In any event, Will furrows his brow at Bryan Ryan's shocking revelation, and he rises from his stool, crosses to the jukebox, and punches the buttons for Billy Joel's "Piano Man," which immediately begins playing even though "Dream Weaver" wasn't anywhere close to being done, but whatever, because Bryan Ryan actually soloed with this number at Sectionals in 1992, and the two launch themselves into a boozy karaoke sing-along like the lightweights they currently are, much to the apparent delight of the other patrons in the far blurry background of the shot. And Will and Bryan Ryan harmonize pretty well together at one point, but let's face it: We've been sitting here for almost a half a goddamned hour already, and we've yet to see a single goddamned sparkly musical number, and I WAS TOLD THERE WOULD BE SPARKLY MUSICAL NUMBERS. Will eventually gets Bryan Ryan to promise he'll try out for a local community theater's production of Les Miserables that Friday, and we head into this evening's next commercial break wondering what the hell is going on with this evening's tedious pacing. Is it deliberate? And if it is deliberate, can we have whoever's responsible fired before they get a chance to pull this crap on us again? Huh? HUH?
School. Single-T Tina catches up with Artie, apologizes for yesterday's fiasco in the music room, pushes into his hands a ream of research she conducted last night on the Internet regarding alternative therapies for spinal-cord injuries, exhorts him not to give up on his dream, kisses him in the middle of a massive lens flare, and NEXT!
Rachel's exceedingly chaste boudoir, where Jesse St. James waits patiently while Rachel ransacks the "little Rachel Berry Museum" her fathers keep in the basement for papers and artifacts related to her birth and early years. She finally arrives from below with two bankers boxes that hold, among other things, a jar of her baby teeth, an ultrasound showing her in fifth position in her mother's womb, the trophy she won at her first singing competition when she was eight months old, and the analog cassette tape labeled "From Idina Menzel To Her Biological Daughter, Rachel Berry" that Jesse St. James surreptitiously slipped from his pocket while Rachel's back was turned. DUN! Delightfully devious Jesse St. James immediately leaps to play the thing on Rachel's ancient boombox, but Rachel rises to her feet in protest, pleading that it's much too soon, and that everything's happening too fast. Jesse makes wounded noises, but Rachel will not be swayed, and she banishes him -- temporarily -- from her boudoir. NEXT!