My muse said she had a horrible day, so despite my wanting to take four days off, I put my nose to the grindstone and pounded out this chapter. Have a better day today, sweetheart! Happy Chinese New Year!

This Is

"Want to go out and celebrate?" Puck said, his hands tucked firmly into his pockets. The light in his eyes defied his nonchalance, however, and Kurt looked up at him, smiling shyly.

"Actually, I kind of want a quiet night."

"Oh, come on, dude. We both just got golden tickets to the most wonderful place on earth-"

"-Disneyland?"

"-No, Hollywood, sheesh."

Kurt grinned at him. Puck shoved him, rolling his eyes.

"And we should go out together."

Kurt looked up at him, half-memorising the shape of his face, the line of his jaw, and blinking that away as quickly as he could. It wasn't...he was straight, dammitall. And Kurt'd just met him. He could be a psychopath-killer-stalker-rapist, for all he knew. He looked down. Okay, so maybe not a psychopath-killer-stalker-rapist, but still.

"You two should just plain go out!" Sarah called, disrupting Kurt's reverie. He shot a glance over at her, startled, and saw his aunt convulsing in laughter. Kurt scowled at her and pointed at her, his eyes lidded. 'I'm watching you,' he mouthed.

Aunt Olivia let out a burst of explosive laughter, and clapped her hands over her mouth.

"Your aunt is crazy," Puck said, quirking an eyebrow at Kurt.

Kurt fought not to swoon. That was a sinful expression. Sinful. No. No, Kurt Hummel, you will not do the stupid thing like you did with Matt in high school and fall for a guy you barely know, just because he looks cool. And then you'll find out that he doesn't like you that way and you'll ruin a perfectly good friendship by being all stalkery like and coming on way-way-way too strong. No, Kurt Hummel. Be still, oh, be still my beating heart! Oh, good. Kurt took a deep, calming breath. I succeeded.

"Kurt, Kurt. You all right?" Puck said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

And...failed. Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh he's touching me!

Inner Kurt did a happy dance.

"What? Oh, oh, I'm alright." Kurt smiled up at him.

"Tell you what. You two, come over to our place. I've got booze all over the place, and Kurt here rarely drinks. You should see him when he's wasted. Most hilarious videos I've taken in my life-"

"Aunt Olivia!"

Puck chuckled, and Kurt instantly felt heat rush into his face. And slightly further down. Sarah laughed and hid it behind her hand, clinging to Aunt Olivia.

"You know what?" Sarah said. "You're my new best friend already!"

Aunt Olivia grinned. "You and me, we're going to be matchmakers."

Puck sank his forehead into his hands. "Why do I feel the end of the world approach?"

"Don't be silly, Puck," Aunt Olivia said. "The end of the world was three years ago. We're in the future."

"I like to live in the present," Puck said. "Which is why your offer of coming over to your place sounds like a good 'un. We'll be there."

"Great. We live at Taft Avenue, Northeast..."

After Kurt and Olivia had left, Sarah walked backward, her face serious.

"Puck."

"Yeah?"

"Kurt can never meet our mother."

Puck looked away, up at the buildings surrounding the Georgia Dome, at the bright sky overhead.

"I know, but...if he goes as far as I think he will, she'll get to know him anyway. All of America will."

"...You have that much confidence in him from one line?"

"Yes." Puck laid a hand on her shoulder, and looked into her eyes. I believe in Kurt. "I do."

This is...American Idol.

Skyline. More skyline.

Shot high above New York, all the neons and lights flashing on and off in quick sequence, the cars on the roads a blur of yellows lights and fire, red flares-fire. The clouds in the night quickly pass by, budding and forming, and the black sky turns orange-purple, then to blue.

It is dawn.

Shots cut between the two audition buildings for the Five Boroughs, each with massive crowds outside.

In Manhattan, the Scrivener Building.

The Bronx. Errant Floors.

New York, New York. The City That Never Sleeps. American Idol doesn't sleep either, and I can tell you that most of us didn't sleep for a week organising this. But this, this is an American Idol first.

For the first time, all five boroughs of New York City have two places to audition in. This frees up places for people who couldn't make it to other auditions to come in here.

And man, the crowds are big. But that's only to be expected from the Big Apple.

Now, New York has given us a ton of famous musicians, and singers. Perhaps the next American Idol will be here, in New York.

Start spreading the news...okay, okay, I'll stop singing.

And anyway,

camera pans over the massive crowd at the Scrivener Building

I get the feeling that the news has already been spread.

It's 9 o' clock in the morning, but Sandy clearly hasn't had his beauty sleep yet.

Shot of Sandy, with bags under his eyes and yawning, pushing the camera away

"I...need...sleeeeeeep."

Shannon, rolling her eyes, and lifting him with one hand

"Come on, Sandy. When the kids start singing, their shrieks will wake you up."

"Zzzzz..."

Ho-okay. So who's going to act as Sandy's alarm clock?

Meet today's first contestant, Judy Santiago. If you remember, she's a returnee from Season 13, when she ad-libbed half of Another One Rides The Bus at the judges.

"Hi, Ryan!"

"Hi, Judy. So, what are you going to sing for us this season?"

"Well...I've recently gotten into comedy songs."

Recently? Wait, she sang that first one seriously? Oh, my.

"...I see."

"It's a secret, what I'm going to sing!"

"Okay. Well, you head on in."

"Thanks, Ryan. I'll see you in Hollywood!"

That's a...little confident, isn't it?

Judy walked into the room.

"You."

"Hi, Sue!"

"Zzzzz..."

"Wake up, Sandy."

"Leave him alone, Shannon, he needs his sleep."

"And why bother waking up anyway? It's this girl. I might take a nap myself."

Judy looked insulted.

"Hey! I'm funny this year."

"You're funny every year. If you were any 'funnier' I'd call up the Special Foundation and tell them they lost a retard."

"SUE."

Judy pouted.

"Aren't you going to listen to my song?"

"Zzzzzz..."

"Okay, what are you singing for us today?"

"Thanks, Will." She smiled prettily. "I'm going to sing 'Sugarlumps' by Flight Of The Conchords."

"Flight of the Conchords?" Shannon's eyes opened widely. "Well." She settled back into her seat, arms crossed.

"She likes that sort of thing."

"I do." Shannon made a gesture. "Go on."

Judy took a breath.

"I see you girls checkin' out my trunks, checkin' out the front of my trunks..."

Will winced as the girl warbled her way through a deadpan semi-comedic song, singing it like an opera star. Albeit one without the opera quality. Or the 'star'.

"My sugarlumps are two of a kind - sweet and white and highly refined-"

"Stop...just stop."

"Huh? But I had the rest of the song to go!"

"Sweetheart, do you know what that song was about?"

"Coffee?"

Shannon hit her forehead with her hand.

"It's about sugar though, isn't it?"

"Based on grounds of sheer stupidity, I am going to say no. Greasehair?"

Will glared at Sue, then softened his look as he turned to face Judy. "I'm sorry, but the singing wasn't good enough-"

"And I took his sugarlumps and put 'em up in a display, and sold 'em as hacky sacks later that day-"

Will pressed his knees together and grimaced in pain.

"You listen to this?" he hissed at Shannon.

"It's funnier in context. No. You're not going through."

"It's a no from me, too, I'm sorry."

"That's three. Can you count? Out. Get out now."

Judy walked out the door.

"They'll pay! They'll pay! ALL THE LADIES, THEY WANT A TASTE OF MY SUGARLUMPS!"

"Oh, my God. That was horrible."

"I've heard worse from my gynaecologist after he sees the state of my-"

"-NEXT!" Shannon bellowed, desperately.

"Zzzzz..."

So it seems that despite her assurances of being funny, Judy took leaving rather seriously.

"BEEP YOU. BEEP YOU ALL. YOU CAN ALL GO AND BEEP YOURSELF! MOTHERBEEPKERS!"

"Ohh...my head."

Although despite her failure to get to Hollywood, she seems to have succeeded in being an alarm clock.

"It...hurts."

"Disgraceful. Disgraceful."

"Sue!"

"Ow. Stop shouting?"

"If a man can't take his drink, what sort of a man is he?"

"It's a natural affliction, Sue, not everyone's tolerance is as high as yours!"

"You managed to drink him under the table."

Oh-hokay. We didn't need to know that. Judges...partying...(finishes, strangled) -nightmares...

This is Manhattan, largest of the five boroughs in New York City. Wall Street is here. But although the country is finally recovered from the Great Recession, we're...not exactly striking it rich here.

What better way to talk about this recession than John Mackenzie, a thirty-one year old accountant?

"Hello."

"What are you singing today, John?"

"...It's a bit ironic, but I'm singing 'Bills, Bills, Bills'."

"You're right, that's a bit ironic. Ah," Ryan said, tapping his earphone. "There's the signal. Go on and head in."

"You're an accountant, and you're singing Bills, Bills, Bills. Doesn't that...kind of...go against what you're all about?"

"I just like the song."

"Isn't it by Destiny's Child?"

"I'm going to sing that high."

"Mm-hm. Go on. This could be interesting."

"At first we started out real cool, cool."

'cool', a crowd of people around a boombox exclaim.

a brunette in a green tube-top "-Taking me pla-aaaaaces I ain't never be-eeee-eeeen-"

"Ungggh. Ow. My eaaars."

A black man screeching in falsetto "-And now you ask to use my car,"

car, another crowd of people exclaim.

A blonde painted in the style of a cat "-Drive it all day and don't fill up the tank-"

can you pay my bills

can you pay my telephone bills

can you pay my automo'bills

then maybe we can chill

"-I don't think you do, so you and me are through-"

"-You and me are throooooooooooooooough-"

"Sue!"

"It's true. And I did a better job of singing it than you did, girl with the pointy ears and butt-plug tail. So you can gerron out that door because you are not going to Hollywood."

"It's true," Sandy shrugged.

Although the bills seem to be piling up, maybe with this girl, we can strike the jackpot?

"H-hi, I'm T-Tina."

"Hi, T-Tina."

The gothically-dressed girl bit her lip and looked down.

"Well, that made me feel bad. I'm sorry, Tina. What are you going to sing for the judges today?"

"I-I Kissed A Girl."

Ryan looked at her. He clearly thought about it. Looked at her again.

"Good luck. I think you'll need it."

"Hi, I'm T-Tina. I'm t-tw-twenty-t-two years old, and I'll b-be singing 'I K-Kissed A Girl'."

"You will, will you," Sue said. "From the way you dress, I'd think that you'd have gone a little further than kissing."

"SUE!"

"I'm only speaking the truth, Shampoo."

"-I kissed a girl, and I liked it, the taste of her cherry chapstick-"

"Nnngh!"

"Sandy..."

"I think that's enough out of you, Ryerson."

Tina uncrossed her legs and hopped off the table in front of Sandy, running her finger down his face as she went, grinning hard.

"Nnnnghff."

"Well, since Sandy seems to have been rendered incapable of speech, I'm going to venture a yes. You're a good singer, and the stutter seems to have vanished."

"Th-thank you."

"-Spoke too soon," Will groaned. "I think you'll go quite far, anyway. It's a yes from me."

"No," Shannon said, her arms crossed. "You're too unpolished with your voice. You were pitchy, all over the place. I'd say, come back again next year."

"Sandy?"

"Y-y-y-y-yeees!"

"Great. If I have to deal with that for the rest of the day, you will pay...in Hollywood."

"Wh-What?" Tina said, her eyes wide. "I'm-I'm g-going to Hollywood?"

"Yep," Will said, after casting a glance at his fellow judge. "Welcome to Hollywood!"

"Thank you! Thank you thank you th-thank you!"

Well, there's one singer h-happy. But we've still got an entire day to go.

Coming up, after the break: While Manhattan struggles to impress our judges, The Bronx is getting ready to rock and roll.

"Waaaaaaaaaauuuugh!"

"Ohhhhhh YEEEEAH!"

Sped up vertical pans of the Scrivener Building; people leaning out over the observation decks waving quickly vanish inside in streams, while dejected people appear out the bottom in crowds, some swearing and making censored gestures as they walk away. Little celebrations form and dissipate as the sun overhead races towards the horizon, and the sky darkens to a purplish-red before the camera slows again.

"How are you feeling, guys?"

"How are you still so peppy, Ryan?" Sandy asked, supporting his head as he staggered out of the building. Behind them, the security guards are already locking up.

"He's an overgrown midget," Sue said. "Midgets have their own innate power. That's why it's legal and safe to launch them out of cannons. Since Ryan managed to get a little more height, he has more energy. That just means," Sue smirked, "That when I finally fire you out of a cannon, you'll go further than the other seventeen."

"Er..."

The Bronx. We're on the thirteenth floor of the Errant Floors building.

"Oh please oh please we're on the thirteenth floor I don't want to die-"

"Sandy, shut up."

The Bronx is home to Edgar Allan Poe's Cottage. But are the contestants as spooky as that?

Shot of a man made up in KISS makeup

Shot of a woman dressed up like a drag queen witch

Shot of twenty-one people body-painted as two flamingos, a crab, and eighteen foxes.

...Er...maybe.

But this is a singing competition, and maybe we'll find someone.

"AIIIIII CAAAAAN CLIIIIMB MOOOUNTAINS!"

Someone.

"-AIN'T NO RIVER WAAAAAHD ENOUGH!"

Someone.

In a monotone: "-Running up that hill, no problems."

Anyone.

"-Dri-hi-hi-hinking wh'ite wine in the suuuun-"

Anyone?

"Hi, Ah'm Mercedes Jones, and Ah'm from the Bronx. Ah grew up near to some rough neighbourhoods, but Ah've been singin' all my life. People come to respect me, y'know? With a body like mine, an' a voice like mine, Ah'm definitely gonna be the next American Idol."

"You certainly are confident, Mercedes."

"You bet Ah am."

"So, what are you singing for us today, Mercedes?"

"Ah'm singin' Respect, Aretha Franklin's version."

"Respect, huh. You're going to have to earn mine, fattie. I've heard that song too many times to count."

"Oh-ho," Mercedes said. "You gonna love my rendition." She sucked in a breath.

"Ooh, what you want, baby Ah got it- what'chu need, do you know Ah got it?"

Sandy began to bob in his seat, smiling a little bit and clicking as he swayed from side to side.

"Ooh, all Ah'm askin' - is for a little respect when you come home (just a little bit) Hey baby, when you ge-e-e-e-e-e-t home-"

"Whoo!" Will said, grinning broadly and clapping in time as he began to bob from side to side.

Sue glanced at him and crossed her arms. Shannon crossed her arms as well, but a small smile crossed her lips.

"-R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me, R-E-S-P-E-C-T, take care, TCB! Ooooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ooh-ooh-yeah! Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-yeaaaaaaaah! Oh! Oh! Oh, oh, yeeeeah!"

"Yeah!" Sandy and Will cheered, and shared a high five over the top of Shannon's head.

Shannon scowled at both of them.

"Stop," Sue said, looking directly at Mercedes. "What would you do if you won American Idol?"

"Umm...Ah don't know."

"Hn."

"I'm going to spend my vote carelessly and tell you you've earned my respect, Mercedes! Yes from me! Will?"

"It's a yes from me too. Whoo! What a solo! You've got lungs, girl!"

"Thanks, Mr. Schue."

"Aww, Will, she gave you a nickname!"

"Oh, be quiet," Shannon said. She studied Mercedes closely for a second. "You're a girl after my own heart. Yes."

"Sue?"

"...I don't think you're cut out to be our American Idol, fat black woman, but you're better than most of these other beeps that're coming through the door. You're through."

"Yes! YES! THANK YOU! Ah'll see you in Hollywood!"

So while our own Aretha Franklin celebrates, let's see who else the judges've picked from New York.

quick flashes of all the faces

So in total, fifty-one people were chosen from New York (thirty-four from Manhattan, and seventeen from the Bronx), to match the twenty-five that Atlanta gave us. Next week, we go to a little state that we like to call...Texas.

Stay tuned, to American Idol.