"Quit makin' out in the shop!" Burt good-naturedly teases as he brushes past them to chat with his morose special unicorn of a son, who's spent the entire scene thus far slumped over on a stool in a far, lonely corner of the floor. "What do you want?" Burt immediately demands. "Nothing!" St. Gay Of Lima testily glooms by way of reply before whining, "Is Finn the only son who can help out around here?" Of course not, but as Burt knows St. Gay only volunteers to work when he's got something on his mind, Burt's quite naturally wondering what gives. St. Gay produces a list of "the only musicals [he's] a shoo-in to play the lead role in," and among those musicals are La Cage Aux Folles, Falsettos and "Miss Saigon, as Miss Saigon." Burt, bless him, interrupts the whiner with a beautifully blunt, "Dude, you're gay." "And you're not like Rock Hudson gay," Burt correctly points out, "you're really gay -- you sing like Diana Ross, and you dress like you own a magic chocolate factory." HA! Kurt bemoans the fact that his blatant feyness will only prevent him from landing the parts he really wants to play, but Burt -- bless him again -- sees this pathetic pity-party for what it really is, and swiftly but kindly tells him to knock it off. "If they're not writing movies and plays for performers like you," Burt opines, "then you gotta start writing your own." And as I've sat through far too much crap authored by and starring otherwise uncastable "actors" in the past, I know Burt's suggestion is not necessarily a good thing, but if it gets Kurt to stop acting like such a goddamned fucking martyr all of the time, then I'm all for it. "I'm just tired of being a unicorn," gripes St. Gay Of Lima. "You know what they call a unicorn without a horn?" Burt counters. "A friggin' horse." Kurt cracks a reluctant smile at that, and so Burt wanders off, his work here done. Until St. Gay's next self-manufactured crisis.