...the screen smears sideways for a replay of Dave gifting Santana with a Cherry Icee facial, and I laugh and laugh and laugh some more. The timing on that one was just perfect.

Anyway, once we've smeared back to the present, Santana has well and truly strapped her bitch on to offer Karofsky the following: "First of all, anything you do became my business when you decided to toss that Slushie up in my grille!" Yeah, he's fucked. He's also incredibly stupid, for he chooses at this juncture to snot back that he thinks he can take "a couple of queers and a girl," so Santana quite deliciously pushes herself into his face and smiles, "Two choices: You stay here and I crack one of your nuts -- right or left, that's your choice -- or you walk away and live to be a douchebag another day." "Oh, and also?" Santana adds. "I have razor blades hidden in my hair. Mmm-hmmm! Tons, just all up in there!" Karofsky wisely yields the field and vanishes, grunting, down the hall, leaving Santana alone with the boys. "We could have handled that," Blaine claims, and nope! Not believing that for one hot second. "It was more fun doing it together," Santana grins at him by way of reply, and just when things threaten to get unbearably sappy, Santana receives a text alert on her cell phone. "Oh, crap!" she mutters, darting off towards...

...the music room, where she informs the others that Ongina has pulled out of the benefit, which means that none of Ongina's Twitter followers will be in attendance, either. "I told you she's evil!" Rachel hisses just as Puck arrives to announce that a mere six people have shown up for the concert, and no. Just...no. Counting Blaine and Kurt, Quinn and Puck's mothers, Artie's father, and the fantastic parental duos of Rachel, Finn, Brit-Brit, Mercedes, Lauren, Santana, Tina, Gaylord, and Trouty Mouth, there should be at least 23 people sitting in that auditorium, and I'm not even including Will, Gwyneth, and Sue and her minions, of whom there are at least...oh, fuck it. I can't be bothered with this bullshit anymore, and I still haven't gotten to Gwynnie's grotesquely condescending lecture yet, so this stupidity can kiss my ass, and when it's done kissing my ass, it can kiss my ass some more, and when it's done doing that, it can drop fucking dead.