Cut to the music room, which has been recast as "Coach Sue's Craft Room," with various members of both The Old and The New New Directions slaving away over row upon row of sewing machines. It's A Wonderful Artie delivers an inspirational speech about The Power Of Song, or some such bullshit, which he follows with a forgettable performance of "Feliz Navidad," and when it's all over, Oafish Jock Asshole Old Finn states, "That was so gay!" Indeed it was, Oafish Jock Asshole Old Finn, though I think you and I mean different things, here.
Thoroughly disheartened, It's A Wonderful Artie slouches out of Coach Sue's Sweatshop to find an empty yet artfully-lit wheelchair loitering at the far end of the hall. "Is that mine?" It's A Wonderful Artie whispers. "No," the suddenly-appearing Leprechaun replies. "It's Quinn's." You see, because Old Quinn "texts and drives in every timeline" -- which is hilarious for reasons I'm at a loss to explain -- she still ended up maimed even though there was no idiotic teenage wedding to attend, only in this timeline, she eventually succumbed to her injuries. It's A Wonderful Artie frowns, crosses to Quinn's Fucking Wheelchair to remove the single white rose that's appeared on its seat, and selflessly plants himself firmly within the chair's tight confines to...
...bolt himself awake in the real world! Wow, what a relief. I mean, Jesus -- that sequence was starting to drag, wasn't it? In any event, Artie glances around to find faithful Frankenteen still there with him in the nurse's office, and Bloaty The Gravy Clown eagerly hops to it when Artie asks for assistance getting back in his chair. Frankenteen offers a few words of friendly commiseration, to which the freshly serene Artie replies, "For better or worse, this chair is part of me -- it's made me who I am." And with that, Artie taps a suspiciously handy bell on the nurse's Christmas tree, because every time a bell rings, Glee drops another point in the demo. Or something like that.
After the commercial break, we return to find Old Idiot Rachel tossing a few of her delicate underthings into a bag over in her capacious and improbable bohemian loft, all the while babbling, "Well, if you're not gonna come to Lima, then my dads insist you come with us to the Rosie O'Donnell Gay Holiday Cruise -- it's gonna be so much fun! There's even gonna be a Jesse Tyler Ferguson lookalike contest!" I'll give that one a pass, hon, but thanks for asking. And could you do me a favor? Yeah, go ahead and slap yourself repeatedly in the face for wearing a skort in the middle of winter. Actually, you can go ahead and slap yourself repeatedly in the face for wearing a skort, period, okay?