And when it's all over, thoughtless Artie ruins everything when he tells Quinn she's going to be in that wheelchair forever. Forever! Muah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Quinn loudly insists he's an asshole and rolls herself into this evening's next commercial break in the throes of an almighty snit. And if you haven't rewatched that scene since this episode originally aired, I urge you to do so, if only because the clichéd blocking and the laughably lousy line deliveries and the sad plinking of a soft piano on the soundtrack all come awfully close to sending the entire exchange into deliriously awesome over-the-top soap opera territory. Though it would have been so much better if she pushed him into a convenient lily pond before rolling the hell out of there. This show. This awful, evil show.

Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High. Quinn and New Guy With Gross Hair spend several minutes talking about Jesus, so I fast-forward to the bit where she invites him to join New Directions.

The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion. Quinn introduces New Guy With Gross Hair to the other children in the choir and when he crosses to take his place in front of Puck for their subsequent dance rehearsal, Puck helpfully notes, "Dude, you have a twig in your hair." New Guy With Gross Hair scowls. "No, seriously," Puck insists. New Guy With Gross Hair reaches up, extracts the bit of offending plant matter from his fugly coif and thanks Puck for his kindness. Hee. The scary part is, New Guy With Gross Hair somehow manages to look relatively attractive from time to time. You know, from certain angles. When the camera's a little out of focus and the lights are dim. Oh, shut up.

Mr. Schue, who's been there the entire time -- though I've only seen fit to note his presence right now -- cedes the floor to Coach Sylvester, who lectures the assembled children as follows: "It has come to my attention that I have been a tad...harsh with some of you, though I thought I was being kind. For instance, I said absolutely nothing about the implausible sexual tension between Mercedes and The Kentucky Fried Stripper or the sorry fact that you wasted untold millions on a laser show for yourselves just so Sandbags could dance with the night school's Polynesian janitor." "Actually, he was Puerto Rican," Santana Lopez interjects at this juncture in what will sadly be her only line of the evening. "Kids," Coach Sylvester continues, ignoring her, "it's in my DNA to be intense, just like it's in Porcelain's DNA to poop rainbow glitter." St. Gay Of Lima goes all goggle-eyed while Dreamboat Blaine nods knowingly. "Now I'll admit I behaved badly," Coach Sylvester concedes, finally drawing close to the purpose of this surprisingly entertaining monologue, "but I also realized something. I am here for two very important reasons: Number one, Mr. Schuester needs at least one adult friend; and number two, I am hoping that the miraculous life growing inside of me can soak up some of your constantly annoying though admittedly laudable optimism and decency." Yeah, it doesn't work that way, Sue. Oh, what the hell am I talking to the TV for? They're never going to listen to me. Whatever.