Later, The Ohio Four uncomfortably stroll through a nearby park, and here's where things really go to hell. First, Dreamboat Blaine tearily admits he got a little on the side back in Lima, much to St. Gay's shock and dismay. Get used to it, honey. Then, Frankenteen gets Idiot Rachel to admit, more or less, that she's been hitting Dean Geyer like the wrath of God. As well she should, of course, but I believe that's beside the point at the moment. Naturally, all this honesty leads to much wailing and gnashing of teeth from everyone involved, which is boring, but it also leads to a truly excellent version of No Doubt's histrionic mid-'90s angst-athon "Don't Speak," which is awesome, so I think I can forgive all the whining. You know, just this once. The song begins quietly in the park, with the four switching between character-relevant solos and harmonizing duets, though the tricky camerawork never stops separating each into his or her own little heartsick world. Eventually, they all end up back in The Improbably Bohemian Bushwick Loft for what promises to be the most excruciating night of awkward sleeping arrangements ever, and as the troubled couples collapse into their respective beds, the shots shatter again and again into split-screens that serve to further isolate each member of this deliriously despondent quartet from the others. It's all so shockingly well-done that by the time we blink out into this evening's next commercial break, I almost feel sorry for these morons. Almost.
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.