Santana's SLAMS!

Once again, Rachel Berry entered the show choir room demanding attention.

"SO, she began loudly, "Nationals is right around the corner and, as we all know, my solo is vital to our victory."

As everyone rolled their eyes, Santana Lopez replied, "I'm sorry Pinocchio, what was that? I can't see you behind that second face you're growing."

Rachel sighed, and as usual Mr. Shuesseter defended her. "Rachel, what did you have in mind?"

"Wait," interrupted diva Mercedes Jones, "there is no way in hell I am letting Berry get a solo. How about you kiss my ass while I go a capella and you sing background "oohs" and "aahs" in the dark part of the stage. Way at the back."

"Up top, girl," praised Kurt Hummel, gay as a tap dancing hyena.

"Comon, guys," said Finn Hudson, "we all know Rachel would kill that solo."

"And I would kill Rachel." snapped Mercedes.

"Finn, every time you open your mouth you trigger my gag reflex," said Santana.

"Wait, hold up guys," urged Brittany S. Pierce. "I'm having a brain freeze."

"Britt, you're biting your finger nails," answered Artie Abrams, concerned.

Rachel seemed to be ignoring everything except the sound of her own voice.

"I was thinking of 'I Have Nothing' by the amazing Whitney."

"Hey, Sarah Palin!" snapped Santana. "Nobody cares! And there's no way that you could sing properly now that your giant shnozz is growing by the second. So sit down and shut your yap, cacafuego."

"Santana, can you cool down?" said Finn, raising an eyebrow.

"No, keep going!" enthused Brittany. Then, remembering her brain freeze, closed her eyes in pain.

Santana glared at Finn.

"No, Corpulent, I will not cool down. Every session is about Rachel and I'm sick of it. Then there's butt-basher," gesturing to Kurt, "who purrs like a kitten when he speaks and makes my ears bleed, Trouty Mouth who probably uses his pie hole for the same uses as Mr. Cashmere," gesturing to Blaine Anderson, "Mr. Shue who always brings his sexually-repressed self to lessons, Puck who is always staring emptily as if he's trying to get hard, Bob Marley," gesturing to Joe, "who cut my eye when he whipped his hair like Willow Smith..." she paused.

"Are you done?" said Mr. Shue angrily.

"Oh no, mija. I'm never done. And don't even get me started on foetus face," she stared at Finn. "I mean, first of all, you have a girlfriend who can probably smell the coffee beans in Brazil, you're always so damn quick at trying to solve problems that would have not occured without you, and you smell like hot dog water every day. I've thought alot about your looks and I've come to the conclusion that when you were born, your face was on fire and the nurses put it out with a shovel."

"Stop it, Santana." cut Rachel.

"You're right," said Santana. "I'm sorry, Lumps the Clown. I don't need to find ways to insult you when nature has clearly beat me to it."