"And according to the quiz, Sam, you are lace panties, Britt's a g-string, and I get the honor of being that chick that goes commando."

"Wait. There's no way I got lacy panties. I'm boxer briefs all the way! My answers should totally reflect that."

"Maybe I changed some of your answers, Samantha."

"These quizzes are so dumb anyway. I mean, What Kind of Underwear Are You? How does that describe your personality?"

"It says here that lacy panties are either super whipped, super gay, or both."

"That just described you, Santana! This is bullshit."

"Eh, it is what it is. Now get them panties on, it's Trivia Night at Breadstix and we gotta stop by the Pierces' house first."


Mrs. Pierce might be the nicest lady ever. She's got a plate full of chocolate chip cookies just waiting for them when they get there. Brittany greets her mom and Santana makes a beeline for Brit's little sister, Bailey, scooping her up into a hug. Sam just stands around for a minute taking in his surroundings until Mrs. Pierce introduces herself.

"And you must be Sam. I've heard so many nice things about you from Brittany. I must say, your lips don't look nearly as big as Santana described them though."

"Thanks, Mrs. Pierce," he replies unsurely.

"Oh heavens, just call me Paige. My husband, Hector, should be home from work anytime now. You know, there was a time this year when Brittany and Santana weren't getting along too well and I was wondering if you knew anything about that. I just figured they both had a crush on you, but Brittany insists that's not the case."

"Mom!" Brittany squeals.

"We can always chat later, Sam," Paige whispers as she pats him on the shoulder, "Brittany usually tells me everything, but for the life of me, I can't figure why they had a falling out. They've always been inseparable. It's the cutest thing. I have tons of pictures of the two of them, if you'd like to see."

"Quit embarrassing the girls, sweetheart," says Mr. Pierce who walks in the door at that moment, "There's plenty of time for that at… Trivia!"

"So Santana, what's Noah up to these days?" Mr. Pierce asks once everyone is safely buckled in the Pierces' minivan.

Her casual reply is, "Probably trying to suck his own D-I-C-K."

Sam winces. At least this time she has the decency to spell it out. Bailey thankfully doesn't hear.

"Cousin Randy was going to come," Brittany tells Sam, "But I misplaced his bike and my uncle was too busy feeding the goats to give him a ride."


"Two to five people per team. No exceptions."

Asshole.

"She's eight!" Santana gestures towards Bailey, "How much useless knowledge do you think she has?"

The Pierces, however, don't argue. Sam doesn't either. Santana is the only one outraged by this injustice, apparently.

"No exceptions. Two to five people per team. That's the rule. Now there are six of you so I'd suggest splitting up into two teams. Or three. I don't really care. But two to five people per team. Two to fi-"

"Yeah we get it," Santana snaps, "I've had people fired here before. I can do it again."

"I don't work for Breadstix, honey. I work for the company that sponsors trivia."

"Honey? What's your name? I'll get you fired, too."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Saline-a Gomez?" says an oddly familiar voice, "Striking fear in the heart of your opponent isn't enough. You have to crush their spirit, too."

"Coach Sylvester?" Brittany scratches her head.

Sue nods and acknowledges them, "Brittany. Top Heavy. You. Other blondes I vaguely recognize."

"You like trivia?" Brittany asks.

"Why yes, I do. Usually I only care if the questions are about me, but I made an exception considering I have my eyes on this week's prize. Seeing how Becky made plans with her mom tonight, it looks like I need a team of young, fresh-minded idiots to compete with me."

"Fine," Santana blurts out before they have a chance to discuss it, "You can be with me, Brit, and Sam. We split the winnings evenly."

"Titillating, but don't think this means I like any of you. I especially don't like you, S. All that potential is gone to waste."

Sam can see Santana's balled up fists and he knows she's ready to lash out, but Brittany's already whispering soothing words in her ear.

"You don't owe her anything," Brittany murmurs as she runs her fingers through Santana's hair, "There's nothing to prove."

"I know that, Britts," Santana fires back as she wrenches herself from Brittany's embrace, "I just want to win. All I've ever wanted is to win."

Brittany looks at the ground, blinking away a tear that threatens to fall. Sam curses Santana's stupidity.


Despite Santana's refusal to talk, trivia is actually going quite well. Well, kind of. They know some answers to some questions. So far, so good.

"Don't touch that breadstick," Sue warns, "Oh wait, get as fat as you like. I'm not your coach anymore. Lopez, when I pillage and plunder your village in Mexico, think about this: You could've been a contender."

Just like that, Santana's self-imposed silence is broken.

"I'm not Mexican!" she growls.

Sue glares, "Weebles wobble, but they still have FAKE BOOBS."

"What does that even mean?" Santana shouts.

"It means you can take the girl out of Mexico, but you can't take Mexico out of the girl."

Correction: it's going to be a long night.


The rest of the night goes a little something like this:

"The answer is Sue-weden."

"The chambered nautilus."

"The Battle of Bunker Hill? Nope? Okay."

"Its natural habitat is in the subtropical or tropical lowland forests of China, India, Myanmar, and Bhutan. They've also been spotted in Nepal and Vietnam. Duh. That one was easy. Learned that when I was on the Brainiacs."

"Could your hair look any more stupid? Are you aware that I might hate your hair more than I hate Will Schuester's? That's saying something. Why have Bieber fever when you can have the Sue Blues? You know what that is? It's when you're depressed because you're not me."

"Rheumatoid arthritis."

"Eurasianism? That sounds made up."

"Is that Finn and Rachel? Brittany, stop waving, it's not them. Damn, I wish you hadn't thrown out my voodoo doll."

"Excuse me, waiter, I couldn't help but notice that Dots aren't on the menu. How's a couple Abe Lincolns sound in exchange for you getting me some?"

"If I'm not mistaken, the last horse to win the Triple Crown was Seattle Slew, but then again, I'm only thirty. That was probably before I was born."

"If it sounds right just put it down. We're running out of time. Crap! No, not that. Put that other thing you said down. I don't know what it was called! Just put it down. Hurry, Sam!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Okay, so we pretty much narrowed it down to the Tropic of Cancer or the Tropic of Capricorn. Which one should we choose? Is anybody listening to me?"

"How are you wearing that tracksuit in the summer?"

"Oh I know this one. It's a prairie dog. My mom says I'm so good at this because when I was younger I used to eat Trivial Pursuit cards and I absorbed all that information through osmosis. It's five times faster than reading. I think I also wanted to be like my uncle's goats. They eat everything."

"Affirmed? Not Seattle Slew? Eh, like I said earlier, that was before my time. What do you mean 'not really'? If you weren't on my team, I'd kick you in the Seattle Slew."

"I get a lot of my information from Wikipedia. Well, I did before I became homeless."

"The answer's scissor doors. What? I know all things scissors."

"I don't know. Do you know? This question is really bugging me."

"When I said Lincolns, I was talking about pennies. See? That's his face right there. What did you think I meant?"

"Name as many Ohioans in the United States House of Representatives as you can. I grew up in Tennessee. This bonus round is tough."

"We got that question wrong. If it were up to me, you'd be running laps for it, you nasty circus clowns."

"We're currently in third!"

"Yes, I'll have three more baskets of breadsticks and a Screwdriver. And where are my friend's Dots? You promised them like twenty minutes ago."

"Are there ever going to be any music or cat questions?"

"Seriously, it's so hot. You should probably take your tracksuit off unless you're not wearing anything underneath it."

"Real Women Have Curves by Josefina Lopez. Oh shut up! Just because we have the same last name does not mean we're related! No, Jennifer isn't my cousin either!"

"Dad, quit trying to peek at our answers! You're as bad as Lord Tubbington!"

"How dare you! I am only thirty! The senior citizen discount does not apply. Speedy Gonzalez, if you help me get this jackass fired, I will buy you carbs in any shape or form, since you insist on stuffing your face now that you've joined the rest of the mouth breathers."


They manage fifth place out of twelve teams. Sue is not thrilled. Sam is scared of her wrath. Brittany is chewing on Dots. Santana polishes off the last breadstick.

As Sue departs, she tells them, "I am not good with goodbyes so I will leave you with these words: 'After all, tomorrow is another day.'"

"I don't think that's the right context…" Sam begins, but Sue's already walked off the her Le Car.


"Oh my gosh, I just remembered!" Brittany exclaims, "I never broke up with Wes Brody!"