"An Hour Later, The Cops Arrived..."

S04E18

Tonight on Bad Idea Theatre:

Two gunshots go off somewhere near the choir room right in the middle of a Regionals rehearsal, throwing the entire school into a more-or-less silent lockdown that stretches across a full ten minutes of uninterrupted screentime while several people we don't particularly care about slowly lose their minds. And when it's all over, Coach Sylvester eventually steps forward with the outrageous claim that she accidentally discharged a firearm she lately purchased for protection, whereupon she is promptly booted from the faculty by a deeply disappointed Maharishi. In a shocking turn of events, however, we learn that Sue's merely taking the fall for butterfingered Becky, the latter of whom swiped the actual weapon in question from her father's massive stash due to that fathomless terror she's apparently been battling ever since the most recent spate of mass murders in this country, even though Becky looked totally fine the last time we saw her. So Miss Jackson gets a total pass, I suppose, while Coach Sylvester heads off to New York to take over for Katie Finneran in the latest revival of Annie on Broadway. Fun!

In other news, Brittany thinks a massive comet's about to destroy the planet, Lord Tubbington acquires a lady friend from the local animal shelter, Will condescends to The Beiste, and New Finn gets stood up by his secret online admirer.

Not featuring Julie Brown's "The Homecoming Queen's Got A Gun," or "I Don't Like Mondays" from The Boomtown Rats, or even Kinky Friedman's "The Ballad Of Charles Whitman," for Christ's sake. This evening's musical selections do, however, include "One In A Million" by The Platters, as performed by The Platters; Elton John's "Your Song," as performed by New Finn; Extreme's "More Than Words," as performed by Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen and Brittany, with accompaniment from a few of the other children in The New New Directions; and John Mayer's "Say," as performed by most of the kiddies at the end of the episode.

April Rhodes Civic Pavilion. Mr. Schue has gathered (most of) the children on the auditorium's stage to reveal their competition for this year's Regionals: "From North Central High School in Indianapolis, The Hoosier Daddies, and from Our Lady Of Perpetual Loneliness in Battle Creek, Michigan, The Nun-Touchables." The kiddies hoot and holler, as is their wont, until the camera for some inexplicable reason decides to snap away from Mr. Schue's face and dance down the center of a foil-encased tube until it lands on Brittany's unusually solemn expression. "I have an announcement," she begins, cutting Mr. Schue's pointless blathering short. "I regret to inform you that a deadly asteroid is headed our way." There follows a lengthy pause, during which her fellow Glee Clubbers visibly struggle to absorb this horrible piece of information, after which Dreamboat Blaine ventures, "Didn't we just go through this at Christmas?" Yes, we did, Blaine, and no, I don't know why we're going through this again, so don't bother asking me.

Brittany's of no help as far as that's concerned, either, for she blithely ignores both Blaine's comment and a similar one from Single-T Tina to inform them all that she's "naming this comet Tubbington-Bopp," which elicits a skeptical eyebrow or two from Artie because she'd just referred to the unexpected extraterrestrial Lima-killer as an asteroid. Brittany continues to display remarkable amounts of astronomical savvy when she then refers to it both as a "meteor" and as a "meteorite," and why these tiny little fools on my television screen haven't already tuned her out like I did a couple of minutes ago, I'll never know. No matter, though, for Brit-Brit's already moved on to the primary point of her speech, which is this: Because they have mere days left to live, she will not be wasting her remaining hours on this planet practicing for Regionals, thank you very much. Rather, she will be making amends with someone she needs to "get right with" -- someone she loves more than any other person on the earth. Here, the camera zooms past New Finn's egregiously bare bicep to focus in on Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen's beatific expression of patient and affectionate understanding as Brittany concludes, "Lord Tubbington." Wah. Wah. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen furrows his dim brow while allowing the rest of his face to fall into this evening's title card.

Smear back to the present, where New Finn admits that he thinks he's in love with his mysterious bottle-blonde Internet sweetheart, and he announces his intention to search every last classroom in McKinley High until he finds her. I guess I'm just supposed to forget the fact that this school isn't very big, and that New Finn should therefore have run into his mysterious bottle-blonde Internet sweetheart many, many times during the last month and a half, but whatever. New Puck protests that New Finn can't just go chasing after his mysterious bottle-blonde Internet sweetheart without some sort of game plan in place for what happens once New Finn actually catches her, but before we find out what that plan might be, we first...

...dash over to Brittany's Boudoir, where we find the lady of the bedroom cooing sweet nothings into Lord Tubbington's decidedly disinterested ear. She forgives him for that time he filed paperwork to have her committed, and she also forgives him for that time he told the police she was the one who brutally murdered that whole family of mice, and she assures him she's always loved him the most, but Lord Tubbington doesn't seem to care. Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen's strenuous eyeroll basically says what I'm thinking at the moment, and when he's done with that, he thinks to wonder what Lord Tubbington's favorite song might be. "Maybe you could let him know how much he means to you by singing it to him," Lady Lips helpfully suggests. "I stopped singing to Lord Tubbington out of protest when he joined The KKKK," Brittany replies. "It's the Ku Klux Klan for cats," she explains, and thank God for that, because I'm sure I would have lost countless nights of sleep trying to puzzle that out for myself. Lady Lips, with preternatural amounts of patience, urges Brit-Brit to bring Lord Tubbington to choir practice so everyone might serenade him with his preferred tune. "That way," Lady Lips continues, "he'll see how much you love him, and everybody else in The Glee Club will stop feeling like you're choosing a cat over them." "Despite your outlandishly low test scores," Brittany concedes with a bright smile on her face, "you're a genius!"

Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High. New Finn plants himself opposite Internet Blondie's locker and proceeds to stare holes through the back of her head until her Spidey-sense kicks in, whereupon she turns to giggle and fluster her way through some initial introductions. They flirt for a bit -- taking great pains to flash lots and lots of teeth while doing so -- until New Finn finally drags her off to...

...the music room, and it's Tinkles! Back at the piano! Hi, Tinkles! For yes, gentle reader, despite what he claimed the last time we saw him, Tinkles has apparently returned to McKinley High to help New Finn woo his mysterious Internet lady love, and with little further ado -- plus some additional help from various members of The Jazz Ensemble -- New Finn launches into his version of Elton John's "Your Song." It's a perfectly pleasant -- albeit entirely unimaginative -- cover, what with the dizzily spinning camerawork and the lingering close-ups on the kiddies' smitten faces and whatnot, but none of that really matters because once it's over, Blondie finally gets around to wondering, "Why me?" New Finn's all, "Huh?" because he's not getting it at all even though everyone on the actual Internet called this a month ago, and he starts gibbering about all the aimless, lovely hours they spent messaging and texting each other until Blondie finally stops him and gently explains that she's never spoken to him before in her life, and that someone must therefore be "catfishing" him. D'OH! There's a hilarious series of shocked and appalled reaction shots from the ladies in The Jazz Ensemble before the camera focuses back in on New Finn, and as Blondie apologizes for something or other before rising to disappear from our lives forever, poor New Finn collapses into this evening's first commercial break in near tears. Awwwwwwwwwww! Also: Yeah, it's totally Not-So-Unique who's behind all this, and as I probably said somewhere before, I can't wait to see how this show fucks that one up. Hooray!

Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High. An enraged and somewhat unhinged New Finn slams through clots of his peers until he reaches New Puck and Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel, whereupon he mistakenly accuses them both of concocting the whole Internet Blondie thing to humiliate him, and I suppose I'd better get this out of the way now: When I spoiled myself for this evening's musical numbers, I also ended up spoiling myself for the supposedly shocking event that takes up most of this episode's second half, which I mention here only because it was therefore blatantly obvious the first time I watched this scene that they were trying to set New Finn up as a potential shooter. Of course, this means I also immediately rejected the idea of New Finn as the shooter because the guy's always been a total marshmallow -- like all of the other leads on this show -- and I was sadly laboring under the incredibly incorrect impression that the people responsible for this mess would never in a million years try to make the audience believe that someone so fundamentally squishy would lunge so far out of character as to shoot up the high school. Boy, was I wrong. And do I now feel like a complete jackass because of it? Yes. Yes, I do. Thanks for nothing, show.

So, anyway, New Finn's not the evening's shooter, even though he's certainly trying his damnedest here to make us think he might be, what with his explosive rage and his shifty eyes and his flinching and his twitching when Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel tries to talk him down from wherever the hell he is right now, and he eventually scampers off down the hall to, uh, go weep somewhere in private, I guess.

April Rhodes Civic Pavilion. Brittany and Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen have summoned Not-So-Unique, Pretty Kitty, Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel, New Puck, Dreamboat Blaine, Artie and Single-T Tina to the stage so they might as a group serenade the regal-looking Lord Tubbington with their version of "More Than Words" from Extreme. And... that's totally it -- no dialogue leading in to or out of the number, no inventive camera angles, no funny reaction shots from either the humans or the cat -- just a straight-up acoustic cover of that cheesetastic song. It's nicely sung, of course, but who cares?

Sometime later, Will whistles a snappy little tune to himself as he exits his office to meet Beiste in the locker room, where she's set up an intimate dinner for two inspired by this scene from The Lady And The Tramp and yes, they referenced that scene before on this show, and to much greater effect the last time they did it, but that's not important right now because we've got to watch the formerly magnificent Beiste debase herself here, instead, and isn't that just terrific? You can see it coming the instant Will sets one of his entirely undeserving feet in that romantically-lit and gauzily-focused locker room: Beiste is going to confess her undying love for him, and he's going to shoot her down, and she's going to flee the table in tears, and that's exactly how it plays out, and it's vile and unnecessary and gross and disturbing and this show can rot in hell. We're supposed to believe that Will is the best Beiste can do? We're supposed to believe that Beiste would actually jeopardize her professional situation by pulling something like this with a colleague? We're supposed to believe that Beiste might actually be tonight's shooter?

The answer to that last one is actually a definite "yes," by the way, because they really overemphasize how distraught this whole horrific experience has left her. It was at this point that I had the disheartening realization that the idiots responsible for this mess were really going to have one of the leads fire the gun because they wouldn't have bothered setting up multiple suspects like this otherwise. Therefore, it was also at this point that I completely disengaged from this evening's presentation because fuck that noise. I realize that many, many people were quite rightly offended by this episode's flagrant exploitation of recent (and, let's face it, not-so-recent) national events for ratings and/or publicity, but after nearly four full seasons of emotionally manipulative crap like this, I find I simply can't summon up the necessary outrage to rant and scream about it anymore. Not that I ever really wanted to have to summon up the necessary outrage to rant and scream about it -- I mean, the show I signed up for was an adult-targeted black comedy about a bunch of psychotic-yet-endearing musical theater freaks, and it was fantastic -- but still: No more.

What the fuck ever. Wild texting ensues -- and it is riveting, let me tell you -- until some unseen random clonks down the hall outside in yet another pair of audibly chunky heels, wildly snatching at the choir room's locked door handles as she goes, which of course sets Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel to weeping. Shut up, Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel. The frantic racket also activates Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen's chivalry chip, and he scuttles over from his hiding place to exit into the hallway in order to retrieve the missing Brittany from The Novak. To his credit, Mr. Schue wastes not an instant shoving Lady Lips back down onto the floor to Dreamboat Blaine, the latter of whom gloomily notes that Single-T Tina's out there somewhere, too.

Meanwhile, someone left the water running in the locker room.

Also meanwhile, Brittany crouches atop the toilet in a locked stall in the presumably locked Novak. She's trying to be quiet, but she's having a very hard time stifling her sobs.

Also also meanwhile, The Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High are ominously silent and empty. You know, in case you were wondering.

Back in the choir room, Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel loudly texts her mother.

Over in the cafeteria kitchen, Mama Rose's awfully expensive-looking cell phone vibrates on a steel counter. Mama Rose herself remains hidden behind the industrial-sized stove, upon which a pot is just now boiling over.

Back in the choir room, Pretty Kitty assures Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel that Mama Rose will be fine, then regretfully admits she altered all of Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel's Grease costumes so Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel would develop an eating disorder. Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel responds by ramming two handy drumsticks into Pretty Kitty's eye sockets. Except that Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel totally doesn't do that at all, of course, and instead the two get all misty-eyed and snot-nosed and fall into a forgiving embrace. Then, Pretty Kitty freaks out for some incomprehensible reason and scampers across the room to apologize to New Finn and New Finn's Secret Internet Lover for yet another incomprehensible reason. By the way, as she shoots across the floor, she slides right past That Fucking Metronome, and SHE DOES NOT SHUT THE FUCKING THING OFF. I hope they kill you first, Kitty.

Oh, by the way, it turns out two other kids were hiding in the bathroom with Brittany. No one we know, but when they timidly emerged from their own stalls once they realized they were safe, I actually felt a twinge of what I think I should have been feeling all along. Make of that what you will.

Back in the choir room, New Finn decides to dial His Mysterious Internet Correspondent. Just go with it. Of course, the call connects with another cell phone in the choir room, the latter of which rings and rings and rings, and everybody sits there with stupefied expressions on their dumb idiot faces for a very, very, very long time until someone finally thinks to browbeat New Finn into hanging up. Dun-dun-DUN! Or not, because we all already knew that New Finn's Mysterious Internet Correspondent is Not-So-Unique, so whatever.

That fucking metronome? STILL TICKING.

Out in the hall, Mr. Schue, Brittany, and the two Novak unknowns tiptoe past a just-arriving cop to lock themselves back in the choir room, after which someone outside yells, "All clear!" Coach Beiste flicks the lights back on, and everyone huddles up for a tear-streaked group hug, and once they're all done with that, Mr. Schue finally -- FINALLY -- deactivates that fucking metronome. Someone better have the sense to take a sledgehammer to that goddamned thing now that this is all over and done with. Oh, and after ten full minutes of uninterrupted onscreen havoc, we finally head into this evening's commercial break.

A couple days later, New Puck, Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel, and a few of their fellow students watch from behind a police sawhorse as Lima's Finest confiscate various items from their lockers, including New Puck's hipsterrific scooter. Elsewhere, technicians screw in new security cameras while various late-arriving students and teachers file through a set of just-installed metal detectors at the main entrance.

Eventually, we make our way to the teachers' lounge, where Sue presents Beiste and Will with a box of nerve-soothing doughnuts that Will completely ignores in favor of speechifying at great length regarding Innocence Lost and Idealism Destroyed, and go tell somebody who cares, dicksmack. Beiste glumly points out that half the students stayed home today, which elicits the following from Sue: "I haven't seen this level of overreaction since Janet Jackson showed her saggy funbag at The Super Bowl." Heh. "Saggy funbags." Anyway, Sue goes on to note that they're not even sure if there was a gun to begin with -- the police have yet to find the supposed weapon, after all, and it's entirely possible The Incident started with some careless fireworks or a backfiring car. Beiste insists she knows what gunshots sound like, and she goes on to admit she no longer feels safe knowing "there's some kid with a gun stuffed in his backpack, walking around these halls." Will expresses confidence the police will find and expel the culprit, as they're prepared to shake down "every single student" in the high school. This assertion captures an inordinate amount of Sue's attention, and after she confirms that the cops intend to interview absolutely everyone, she takes a moment, makes a decision, and announces, "No student's gonna get expelled, because it was my gun." "GASP!" go Will and The Beiste because they were not privy to that earlier scene between Becky and Brit-Brit, and thus have no idea that Sue's simply covering for her protégé. Sue then quietly takes leave of her soon-to-be-former coworkers, and heads on over to...

...The Lair Of The Maharishi. "It's registered, and I have a license for it," Sue calmly explains as Figgins stares at her, gape-mouthed. "I'm sorry," she continues, "but in light of recent events, I feel more safe with it in my office." "I'm not going to argue the merit of armed teachers right now," Figgins begins, and that makes two of us because I thought I was supposed to be watching a goddamned musical comedy tonight, but before The Maharishi can get any further with that thought, Sue cuts him off with the following: "It's a different world from when you and I started teaching -- or rather when I started teaching and you started doing whatever it is that you do. The safety net of the public mental health system is gone, parents with troubled kids are too busy working three jobs to look after them, and the gun yahoos have everyone so worked up about Obama taking away their guns that every house has a readily-available arsenal." Figgins points out that owning a gun for protection and shooting that gun off in a school are two radically different things. Sue quietly counters that she was simply performing her daily safety check on "Uma Thurman" -- that would be the name Sue gave her piece -- when it accidentally discharged. Startled, Sue dropped the weapon, and it fired again once it hit the floor. Sue then proceeded to "panic," which is why she dumped the spent shells into a lake and covered up the bullet holes with a poster or two, but once she had a couple of days to come to her senses, she realized she had to confess and face her just punishment.

Figgins has little choice but to accept Sue's preposterous story at face value, and he reminds her he'll have to report the incident to both the police and the school board, all the while broadly hinting that she'll be fired immediately. She nods, then gets all contemplative as she tells him, "You know, it's funny how this stuff works out -- an entire career doing the right thing? Winning? I sent Cheerios off to The Ivy Leagues, I educated girls who are CEOs of Fortune 500 companies. Their mothers. Gold medalists. I've coached two Grammy winners, an Internet billionaire, and a lesbian secretary of state. But all I'll be remembered for is this one thing. It'll be the first line of my obituary." Figgins sympathizes, but his hands are tied. Sue understands. And at that, we leave them to head into this evening's commercial break. I feel I should say something about how terrific Jane Lynch was over these last two scenes, but I think you already knew that. Good thing she's only leaving the show for a couple of episodes, though I've heard very few nice things about that revival of Annie she's gonna be starring in. Maybe she'll give it the kick in the ass it seems to need.

...FLASHBACK! What went wrong was this: Becky Jackson decided to lose her damn mind tonight and haul one of her gun-happy father's many semiautomatics into school for reasons that I'm sure will soon be forgotten by everyone involved. While preparing to surrender the weapon to Coach Sylvester, butterfingered Becky accidentally squeezed the trigger, firing off the first round towards the office wall. She immediately let go of the thing and, as Coach Sylvester truthfully told Figgins several days later, the second round went off once the gun hit the floor. "I'm sorry!" Becky cried out, bursting into immediate tears. "I'll take care of it," Coach Sylvester promised her as mayhem erupted in the halls outside. "Shhh! It's okay."

"Keep an eye on Becky, will you?" Sue asks of Will, once we've returned to the present. "She's tough," Sue adds, "but like all the kids, she gets scared sometimes." If Will understands what really happened thanks to Sue's odd request, here, he gives us no indication of it, and he remains silent for once in his goddamned life as she exits what's left of her office, supposedly for good.

Meanwhile, over at the choir room, New Finn arrives for his super-secret assignation, but His Mysterious Internet Correspondent is of course nowhere to be found. Coach Sylvester happens to amble past at this moment with her life in a box, and she asks, "Shouldn't you be at the mandatory school assembly?" "We're having a secret Glee Club meeting instead," he replies, with more than just an edge of annoyance in his voice, "but I was waiting for someone." "Good luck with that," Coach Sylvester smirks as she turns to leave. "Aren't you gonna write me up for not being at the assembly?" he calls after her. "I would," she eyebrows, "but I don't work here anymore." Yeah, we'll see about that.

April Rhodes Civic Pavilion. Various members of The New New Directions and The William McKinley Jazz Ensemble arrange themselves on and around a pair of folksy wooden risers to perform John Mayer's "Say" for each other's benefit. Dreamboat Blaine takes the lead on the first bit, with Pretty Kitty and Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel offering him primary support, and it's sweet, and it's gentle, and it's dull as hell.

Meanwhile, back at the choir room, New Finn waits and waits until he can wait no longer, and as he stomps off in an almighty huff, the screen fills with his white-on-black silhouette as he texts, "Where are you?" There's no response, so he runs in slow motion through The Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High to join the others on the auditorium stage, and hugs and fist-bumps abound as the kiddies sing us towards this episode's long-awaited end.

First though, we've got to zip back to the middle of The Incident, shortly after Artie's obnoxiously recorded New Puck's final words for all posterity, or whatever. Artie turns his shaky hand-held camera in Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen's direction, and Lady Lips very carefully states, "Mom? Dad? I love you guys, and there's a cat in my backpack in my locker. Please feed her for me." HA! And we'll be pretending the episode ended right there. Trust me on this one: It really is for the best.

week, Black Sue returns, Frankendrunk goes to college, and The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway finally auditions for Funny Girl. See you then!

Demian doesn't like Mondays. You may reach him at demian_twop@yahoo.com.

By Demian

Music Room. We swing in from the hall to find Brittany admitting she's rather surprised "Jesus Christ Superstar has chosen to end the world this way," instead of opting for "a global yeast infection" like He did with the dinosaurs. Not-So-Unique pointedly wonders if God will allow her to be a girl-angel in Heaven, which leads to a bit of babbling from Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen regarding angel sex until Mr. Schue arrives with this week's assignment. Drawing inspiration from Brittany's ridiculous assertion that they're all going to get splattered, and dredging up references to his rocky relationship with Miss Pillsbury, he encourages the children to "say everything [they] need to say to the people [they] love," because "there is nothing worse than unfinished business" with one's nearest and dearest. "Bruce Springsteen always says that he plays every show as if it's his last," Mr. Schue claims, "and that is the kind of urgency we need at Regionals this year!" To that end, he hops up from his chair to scrawl "Last Chance" on the whiteboard and encourages the children to "get in touch with what it feels like" to sing one final song to each other. And for a single hot second, I get all excited over the possibility that one of these dolts will totally misinterpret the assignment and perform this bit of fabulousness, but then I remember I already know which songs they'll be slaughtering this evening because I spoiled myself as far as that goes days ago, so I lapse back into being bored by it all. Sigh.

And as the kiddies dart off in different directions toward their classes, New Finn races up behind New Puck to dude as follows: "Duuuuuude! I saw her! She goes here! I can't believe the coincidence!" I can, but I think I'm getting ahead of myself, here. New Puck, of course, has not a clue what New Finn's yammering about, so New Finn explains about his online flirtation with a bottle-blonde avatar before excitedly adding that just this morning...!

Smear to just this morning, where we find New Finn groaning in agony over an essay test on George Orwell's 1984 -- not because he's dyslexic and thus doomed to fail any exam that requires him to write for forty-five or fifty minutes straight, but rather because he's expected to discuss a dystopian future when "the book's set, like, thirteen years before [he] was even born," and New Finn can shut his infantile mouth right the hell up, right the hell now -- and where the hell was I, again? Oh, yeah: New Finn labors over his test for a bit until The Platters kick in on the soundtrack with their 1956 hit "One In A Million," which is New Finn's cue to look up and catch the eye of his bottle-blonde Internet sweetheart, who's just now strolling past the open classroom door. Everything grinds down into supposedly romantic slow motion as Blondie smiles at New Finn and New Finn smiles at Blondie, and he'd hop from his seat to chase after her were it not for the forbidding presence of Coach Beiste, who's proctoring his English exam for whatever dumbass reason, and...!

Anyway, where the hell was I? Oh, yeah: As Beiste vanishes all teary-eyed and humiliated into the evening mist, or whatever, Will flops back into a slump in his chair, and he sighs and he flails around uselessly for a little while until we cut over to...

...some random classroom the following day. New Finn answers his buzzing cell phone just as the bell rings to find a series of text messages waiting for him from His Mysterious Internet Correspondent, and the two kiddies go clickety-clack at each other while New Finn darts through the halls to the library, with New Finn's Mysterious Internet Correspondent apologizing profusely for lying to him and promising to meet him in person the following afternoon in front of the choir room. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not gonna happen. By the way, in addition to having the various text-message bubbles pop up into the air around New Finn's frenzied head, they also illustrate the conversation by having New Finn and His Mysterious Internet Correspondent face off against each other in white-on-black silhouettes, which reminds me of this because I am considerably older that stupid New Finn over there. Shut up, child.

Snap to another one of those swirling, overexposed, dance-through-the-tube shots to Brittany's face, and yes, the camera's supposed to be mimicking a bullet's path through a gun barrel because God knows that subtlety has always been among this show's strongest points, but we quickly find out that the camera's actually been dancing down through an empty Pringle's can, which is what Brit-Brit's been using as a telescope. Also, that comet that's supposedly hurtling towards earth? It was actually a squished ladybug on the far end of the can, so Lima's not about to be obliterated after all. Brittany delivers this good news to her fellow members of McKinley High's Astronomy Club, and great is the rejoicing until Brit-Brit announces that the club's to be disbanded, effective immediately. No, don't bother asking why, because it so doesn't matter -- the important thing is that we're finally rid of that ridiculous subplot for the rest of the evening.

In any event, once the other students have filed out of the classroom, Becky Jackson calls Brittany over for a little heart-to-heart. Becky's always looked up to Brit-Brit, you see, and she'd like it very much if neither of them ever graduated from high school because the world outside McKinley's comforting embrace is a very scary place, indeed. Just go with it. Especially because this conversation exists simply to establish Becky as this evening's third potential shooter. And as Becky's the least likely suspect we've been presented with thus far, this means she'll of course be the one with the gun when the moment arrives. Joy. Also: Tonight's commercial break.

Music Room, and here we go: At Mr. Schue's invitation, Coach Beiste arrives to partake of what he calls their "First Annual Thank God The World Isn't Ending Glee Practice," and although she's more than a bit reluctant to play along at first, Coach Beiste eventually agrees to stay. Pretty Kitty scampers in at the last minute to join most of the other children up in the cheap seats -- noticeably absent are Brittany and Single-T Tina, though New Finn's evidently recovered enough from his earlier tizzy to grace us all with his presence -- and as Mr. Schue claps his hands together to get things started, a gun goes off somewhere very close by. Off screen, a woman screams and starts clattering down the hall atop a pair of audibly chunky heels just as a second gunshot hits the soundtrack, and Coach Beiste -- God love her -- immediately leaps into action, slamming shut doors and switching off lights while a much-slower-to-react Mr. Schue takes his sweet time shouting for the children to hide. Dreamboat Blaine tries and fails to shove the piano against one of the doors, knocking a rather convenient metronome to the linoleum in the process, but he quickly gives up on that idea and instead helps Artie to the floor against the cabinets. Joining those two on that side of the room are Pretty Kitty, Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel, and New Puck, while Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen, New Finn, and New Finn's Secret Internet Lover hide in one of the corners opposite, beneath the exterior windows. The camera cuts briefly outside the room to watch as a herd of thirty or so mouthbreathing extras stampede for the exits while other supernumeraries loudly slam shut classroom doors of their own, and twenty seconds after The Incident's begun, the entire school finds itself in a mostly-quiet lockdown. I say "mostly," because that convenient metronome Dreamboat Blaine so clumsily knocked to the floor is now tick-tick-ticking away in a manner most obnoxious because SYMBOLISM! Or something like that. Just assure yourself that well before the nine and a half minutes are done, that fucking metronome will become the most reprehensible element of this evening's entire goddamned presentation. WHY WON'T ANY OF THEM SHUT THAT FUCKING THING OFF?

Ahem. Sorry -- just a bit of anticipatory screaming, there. Anyway, after another thirty seconds of jerky, hand-held camerawork underscores The Desperate Situation In Which Our Heroes Have Now Found Themselves, Mr. Schue gets the brilliant idea to have the children Tweet what's going on to the outside world, though he cautions them against revealing their current location, because "shooters have smartphones, too." Which is -- you'll pardon the expression, I'm sure -- FUCKING STUPID. Here's an idea, dickhead: Why don't you borrow one of the kiddies' phones, call emergency services, and tell the goddamned police what's going on instead of having the nitwits in your charge blast pointless and unhelpful text messages out onto a pointless and unhelpful social media platform? Huh? HUH?

By Demian

Elsewhere, Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen's chivalry chip has apparently never stopped bleeping this entire time, for he now hauls himself from the linoleum to hurl himself at the Schue-and-Beiste-shaped barricade now blocking the exit. The adults physically restrain him, of course, and Coach Beiste takes a few moments to talk the troubled teen back from the edge before they both plonk him beneath the piano again.

Over in the cafeteria kitchen, hundreds -- nay, thousands -- of tater tots lie dead on the floor.

And Brittany's still hiding in The Novak.

And now it's New Finn's turn to scuttle across the choir room floor for some incomprehensible reason, leaving Pretty Kitty and His Secret Internet Lover all by their lonesome beneath the exterior windows so he might...muscle a space for himself to Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel? That's it? And you left that FUCKING METRONOME going while you were at it? Whatever, duuuuuude.

Meanwhile, out in the parking lot, Single-T Tina pleads with The Maharishi to be allowed back inside so she might, um...rescue her fellow Glee Clubbers from the semiautomatic-wielding madman now rampaging through the halls? I guess. Naturally, The Maharishi tells her to shut the hell up.

Back in the choir room, Artie earns my eternal enmity by switching on his camera phone to record his fellow students' collective nervous breakdown. Dreamboat Blaine correctly tells Artie to fuck right off with that intrusive bullshit, but New Finn, Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel and New Puck are only too happy to take Artie up on his offer, and I wish I could tell you what they had to say to whomever they decided to address, but unfortunately, I had to fast-forward past all of that garbage so I wouldn't end up slamming my foot through the television set.

Meanwhile, Brittany's still hiding in The Novak. The external door noisily squeaks open, so I guess she didn't lock it after all, and someone slowly and deliberately enters the room to pass stall after stall after stall after stall until that someone is standing directly in front of Brittany's. The poor girl's practically piddling herself with fear when Mr. Schue finally calls out her name, and as she rushes out to wrap him up in a tight hug, weeping with relief, I realize I should find this moment terribly effective and moving -- after all, Heather Morris is selling the hell out of it -- but think about it: What a shitty fucking thing for Mr. Schue to do to her! I mean, yeah, yeah, fine -- they built the tension up a little higher by not having him speak until he was halfway through the bathroom, thereby making the release of that tension all the more satisfying for various members of the audience -- but if you look at it from her perspective, he's a total fucking asshole. He couldn't have whispered her name as soon as he opened the external door? He had to stalk across all those tiles first, like he was hunting her down? GOD, Will sucks.

That fucking metronome? STILL TICKING.

By Demian

And Brittany's still hiding in The Novak.

By Demian

That fucking metronome? STILL TICKING.

By Demian

Anyway, here we go with the long denouement, most of which I'll be skimming past, mainly because most of it involves reactions to tonight's primary storyline, and we all know they're going to start ignoring every single one of The Incident's possible ramifications the instant this episode ends.

First up are Dreamboat Blaine and Single-T Tina, who cry and hug and profess their undying love for one another before skipping off hand-in-hand towards their wacky adventure.

up, Pretty Kitty swears she's not New Finn's Mysterious Internet Correspondent, mainly because she's "not into guys who look like life-size cartoon wieners." "Now excuse me," she adds, "because just thinking about me and you dating makes me drier than the cast of Hot in Cleveland." Ew! Hee! Ew! Hee! Ew! Good one, Kitty. I guess I can forgive you for not shutting off that fucking metronome when you had the chance. Just don't let it happen again, okay?

Once she disappears down the hallway, New Finn and New Puck consider and reject the other Glee Gals as possible candidates for New Finn's Mysterious Internet Correspondent -- New Finn himself notes that Not-So-Unique's ringtone is "Bootylicious," before adding that Single-T Tina and Sugar Motta are out because they weren't even in the room at the time -- but it doesn't really matter because he's going to meet whomever it is later that afternoon, anyway. Except for the part where he won't actually meet whomever it is later that afternoon because Not-So-Unique's going to get cold feet, and do you really not know that people can have multiple ringtones on their phones, infant? God, teenagers suck.

By Demian

Up in the library, Will shows Beiste the online dating profile he's set up for her as a way of expressing his gratitude for everything she's done for him over the years because Will Schuester is an asshole. Beiste's first match? Ken Tanaka. D'OH!

Elsewhere, Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen and Brittany hug and schmoop until he unzips his gym bag to present her with a companion feline for Lord Tubbington. "I made sure to get a fat one at the shelter so Lord Tubbington doesn't feel self-conscious," Lady Lips notes. Brit-Brit coos and fusses over Lady Tubbington for a little bit before wondering, "How long was she in there for?" "A while," Lady Lips reluctantly admits. You'll want to remember that.

And shortly after we've returned from this evening's final commercial break to watch as Sue packs up her office, Will arrives to sigh and frown and wonder what went wrong. I think we can all agree that Will's question would best be answered by an appropriate...

By Demian

week, Black Sue returns, Frankendrunk goes to college, and The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway finally auditions for Funny Girl. See you then!

Demian doesn't like Mondays. You may reach him at demian_twop@yahoo.com.