Mercedes, apparently, sitting alone in the rain in her parents' SUV out in the parking lot, for whatever idiotic reason. Wouldn't she have gone home, already? Whatever. Rachel materializes out of the storm, and Mercedes grants her access to the passenger seat so Rachel might lecture her about Aretha Franklin. No, seriously. No, seriously: Rachel is lecturing Mercedes about Aretha Franklin. Fuck off, Glee.
GAH. ANY-way, the point of the blathering that follows, best as I can tell, is that Mercedes needs to step up and grab the spotlight for herself rather than wait for someone else to shine it upon her, no matter how much of a unlikable, egocentric shrew she ends up becoming because of it. And when it's all over, Mercedes sighs, "I just really wanted that closing slot." "Well, if you want that closing slot," Rachel replies, "then go in there and take it from me!" All-righty, then!
Back in the auditorium, we find The Pink Dagger baying at the empty stage like a lunatic until General Zod drops by his ear to order him outside for a private chat, pronto. Will snarks something as they whip past him towards the hallway, but none of that's important at the moment because what is important at the moment is the fact that Trouty Mouth is just now introducing Precious Precious Gwynnie, who will be gifting us lowly and undeserving mortals with her rendition of Adele's "Turning Tables." Needless to say, it blows. Unfortunately, the lyrics to this song actually are relevant to the character's current situation, and as I can't remember the last time that happened on this show, it'd probably be for the best if we took some time to consider what she's actually saying to Will at this point in their admittedly fragile relationship.
Kidding! Oh, I am so totally kidding. Gwyneth Paltrow can go run herself through a woodchipper for all I care. NEXT!
Hall. Sue castigates Sandy for so completely hosing the one simple task she set before him. Nevertheless, she sends him back into the auditorium to "question the whole purpose of arts education," so off he goes. NEXT!
Music Room. After several lengthy seconds of increasingly non-anxious un-tension, Mercedes saunters back in to lay down one final stipulation: "I demand that all of you get your butts out there and watch me sing!" Yawn.
Auditorium. Guppy Face takes to the microphone for the last time tonight and introduces Mercedes, who appears onstage with both a full orchestra and a thirty-member gospel choir to back her up as she performs Miss Aretha's"Ain't No Way." "Oh, dear God," Sandy bleats as the song's opening chords wash out over the audience, "I love this song!" That makes two of us, I am not ashamed to admit, but Jesus Christ: Talk about too little, too late. Mercedes of course acquits herself beautifully, and God help me, but I kind of dig that spangly, too-tight, midnight-blue cocktail dress she's currently working to death, but again: Far too little, far too late.