It's a Very Special Episode this evening, kids, and I hate Very Special Episodes. Let's get to it:
In the first conundrum introduced this evening, Quinn's starting to get some very expensive bills related to the care and feeding of her impending stranger, so she chooses to deal with her dire financial situation by stridently browbeating Finn into getting a job. It becomes beyond tiresome midway through their very first scene together, and proceeds to get much, much worse as tonight's installment wears on, though Frankenteen does eventually manage to get his would-be Bride to shut the hell up about it for a little while after he lands a busboy job at a local restaurant. Dianna Agron deserves better than this shrill crap.
The second conundrum involves The Cheerios, and what Sue Sylvester will do with them now that she's axed Quinn from the squad. Principal Figgins's solution is for her to hold open auditions for Quinn's spot -- a suggestion that naturally aggravates control-freak Sue -- but surprisingly enough, those open auditions lead to a new Cheerio in the form of one Becky Jackson, a sweet-natured special-needs student who just wants to be treated like everybody else. Will's suspicious of Sue's motivations, but he needn't be, because it turns out Sue Sylvester's got an elder sister with Down syndrome tucked away in a nearby adult care facility, and as their relationship couldn't be closer or more affectionate, we know sweet-natured Becky's in good hands. Which contradicts just about everything they've ever told us about Sue since the pilot, but what the hell? It's their show, after all.
Conundrum Number Three involves Will's attempts to secure a special handicapable bus that can transport the entire Glee Club -- including Artie and his wheelchair -- to Sectionals, but the damn thing costs $600 a week, and the district just doesn't have the funds to cover it. Will suggests a bake sale, which goes over like a lead balloon amongst the too-cool kids, who proceed to display a shocking indifference to Artie's disability, so Will forces all of them to live their lives out of wheelchairs for a week to teach them a lesson. And after Puck laces the bake sale cupcakes with a little of Sandy Ryerson's Chronic Lady, the Glee Club can't keep the darn things in stock, so they make more than enough for that special handicapable bus, and everybody's learned A Very Important Lesson About Empathy, and I want to vomit until I die.
The evening's fourth conundrum is by far the most engaging for yours truly: Kurt, with the backing of his ever-supportive father, fights for and wins the opportunity to out-sing favored daughter Rachel in order to secure the "Defying Gravity" lead vocals for himself at Sectionals. Things are looking good for him as he masters the song's elusive high F, but when his father receives a threatening phone call regarding Kurt's out-to-there sexual orientation, Kurt decides to intentionally throw the competition to Rachel in order to spare Burt Hummel the additional angst and agita that would come from his son singing "a girl's song" in front of a thousand people. Sniff.
And the minor fifth and sixth conundrums fall to the pair of Artie and T-T-T-Tina and My Glorious Husband, respectively, but as the former's comes from out of nowhere to return almost immediately into the nothingness from which it emerged, and as the latter's is linked to Shrewish Quinn's primary storyline for the evening, you'll have to wait for the recap for further details. But I promise you won't have to wait long...
After the needless Previously sequence, the camera fades up on the interior of the McKinley High gym, where Sue Sylvester's leading The Cheerios through a new, impossible-looking routine heavy on the athleticism and the jump ropes. Yes, jump ropes. It looks appropriately awesome, but every joint in my legs is now throbbing in sympathetic pain. J-Fro's sitting on the sidelines watching the entire thing because he'll become important to this evening's plot in a couple of minutes, but we'll ignore him for the moment in favor of following along as Finn enters and climbs midway up the bleachers to join Quinn, who's been sitting there this entire time, apparently, clad in a cute set of civvies, watching the action below with a disconsolate expression on her face. "You shouldn't do this to yourself," Finn opens, once he's sat down beside her. Quinn's all tensely, "Do what?" so Finn elaborates, "I know how much it hurts to be off the team -- you're just torturing yourself watching." Quinn frowns and shakes her head around while rolling her shoulders and claiming that she needs a "distraction." Finn, because he is generally clueless, wonders what she needs a distraction from, so she roots around in her purse for a moment before passing him an envelope. The envelope contains the $685 bill for that sonogram she received a couple of episodes ago -- which, as you'll recall, Terri refused to cover, along with all of Quinn's other pregnancy-related expenses -- and Quinn wastes little time making it clear she expects Finn to start coughing up major cash, pronto. Of course, in this economy, Finn can't find a job, though he almost got in at an Olive Garden, but unfortunately, they told Frankenteen he's too tall to be a busboy, which sounds like a load of crap, but we'll be letting that slide in favor of focusing on the load of crap now spewing from Quinn's mouth: "Somewhere in that pea brain of yours is a man. Access him, and tell him to prove to me that I chose the right guy to have a baby with!" And as Quinn's being so bitchily harsh at the moment regarding a pregnancy Finn is not, in fact, responsible for, I have no problem reminding her at this juncture that she can drive two hours down to Columbus in that Chastity-Ball sedan her father bought her and get an abortion for half the price of that goddamned sonogram. Oh, and you can save the e-mails. Unless, of course, they're addressed to Quinn Fabray and read, "GO OUT AND GET A FRIGGING JOB YOURSELF, PRINCESS."