...hallway, where Puck's just given Quinn a copy of How To Raise A Baby On Five Dollars A Day which, you know: Timely! "Saw it in the bookstore," Puck notes. "Figured I'd steal it for ya -- you know, in case you change your mind and decide you want to keep it." How thoughtful. Quinn agrees with me, and confesses that she's no longer certain what she's going to do with the fetus once it claws its way out of her body, adding, "My mind's pretty messed up about everything." My Glorious Husband's all, "No pressure! Whatever you decide!" and exits after granting her a warm grin, so Quinn's hormonally fickle heart sets to fluttering over Puck and his mohawk again, some more, and she starts voice-overing something about acceptance and her need for same, and I try my best to give a single, tiny, heartfelt, vermin-infested rat's ass about Quinn and her stupid fetus, but all I can think is ABORTION IN COLUMBUS, and look at that! While I was so busy not caring, Quinn flashed back to a recent encounter with the delightfully insane Terri Schuester and her equally delightfully insane sister Kendra! "You don't drink diet soda, do you?" Terri breathily snaps at the knocked-up cheerleader. "Because the phosphoric acid causes male pattern baldness!" Quinn reminds Terri that the fetus is female. "Women go bald, too!" Terri retorts. "You worry too much!" Kendra blowzes. "Mom smoked and drank a bottle of Riunite on ice every night when she was pregnant with us, and we're totally normal!" Can't argue with that. "Just take your vitamins," Kendra blares in Quinn's general direction, "stay out of the hot tub, and avoid rum-based drinks, and you'll be fine!" Solid advice for all expectant mothers. Thanks, Kendra! Alas, that's all we get of Terri and Kendra at the moment, for we've leapt back inside Quinn's head as she watches her fellow Glee Clubbers bounce and bop around the piano in the music room while musing to herself, "Maybe I didn't give Puck enough of a chance -- he is the real dad, after all." She's thinking about reneging on her deal with Terri, you see, and she knows she can't raise the fetus with Finn, who's little more than an overgrown child himself at this point. Unfortunately, she also can't risk pissing Finn off at this juncture by taking Puck "for a test drive" to see if Puck truly is suitable father material, so she plots to distract her purported boyfriend with Rachel's as-yet-unobvious charms. And just how does she intend to go about this, I hear you ask?
By enlisting Kurt's aid, of course! "Hey!" she calls out to...oh, my holy crap, WHAT IS HE WEARING? It's this hideous grey-and-green shiny plaid two-button tailored jacket over a black t-shirt atop a pair of matching grey-and-green shiny plaid pants that have been tucked into knee-high black riding boots, with all of it topped off by a heinous white trilby. It's...it's...it's hateful. Plus, his bag doesn't match his shoes. AUUUAAUAAAAGH. ANY-way, Quinn calls out to the fashion-forward Hitler Youth now striding through the halls of McKinley High and, once she's got his attention, asks, "Can I pick your pink brain for a second?" Kurt icily notes with perfectly arched brow that this is the first time Quinn's ever spoken to him, but he listens as she hits him up with a proposition: "Makeover!" "I'm in!" Kurt declares, instantly warming to her, because "makeovers are like crack" to him. He immediately suggests she try "a double-knit camisole with control top for the baby bump," and advises she avoid baby-doll dresses, as they're a "dead giveaway." "Not for me," Quinn grits, "for Rachel." "Why would I want to do that?" Kurt scoffs. "I admit I like a challenge as much as the next guy," he allows, "but Rachel somehow manages to dress like a grandmother and a toddler at the same time." "My point exactly," Quinn smiles, luring him into her web of deceit. "You're as concerned about the Glee Club succeeding as I am," she lies, "and she's a distraction." "Look at her," Quinn urges. "She's wearing a pantsuit." The camera swings in between them to focus on Rachel at her locker, and the unfortunate egomaniac is, indeed, sporting a 1975-vintage polyester concoction in cerulean blue. It's still not as evil as Kurt's present outfit, but Quinn's point has been made. "Don't you think the judges are going to take one look at her and maybe wanna knock her down a peg or two?" Quinn deviously inquires. "Deal," Kurt nods, and with that, he promptly exits into this evening's first commercial break.
Chez Schue, later that evening. Terri bids her husband goodnight, and settles down to sleep on her side of their queen-sized bed, upon which she's built a wall of pillows that separates them should Will get any frisky ideas in the wee small hours of the morning. Will reaches across the barrier to stroke her hair, and Terri immediately freaks, bolting upright to excoriate him for attempting to make with the sexy times while she's feeling so vulnerable about her nonexistent pregnancy, or something like that. He apologizes, sweetly enough, and rolls over to leave her alone, allowing her a moment to lapse into what I believe is her very first voice-over of the series. "There's no way I can keep this up," she admits to herself, one hand clawed around a pillow while she stares into the middle distance with a deeply worried and somewhat guilt-ridden expression on her face. "He's gonna catch on," her voice-over continues before confessing, "I miss him, too, though." She turns to gaze at his sleeping back while explaining, "I do want to have a family with him -- I only ever started lying about all of this to give us a chance." "I just need to buy myself some more time," she decides, realizing, "I've got to distract him with something." "But what?" she wonders. As the opening bars of Dionne Warwick's "Don't Make Me Over" hit the soundtrack, Terri stumbles across a cunning plan.
The song continues as an instrumental as we cut over to Rachel's bedroom, where Kurt's being absolutely and unnecessarily vicious to her, telling her he volunteered for makeover duty primarily because Rachel needs "something to distract from [her] horrible personality" before noting, "Most of the time, I find it hard to be in the same room with you." "Especially this one," he adds, eyeing his surroundings with wary distaste, "which looks like where Strawberry Shortcake and Holly Hobbie come to hook up." Poor, obnoxious Rachel looks devastated, so Kurt graciously allows, "You're extremely talented, Rachel -- watching you perform is amazing -- but sometimes it's hard to appreciate what a good singer you are, because all I'm thinking about is shoving a sock into your mouth." By this point, I would have thrown his snide little precious and badly dressed ass out of the window, but Rachel for whatever reason -- likely because the script says she must -- accepts his criticism, and wonders what his plans for her involve. "I want every boy in school to do a double-take when you strut past," he smiles, and while that's not an outright lie,