- I never thought I would say this,
but the grades on these tests
were miraculously above my low expectations.
- I like a teacher with no ambitions for his students.
- Yeah, high standards only give us something to strive for.
- Yes! I passed, and I got the extra point.
- All right!
- Kevvy, what's that "a" doing on your paper?
- Why, Brittany, that's the most intelligent question
you've asked all year.
- Thanks. - Kevin?
- I have an "a" because I got 100?
- That's right, Kevin.
In fact, almost the entire football team,
despite repeated cranial trauma and a chronic inability
to solve the maze on a cereal box,
got 100.
- Go, team, go.
- Only Mr. MacKenzie got a "b."
- Go, mack, go.
- All right.
- Forgive me my suspicions,
but it's obvious that someone, Kevin,
got ahold of the test beforehand, Kevin,
which would account for the jimmied lock
on my filing cabinet, Kevin!
- But who does he really suspect?
- That Jimmy guy?
- Perhaps you would like to share with us
your knowledge in this matter?
- But I don't know anything.
- Can't accuse him of lying there.
- I think you do know something about the incident, Kevin.
I think that if you didn't steal the test yourself,
then you know who did.
And is it not true that you needed an "a"
to get off academic probation?
- Nah, the coach said he'd fix my--
I mean, hey, I studied.
- Kevin, who were the principal players
in the teapot dome scandal?
- The New Orleans saints?
- Teapot dome, Kevin, not superdome.
- Teapot...
The new england patriots.
- How many teams are there in the NFL?
I want to know if this is going to run into lunch.
- Where were you Monday afternoon?
- Um, hanging out with the team?
- Yeah. - No, no, yeah, with the team.
- It's cool. - With the team.
- Before you run off to your next class for your naps,
know that unless the guilty party comes forth,
everyone will receive an "f" on the test.
Do I make myself clear?
- Yeah. - Yeah.
- "F" all the way. - Dude, we're gonna fail.
That rocks.
- This sucks.
The first time I get a 95 too.
- Funny. From here it looks like an 84.
- I grade myself on a curve.
- Everyone knows you took that test,
so would you just admit it so we don't all fail?
- Yeah, you know, if I get an "f,"
I'll be kicked off the cheerleading squad,
because you need at least a 1.0 average to stay on,
and then my chances of becoming a pro cheerleader
will be ruined,
and that will give me a permanent headache.
- So get one of those really big bottles of aspirin.
- I mean, kevvy, I'll have a headache next time we're alone.
- Oh.
So you want me to bring the aspirin?
- Ooh!
- But, babe, I didn't steal the test.
- You just copied it word for word.
Fine, Mr. and Mrs. Jealous-baby.
Now I know what it's like to be hated
just because you're a brain.
- Did you hear that?
You're no longer the only brain in the school.
- Hmm, I guess I'll have to kill him.
- Aw, don't kill him.
You two can start a support group.
- Sorry, all my support groups have a one-member limit.
- Damn idiot, prima Donna, crybaby clients.
That's it, Helen! I'm changing careers.
- Mm-hmm, and they made that offer with a straight face?
- Hey, kiddo, how was your day?
- Fine.
I heard a new voice inside my head, and Kevin stole a test,
so everyone's getting an "f."
- That's great.
- Daria, you were just kidding about the voice, right?
- Relax. We don't have to answer that.
- Daria, if you need to talk, i--
I know.
It's a clear-cut case of neglect.
- Can too many carrots make your head grow leaves?
Uh, what's that, doc?
In one hour, on sick, sad world.
With the brains and beauty butt buster,
you too can have a rounder...
- What are we going to do?
Serena's inside the house with that murderer.
- We've got to save her
before he finds out she's a private eye.
- What do you have to say for yourself now, detective?
- I knew the stolen microfilm had to be sewn into the bikini,
but I didn't count on falling in love with you.
- I'm surprised Ms. Li hasn't made Kevin confess by now.
You don't think she's actually waiting for evidence?
- No, she just doesn't want him to admit anything
until she's finished building her new interrogation room.
- Hmm, questioning a suspect is more fun with a cattle prod.
- What isn't?
Anyway, half the class already wants to kill him.
- They're just saying that to get our hopes up.
Clang!
Ouch.
- When did my locker get so big?
- Cyanide.
- Must have come from the cafeteria.
- Remind me to send my compliments to the chef.
- Wow, he doesn't look so good.
- Dying can be harsh on a person's appearance.
- Who would do such a thing
so thoroughly?
- If I may offer a small observation,
it's a well-known fact that murderers frequently return
to the scene of the crime to admire their handiwork.
- You're not suggesting one of us did it?
- If the shoe fits, miss Lane!
- Wow, this is just like cinderella.
- Yes, and you've turned into two pumpkins.
- Huh?
- Save your breath, people.
I think I know who's responsible for this heinous crime.
Ms. Morgendorffer, it is my duty to inform you
that you are the number one suspect
in the murder of Kevin Thompson.
- What?
- It's always the quiet ones.
- Now, Ms. Morgendorffer,
you just answer as truthfully as you can.
Yeah, right.
- Can't I just skip the investigation
and go straight to solitary confinement?
- Sorry.
No one is going to deprive me of the opportunity
to rifle through the personal property
of individuals totally unconnected to this case--
oop, I mean, deprive you of your right to justice.
Now, nail her to the wall.
- Oh, dear.
- Well, well, well.
Miss morgendorffer, where were you Monday afternoon?
- Hmm, after watching frustrated faculty members squander
yet another day trying to teach the unteachable,
I went home and studied
so I won't wind up in a job that combines
the stress level of a neurosurgeon
with the pay scale of a video clerk.
- Your transparent attempt to derail my line of questioning
with sarcasm has been noted.
- What Mr. Demartino is trying to say, daria,
is that a more positive attitude
might make this informal rap session
more pleasant for all of us.
Would you like a soda?
- Isn't it true that you were furious at Kevin
for causing your "f"
and the black Mark on your permanent record?
- In other words, daria, is it at all possible
that perhaps you were just a teensy bit frustrated
that a fellow student's alleged transgressions
canceled out all of your hard work?
- Actually, I believe you gave me the "f."
- Cookies? They're chocolate chip.
- Quit avoiding the issue and admit it, daria.
You hated Kevin.
- What Mr. Demartino is trying to say--
- that's it.
Oh.
- I can't work with this amateur.
He's screwing up my delivery.
Do we have to do good cop, bad cop?
- Anthony, it sounds like you have issues about--
- out! - Eep!
- Now, about your hating Kevin.
- Why would I hate Kevin?
Just because he was destined to go pro
and make millions of dollars
endorsing his own line of odor-eaters?
Because he had his whole life in front of him.
- Damn him.
- Because society rewards brain-dead athletes
with cash prizes and rv dealerships
while the most you can hope for is a car roof
that doesn't leak when it rains?
- I should've wrapped my hands
around his oafish young neck and--
daria, quit changing the subject.
- Mr. Pibb?
- Oh!
- Daria, how was school today?
- Let's see.
No one talked to me at lunch,
and I'm the number one suspect in the murder of Kevin Thompson.
- Good for you.
Say, daria, what would be an exciting new job
for a youngish, still vital self-starter
who can bring a lot to the table?
- Waiter at pizza forest?
- Daria, you were just kidding about lunch, right?
Damn, where's that abstract?
- Mom, I was wondering if you could give me some advice
on the legal system
or just teach me how to summon guards with a tin cup.
- Sure, honey, but right now I'm late for my meeting,
so it'll have to wait till I get back.
- Okay; If I'm not here,
I'll be starring in the prison rodeo.
- Have fun.
- Great.
- Can I help, honey?
- Not unless you're a detective.
- Detective.
Oh, yeah!
- Oh, no.
And if I don't find out who killed Kevin,
I'm watching sick, sad world in the prison weight room.
You try yelling "down in front" to someone with head staples.
- Look, daria, I'd like to help,
but I've got another crime to solve.
- I sure hope Tom hasn't been kidnapped.
- Didn't I tell you?
Trent's dead.
- What?
- Come on, I'll show you.
- Trent.
- I found him like this yesterday.
I haven't had the heart to move him.
I can't help but think that a one-armed man
is somehow involved.
I guess you two will never know what might have been.
- Oh, hi, daria.
Just catching up on a little sleep before it gets dark.
Oh, hey, janey, can I have my back scratcher?
- There you are, honey.
Look, I'm a detective.
I'm ready to solve your case.
- Enjoy prison.
- Sacre bleu.
Your face.
It's so big.
What about me?
Is my face big too?
- I don't believe this.
There's only one place left for me to turn,
and it's not pretty.
- Angels, I've got some bad news.
Star quarterback Kevin Thompson has been murdered.
- Oh, no, but he was so cute.
- How come they never kill the ugly people?
- Or the people who wear sandals with socks?
- You tell me, angels.
You're the detectives.
Now, the chief suspect in the case has hired us
to prove her innocence,
a Ms. Daria morgendorffer.
- Oh, no.
- Ew.
Upchuck, she's so...
Unpopular.
- Hey, Quinn, isn't she, like,
your family's cabana girl?
- Actually, she's our cabana girl's cou--
our cabana girl's adopted cousin.
- So we'll accept the case?
She's willing to pay up front.
- Well, I could use a matching case for my gun,
you know, with a Pearl handle and a built-in makeup mirror.
- Yeah, and my holster is so pre-glock.
- This is so wrong.
My thighs are all bulgy.
- Tiffany, dear, what are you doing here?
- I just thought I'd check and see
if any of you is quitting to go into movies
so I can be the new angel.
- We're in, upchuck.
- Good work, angels.
I knew I could count on you.
Feisty.
- The first thing we should do
is find out where the body was dumped.
- Well, not to jump to conclusions,
but the crime scene tape might be a clue.
- Really?
I was going to say the pool of blood.
- Look, a chalk outline.
- I wonder if it belongs to anybody.
- I hope not.
It's so fat.
- I know.
Don't they have chalk outline workouts?
- Tiffany, you're not even supposed to be here
until Quinn leaves over creative differences.
- What? - Sorry.
- Quinn, you want me to erase the chalk outline for you?
- No, me. - Me.
- No, come on, man.
Hey, get out the way, man.
- Guys, you're smudging it.
- Hmm.
- Two, four, six, eight.
Kevin's on his final date.
Go, Mr. O'Neill.
- I'd like to say a few words about the dearly departed.
Kevin was...
Kevin, we hardly knew you.
- Come on, let's go grill the merry widow.
- I wish they'd get the funeral over with.
This cemetery is kind of depressing.
- Maybe they should get rid of all the dead people.
- Good idea.
But they should Bury them somewhere else,
don't you think?
- Brittany, how were you and Kevin doing
before his untimely death?
- We weren't doing anything, I swear.
- A likely story.
He was gonna break up with you, wasn't he?
- Say, for another girl with bendable legs
and a Malibu house?
- Daria, Jane, I can't believe
you're trying to find out if Kevin's available.
I mean, hitting on a dead guy?
That's really sick.
- What can I say about Kevin?
That he was-- well, he was, um...
He never made anyone feel stupid.
Thank you very much.
- I couldn't have said it better myself.
- Thanks.
It's funny,
but I still can't believe I'll never see Kevin again.
- It must've been tough being around Kevin day in, day out.
What was that name he used to call you?
Mack mama, mack brother, MacArthur--
- mack daddy. Mack daddy.
I hated that name.
Hated it, do you hear me?
- I would just like to say that I'm glad Kevin is dead.
I wish all males were dead.
Thank you, and go, lions.
- Lawndale high is proud to announce the establishment
of the Kevin Thompson memorial foundation,
which will oversee public service projects
in the spirit of Kevin,
like, um, or, uh...
So in conclusion,
I'd like to announce the dissolution of the foundation
and remind everyone that the pep rally starts in one hour.
- I can't help thinking there's something in here
that upchuck's angels overlooked.
- Wow, that's a stretch.
Probably just some incriminating piece of evidence
that Ms. Li will jump all over as proof of your guilt.
Right on schedule.
- Ms. Morgendorffer, you're under arrest
for the murder of Kevin Thompson.
Book her:
Murder one.
- Dad, I thought you'd become a detective.
- I got deported.
Lousy immigration officials!
- Jake, would you please act
like you're the law on these streets?
Honey--i mean you lousy, two-bit punk--
do you have anything to say in your defense?
- No, except that Kevin died of everything
except a gunshot wound.
- Hey, can I see that cool gun?
I mean, I think I should examine the weapon for clues.
- Guess you won't be dusting for fingerprints.
- Huh?
- Look, I don't mean to interfere
with your rush to judgment, but if you give me ten minutes,
I think I can prove who's responsible for Kevin's death.
- Go on, Ms. Morgendorffer, but be quick about it.
- Round up the suspects.
- Right, chief.
I always wanted to say that.
- Buck up, skinny.
- I just can't stop thinking about poor Kevin.
- Sure, you can.
Yah!
- Daria, I can't believe you're still talking about this.
- Oh, yeah. - Yeah.
- That was so yesterday. - Totally.
- The reason I've gathered you all here
is that one of you killed Kevin Thompson,
and no good deed should go unpunished.
- Is this going to take long?
Because with poor kevvy gone,
I need to find a date for Saturday.
- Maybe I should've been a video clerk.
At least I would've gotten some free movies out of my lousy job.
"Hello, sir.
Will that be one night or two?"
- Ms. Morgendorffer, get to the point.
- On the morning of Kevin's murder, I, by chance,
coated my locker with an invisible, time-activated paint.
Anyone who came in contact with that locker
will notice that their hands are turning a bright pink...
Now.
- See? Innocent.
- Me too.
- Actually, I believe you are all guilty.
You see, I made up that story about the paint,
knowing that only the guilty parties would check their hands.
- Huh?
- All right.
I did it, but I had just cause.
I worked all my life for that 84,
and he just came and took it away, damn it.
I was meeting Tom for lunch
and didn't want to reek of gunpowder,
so I decided to swipe Trent's cyanide.
He and the band were saving it
in case they don't make it by the time they're 50.
I went to the cafeteria and waited for Kevin
to perform his daily lunch dance offering to the gods.
I'm a bull with a runny nose.
Get it?
Running bull.
- And then I slipped the cyanide
into his nutty butter and banana sandwich.
- What a riot, man. - Yeah, baby.
- Dude, you rock.
- But that was it.
I didn't strangle him or shoot him with an arrow
or even club him.
You've got to believe me.
I draw the line at physical exertion.
- Well-- - wait a minute.
I was nowhere near that locker.
- Too late. - Damn.
- Oh, all right.
So I may have hit him a little hard on the head with my club
but only because I wanted him dead.
- Really?
Me too.
- Oh, I told mom no almonds.
- Later.
Et tu, mack daddy?
- I told you not to call me that.
- I hope this arrow thingy works.
Thud!
- A paperboy gets more respect than I do.
Better Christmas presents too.
Thud!
- It's going to be a good day.
- Your ridiculous portrayal of a corpse
is an insult to widows and orphans and me.
Oh, yeah.
This is really working for me.
Mmm.
- And then she said she doesn't even care
if v-necks make her shoulders look slopey.
- No.
- We'll finish this later, Kevin.
Don't go anywhere.
- This is all very well and good, Ms. Morgendorffer,
but I'm afraid it still doesn't explain
the gun in your locker.
- There's my antique water pistol.
Excuse me, but I need this.
The photographer is here to shoot my calendar.
- What the heck. Let's execute her anyway.
- Sorry, sweetie,
I mean, you low-life weasel.
- Yeah, hope things work out for you in the beyond.
- Wait. Don't I get a say in this?
- Too late; I already ordered the electric chair
with your height specifications,
and I'd be wasting valuable school funds
if I didn't put it to good use.
- Don't worry, I'll take care of your bone collection.
- Can't get auto insurance
because no one in their right mind
will write you a policy?
- Wow, that's some dream.
It was nice of you to take the rap for killing Kevin.
- You know, good cause.
- Just as I predicted,
the cowardly guilty party has refused to come forward.
However, I've decided not to automatically fail
the rest of you this time.
Those with plummeting scores on this new test
will be under great suspicion,
as will any individuals I just don't like.
- Doesn't that more or less cover everyone?
- I'm dying.
Dying.
- Oh, look, lord Olivier has arrived.
- Quit it, Kevin. - So lame.
- Just kidding, guys.
- Just kidding?
Hey, Mr. D...
That kind of hurts.
- Try winning the heisman trophy without a throat.
- Maybe dreams do come true.
- It could happen to you.
Mr. D...
You can stop now.
Mr. D?
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