In Ohio: Dreamboat Blaine, Single-T Tina, and Sam's Absolutely Disgusting Hair decide to throw The First Annual McKinley High Senior Class Lock-In at the school in advance of the graduation I'm still not entirely certain we're ever going to see. Naturally, Principal Sylvester shuts that crap down with a quickness over budgetary issues and safety concerns, so the two kids plus Sam's Nightmarish Coif of course break into the school over the weekend anyway for a fun-filled and carefree evening of high-spirited hijinks, just to spite the tracksuited buzzkill in the main office. Unfortunately, Becky Jackson crashes their little party. Even more unfortunately, Tina scarfs down about fifteen of Becky's twelve-hour energy drinks and starts making out with The Thing On Sam's Head. Blaine is sickened and repulsed -- as any right-thinking person should be -- but he eventually gets over himself, and everyone's all happy smiles again by the end of the episode.
In New York: Old Idiot Rachel's still feuding with Santana Lopez, and she proceeds to drag Adam Lambert into the whole ungodly mess by barging into his tiny little apartment with all of her stuff and turning him into her personal slave. Both St. Gay Of Lima and Starrbooty try to get the gals to kiss and make up, but neither Santana nor The Batshit Bimbo Of Broadway wants anything to do with the other, so St. Gay deploys a little tough love and kicks them both out of that band of his that absolutely no one cares about. For whatever reason, this action sets Santana and Rachel to reevaluating the choices they've made in their lives as of late, and while they're not back to being best girlfriends by evening's end, they do seem to have agreed upon a truce. For now.
In Other News: Emma's knocked up! Hooraaaaaaazzzzzzzzzzz.
Featuring "Jumpin' Jumpin'" by Destiny's Child, as performed by Single-T Tina, Dreamboat Blaine, and The Thing On Sam's Head; Heart's "Barracuda," as performed by Adam Lambert and The Batshit Bimbo Of Broadway; "Don't You (Forget About Me)" by Simple Minds, as performed by Sam's Greasy Ponytail, Blaine, and Tina; "Danny's Song" from Loggins And Messina, as performed Will and Emma; Laura Branigan's "Gloria," as performed by Santana Lopez, Starrbooty, and Old Idiot Rachel; "The Happening" by The Supremes, as performed by St. Gay Of Lima, Demi Lovato, and Adam Lambert; and "Hold On" from Wilson Phillips, as performed by The McKinley High Seniors and The New York Five.
Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High, History Classroom Subdivision. Mr. Schue's in the middle of lecturing his students on the less-gruesome particulars of The Donner Party when his seldom-seen wife bursts breathlessly through the door to gasp, "It's time! We have to do it right now!" Mr. Schue wastes absolutely no time abandoning his charges -- because he's a teacher who really cares, dontcha know -- and he and Emma soon find themselves skittering through The Hallowed Halls on their way to the faculty bathroom. I'm just gonna make a little note here that the posters nearest the restroom's door read "GOT BALLS?" and "REPENT NOW!" and keep moving, for various bangs and grunts and squeals of delight are now emanating from the faculty can, which is a development I find both more intriguing and deeply repellent. And wouldn't you know it? Becky Jackson happens along the corridor at this very moment and, with her interest piqued by the unholy racket now assaulting all of our ears, she pushes open the relevant door -- which the Schuesters of course forgot to lock -- and immediately runs screaming for the nearest available exit once she's gotten an eyeful of the demonic goings-on in the faculty toilet.
Cut to The Lair Of The Sylvester, where The Sylvester herself announces, "I am disturbed on every level." There's a pause, during which Sue stares in nauseated horror at Emma and Will for a moment, and then she adds, "And Becky has been scarred for life." We get a brief shot of the catatonic, thousand-yard stare decorating Becky's face out in the office antechamber before the camera's focus racks back to take in the terribly embarrassed expressions now being offered by the offensive marrieds as both Emma and Will start in with their weak-sounding apologies. Sue halts their mewling with a simple gesture of her hand, and she proceeds to lay into them like so: "I am aware that the pheromones emitted from the orifices of your porous, bird-lady pelvis can cause an overwhelming urge to copulate in some emotionally stunted man-children with butt-chins who befriend teenagers and can't rap, but why could you not wait to copulate until you returned to the sickly-sweet stench of your own conjugal bed?" Emma, flustered: "I'm, well... Sue, uh, Will and I are trying to conceive a child." Sue, aghast: "Oh, God! Whyyyyyyyyyy?!" Hee! Emma, bless her heart, takes this as a serious question, and offers Sue a thoroughly candid and thoughtfully reasoned answer regarding the Schuesters' current situation in life, and how "there are certain windows of time where fertilization is most likely," and how ladies of a certain age must seize every opportunity available to them before it's too late, but what Sue really wants -- and what Will and Emma eventually provide -- is a solemn vow never to bump uglies in the faculty can again, ever. "Not gonna happen," Will promises. "Well," Emma flutters, all inappropriate smiles, "hopefully it won't have to, if I hurry up right now and lie down on the floor in my office and put my feet up on a chair, because we were able to achieve a successful emission!" Sue promptly vomits directly into this evening's equally disgusted title card, and with that, we're off to...
...tonight's first musical number! It's "Jumpin' Jumpin'" by Destiny's Child, here performed by Single-T Tina, Dreamboat Blaine, and The Unspeakable Unwashed Thing On Sam's Head, and while the three begin the opening lines at various locations within The Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High, they quickly end up in the music room for yet another spate of spinny-camera mediocrity, and that's really all I have to say about that. And when it's over, Mr. Schue of course calls the performance "amazing," but adds that it's probably not quite the right choice for Nationals. "Yes," Urethra Franklin sassily agrees, "because Unique will not be swaying in the background while you guys go all 'Three-yoncé' in the spotlight!" "Why does everything you say have to sound like that?" Pretty Kitty wonders, an exceptionally tight smile parked beneath her dead-to-the-soul eyes. Heh.
In any event, Tina quickly admits that they knew it wouldn't be appropriate for a competition, and Blaine and Whatever The Hell Is On Sam's Head jump in to add that they just wanted to do it for fun, because they realized they'd never actually done a number together before. There's some nonsense about "the power of a trio" -- followed immediately by a little flare of jealousy from Artie, whom you'll note was the only senior not invited to participate -- but as it's simply in service of establishing an episode theme that ends up never being fully developed at any point during this evening's presentation, I'm going to ignore it in favor of listening in as Mr. Schue pontificates thusly: "You probably don't realize this, but these are friendships that you're gonna cherish for the rest of your lives -- and you've got to squeeze in as many experiences as you can, because for you seniors, you're all gonna be going your separate ways very soon." And none of that is necessarily true, so thanks for nothing, jackass -- again -- but Mr. Schue's words of wisdom apparently hit Tina where she lives, and she instantly bursts into tears whilst collapsing against the chests attached to Blaine and That Hatefully Greasy Nightmare Now Living On Sam's Skull. Artie rolls himself over from the cheap seats to offer some comfort of his own, but Blaine just pushes him back from whence he came. You know, because of that theme that never goes anywhere tonight. Comedy!
Fake Drama School In New York, Permanently Sober Dance Division. The Batshit Bimbo Of Broadway's there with a four-man backup band, and her initial babbling makes it clear she intends to review the entire Funny Girl score "from top to bottom" "two or three times" on her own, because she's crazy. Adam Lambert happens by with Rachel's dry-cleaning and some refreshments, and let the exposition commence! Seems Old INSANE Rachel convinced her director to convince their producer to let her have "a full band on retainer at all times" so she could rehearse "full voice," just to keep her "instrument" "really sharp," because she's still worried that Santana Lopez is going to pull a Showgirls and sabotage The Batshit Bimbo's one chance at stardom. Or something like that. Adam Lambert takes all of that in with a decidedly dazed expression on his face, then snaps out of it long enough to hand Rachel her own key to his apartment. The Batshit Bimbo squeals with delight, and as she wraps him up in a too-friendly-to-be-honest hug, she sighs, "What would I have done if you'd turned me away at your door? I was like some heroine from a lost Tennessee Williams play!"
Smear sideways to the evening of Old INSANE Rachel's dramatic arrival at Adam Lambert's door. "They kicked me out!" The Batshit Bimbo bleats. "I had nowhere else to go!" She flings herself into his arms while he shoots an "Oh, shiiiiiiiiiit!" look at the camera, and then we flash forward a little bit to watch as Adam Lambert gamely turns his sofa into a bed for his unexpected houseguest. "It was so chivalrous of you," Rachel's present-day voiceover narrates, "when you made up your couch for me but then gave me your bed, instead, when I explained that after last week's traumatic events, the only way I could recover is by sleeping in a real bed and not some lumpy surrogate!" Flash forward again to The Batshit Bimbo kissing the now-couchbound Adam Lambert on the forehead before joyously assuming control of his king-size for the evening, and then we...
...smear back to the present, where Old INSANE Rachel bats her eyelashes while simpering, "You're sure you're okay with me living with you, like, indefinitely?" "It's cool," Adam Lambert assures her, adding, "My rent is so high, and I've been looking for a roommate..." "...and now you have one!" The Batshit Bimbo eagerly finishes for him. "And," she continues, "I have a new best gay!" "Yeah, I kinda hate that term," Adam Lambert squints. "It makes me feel like a pet." Don't get me started, honey, or we'll be here 'til season. Well, if they don't go ahead and cancel season due to this one's crap ratings, of course.
In any event, The Batshit Bimbo Of Broadway blithers on some more about how traitorous the long-suffering St. Gay Of Lima turned out to be, after which she invites Adam Lambert to join her rehearsal. Fortunately, Adam Lambert has a better idea, which must mean it's time for this evening's musical presentation! Hooray! Unfortunately, the number Adam Lambert has selected is Heart's "Barracuda," and I am just not feeling this cover version at all -- partly because the visuals consist of little more than the same spinny, swooping camera movements that have already bored me to tears once this evening, but mainly because Lea Michele's voice just doesn't feel right for this song. Then again, Lea Michele's voice never feels right when they have her do '70s guitar-rock songs, so I don't know why they keep throwing them at her. Sigh. Anyway, high-fives abound once the performance ends, and with that, we head back to...
...The Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High, History Classroom Subdivision, where we find Dreamboat Blaine and The Thing That Ate Sam's Head trying on their graduation gowns. Single-T Tina unexpectedly bumbles in from points elsewhere and immediately -- and amusingly -- bursts into tears, because she's still not ready to say goodbye to the boys just yet. Blaine attempts to reassure her, noting that graduation is officially known as "commencement" because "it's not the end of something -- it's the beginning," but Tina is having absolutely none of that, thank you very much. "They just say that so we'll go willingly!" she howls. Tina then complains that they all know they're going to drift apart from each other in the coming weeks and months and years, and she cries, "I don't want to fade away!" "I'll make you a deal," The Disaster On Sam's Head proposes. "I promise that for the rest of our lives, I will send one Vine of me doing an impression every week, and then you can send me one of you soaping up your boobs." Heh. Inappropriate! Dreamboat Blaine agrees with me, surprisingly enough, but Tina's of another mind on the matter. "Three years together," she points out, "and he finally notices my boobs? Victory!" Hee.
Blaine blinks at that a couple of times, then deliberately switches the topic of conversation over to his plan to "say goodbye to this place with some heroism and some drama." "We've got to do something so epic," he decides, "that in 30 years' time, we can just call each other up and reminisce about it!" And just what, I'm sure I hear you ask, does Blaine's epic act of heroic drama involve? "An overnight lock-in!" Well, that sounds like it'll be absolutely appalling. He wants them to lock themselves inside the school? Overnight? Why? Who in hell wants to spend the entire night in a frigging high school, for Christ's sake? God, Blaine's an idiot. Naturally, the other two idiots present vociferously disagree with me, and all three pronounce the plan "aaaaaaa-mazing!" as they show-circle their way into this evening's first commercial break. Morons.
McKinley High Faculty Lounge. Emma enters and sadly announces to the room at large that her pregnancy test came up negative, because she's apparently decided that every single last one of her colleagues needs to know every single last detail of her reproductive system, but more importantly: When the hell is this scene supposed to be taking place? You don't just pee on that goddamned stick the morning after a "successful emission," you dumbass. And as I can't even begin to wrap my head around whatever fucked-up timeline this subplot's supposed to be occupying at the moment, I'm inclined to just blow straight through it for the rest of the evening. Unfortunately, if I did that, I'd miss a couple of verbal gems from Sue Sylvester, so here goes: After Emma makes her sad announcement, Will attempts to comfort her by babbling on and on and on about fertility doctors and personal days and whatnot until Emma's forced to flee the faculty lounge in tears. You know, more or less. Coach Beiste, who'd had little choice but to overhear the entire conversation, offers Will her condolences. Principal Sylvester, who'd also had little choice but to overhear the entire conversation, pops out of her seat in the far corner of the room to address Will like so: "Far be it from me to tell you how to inseminate a frail, neurotic woman that I hate, but it occurs to me you might want to try to relax your already mentally-fragile ape-wife instead of making her cervix snap shut like a barnacle by bombarding her with a barrage of pregnancy statistics." "You know," Sue continues, "when Michael Bolton impregnated me, he called in a favor from his old friend Kenny G, who stood at the foot of our bed and serenaded us on soprano sax as Michael used every inch of his enormous, silky-smooth vocal range to soothe me into a state of relaxation so deep, it could only be described as religious." "I'm serious," Sue insists. "I was looser than a Reno slot machine." Hee! Coach Beiste agrees with the central point of Sue's message -- in her own inimitably folksy way, of course, by talking about "she-goats in heat" -- and with that, we leap forward a few minutes in time to...
...Idiot Blaine's super-secret private high-school lock-in, already in progress. Well, almost already in progress. First, there's this whole bit of business involving Blaine's superhero alter-ego crawling through a propped-open Choir Room window -- supposedly because this is the last time Blaine'll get to wear the outfit unless he joins "some kind of creepy fetish club" in the future. Then, after the other two bozos involved in this supposedly delightful frolic drop in behind him, The Abhorrent Depravity On Sam's Head finally kicks us into this evening's musical number, which just so happens to be a fairly lengthy recreation of "Don't You (Forget About Me)" by Simple Minds. The song takes the kiddies on an extensive midnight romp through the pretty much entire building, but the only part of it that looks like any fun at all is when they hold a couple of fire extinguisher races through the darkened Hallowed Halls. Otherwise, it's all kind of a great big snore, but then again, I don't get the appeal of this booze-free lock-in in the first place, so what do I know?
And as it all ends with a completely embarrassing fist-pump from Dreamboat Blaine, Becky Jackson pops up from out of nowhere to bellow, "BUSTED! Your fat asses are mine!" Dun-dun-DUN! This should suck. Also: This evening's commercial break.
We rejoin the lock-in gang on the stage in The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion, where Becky's spread out a Twister mat to a bagful of "eleven-hour energy drinks," and this is just asinine, so I'll cut to the end: If the Glee kiddies don't play Twister with Becky, Becky's going to call the cops. Dun-dun-DUN! Again!
Meanwhile, over at Chez Schue, Emma enters Terri's old crafts room to find Will busily repainting the brown walls with a festive shade of nursery-friendly yellow. Naturally, Emma panics, but Will calms her down with a long string of sick-making schmoop-talk, and as Emma picks up a brush to help with the redecorating, Will eases himself into his version of Loggins And Messina's truly dreadful "Danny's Song," but you know what? I'm not gonna dump on this one despite my distaste for the source material, partly because Matthew Morrison's just so unexpectedly sweet during it all, but mainly because this is the first straight character song we've seen in what feels like a thousand goddamned episodes, and I've grown so sick of stand-and-screech tween-friendly power ballads that have absolutely nothing to do with the plot that I'm going to applaud this saccharine piece of crap in the hope that they'll go back to giving us musical numbers that are actually relevant to the show's storylines.
ANY-way, where the hell was I? Oh, yes: So, the montage that follows this opening leads us through a sequence of homey little vignettes featuring Will and Emma researching baby names, and Will and Emma sighing over another failed pregnancy test, and Will and Emma cuddling up on the sofa to watch this (which: Ew), until the two end up harmonizing on the song's final lines while snuggling against each other amid the sickly-sweet stench of their own conjugal bed, whereupon they presumably Do It again.
April Rhodes Civic Pavilion. Dreamboat Blaine begs off on another round of Twister with Becky in favor of finding out where, exactly, Single-T Tina and The Inhuman Growth On Sam's Scalp have run off to, and after an extensive search of The Hallowed Halls turns up nothing, Blaine blunders into the school's unlikely astronomy classroom to find Tina sucking on the lips attached to That...That Thing. Needless to say, Blaine is sickened and repulsed, as well he should be, but then he gets his fancy little panties bundled up into a tight little wad about how this was supposed to be their last chance to hang out together, and how Tina and That...That Thing ruined everything, and then he runs off screaming into this evening's commercial break, and I think I'm officially over this stupid subplot.
Café Contrivance. The Batshit Bimbo Of Broadway races in -- late for her shift, of course -- to find Adam Lambert comfortably ensconced in a booth with Santana Lopez because Auntie Snix is paying him to run lines with her, and the shrieking is both immediate and deafening. Fortunately, their manager chooses this moment to interrupt all of their manufactured drama in favor of a patron's special birthday song request, so the dueling divas take to the diner's stage with Adam Lambert in tow to battle each other over a cover of Laura Branigan's "Gloria," and as much as it shocks me to say this, the subsequent number doesn't totally suck. Yeah, the staging turns most of it into a tiresome catfight between Rachel and Santana over ownership of Adam Lambert's soul, or whatever, but the three of them sound pretty damn good throughout it all, and that counts for a lot, I suppose.
Anyway, at some point during the action, Adam Lambert finally decides he's having no part of the ladies' apparently mutual psychosis, and he retreats to a table with St. Gay Of Lima, which is where the gals confront him once the number ends. "It is time to settle this once and for all," Santana or Rachel announces before one or the other of them demands, "Who was better?" Adam Lambert's all, "Girls, girls -- you're both pretty," which makes me love him just a tiny bit more, and then he flat-out refuses to choose sides. He's also quitting that band that nobody ever cared about, ever, because while Santana, The Batshit Bimbo, and St. Gay Of Lima "might be used to this kind of drama," Adam Lambert most certainly is not, and he will be having none of this crap in his life in the foreseeable future, thanks very much, and with that, Adam Lambert flounces on out of the diner. Atta girl.
Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High. Single-T Tina and That...That Thing attempt to apologize to Dreamboat Blaine for their supposedly awful behavior, but Dreamboat Blaine's still being a pissy little bitch about it. "I guess you guys can just have fun hanging out by yourselves tonight," Blaine wails, "and fondle each other's boobs, or what-EVER!" And with that, Dreamboat Blaine flounces on out into our commercial break. Shut up, idiot.
My Ancestral Homeland. In a desperate attempt to save that band of his that no one has ever cared about, ever, St. Gay Of Lima has summoned Santana Lopez and The Batshit Bimbo Of Broadway to The Loft for a summit, but alas! The ladies continue to snipe and scratch at each other -- and bits of it are really quite entertaining, indeed -- until St. Gay eventually exasperates, "We promised each other that we would stick by each other for two years, and you guys haven't lasted for two months, because you don't care about anyone but yourselves!" "How about meeeeeee?" St. Gay whines. "How about the fact that you scared off Adam Lambert, and now he wants to quit the baaaaaaaaaaaaaaand?" "This has nothing to do with the baaaaaaaaaaaaaaand," Rachel eyerolls, stressing, "Santana and I are both professionals." "Exactly!" Santana agrees, adding, "Blink-182 hated each other and still found a way to continue to suck as a band for years." Ha!
HA!
Yeah, that's a completely gratuitous and unbelievably cheap shot at an undeniably easy target, but still: It's probably the funniest line I've heard on this show all season.
Anyway, the ever-suffering St. Gay finally scampers back up on his cross again so he can be all, "Fine! My old band that no one has ever cared about ever is DEAD, and I am going to start a new band that no one will ever care about EVER with Adam Lambert and Dani!" Santana and Rachel join those valiant few of us left in this show's rapidly-dwindling audience in asking: "Who the fuck is Dani?" "Your girlfriend!" St. Gay screams in Santana Lopez's face. "Yeah, still not ringing a bell, here," Santana, Rachel, and those valiant few of us left in this show's rapidly-dwindling audience reply. St. Gay huffs and pouts and sulks and scowls and eventually grows tired of us all, after which he slaps his new band's flyer on the coffee table before stomping his hissy little expensively-shod feet out of The Loft for good. SO THERE.
Thus so left alone, and determined to support St. Gay's latest project no matter the personal cost to themselves, Rachel and Santana graciously agree to set aside their differences for the evening like so: "Just make sure you stay on your side of the club, dwarf." "I think I saw a squirrel come out of the back of your hair." See if you can guess which gal said what.
The Only Piano Bar In New York. Santana Lopez and The Batshit Bimbo Of Broadway perch to each other at the back of the room, diligently maintaining their uneasy truce as St. Gay Of Lima approaches the microphone on stage to deliver an overlong speech introducing his new band that no one will ever care about, ever, "One Three Hill." Oh, and that "Dani" person they were yammering about in that last scene? It's actually Demi Lovato. Just so you're aware. Eventually, St. Gay finally knocks it the hell off with all the pointless blithering, and he, Demi Lovato, and Adam Lambert swing their collective way into their version of "The Happening" by The Supremes, and I must be losing whatever's left of my dim little mind, because it is fabulous. And there's nothing fancy about the staging of it at all -- just the three of them up there beneath the nightclub's fairy lights, having an excellent time playing around with an entirely unexpected song I haven't heard in years. I feel so cheap for loving this performance, but whatever: Bravo.
And as expected, the crowd goes wild once it's all over, and as St. Gay, Demi Lovato, and Adam Lambert exchange a round of well-deserved high-fives, Santana Lopez and The Batshit Bimbo Of Broadway shoot a couple of guilty-looking glances at each other over by the bar. Also: Another commercial break.
The Improbably Bohemian Bushwick Loft. Santana enters to find Rachel pawing through her unmentionables and quite reasonably wonders what gives. "Before this drawer was filled with crotchless panties and stripper bras," Rachel sniffs, "it was my scented-candle drawer." "Okay," Santana retorts, "can we just talk for a second about how you used to have an entire drawer dedicated to scented candles?" Heh. Rachel lets that one slide in favor of observing, "You know, it's funny, but I realized that I really don't have any other girlfriends here in New York City, and you were sort of my only one." "Maybe you should take that as a sign of your horrible personality disorder," Santana shoots back, and again: Hee! "I'm sorry," Rachel glares, "but I don't see you cruising around town having cocktails with any of your gal pals!" Santana grudgingly allows that Rachel might actually have a point, there, and sighs that neither of them really had any female friends back in Ohio, either. "Brittany doesn't count, 'cause I was in love with her," Santana admits, her guard dropping just a little bit, "and I guess I had Quinn, but the fact that she lives an hour away and I never thought about calling her? Should say something to me." Rachel kinda sorta cops to the fact that she misses having Santana around -- more or less, in so many words -- but just when it looks like they're about to apologize to each other for all of the recent stupidity, Rachel blurts, "I just don't understand -- like, why my part? Why my understudy?" "It was the simplest and most convenient way to tie us together in the same subplot," Santana does not respond, because God knows there's no way in hell she could ever be that truthful about it. Instead, she merely points out that an opportunity presented itself, and she took it. "You would have done the same thing," she argues, "and then you would have fought to take down whoever was in your way -- even if it was me." The words might be a little harsh, but Santana's tone certainly isn't, and again it looks like they're about to apologize to each other for all of the recent stupidity, but unfortunately...
...St. Gay Of Lima chooses this very moment to trundle into the loft with Adam Lambert and Demi Lovato in tow. D'OH! Their mood thus so effectively shattered, Santana and Rachel bolt for the diner and the theater, respectively, leaving St. Gay and the others to do, um, whatever.
McKinley High Music Room. Dreamboat Blaine enters to find Single-T Tina and That...That Thing slumped against the piano, and I think we'll be wrapping this subplot up as quickly as possible. Long story short, Blaine apologizes for being such a jackass, the three agree to be best friends forever, Artie rolls by muttering a few choice imprecations under his breath, and the other kiddies arrive just in time to hear Mr. Schue announce, "One week until Nationals!" Hoots and hollers all around, and there is much sass and hand clapping from the children in the cheap seats until Blaine leaps to his feet to state, "For us seniors, this is one of our last Glee Club meetings." "It's kind of a big deal," he continues, "and we were wondering if we could just do one last number?" "Please!" the ever-useless Mr. Schue grins, for this means he won't have to pull yet another last-minute lesson plan out of his ass. Tina and That...That Thing join Blaine on the floor, and the three cordially invite the previously shunned Artie to join them in a few rousing choruses of "Hold On" by Wilson Phillips. Artie -- who really should learn how to nurse a grudge -- happily wheels himself over as the other kiddies cheer wildly in the background, and the thing we know, we've been kicked over to...
...The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion, where Single-T Tina, Artie, Dreamboat Blaine, and That...That Thing bounce around on stage for a bit until the camera cuts over to...
...My Ancestral Homeland, where we learn that St. Gay has quite fortuitously chosen the exact same tune for his dumb band's rehearsal. I really should be used to such quirks of fate on this show by now, but still: What are the odds? What the hell are the goddamned odds?
Obviously, this evening's bout of end-of-episode synchronicity can't be complete without The Batshit Bimbo Of Broadway and Santana Lopez also participating. So, after we hop between Lima and The Loft a couple more times, it's off to Manhattan, where Rachel and Santana trade off on a couple of supposedly relevant lyrics over at Fake Drama School and the diner. Hilariously, Santana seems to be addressing her part of the song to some random wino. Even more hilariously, that random wino seems to really appreciate the gesture. Hee!
And when it's over, and just when you think we're about to snap to black for the week, we suddenly find ourselves back at Chez Schue. DAMMIT! Will merrily folds his many vests into a suitcase in anticipation of their impending trip to Nationals as Emma slips almost apologetically into the room beside him. "Um," she begins, "I don't think I'm gonna go with you." "Why not?" Will more or less asks. "SHE'S PREGNANT!" those valiant few of us left in this show's rapidly-dwindling audience scream at the television screen, and guess what? We're right! Again, I don't understand the goddamned timeline this subplot's running on at all, but Emma apparently got an actual doctor to confirm the presence of an actual human-type parasite in her uterus, so she is, indeed, most thoroughly knocked up. An ecstatic Will makes with yet another long string of sick-making schmoop-talk, and as the overjoyed parents-to-be hug each other, we finally -- like, for real this time -- snap to black.
If they name the little brat "Finn," I'm going to kill somebody.
week: Nationals! Will they win? Who knows? More importantly, does anybody still care at this point? Tune in to find out!
Demian most definitely does not care at this point. You may reach at demian_twop@yahoo.com.