It was a dark and stormy night in Lima, Ohio. Irma Pillsbury and her husband, Bob, were relaxing in their remote little cottage that was placed in the dead centre of a field. You see, Irma may have been a country girl, but her heart belonged in the city; it took her only one trip to New York to convince her that she wanted a glamorous, celebrity life. Unfortunately, she found out she was pregnant with her first child after an intimate evening with the local doctor's son; a strict religious upbringing brought her to not use contraception, but her passion lead her to an intense affair with the man. Her heart wanted her to pack up and move to New York, leaving her small town boy toy back in Lima, but that baby tied her down to the one place she always wanted to leave. So, her she was, sixty five years old, knitting sweaters in the lowly shack she called home, lazily watching television with her good for nothing husband.

"Tea!" Ironically, for a doctor's son and his wife, Bob and Irma didn't really know much about mental health, so what they would call 'forgetfulness', the average man would call Alzheimer's disease. So, instead of getting the old coot committed promptly, Irma reluctantly got up, and went to get him a cup of tea. The kitchen was stacked full of various trinkets from the exquisite places the couple had been in the past; of course, exquisite by Bob's standard. They were the proud owners of a brochure promoting the only town with a dog for a mayor, which Bob had practically died of excitement upon feeding him. Sometimes Irma felt like spiking Bob's tea with something; what, she was human! An entire existence with somebody so suffocatingly boring was sad enough, but now her life was coming to a close, and she still hadn't been able to accomplish all of her dreams. Sure she wasn't going to be an ingenue on Broadway now, but she would like to travel somewhere other than the grocery store every once and a while. "Tea!" This was what she dealt with almost every single day, the moron whining away about one thing or another. She often suspected his hearing was degenerating too, because many of his obnoxious cries were far louder than they needed to be, just like the ridiculously loud television set. As she poured the kettle water into Bob's favorite mug, she glanced around the room, and looked at the portraits of their three children. As much as she hated Bob, and what his raging hormones did to her, she couldn't ever hate her own children, as they were quite wonderful. Well, that was motherhood talking, they were quite average, really, apart from Emma, who happened to be a bit OCD after- "Tea!" There was that starved twenty year old in Irma that wanted to kill the man, and as she watched lightning pass by the house, she prayed something miraculous would happen, and she could finally go to live her dreams. The window filled up with bright beams of light, and Irma was more than stunned by the display. It didn't look like lightning, but what else could it be. "Tea!"

"Coming, old man!" The voice roared out of poor Irma's throat, which probably needed the tea at this point more than the sack of useless rotting away on the living room sofa. "Here is your tea, sweetie."

"Sugar?"

"We're out of sugar, remember?" Of course he didn't, but she didn't want to have this drag on too long. What was the point in telling the guy there was something wrong with him if he was going to forget that as well later? She placed the mug in her husband's shaky hands, and sat down to watch the television.

"... And that's how Sue sees it. Back to you, Rod." Irma couldn't stand that woman. Her youngest daughter told her many a story about the horrible cheerleading coach who always made sure to torture her future son-in-law. Emma, who could actually stand Bob, wanted her father to be there to walk her down the aisle, so Irma begged the lord many a time to just have Will put a ring on it before the old man decayed. "I'm sorry, but I'm being told that for my viewers who happen to be mentally handicapped, I am being asked to tell you about some complete nonsense story that only the insanely superstitious or mental institution inhabitants would believe in the slightest. It appears as if UFO spottings have been reported in this quaint little town; to clarify, in this case, the incredibly uncommon usage of the term is applied, Unidentified Flying Object, as oppose to my patented Ugly, Fat, and Obtuse acronym that has been featured on both CNN and the Twitter page of one Spencer Pratt. I'm already bored of this topic, so, considering Rod's vast experience in doing the horizontal salsa with Andrea, I believe he would be better off to explain what a horrific alien encounter would be like."

"Oh my! Bob, did you hear that? Isn't that just about the craziest thing you've- Bob? Bob!" And just like that, Bob Pillsbury was dead. His decrepit corpse lay sprawled across the living room floor, and, just as he would have wanted it, his tea remained unspilled. At first Irma had an overwhelming panic at the spot of her now deceased husband; what happened, how would the kids feel, isn't this just horrible? But the horrible thing was that when she asked herself how she could live without him, she realized this answer was by finally living.

"I'm glad you came to that conclusion." Irma turned from her husband's dead body to see a remarkably fimiliar face staring right in her direction. The man looked just about her own age, which was quite impossible, because, if you were Irma, he would have looked that way since she was six years old.

"You. I thought you were dead." The man her own age laughed heartily, clearly disconcerted at the sight of the body on the floor.

"You thought wrong. So, ready to finally start living?"

Kurt Hummel hated his life. Not in a suicidal, 'ready to just give up and die' way, but with an active passion that begged to change things. After a mocking bet made by Mercedes, stating that Kurt would pay his best friend $20 for every loving glance he made at Finn in one day, he found himself out $260. Who is that desperate? And it wasn't like things with his future husband (or civil unionized partner) were moving too quickly, or at all. In fact, since the whole 'I Honestly Love You' thing, Finn had stayed out of Kurt's way most of the time in fear of being jumped. Finn's frumpy mother had started seeing Kurt's dad, Burt, but the more and more Kurt thought over this plan, the more it sounded like a terrible idea. So, that and his obvious absence of solos in Glee club resulted in his conclusion that Kurt Hummel hated his life.

"I want to marry that." Kurt jumped from his seat, and turned to see that Finn was gesturing towards Kurt. Finally. He realized his true love was right in front of him all along, and once he could see past Rachel's gargantuan nose, it was clear that- "Kurt, I said 'what are you staring at'?" Great, he did it again. The crazy look of romantic desire that Finn was so afraid of. God, this was like some bad teen romantic comedy, hearing things that weren't actually happening, seeing things that weren't actually happening, like that really cute guy walking into Glee club right now, wait, what? Kurt felt a hand rip into his chest and pull any and all feelings about that ridiculously tall Frankenteen right out, leaving him to stare right at this magnificent creature. Kurt was a good judge of character, so he believed, unless he was incorrect, in which case he was even worse than most people thought. But, if he was right, this mystery guy was sensitive, but not effeminate, strong, but not rough, talented, without a shred of modesty, caring, but not overbearing, and, if his eyes didn't deceive him, hot. It was as if the lights of the choir room had all directed on this new guy, accenting his perfectly chiseled, but not over defined, features. He ran one of his gorgeous hands through his even more gorgeous hair, but then Kurt felt his heart stop; the other hand was in the hand of Rachel, which meant this was Jesse St. James.

"I'll see you later, Rach." The boy gave Rachel a quick hug, while, to Kurt's pleasure, she leaned in for a non-existent kiss. Kurt prayed to whatever god may have existed that he could have a boy like that. Just then, he could have sworn he saw Jesse turn and wink ever so softly at him. His irregular heartbeat sent him swooning over Jesse, but little did he know, that wasn't going to be the only irregular thing in this relationship.