Lair Of The Sue, where we find Sue about to peruse a brochure from the "Lima Forever Cemetery & Funeral Home" when Kurt and Finn come a-knocking on her door, bearing floral arrangements. "Put 'em over there with the rest," she tells them, nodding towards a grouping of similar arrangements on a nearby table. "There were more," Sue notes, "but I had to throw some of them out. I'm allergic to pansies, and I don't mean that as a swipe at either of you." Liar. I hope. And when the hell did Sue get a "Gossip Hurts!" poster in her office? Was it there before she resurrected The Muckraker? Because that would make awesome sense. Whatever. The point of the scene that follows -- in which she addresses Finn and Kurt as "Herman Munster" and "Eddie Munster," respectively, by the way -- is that Sue confesses she can't bear the prospect of packing away Jean's things, and she refuses to plan a funeral. Oh, and in case you were wondering, there will be no Carol Burnett this evening, for as far as Sue's concerned, Doris Sylvester "said her goodbyes years ago." There is a brief flash of the Old Sue when she clearly includes both Finn and Kurt among the mean, nasty people who should have dropped dead long before her oh-so-sweet sister did, but other than that, I got nothing.
"We need to help her," Finn declares once we've zipped back over to the music room, and while Santana Lopez, for one, would like nothing better than to "put the 'fun' back in 'funeral,'" neither she nor any of the other children see any need to offer Sue assistance in her hour of need. Kurt patiently explains that they'll be doing it for Jean, not for Sue, and there's a brief, blurry reaction shot wherein Single-T Tina's all, "Who the fuck is Jean?" with the shrugging and the appropriate hand gestures and such, but it really does fly by too fast to make much of an impression. Except for, you know, on me. "Jean is just like us," Finn blurts by way of arguing his point, and no, idiot, she's not, and she never was, because you're all cheerleaders and jocks -- self-important, overindulged, petulant, whiny, mopey-ass cheerleaders and jocks, I should say -- and Jean was...you know what? Fuck it. I'm letting it go.