Tuesday 13 February 2024

Spider Quinn 06 - The Lawndale Files - Part 3

 

Helen opened the door. “Hello, Elisabeth. Stacy will be down shortly.”

 

Elisabeth Rowe entered. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

 

“I’m fine. Keeping busy, mostly. My sisters are helping, funnily enough.”

 

“You’re lonely, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Helen admitted.

 

“You aren’t alone,” Elisabeth said taking one of Helen’s hands.

 

“Thanks, but I don’t know you much,” Helen said.

 

Stacy and Tiffany then came down the stairs. “Mom, Tiffany would like a lift home,” the former said.

 

“Sure,” Elisabeth said to her daughter. She turned to Helen. “Would you like to come to a café tomorrow evening?”

 

“I’ll see if I can swing it with work,” Helen answered. ‘It would be a good idea,’ she thought.

 

“I’ll hold you to it.”

 

 

“How’s Quinn?” Elisabeth asked her daughter as she pulled away from the Morgendorffers.

 

“She’s still grieving, but she’s coping in her own way,” Stacy answered.

 

“That’s good.”

 

“You’re concerned for Mrs. Morgendorffer, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

 

Lawndale Sun-Herald

Wednesday, December 2, 1999

Teacher Arrested

Anthony DeMartino, a History teacher at Lawndale High was mysteriously arrested on school grounds yesterday by Federal agents.

 

 

When Daria and Jane arrived at school, Mr. O’Neill’s rally was already underway.

 

“So that's why I say commies aren't team players, so keep them out of team sports. All right!” Kevin said.

 

“Yay, no commie team!” Brittany added.

 

“Um, thank you, Kevin. But actually, the communist is your ultimate team player. The team is all; the individual, nothing,” O’Neill said.

 

“Oh. Well then, never mind. All right!” Kevin then said.

 

Brittany was about to say something in addition but apparently thought better of it.

 

“Good morning. As you know, we're here to clear up some misunderstandings and suspicions so we can all feel better about each other and ourselves. So without further ado, I present to you a work in progress, a solo performance I call ‘Nothing to Lose But His Chains: The Life of Karl Marx.’ The year is 1848.” O’Neill pressed play on a tape recorder and an exercise tape began playing. “Oh, dear, that's my exercise tape!”

 

Mr. DeMartino then appeared.

 

“Anthony! You weren't kidnapped!” O’Neill said in surprise.

 

All right! I finally convinced those glorified dogcatchers from Immigration that I am not an illegal alien. But now I have a question. Who told them I was?

 

Daria saw Ms. Barch murmur something under her breath.

 

“Maybe it was the mind control babes from space, Mr. D., trying to create a distraction,” Charles said.

 

“Who?” DeMartino asked.

 

“Them!” Charles said pointing at Daria and Jane.

 

“Um, I hate to wreck a perfectly good lynching, but you're the ones acting weird,” Daria responded.

 

“Us?” Kevin asked. “Mr. O'Neill said you're out to destroy football.”

 

“No! I was telling them about how communists and Martians are the same.”

 

“That'll clear things up.”

 

“So there's no communist unfiltration?” Kevin asked.

 

“And there's no alien takeover?” Charles asked.

 

“Oh, I don't know. How do you explain that?” Jane asked, as she pointed to where Quinn was joined by Stacy and Tiffany in dressing in all black.”

 

“We're dressed this way for solidarity,” Tiffany said.

 

“To help support Quinn in her grief,” Stacy added.

 

“That makes sense,” Daria murmured as the crowded added a murmur of support.

 

“Does it?” Jane asked.

 

“Yes,” Daria said.

 

“I liked it better when they were under alien control,” Jane groused.

 

“It was more believable,” Daria said with her usual sarcasm.

 

“So you see, everyone? Mr. DeMartino's disappearance, all these communist and alien worries... simple misunderstandings, all of them. What do you say we cement our newfound unity by joining hands and singing ‘Man in the Mirror’?”

 

The teens booed and hissed and left.

 

 

Later, Ms. Li called Mr. O’Neill into her office.

 

“It has come to my attention that you organised a rally this morning.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It was unauthorised! You should have come to me if you wanted to clear up the various misunderstandings surrounding Mr. DeMartino’s arrest.”

 

“I’m sorry. It was off the cuff.”

 

“It won’t happen again. Do I make myself clear.”

 

“No it won’t. I’ll call you first.”

 

“Good. Dismissed.”

 

She watched the Language Arts teacher leave. She then went back to the reports that SpiderGirl had been sighted on campus.

 

 

That night, SpiderGirl thought about the past two days as she patrolled Lawndale’s downtown, swinging from rooftop to rooftop. Conspiracy theories spreading through the school wasn’t a good thing. But at least none of them involved her. She looked over towards a café where she saw Helen and Mrs. Rowe enter. She smiled under her new, more comfortable, mask. At least her mother was reaching out to those other than her colleagues. She then heard police sirens in the direction of the Creek. With a sigh she then swung in that direction.

 

 

Elisabeth looked back at the strange sound.

 

“Elisabeth?” Helen asked.

 

“I think SpiderGirl was just watching us.”

 

“Now who’s being paranoid,” Helen said.

 

“Anastacia has told me all about the rumors at school,” Elisabeth said, referring to her daughter by her full first name.

 

“Daria said it was she and Jane who started it,” Helen said as she lead the way into the café.

 

“But how?” Elisabetha asked.

 

“Things they said were misinterpreted,” Helen answered.

 

“That makes sense.”

 

They then went to order their coffees.

 

 

While her mother was talking to Elisabeth, Daria was watching Sick Sad World with Jane when they heard Trent’s cheerful music in a commercial break!

 

“Hey, it’s Trent’s hell music,” Jane said.

 

If you don't have a car or your present car sucks, go to Happy Herb with a few thousand bucks. Then you can drive here, you can drive there, drive where you want, Happy Herb don't care. It won't make you better or smarter, that true, but you can drive around when there's nothing else to do. So go buy a car, buy a damn car, hit the road to nowhere in your Happy Herb car.

 

I'm Happy Herb, and I sell cars, so come on down.

 

“So now you know,” Trent said, with shame in his voice, from the door.

 

“Oh, um, nice jingle,” Daria said.

 

“You don't have to tell me. I'm a complete sell-out. But I really needed the gig,” Trent explained.

 

“What's the going rate for an artist's soul these days?” Jane asked.

 

“20 bucks, an hour of free studio time and a set of tires,” Trent answered.

 

“That’s it?” Jane asked.

 

“They’re new tires,” Trent explained.

 

Sick Sad World returned.

 

“Hey, look, it’s that guy,” Trent said.

 

And what unspeakable acts did the space beings perform on you?” the usual reporter asked.

 

They took my flesh and replaced it with an alien synthetic skin. A skin capable of sensations you can't even imagine. But that's not the worst of it,” the former Pizza guy said before breaking down and crying.

 

“Uh-oh, he's gonna get his skin wet and shrink it,” Jane commented.

 

They used me, and then they made me lose my job.”

 

You saw it first on Sick, Sad World. Alien love goddesses are depriving Americans of their skins and their jobs.”

 

Then a shot of Daria and Jane in ‘space vixen’ outfits was shown.

 

“Hey, cool,” Trent said.

 

“We should be upset, right?” Daria said.

 

“I don’t know, those outfits look pretty good,” Jane said.

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Daria asked.

 

“Nope!”

 

“Then again. I doubt anyone is taping this.”

 

“Only very few,” Jane said in reassurance.

 

 

Lawndale Sun-Herald

Thursday, December 3, 1999

Teacher Falsely Accused

Anthony DeMartino claims that he was falsely accused of being an illegal immigrant prior to his arrest on Tuesday.

 

Page 2

More Assistance From SpiderGirl

LDPD report another incidence of assistance from the ‘vigilante known as SpiderGirl’ last night when a car being driven by a thief was stopped by one of her webs.

 

 

Agent Krista Bell entered the large building on the edge of New York. Once inside she selected the top floor in the elevator.

 

A few minutes later, the blonde agent was shown into a large office. She approached the intimidating bald African American man with a goatee and an eye patch over his left eye.

 

Nick Fury, the Director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. “Report, Agent Bell,” he said.

 

“It’s confirmed. SpiderGirl exists,” she said.

 

“But is there any indication of her identity?” Fury asked.

 

“Absolutely no clue. It is too early to tell. I recommend sending more Plainclothes agents to Lawndale, sir.”

 

“I have already done so,” Fury said. “You live there, don’t you?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Bell answered.

 

“Then you are to keep an eye out for her. Gather all the information you can.”

 

Bell nodded.

 

“Another thing. There are other things happening in Lawndale. We need to know what is behind those too.”

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