Short summary:
Ms. Li got
LH staff to fix her newest acquisition ?wooden camp buildings. Set before 揑IFY??movie.
Daria (and
associated characters and locations) is copyright ?1997-2000 MTV Networks.
This story is copyright ?2002 by Bacner (olgak531@rogers.com) and has been written for personal enjoyment. No
infringement of the above rights is intended.
Repairs ?a mighty
complicated thing.
Mr.
DeMartino put the drill down on the floor, a began to clean his eyes, full of
wooden dust. Trying to drill the necessary openings in the wooden walls, he
already broke a third auger from supposedly stainless steel. First he mentioned
Christ, Virgin Mary and the Holy Ghost in respect to Ms. Li抯 determination, as
she had bought this cam building so thoughtlessly. Then?- the Holy Ghost, Virgin Mary and Christ in
respect to the inventor of stainless steel. His ears blushed, he hiccupped and
dropped the hammer. Mr. DeMartino sadly watched as the heavy hammer, also put
on a very long handle from suspiciously Whiter wood from the height of a step
ladder flies straight into the Timothy O扤eill抯 noggin. One could only hope
that the feeling of peace won抰 abandon the New-Age man even after such
unpleasant event. As expected, nothing terrible didn抰 happen ?the hammer
missed Mr. O扤eill noggin by a hair抯 breath and shuttered on the floor,
leaving the Irishman still absent-minded, or not, as Mr. O扤eill looked up,
traced the falling route of the last for 300 leagues around hammer, and also
mentioned Christ, Virgin Mary, and the Holy Ghost. Then also St. Peter. For a
better, supposedly, expression. Into the room, that was supposed to be a dining
room, flew infuriated Ms. Barch ?somebody again stole from her a knife for
wallpaper and she had to cut them with her huge two-hand shovel. Also Ms.
Manson again covered her favourite 揻unny?wallpaper in elven style - twigs,
leaves ?with skulls and skeletons. A hangman was added to each branch.
揥here抯
the knife? I抦 asking you, where抯 my knife?!?
The
knife wasn抰 found soon. In the Ms. Benson抯 pocket, of course ?she just
couldn抰 walk pass a thing, that wasn抰 watched by anybody. Her thrifty nature
prevented that. 慍ourse, the Ms. Li preferred to call such thrift with a fancy
word 搆leptomania? but out of all LH teachers only DeMartino and Manson knew
its?meaning. And didn抰 tell anyone, what it meant.
Barch
and O扤eill for some reason chose exactly the-lying-in-a-corner rolls of
wallpaper and linoleum, to submerge in a discussion of some ideological
problems.
Morris
and DeFoe just fell asleep. On the sun. Pulling down the cowls and pulling the
capes higher, they lay on steps, and on all questions answered, that they tan
their legs, and that it抯 the last word in fashion among the women of their
age.
Manson
coloured the living room抯 platband, and, judging from the expression of the
true happiness on her face, skulls, skeletons, ripped-off limbs and tomb-stones
were again part of the decoration.
揋od,
what a mess!? DeMartino mentally groaned, watching from the height of
step-ladder抯 second-to-last step what was happening around here. Barch busily
restarted trying to sweep-off the garbage from the porch using her two-hand
shovel. It wasn抰 quite successful, but she seemed to be little bothered by it
- apparently, she seriously became involved with inventing a new school of
sweeping. Something like 揅leanness ?clearly Woman?
揝omebody,
give me a nail?!?he yelled from the ceiling and looked down. Somebody didn抰
respond. Morris half-opened one eye and thoughtfully stared at the DeMartino,
looming somewhere above, like a giant compass. He reminded her of shadoofs of
the wells in her native town. Benson responded after a few minutes. She dug in
her pocket, chose among all nails must rusty and bent, and handed it over to
the DeMartino.
揋ive
a good one!?DeMartino snapped.
揜ight!
So high, nothing is seen anyway. Why waste good nails??
Mentioning
all generations of English kings, DeMartino hammered the crooked nail into the
wall. Because of its?truly unique curvature, the ?of the blows ?with the
handle of his wood-carving knife, nothing else was left ?happened through the
hand. DeMartino emphatically wished good luck to students, who spoke of him, as
of unfeeling jerk. And hoped, that their legends would be truth for at least
this half an hour. The hand hurt.
Morris
finally tore away from the discussions about Art and Phys-Ed and deigned to
begin to wash the floors. DeMartino spitefully watched, as Ms. Muscle squeezes
the mop. Apparently, the mop seemed to her something average between a cable
and a dead cat.
O扤eill
imitated her so well, that watching him DeFoe and Manson couldn抰 restrain from
laughter. The result of laughter was completely sad ?Manson dropped the can
with black paint, the oily paint spilled under O扤eill抯 legs, he released the
step ladder...
When
O扤eill finally got-out from the ladder and DeMartino, on his usually pale
physiognomy was such an excellent disguising colouring of black spots, dots and
stripes, that one just wanted to sent him to resse. DeMartino did send him. Not
to resse, of course, there抯 barely anything worth to resse about in such parts.
But ?he sent him. Far away and in categorical form.
From
the next room came a loud rustle, sound of something not-too-heavy falling and
loud curses in all known and unknown speeches. Hurrying there, LH staff
discovered almost buried under the mess of unstuck wallpapers Barch.
揑
said so! I said so ?we must glue using vinyl!!! Again couldn抰 do it,
parasite?!?she clearly planned to through this whole stick mess onto the
Benson.
揥hy
at our place, why at our place... Why at our place the glue was always boiled
from rabbits! Why my mother, she was such a housewife, you, scow, could never
reach her, glued only with that...?
The
moralizing voice of Morris came from the stairs.
揑n
the books of the Wise it is written: 揟ake one rabbit of average girth, the
bark of Nurchaus tree, taken in the first full moon of the decade抯
first year, shake it, boil it, and glue.?
揈...
When will we reach the beginning of the new epoch??O扤eill na飗ely?asked.
揟hey
who walk the paths of Modernity, remember, that the bark of that tree can be
replaced by the substance 揃u-sti-lat? dissolved half with water.?
Morris
even rolled back her eyes, in the ecstasy of prophesying the great wisdom. This
wisdom, unfortunately, was too dark. To complete misunderstanding.
Barch
hysterically giggled, watching the disappointed faces of failed repairmen.
Sitting on a mess of unstuck 揻unny?wallpaper, she looked most like an
overgrown owl in its?nest. Then her gaze stopped on Benson, who was trying to
leave the room ?quietly, sideways. Something suspiciously stuck-out from under
her clothes. Like a Harpy or a Fury Barch lunged at her. After a second nothing
could be distinguished, only loud shouts came.
揋ive
the glue back! Give the glue back, you accursed miser! Give it back, I抦
telling you!?
揑抦
won抰 you great fool! I won抰!?
揋ive
it back!!!.
揘ever!
You uneconomically use it!!! A package for ten rolls ?it抯 unthinkable!!?
DeMartino
pulled the aforementioned package of glue from under the combatants legs. On it
in clear English letters said: 揤inyl glue. One package for five-six rolls?
DeMartino抯 mood turned completely sour.
When
the couple was calmed-down at last, he gave the package of glue to Barch,
putting on the shoulder of Benson, who jerked towards her treasure, a heavy
hand. Royally, one may say. It worked. DeFoe finally deigned to come into the
room, intrigued by the noise. The rest followed. Something suddenly rustled in
the corner, somewhere under the wallpaper. A hedgehog抯 muzzle appeared from
under the paper. The most adorable hedgehog, ever seen by any LH teacher.
揃reeding
hedgehogs... No bedbugs??Manson grumbled, foresightedly ?what if they get
dirty ?raising the ends of her clothes. Then all momentarily turned deaf from
the DeFoe抯 lively squeal:
揌e
is so cute!?
The
rest shuddered. This cru of joy usually came before a total anatomically-pathological
examination of any object that caught the woman抯 curiously, no matter how big
or small. She grasped the poor hedgehog, quickly grasping it by hind legs. The
hedgehog demonstrated its?cute grey belly. From the window抯 direction came a
dreamy voice of the Manson:
揕et抯
nail him to the window! It抣l look good...?
DeMartino
examined the room. The wallpaper lay in a mess in a corner. The whitewash dripped
with disgustingly white and juicy drops from the ceiling ?Benson dissolved her
four times more from her thrifty nature once again. The plinth lay in a
terribly twisted position. Wooden chips, wallpaper clippings, a spilled box of
excellent nail and a huge two-handed sword lay underfoot. All others raised
more fuss around the hedgehog, than the football team with the football ball.
DeMartino raised the hand with the whistle.
A
terrible howl ripped the silence.
After
ten minutes an ideal order reigned in the castle. DeMartino, whose ladder with
firmly grasped by O扤eill, whose mouth was trustworthily closed by squeezed by
the lips nails, hammered the dowel into an opening for the shelf. The hammer,
found, as expected, in the Benson抯 suitcase, hanged on his belt, firmly tied
by the rope. The same Benson, after inserting a new auger into the drill,
determinedly drilled the stone wall. The Morris saw a new plinth in the yard,
finally armed with a plumb. DeFoe washed the floor in the dining room with her
own hands. Manson carried the pails with the water. Barch stuck the fragmented
wallpaper. Manson painted-over her artwork with some decent black paint.
Overall ?truly an idyllic picture...
DeFoe
stumbled on the stairs and dumped water straight on Barch. She luxuriously got
off the knees, took the mop, twisting it into an elegant mop, swung, and threw
far over the castle抯 wall. Tracing its?way, she mentioned simultaneously
Christ, St, Paul, Virgin Mary, the holy Ghost, St, Peter, Abraham and his descendants.
O扤eill painfully blushed and dropped the drill. Judging by everything, it just
had to fall on Manson抯 leg. DeMartino bent and covered his ears...
揜epairs
?a mighty complicated thing...?DeFoe said lyrically.