The teenager in the back scrunched up his beady eyes. "Uh...did we move?" he asked.
Jake laughed nervously. "I'm just saying you don't make friends as easily as...uh, some people."
Quinn turned up the radio to drown out her father and brother's droning - a poor move.
"What the hell is that crap?" Butt-head asked. "Turn that crap off, Quinn." He began kicking the back of the seat.
Jake saw his daughter open her mouth in protest, and darted his hand over to turn off the radio, in hopes of placating his son. "The point is, the first day at a new school is bound to be difficult..."
Butt-head ignored Jake, leaned forward, and fiddled with the radio until he found a college station playing death metal. "YES!" he shouted out, throwing up the horns and headbanging away at the sound which nearly deafened Jake and Quinn. Jake finally stabbed at the radio again to turn it off.
"Just...don't get upset if it takes the other kids a little while to warm up to you," he lamely finished the pep talk. He pulled up to the school, where Quinn practically pulled the door off the car, she left so quickly.
One of the students, a girl with her hair in pigtails, approached. "Hi! You're cool. What's your name?" she asked.
"Cool name," said another girl standing next to the first.
"Uh, hey baby," Butt-head said, having already gotten out of the car.
Jake watched expectantly as Butt-head and one of Quinn's new friends conversed. He winced as the expected slap came, sighed, and put the car into drive.
"As you can see, our Lawndale High students take great pride in their school. That's why you'll each be taking a small psychological exam to spot any little clouds on the horizon as you sail the student seas of Lawndale High."
"Uh. What?" Butt-head asked, clueless. "This isn't, like, the ocean."
"Nobody told me about any test!" Quinn complained.
Butt-head scrutinized her. "You'll probably fail, 'cause it's a pregnancy test." He then proceeded to chuckle at his own magnificent wit, while Quinn gave him a dirty look.
Butt-head and Quinn were both ushered into Dr. Manson's office together. After introductions, she held up a picture, a silhouette of two people talking. "Now, Quinn...what do you see here?" she asked.
"It's a picture of two people talking," Quinn correctly observed.
"That's right. Can you make up a little story about what it is they're discussing?"
Quinn 'made up' a little story about how the girl silhouette was extorting the boy silhouette for a better dating experience.
"Very good, Quinn!" Dr. Manson said, giving implicit approval to her mercenary lifestyle. "Now, Buford, let's see if you can make up a story as vivid as your sister's."
"Uh, my name's Butt-head."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Buford. What do you see in the picture, Buford?"
Butt-head squinted at the picture. He then began to chuckle heartily, punctuated by the occasional "Boi-oi-oi-oing!"
"Uh, Buford?" Dr. Manson prompted, worried.
Quinn sighed dramatically. "He does this every time, Dr. Manson. Just ignore it."
"Class, we have a new STUDENT joining us today. Please welcome...Butt-head Morgendorffer." Mr. DeMartino gazed at the name on the paper Ms. Li had given him, wondering if it was some kind of joke on his part. He looked at the new student, with his beady eyes, giant nose, and a head which appeared to be much larger than any of the other students'. He didn't laugh at the name, which at least seemed to indicate it was genuine. He filed questions as to how he had gotten such a name away to be answered at another time. "Butt-head, raise your hand, please."
Butt-head listlessly raised his arm above his head.
DeMartino grinned ferally. "WELL, Butt-head! As long as you have your hand raised..." He chuckled, a sinister sound. "Last week we began a unit on westward expansion. Perhaps you feel it's UNFAIR to be asked a question on your first day of class."
"Uh...yeah," Butt-head concluded.
"Butt-head, can you concisely and unemotionally sum up for us the doctrine of Manifest Destiny?"
"Um..." Butt-head frowned as the rusty gears in his brain attempted to crank. "Man..nifest..." He attempted to sound it out. "Man...fist...huh huh huh, man fist." He chuckled a few moments more, but it soon petered out.
DeMartino gazed at Butt-head in despair. Then, he turned to another student, one wearing a football get-up, complete with shoulder pads. "I have to apologize to you, Kevin," he confessed.
"Apologize for what, Mr. D?"
"I never thought I'd meet anyone more moronic than you, and I've just been proven wrong."
"Hey, alright! I'm not moronic!" Kevin cheered.
"Then they asked me to join the pep squad. They said I didn't have to try out, but I said, 'Look, I'm new here. GIve me a chance to get used to things.' So for now, I'm vice president of the Fashion Club, and that's it." Quinn was giving a recollection of the day's events to her parents as the whole family ate dinner together.
"Sounds like a well-thought out decision, honey," Jake praised.
"As long as you can join pep squad later," Helen cautioned. "...If you want. Never know how much we can handle till we try, though."
"What about you, Butt-head?" Jake asked. "How was your first day?"
"Uh, well, Mr. DeFartino - huh-huh-huh - he, like, talked about man fisting and stuff. I think he likes dudes."
Jake grimaced, as he was reminded how bad an idea it was to ask Butt-head, well, anything.
Helen put a reassuring hand over her son's. "Butt-head, your father and I have told you before we don't want you to judge people until you know them. You're in a brand new school in a brand new town. You don't want it to be Highland all over again."
"Huh huh huh, Highland was cool. I wish Todd would move here." Helen and Jake exchanged a fearful look.
"I think you should try to make a new friend or two, Butt-head," Helen pressed on. "Don't be so critical. Give people the benefit of the doubt."
Butt-head stared at her for a moment. "That's stupid," he finally concluded. Helen sighed, defeated.
The phone rang, which gave Helen an excuse to vacate the table. After talking with the person on the other end of the line and hanging up, she returned, a Look on her face.
"You two took a psychological test at school today?" she asked.
"They said we wouldn't be graded!" Quinn shrieked.
"Butt-head, they want you to take a special class for a few weeks, then they'll test you again."
"Uh...what test?" Butt-head asked aloud.
"That thing with the picture?" Quinn said.
"Huh huh, you said thing," Butt-head laughed. "Oh yeah..." he said as he finally recalled the picture in question, causing him to utter more guttural laughs and interjections of the onomatopoeia for a comical erection sound.
"Butt-head!" Helen interrupted. "You have to take a special class for a few weeks! Do you understand?"
"Um...wait. I have to go to school more?" Helen nodded. "That sucks."
"Esteem...a teen. They don't really rhyme, do they?" The instructor for the self-esteem course, Mr. O'Neill prattled on like that for a few moments, before being interrupted.
"Hey!" Butt-head shouted.
"Sorry, question and answer time is later," Mr. O'Neil attempted the brush-off.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"...Look, just let me get through this part, okay? Then there'll be a video!"
"Dumbass," Butt-head uttered under his breath.
"Yeah, Mr. O'Neil's a fartknocker," agreed the student next to Butt-head. Butt-head looked over at him - a blond-haired young man wearing a blue Metallica t-shirt.
Butt-head nodded. "Do you know what the hell he's talking about?"
"Yeah, heh-heh-heh, he wants us to feel ourselves better or something," the blonde replied, garbling the intended message of the self-esteem course.
"Really? Cool," Butt-head concluded.
Butt-head and Beavis (the name of Butt-head's new friend) were walking home from school, discussing the self-esteem class.
"So, like, then they take all the dudes and Mr. O'Neill talks to us about..." Beavis trailed off as he began to cackle.
"Uh...talk about what?" Butt-head asked.
"Heh-heh, you know, when you're asleep, and you...heh-heh-heh..."
The light of knowledge shined upon Butt-head. "Oh yeah." The duo proceeded to share a hearty, if dim-witted, laugh over the subject. "So, like, if you've taken this class, like, six times, how come they make you go back and stuff?"
"Um, 'cause I like to set things on fire. Fffffire, fffffire, fffffire!" Beavis' face screwed up into a manic grin as he chanted the word.
"Huh-huh-huh, that's cool."
Butt-head entered his house (having parted ways with Beavis a few minutes prior) to find Helen waiting for him. "Uh, hey," Butt-head greeted.
"Hi, honey. I'm taking the rest of the day off to work with you on your self-esteem."
"Uh. What?" Butt-head had forgotten his self-esteem needed improvement.
"I don't pretend I'm going to cure you, but if a lack of mother-son bonding is part of your problem, we're going to remedy that right now. We're going to do something you want to do!"
"Huh-huh, you said bondage."
Helen emerged from the dressing room. "What do you think...Butt-head? Oh damnit, Butt-head, where have you gotten off to this time?" A shriek from one of the adjacent dressing rooms answered her question.
At school the next day, Beavis and Butt-head walked past Quinn, being chatted up by a potential suitor.
"So...like, what do you like to do after school?"
"Hey, how's it goin'?" Beavis asked, injecting himself into the conversation.
"Oh my GOD, go away, you freaks!" Quinn shouted, fleeing from them. The young man gave them a dirty look before pursuing.
"That chick had nice thingies," Beavis observed.
"Uh, huh-huh, that chick was, like, my sister," Butt-head said.
"Really? Cool! You must see her thingies all the time!"
Butt-head managed a disgusted look. "Beavis, that's, like, dis-cuss-ting, or something."
"Ohhh yeah," Beavis said, able to realize that a sibling's thingies would be gross to look at even with his immensely dwarfed intellect. "So, like, can I look at her thingies?" he asked hopefully.
"Yeah right," Butt-head replied. "My sister's, like, a giant slut, and you still couldn't score with her."
"Damnit!" Beavis cried out in frustration, to his friend's great amusement.
"Now, guys, I've got a little challenge for you," Mr. O'Neill said in the latest self-esteem course. "Today we talked about turning your daydreams into reality. Tonight, I want each one of you to go home and do just that. What do you say? Um...you." He pointed to Butt-head. "What's a daydream that you'd like to see come true?"
"Uh...I want to see her thingies," he said, pointing to the tired-looking blonde sitting in the next row over.
"Grow up," she muttered.
Beavis raised his hand. "Yes, uh...Beavis?" Mr. O'Neill called on him, after referring to the seating chart.
"Um, Mr. O'Neill? The police said I shouldn't do anything else you tell me."
"Oh dear!" Mr. O'Neill said, suddenly remembering how the boy had almost burned down the gym. "Er, no, Beavis, you're excused from the assignment."
"Cool!" Beavis said.
Butt-head raised his hand. "Can I be, like, executed from the ass...huh-huh-huh...assignment too? I want to do what he did."
Mr. O'Neill's eyebrows, already raised in worry, shot up even farther. "Oh my! Of course not, uh...Butt-head, you're excused too."
"Yes!" Butt-head threw up the horns and began headbanging. Beavis joined him in this endeavour.
"This is just astounding! Here you are - blind, deaf, and barely able to walk - yet, you conducted simultaneous affairs with three members of the Royal Family! The question on all of America's mind is: how did you do it?"
"Huh-huh-huh, she said do it," Butt-head observed. He was watching TV with Beavis at his house.
After a few more minutes, the boys grew bored with the show. "This sucks, change it," Butt-head said. They watched several mediocre music videos before a thought struck Butt-head. "We should, like, stop going to that stupid self-esteem class."
"Okay," Beavis agreed. "Heh-heh, wait a minute...esteem...ass team..." Beavis began cackling wildly at this revelation, followed in turn by his cohort's unique chuckle.
I had this idea a few weeks ago, only it was going to be about Beavis and Butt-head impersonating Daria and Jane for some unknown reason. I eventually decided to ditch that angle and fully paste Beavis and Butt-head into Jane and Daria's old lives outright.
I may very well expand this.
(Oh, and forgive the deceptive title).