Hey,

I am a self-processed Glee maniac, honestly it is not healthy. I'm British but have made my poor rentals pay for me to fly to America numerous times to watch Glee Live even though I saw it in England too :S And then I've been to watch 'How to Succeed in Business'… So, it is strange to think I've never written any Glee fanfiction, but this is my debut into the world of Glee. I've read so much great fanfiction and I've been inspired so here it goes…

So here it goes: my journey into the next year at William McKinley High School…

Sue Sylvester.

Dear Journal,

As I've always expected, it has happened. Sue Sylvester, pin up girl and cheerleading coach extraordinaire, has been forced into hiding. It was always a matter of time with my celebrity status journal; the paparazzi have been hounding my every footstep: eager to know the identity of my soon-to-be daughter's- who resides in my fruitful 31 year old womb, despite what black recipe Sue may say- father and as I've said from the beginning it will remain a mystery, until my cover and 7 page spread in 'US Weekly'. Oh Journal, it is only months until I give birth and I couldn't be happier to say that despite allegations my unborn child is not any of the following:

A mutant vampire freak;

A fully grown adult, or

The second coming of the Messiah.

I will give birth to a child, who is as phenomenal as her youthful, charming mother: I am Sue Sylvester after all with my flawless bone structure (cheekbones as sharp as glass) and my uncanny ability to breed champions (7 consecutive years of leading my Cheerio's to becoming National Champions, as you know journal: we do NOT talk of that one year when William Schuester sabotaged my team with his incredibly abysmal rendition of Michael Jackson's 'Thriller'. N/B: Never allow Schuester to murder any songs created by musical legends: Madonna, MJ etc.) And if anyone ever dares question my ability to create champions I point out Exhibit A: This year I have managed to defend my role of Cheerleading Coach against one of my many arch nemesis' Roz Washington (Black Recipe Sue) by performing a miracle, hence the rumours that my daughter is the second coming of the Messiah, as I lead the bunch of misfits and losers called 'New Directions' to their only National Championship. (My brief coaching of Aural Intensity doesn't count journal)

Despite the miracle I performed Journal; it is merely another thing to add to my list of achievements, which include: Being a Special Ops soldier in the great misunderstanding of My Lai and the capture of General Noriega, having not eaten a solid meal since 1987, trying (twice) to establish the USA as a monarchy, taught a cheerleading seminar to a young Sarah Palin and learnt to stop my own pulse and act as my own dentist as part of my CIA training. (* for a full resume of my epic achievements see my memoir 'I'm a Winner and You're Fat' which is yet to be published.)

Oh journal, however out of character it seems I have been taken by a strange sense of melancholy (similar to when I accidentally ingested those horse tranquilisers as I partied with the Rolling Stones), I blame this on the self prescribed medley of artificial hormones or potentially that folic acid prescribed by my actual doctor. When I should be feeling a triumph; I have won a victory that I have eagerly anticipated for the past three years, the end of the blasted GLEE CLUB. My hormones are raging and unless I am mistaken I think I may actually miss the dearly departed:

Q, the young, almost stunning blonde who reminds me of myself (with the exception of the cheekbones of course) my head cheerleader. Off to Yale, another way she reminds me of myself, with the vast intelligence although I attribute my own intelligence to better causes than obtaining a degree from an Ivy League college.

Sweet, sweet Porcelain who's girly voice contributed to a win at Nationals with the Celine Dion medley (original Sue Sylvester idea, I've had it trademarked; although my canon idea was far superior.) I also admit to the slanderous marks I made regarding his father and his baboon heart and marrying the donkey although I stand by the fact that there is no substantial evidence to prove otherwise.

Monique/Wheezy, one of the most powerful voices; I almost leant her one pair of my personally customised track shoes seeing as she does so many vocal runs. (Terrible shame she couldn't drop the weight to maintain her place amongst the cheerio's (if only she would of listened to my advice to drink only a cocktail of salt, eucalyptus oil and the innards of a squirrel, but alas she didn't… her loss) But alas she is a diva and her powerful lungs, which helped us win the Hunger Games of show choir championships.

Santana and her sandbags, oh her vicious words and attitude born from her upbringing in the fearsome Lima Heights Adjacent, I will miss her acidic putting down of other students although she may not be as eloquent as myself, although her fiery attitude and sassy nature were born from me. Her lesbianism with our much loved clueless Brittany just seems to enhance her lovability. Oh another one of my Cheerio's have left the building, well… at least I've still got Brittany.

Frankenteen, and all of his excessive/pointless height! Oh, although he may look constipated when he sings, he is so talented. After being pregnant for an indeterminate number of months I still recognise his passion and everything that makes the freakishly tall monstrosity: 'Glee'.

Puck and his monstrosity of a Mohawk which I campaigned to make illegal in the early 90's, with his bad ass attitude and swag; well the halls of McKinley will be safer, especially for the young girls. I remember a short affair with Jared Leto I had in 2003, well there really is something about men with guitars. (Reminder to everybody: I am not a friend of Eve, men are the one's who get the pulse racing in my boudoir.)

Then other Asian, oh with his slick moves could have been a Cheerio but instead wasted his time with football and Glee: Pointless waste of talent but unless I'm mistaken his gone to live with Tibetan monks somewhere so it seems he has pulled full focus on his Asian heritage, and I sincerely applaud him for that although if he tries to begin some Asian terrorist movement alongside North Korea, well lets say I will have no problem taking him down with my Special Ops/ CIA training.

Finally, there is that little dwarf girl, Oh was it Berry? All I know it that her middle name is Barbara, and I only know that because she truly does have the nose for it. But she is tenacious I'll give the little gremlin that, but not as tenacious as myself obviously.

Now journal, allow me to ask a simple question: What am I meant to do now? Without the Glee Club to antagonise and destroy, I have very little to do with my time now and although it sounds pleasant I am dreading the day that I can walk the halls of McKinley without the awful racket of show tunes generated by William Schuester and his horrific excuse for a school club. They call it glee; well it sure as hell isn't glee for my ears Journal: I've had chronic irrigation four times, and three of those times were to clear my ear canals; it truly is that awful.

Sue Sylvester without a Glee Club to destroy is like David without his Goliath and well me without a National Championship: It is completely preposterous and it causes a strange sensation in my chest as though I'm suffering some mild coronary: Which cannot be true because I have yet to see The Beast topple over from a heart condition and I have on good authority that she is entering the after life long before I. Actually, I don't trust Schuester not to rally a new band of conventional misfits and morons; encouraging them to torment the remainder of the student body with their incessant singing (I have had 6 ear drum transplants to date and I do not count on having a seventh.) Well if this is the case than I must warn the man with the curly hair, like a forest inhabited by birds that lay sulphurous eggs well then I can only give a serious warning: William Schuester, prepare yourself to be laid to waste by a hormonally charged Sue Sylvester.

Prepare for WORLD WAR SUE!

This is a prologue of sorts and will be the shortest chapter, but I would really appreciate knowing what you think in regards to the story! Any points for improvement, constructive criticisms… Let me hear it. REVIEW.

Thanks,

Lawrence xoxo