My Ancestral Homeland, the following morning. Frankenteen attempts to tiptoe out of the cavernous apartment unnoticed, but St. Gay Of Lima ended up spending most of his ultimately sleepless night out in the lounge area, so he winds up catching his stepbrother long before Frankenteen's made it to the door. They whine and complain at each other about their miserable lots in life for a while, but since that only makes me want to slap St. Gay repeatedly across the face, I'll be skipping through it all to get to the point: Frankenteen bails. Next!

Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High, and oh, my God, this is stupid. Long story short, New Quinn invites Boring New Rachel -- and all her "lezzie" friends in Glee Club, of course -- to that evening's meeting of this year's God Squad over at BreadstiX, where Evil New Quinn proceeds to stage a fake Rapture for the sole purpose of torturing both dumb Dottie Whatshername and every single member of this show's long-suffering audience, and the point of the entire exercise -- such as it is -- is to get Brit-Brit to admit to Santana that she's felt left behind ever since Santana decamped to Frankfort or Paducah or wherever the hell it is that Santana's going to college. Get it? "Left behind"? Whatever.

Meanwhile, back at McKinley, Frankenteen lumbers into Mr. Schue's office, where Frankenteen proceeds to burst into tears because he's finally realized what a worthless piece of bloated trash he's been his entire life. Mr. Schue responds by looking mightily uncomfortable in those too-tight jeans of his. Also: Another commercial break.

Music Room. Dreamboat Blaine enters to find Frankenteen perched on one of the cheap seats, but barely have they had a chance to commiserate with each other over their horrible trip to New York when the other current members of The Glee Club bound in from points unknown to greet the prodigal Finn with a suspiciously boisterous amount of enthusiasm. Eventually, Mr. Schue also arrives, and the talk turns to the topic of this fall's musical. Mr. Schue's list of possible titles includes Peter Pan and Fiorello!, much to the confusion and disgust of Guy With Gross Hair Whose Name I Can't Be Bothered To Look Up and Artie, respectively. Not-So-Unique, of course, loudly prefers Hedwig And The Angry Inch, while Single-T Tina opts for either Pacific Overtures, Miss Saigon, or Flower Drum Song, and just when the now-heated discussion threatens to descend into madness, Frankenteen pipes up with a suggestion of his own: "Just do Grease." He takes great pains to remind us all that Grease features the first song he ever performed with New Directions, then argues that they won't receive the sort of blowback from the community that they got when they mounted that ill-advised adaptation of The Rocky Horror Show a couple of years ago, because no one would ever object to a musical about oversexed delinquents that ends with the virginal heroine turning herself into a slut just so she can land a boyfriend. The other children find this an excellent idea, and the expression of pride that washes across Frankenteen's pasty mug when he receives a round of applause for the supposedly Solomonic levels of sagacity he's just displayed all but ensures he'll be assuming control of The Glee Club once Mr. Schue farts off to Washington in a couple of episodes to join that blue-ribbon arts panel of his. Joy.