway. The engine would always rumble, like a low growl, or purr of some giant beast. It was sleek. Black. Shiny. With a silver lining. Really hard to miss. You'd think the person who owned the vehicle sold bibles at your doorstep, or worked at a funeral home. But. Once the driver's door opens & you get a glance at the owner, you then get to thinking, if you were ever to pull up next to that car at a red light, you'd lock your doors & roll up your windows. Because stepping out of the vehicle was Mr. Leather Jacket & Ripped Jeans.

He was a middle aged man. Late twenties at best. Sandy cropped hair & a broad face. No one that I recognized of course. I figured he was just visiting family nearby. But then, as I studied the guy, I swear he was constantly looking over his shoulder. He was carrying a large gray satchel. What was in the satchel, I couldn't tell, but the guy popped open the trunk of his car. Sketchy as hell, being as the man took his time putting his belongings away. I heard someone downstairs call for me from the kitchen & for the brief moment I looked away from my window, the man was gone.

I felt the need to bring up the strange car & its owner situation during brunch, but then I walked into the kitchen. Somebody was yelling.

Actually. Two somebody's.

"Morning, kiddo!" Greeted dad. He was dismantling a smoking toaster. "OW! DAMMIT. I rather take you apart by throwing you to the ground!" Well. Trying to anyways. I silently unplugged the thing before it decided to malfunction. Or worse. Hurt somebody by burning the entire house down.

"JAKE! Calm. Down. You're going to have a stroke one of these days, then what are you going to do?" Mom. Ready to leave for work, wearing her lady suit & tight pencil skirt. Like always. "Good morning Daria. Daria. Why in the world are you still in your pajamas? Don't think you're spending the whole day-JAKE. NO! Put the toaster down!"

"EW. What is that horrible smell?" Cue the younger annoying sister. Quinn. "EEEWWW! What is with that look Daria? Did zombies chase you out of your dreams or something?"

A huff. "Yes." I said. "I chased zombies out of my dreams & into your nightmares. Which might explain the horrendous smell of guts you're trailing off."

"You're weird!" She scoffs. "And I DO NOT smell."

My family & I all sat together at the breakfast table with toastless plates. I tried to bring up the car thing again, but then everyone ended up in three entirely different conversations. Nothing eventful happened afterwards. I went back to my bedroom after everyone left the kitchen. I threw myself at the end of my mattress, & once I looked out my window, the car had disappeared.

I tried to call up on Jane Lane all afternoon. Around the twelfth call. Her older brother, Trent, answered. He told me that Jane was working on a huge art project, that she'll be busy for the rest of the evening, but he'd be sure to give her a message for me. I thanked Trent, hung up, & never called again. That left the majority of the evening to myself. I spent it finishing three books (cover & back), skimmed through a horror graphic novel, & then ended up watching TV all night.

APRIL SUNDAY MORNING

3 AM

Running on two liters of soda, but mostly by sheer willpower, I began to question the possibility of slowly losing my sanity, or a slight moral increase of my normal paranoia. I've never stayed up past midnight. I'd blame the television set in my room, but then again I can't seem to turn it off. Especially when there was an all night marathon of Sick-Sad-World. A TV program which consists of outrageous conspiracies & urban myths supposedly based on solid truths. Thankfully it was the weekend. So. I could watch as much TV as I wanted, & wouldn't have to hear the constant, "You look horrible more than usual" from that of the popular walking clique of cliches.

I began to nod off. TV blaring & all.

It couldn't have been more than thirty minutes when I began to have a bizzare dream about black vintage cars pointing their incoming blaring headlights at me. I was in the middle of a highway, holding my arms up, preparing myself for impact. Yelling. It's until the headlights were so blinding, I found myself fighting my tangled bedsheets. My digital clock hit me in the head from my bed's headboard. All I could make out was a blur of red. I fumbled around for my glasses. The clock read 5 AM. I pulled the curtains of my window aside & vertically slid it open. I took in a long breath. It smelled like it had just rained. Light drizzle. Maybe. The morning sky barely had a tinge of pink over the horizon, & it was speckled with faint white stars, & a half moon. If it weren't for the annoyance of birds chirping, I'd still think it was cold as a night in the middle of January. But it was spring. The weather was seriously bipolar this time of year.

I then cringed. Sure enough, I spotted the irksome vehicle that had haunted me in my dream just a few hours ago. It was parked in the same spot. Again. Right in front of my family's residence. Next to the neighbor's driveway, & again. I caught the driver at the end of the car with the trunk's hood open. This time. Instead of the man carrying a satchel, constantly looking over his shoulder, & taking his time putting it away. He quickly took out the satchel, slammed the trunk's hood shut, & ran into the void of the morning. Catching myself poking my head out the window as far as I could, I almost toppled over.

As the man sped into the void of the morning, something glinty fell out his satchel, & slid under his car. A huff escaped out of my nose. I couldn't believe what ran across my mind. I grabbed my favorite green jacket out of my closet, stepped into my black boots, & snatched a pocket flashlight off of my desk. I nearly tripped down the flight of stairs past my parents' bedroom. I slowly creaked the front living room door open & snuck across the street.

Just when I thought the car was alone. It wasn't. There was a different person crouched down the driver's window, with a set of different shades of yellow aerosol cans. A person I've come to know who was too busy with a huge art project last night.

I held the lit flashlight over Jane's head. All while attempted to have a little fun. "Drop the stencil & the spray can down, miss. Put your hands where I can see them. Now."

Jane jumped & gave me a wide set of blue eyes. They disappeared when she realized it was me. "JEEZUZ. Daria! You DO NOT do that to a girl in the middle of the morning!"

She had clearly been jogging just a few moments ago. She was wearing her track shorts, worn out sneakers, & an oversized red hooded sweater.

"You're not normally awake this hour. Especially during the weekend." I said. "What are you doing?"

Jane was crouching again taping a stencil to the car. "I'm putting my art skills to the test. I'm going to vandalize this beautiful Chevy Impala '67."

I felt my eyebrows raise over my glasses. Jane felt the face I gave her.

"You remember that vintage dress up phase I went through with that wannabe D-bag?" She asked then.

"I think we'd all like to forget about that phase." I replied.

"Well. I guess I sort of went through a vintage car phase too, but neither of them have to do with what I'm doing with now."

"So?" I shrugged.

Jane shook the can of paint. "I had a rotten day yesterday. All right, Morgendorffer? The entire Lane family came to visit, & you know how that goes." The nasty yellow paint hisses out. "They sent me on a food run at this really shady diner. Right? A shallow, poser, looking place where people at the counter purposely get your name wrong."

"Let me guess. They got yours wrong?"

"OH. It gets better. I stomped right out of the place. Then THIS piece of old junk almost ran me over, making me spill the two ton order all over myself."

I ran my flashlight to the trunk of the vehicle, as I made my way toward it. "Um. You wouldn't happen to catch the driver's face by any chance, did you?"

"I saw red." Jane joked.

"Funny." I muttered. "I'm being serious."

"Trent probably got glimpse of the guy. I don't know. He told me the driver was seriously apologetic, that he was in a rush, but I totally beg to differ. Why?"

"A guy." I mumbled. I pointed the light back at Jane's finished art piece, & blinked. "Wow. Nice, ah, use of anatomy."

Jane laughs. "Yeah! Not bad. If I do say so myself. I call it, 'Shift Your Stick Into Drive Baby!' DAMN. Do I feel a lot better."

"Do you hear that?" I asked looking over my shoulder.

"No. What?"

"The sound of your ego blasting through the sky."

"Damn you good, Morgendorffer!" She smiles. "Help me get this stuff back to my place?"

I shrugged. "Treat me to a slice of pizza later?"

"Sure." Jane replied.

Jane & I took a few minutes to gather the pieces of cardboard & spray cans off of the ground. I was reaching for the last can of yellow from underneath the car, when I heard Jane over me.

"Oh yeah." She says. "I've been meaning to ask you something Daria-"

"Yeah?" I reply back struggling to reach the paint. Jane uttered two words, before I ran my palm on a sharp object I thought was the last of the aerosol paint cans. "OW." I quickly whipped my bleeding hand back, along with the object that had slit me. It clattered no more than five inches near my knees.

"Daria are you okay-WHOA." Jane exclaimed. "Is that . . . A KNIFE?"

"Define, okay?" I replied with.

NOTE: I totally had to rewrite this. It was horrible. Added a few more details & structured a couple of sentences along the way.

May or may not continue this. Just a mish mosh thing of a story for now.

COMMENT, FAVORITE, FOLLOW, SHARE, or WHATEVER. It doesn't really matter to me, but it'll be MUCH appreciated. THANKS FOR READING!