The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway ignores me, likely because The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway wasn't talking to me in the first place. No, she was actually addressing her remarks to the ever-suffering St. Gay Of Lima, who's decided to spend Christmas alone in New York City for some martyrlicious and self-dramatizing reason, I'm sure. St. Gay, by the way, is once again sporting several thousand dollars' worth of clothing from Alexander McQueen and Vivienne Westwood, which I can only assume he stole from Mode before he quit. And before I get a chance to linger too long on that, a mysterious certain someone comes a-rapping at the apartment's door, and it's... Congressman Burt Hummel! Bearing heaps of Christmas cheer! And a tree! And an unfortunately timed cancer diagnosis! And whoops! SPOILER!

Needless to say, both St. Gay Of Lima and The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway are delighted to welcome Congressman Hummel into their humble abode, and moments later, the three of them are setting up Burt's tree in an appropriately picturesque corner of the improbable loft. Congressman Hummel then shares a touching story regarding St. Gay's dead mother that I'll not be bothering to transcribe, mainly because it exists simply as a device to get the massively self-absorbed St. Gay to finally -- finally -- notice the open box of Hummel family heirloom ornaments that's been sitting right in front of his goddamned face for what has to have been the last half hour at least, and after everyone waxes appropriately nostalgic for a moment or two, Old Idiot Rachel rises to dash off to her gay cruise with her gay dads. Before she leaves, though, she must first open the present Congressman Hummel now offers her, and it's a glittery apple ornament to mark the kids' first holiday season in New York together. Awwwwwww.

Sometime later, Kurt and Burt stroll up Sixth Avenue, having just attended this year's Christmas Spectacular in Radio City Music Hall, and they eventually retire to an awfully familiar-looking diner for some hot cocoa and bad news: Congressman Hummel has prostate cancer. Burt hastens to add, though, that the disease was caught early, and that "the cure rate's nearly a hundred percent." Which means there's absolutely a hundred percent chance Burt'll wind up at death's door just in time for Sweeps. Consider yourselves forewarned.