Out in the hall, Dreamboat Blaine catches up with Becky and gently notes, "You were acting particularly strange just now -- do you know something I don't about what happened with Coach Sue?" "MIND YOUR OWN GAY BUSINESS!" Becky screams, adding for good measure, "I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" At that, Becky spins on her heel to tear off towards her calculus class, swatting the books out of some hapless underclassperson's hands and upending a magically appearing xylophone as she goes. So, you know: There's clearly something not quite right with Becky. DUN!
April Rhodes Civic Pavilion. Mr. Schue roams the empty stage all by his lonesome, taking a moment to recall happier times until his solitary reverie's rudely interrupted by the arrival of Bloaty The Cocaine Clown, who's there to accept Mr. Schue's earlier apology. He also chatted with the Dean of Students over at The University Of Lima, and wouldn't you know it? The Dean's more than willing to give Frankendrunk college credit for all the time he spends at McKinley as Mr. Schue's assistant. However, Old Finn would like to set a few ground rules before he returns: "No more fetching your coffee, or picking up your dry cleaning -- I don't want to come back to be a gofer." He wants to be treated as an equal, you see, and while I'm pretty sure Mr. Schue actually did just that when he left Frankendrunk in charge of The Glee Club for three or four months, I'm also pretty sure I don't give a good goddamn about any of this. Where the hell is Santana, huh? WHERE IS SHE?
Ahem. Anyway, Mr. Schue finds Frankendrunk's conditions acceptable, and the two bro it out right as we head into what I desperately hope is this evening's final commercial break.
Music Room. Mr. Schue enters and tentatively attempts to make amends with the kiddies he so viciously attacked a thousand years ago, but Dreamboat Blaine, Not-So-Unique, The Lady Lips Has Two Faces, and Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel aren't having it, and as the children slump and slouch their collective way into the cheap seats, Mr. Schue sighs and decides to try a different tack. "So," he begins, "just about twenty years ago, I was sitting right where you are now. I was co-captain of the soccer team, with a forehead full of acne, and a dream of being the next Vanilla Ice." Artie quite rightfully grimaces in disgust at that, but I feel like I've seen that particular visual joke several times already on this show, so whatever. In any event, Mr. Schue continues, "And standing right here was Mrs. Adler. She constantly mumbled to herself, and she stuffed used Kleenex up her sleeves -- we were all convinced that she was crazy, but you know what? That's why we loved her. Because we were crazy, too." He's trying to kill me with this cloying bullshit, isn't he? "This is the room that always felt like home," he tells the kiddies, "maybe because we knew Lillian Adler loved music almost as much as she loved us, and that's how I feel about you. Every one of you." Yeah, he's not gonna stop until I actually drop dead. Pity for him I've already withstood far worse from this show over the last four years. "I'm sorry if I made any of you feel like you don't have a voice in this room," he says, finally getting to the goddamned point. "You do," he assures them, "and I know someone else who does, too."