BLAINE: I have arrived! Now you may start your doo-wopping, my less-attractive minions! *tosses papers in air*
PAPERS: What a snob. *disgruntled muttering*
WARBLERPODS: Huzzah! A purpose in life! *harmonizing* BUM BA DA BUM…
INVISIBLE DRUM MACHINES: Here they go again…
KURT: I AM DISENCHANTED.
BLAINE: Is something wrong, my gay little pony?
KURT: I'm in love with you, asshole.
BLAINE: Haha, I do not recognize your increasingly desperate stairs or advances. So what's really wrong?
KURT: Well, you could scooch your dapper ass outta the spotlight and give the rest of us COUGH *ME* a chance.
BLAINE: (dapperly) Ha ha ha ha! Oh, how you amuse me, Kurtey-dear. Not a chance, bitch.
SCENE CHANGE
QUINZILLA: IMMAH DO A MONOLOGUE ABOUT HOW GREAT I AM. And, in case we haven't rehashed this plot enough, I HATE YOU RACHEL BERRY!
AUDIENCE: Bitch, nobody cares.
SCENE CHANGE
KURT: It's so nice to have someone to talk to.
PAVORATTI: *dead.*
BACK IN WARBLERLAND
KURT: Oh my FRIEND! My one and only COMRADE! God, my BREAKING HEART.
DATASIANDUDE: *Proffers Kleenex.* That's right, let it out, hon. We suddenly believe in emotion.
CONTINUITY: Hey, didn't you guys insinuate that you'd, I dunnaknow, fuckin MURDER him if the bird died?
DATASIANDUDE: SHUTUP.
KURT: I'm just so distraught. Howabout I sing a solo in front of you all? Pavarotti would have wanted it.
WARBLERS: Isn't that kinda exploitive—
KURT: GREAT, you agree. LAAAAAA…
AUDIENCE: That's right, Kurt, sing ANOTHER bloody song to him…not that anything's gonna happen…goddamn bloody Hobbit…
BLAINE: What is this feeling? Deep inside me? *looks down at lap* WHY, you've never done THAT before!
AUDIENCE: Wait, was that a moment? FUCK!
BACK AT MCKINLEY
SCHUESTER: Guys, for plot purposes, we're NOT gonna be able to repeat a single one of the songs we've been NOT practicing for regionals.
NUDE ERECTIONS: Wait, you don't think it's…
SUESPLOSION: ME! Now time for chapter four of Sue's Sexual Exploits!
SCHU-MAN: I got places to be, sorry.
RACHEL: Howzabout we write songs!
NUDE ERECTIONS: fat chance, you frumpy ho! Nobody loves you!
QUINN + DUMBASS: Yah, I guess we could.
NUDE ERECTIONS: That sounds like a FANTASTIC idea, now that The Bitchy Blonde One and the Village Idiot have supported it!
BRIT: I thought I was the Village Idiot…
SANTANA: I NEVER LOVED YOU. (cue sappy piano track 1)
SANTANA: and STOP HAUNTING ME, SAPPY MUSIC!
WARBLERLAND
BLAINE: You know what guys? Suddenly I don't want to have the spotlight all to myself anymore.
WARBLERPODS: oh HAPPY DAY! Finally, a chance to shine! A chance to SING! LAAAA—
BLAINE: You are neither hot nor gay, STFU. KURT, you are the one that I DESIRE.
AUDIENCE: Was that more of that foreshadowing stuff?
CHOIR ROOM
SCHU: let's all work together and write us some hits! As teenagers, I fully expect you all to produce ART.
VARIOUS MEMBERS: We already wrote em! LAAAAAA… (many bad bad songs here)
VARIOUS MEMBERS: So how were they?
SCHUESTER: Suddenly I had a flashback to sex with Terri. God...Kay kids, let's try it again. We'll start easy: What rhymes with orange?
LOCKERS
QUINNY-POO: *Angelically* I love you SO much and we're gonna look SO pretty and I just can't wait for prom—
FINN: I dunnaknow…what about the Frumpy One? She's still in love with me and shit.
SCARYQUINN: YOU WILL DATE ME NOW, BITCH.
FINN: OK!
RACHEL: *prerequisite longing stare*
AUDIENCE: BOO, whore.
IN THE SECOND OF DALTON'S TWO ROOMS
KURT: *humming* boys, boys, boys, we like boys in cah-ars, boys boys boys, buy us drinks in bah-ars…
BLAINE: Hey Kurt, were you busy doing something gay? Well never mind that now, for I have a SPEECH!
KURT: Okay, what's u—
BLAINE: I LOVE YOU.
KURT: Wait, wha-*GETS HOT GAY KISS*
BLAINE: Um…so we should do something practical now…
KURT: I think I'm pregnant…
FANGIRLS: Now it's time for the SEX, right?
SCENE CHANGE
DOLLFACE & FANGIRLS: Damn.
NUDE ERECTIONS: We don't know how to write songs…
SCHU: I know, let's write a song about our FEELINGS!
NUDE ERECTIONS: aaaah, magic!
AUDITORIUM
RACHEL: I'm so glad we could be friends, Quinn-
QUINN: Kay Ho, you need a wake-up call. He is past the schoolgirl fetish. So GTFO. I will have him now, I will have him tomorrow, and I will be making many mildly attractive children with him while you use the sweaters you knitted for your 14 cats to dry your pathetic spinster tears.
AUDIENCE: Day-uhm.
RACHEL: GOD, THE PAIN. I will now have a depressed song-writing sequence.
KURT: Here, you can have the Kleenex.
SCENE CHANGE TO REGIONALS
KURT: Holy shit. HOLY shit. OmiPrada, OmiPrada-
BLAINE: Don't be nervous, my love, we can engage in carnal activities offscreen later.
FANFIC AUTHORS: Don't we know it.
KURT + BLAINE: LAAAAA...
OHIO CONSERVATIVES: FINALLY! The sodomites have revealed themselves! For overused-plot purposes, grab your pitchforks! We gonna roast us SOME GAYS-(conservatives get hogtied and locked in a closet offstage)
NEW DIRECTIONS TIME
RACHEL'S EYEBROWS: oh boy, it's Scrunchin' Time!
* EMOTIONAL SONG IS EMOTIONAL. *
TORN LESBIAN: Yeah, ho, sing it. Like your problems are so damn bad. I'll just SWAY.
COMBAT BOOTS: Thank god we're in the next song...
LOSERS: LAAAA, WE LOVE OURSELVES, LAAAA, AUTOTUNINESS, LAAAA, CLICHES, LAAAA...
COMBAT BOOTS: See? After hearing that, you're really grateful we're here, aren't you?
KURT: Oh look what I found in my Mary Poppins Bag! *flings projectiles*
RANDOM VOICE: That hit me in the EYE.
AUDIENCE (ONSCREEN): It's just a jump to the lef-Aw, damn. Well, we are standing now. *GOES WILD*
FANGIRLS: It's like they're singing MY HEART.
SCENE CHANGE
JUDGES: Like you don't already know.
BACK ONSTAGE
KIDS IN COMBAT BOOTS: We won! We won! EAT THAT, YOU WARBLER ASSHO-
SCHU: TV-14, GUYS!
KIDS IN COMBAT BOOTS: Good show, all around.
SCHU: YEAH, IMMAH TALKIN TO YOU, SUE! WHY DON'T YOU SUCK ON THAT, YOU CALLOUS WHO-
VERY ABRUPT SCENE CHANGE
KURT: (looking solemnly at grave) I'll miss him.
BLAINE: Hey, it's not all bad. We could be doing this for our kids someday.
KURT: ...what?
BLAINE: I meant, we could be doing this...for the old people we sing to...someday.
KURT: Oh Blaine...you just know how to make me feel-MAGICAL...
FANGIRLS: Parksex, Parksex, Parksex...
CREDITS
FANGIRLS: DAMN.