I know there is absolutely no excuse for our neglect. There isn't. So I won't make them (except to blame the muse as always), hang my head in shame, post this and hope you'll forgive.

It wasn't like BJ had never been here before. She was here just a few months ago for Uncle Will's retirement concert, and she'd visited a couple of times since then, picking Aunt Leah, Auntie M or Aunt Tina up from work whenever Papa and Daddy came to visit for lunch. She'd been here at least once a year whenever her parents came home, so the halls of William McKinley High School were familiar grounds, but she'd never been here when the halls were so, well…crowded.

Never, during any of those times that she visited, did she think she'd actually be a student here. Getting up at 6:30 most mornings and heading to the field bright and early for practices for a month was bad enough, but the fact that her honorary aunts had to pull a lot of favors to even allow Coach Braylen to let her try out at all was NOT helping her popularity with her teammates.

So by the time the first day of school came around, her usual coping mechanism of keeping her head down and not standing out wasn't working so well. And Dave Karofsky, Jr. had already hit on her once.

"You," a blonde in a McKinley Cheerio uniform barked at her.

"Look. I've been here all of fifteen minutes," BJ said with a harassed sigh. "I don't see HOW I could've possibly pissed anyone off yet."

"Dave's mine," she said. "And everybody knows it. So hands off!"

"What the hell?" BJ said, starting to walk away, but the girl and her friends blocked her path.

"Consider this a warning, New Kid," One of them said. "We heard about Karofsky hitting on you when Nude Erections had their little reunion concert."

"Oh please, at least you people could be original. Do you know I've been hearing it called that since I was like, two?"

"Yeah, well, Dave can't have her because she's taken, Marjorie," Neil said, draping his arm around her. "So you don't have anything to worry about, okay? Bug off!"

"Well, well, well, Lei," a girl who could've passed for Aunt Britt's stunt double said. "Looks like someone finally got a beard!"

"I was taking care of myself just fine," BJ mumbled under her breath, but Neil just tightened his grip.

"Come on, dumpling," he said. "We'll be late for class."

"DUMPLING? Ok, you fail as a boyfriend. We are officially broken up."

"Aaaaw, schnookums!"

"Look, Muffy…" BJ began, ignoring Neil.

"That's MARJORIE."

"Whatever. Same diff. You and Dave deserve each other, as far as I'm concerned. Congratulations to you both. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get to class."

"I can't believe you already pissed off Marjorie Barrington," Neil said. "And to think, you've only been here fifteen minutes! I think that's some kind of record!"

"You really didn't have to pull the knight in shining armor act, Neil," BJ said, rummaging through her backpack. She pulled out a picture of the Chicago skyline as the homeroom bell began to ring.

"You're still homesick, aren't you?" Neil asked.

BJ shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'm stuck in this Podunk little town for the next three years whether I like it or not."

"You'll get used to it," he said. "Just give it some time."

"Yeah, well, that's what Grandma said to Daddy about my black room, and he still tapes color chips up on the wall as subtle hints."

"Hey, at least he let you keep the purple hair without much complaint."

"Come on, Dumpling," she said, narrowing her eyes. "We'll be late for the first day of class.

It had taken the rest of the summer, but Kurt was FINALLY settled into his new office. Hammering in the last nail of the 'Kurt Hummel Designs' sign on the white picket fence that surrounded the Victorian-style house, he felt like Julia Sugarbaker from Designing Women, but Happy Endings, the senior citizen's day center that shared the front half of the house, made him feel like he was forever trapped in an episode of the Golden Girls.

His senses were constantly assaulted by the wardrobes of the little old couples who insisted on sitting on the front porch wearing high-wasted pleated pants with…dear GAGA..elastic waistbands and polyester double-knitted pants. The wicker furniture was bad enough, but not nearly as offensive as the sickeningly sweet smell of jasmine that assaulted his nose every time he ventured outside or forgot and opened a window.

"Mr. Hummel, are you busy?" a lady Kurt only knew only as "Neon Mumu that should have a radioactive warning on it," came waddling towards him. Her walker clunked against the cracked cement of the sidewalk.

Kurt sighed and nodded. He could run from her, but that would be cruel.

"You remember me, don't you?" she rasped out. She reminded Kurt of that old grandmother on The Nanny.

Kurt nodded again, glad that she didn't ask for conformation.

"Sorry to be a bother, but I was wondering…do you like dogs?"

"What?"

"I don't know why, but you've always struck me as a dog person, and I just thought…anyway, my Edgar was throwing away Mildred Feinstein's tuna bake because it smelled up the whole place like crazy, and we couldn't throw it out in the trash 'cause then she'd get offended and we'd be paying for it for the rest of our lives, I know, at our age, that's not that long, but why put yourself in harm's way, right? So anyway, Edgar goes out to the dumpster and he sees something moving in the garbage. He thought maybe it was a raccoon, but..."

"Um, sorry, but if something's been in the dumpster I don't think…"

"Nonesense! He'll be cleaned up, just as soon as you can manage to get him out of there, and he's good as new!"

"He?"

"Me and some of the girls thought…well…since your business is new and you don't have that many customers yet, you might at least be able to take him to the shelter?"

"Ma'am, I'm wearing a vintage Armani suit, and trust me, I've been tossed in enough dumpsters to know you don't really ever get the smell out."

"The trash collector comes at three and it's in just an hour, and if he gets caught up in there, they'll crush the poor little thing and I just can't…but…it is an awfully nice suit."

"He could be covered in disease."

"Fleas and ticks is more like it. But, if you don't want to mess that suit up…"

Kurt rolled his eyes.

Never in a million years did he think he'd be going into a dumpster voluntarily, but seconds later, he found himself asking Neon Mumu Lady and apparently Mildred going to find a large orderly Kurt had only met in passing.

"Buzz, help Mr. Hummel here in the dumpster, would you?" Neon Mumu Lady asked.

"Ethel, have you taken all your meds today?" Buzz asked looking from Kurt to Neon Mumu Lady and back to Kurt again.

"No, Buzz, it's okay…there's apparently a dog in the dumpster. We should get it out before the trash collector comes."

"Whenever you're ready," Buzz said.

"Wait!" Kurt said. And he took off his shoes and jacket. "I am NOT losing my jacket or my shoes to…"

With an "oof!" Kurt landed stomach-first in the dumpster, and something whined near-by.

"Dear GOD what is that thing?"

It was so filthy that he couldn't tell for sure if this was a dog or a rat. Only the massive pink tongue that insisted on licking his face.

He managed to scramble up to his feet with the dog.

"Hey Buzz!" Kurt hollered. "Take it! Take it take it take it take it!"

"Such a cute little thing," one of the old ladies said as Kurt hoisted himself out of the dumpster.

"Cute! That flea-bag?" the other old lady said. Kurt got his shoes and his jacket.

"Um, what are we gonna do with the damn dog?" Buzz asked.

"Do you guys have liquid detergent or something like that?"

Buzz nodded. "But we can't clean him up in the kitchen sink. My boss will throw a hissy-fit."

"Well I'm not cleaning him up in MY bathroom sink. What if customers came in?"

"You were expecting maybe an afternoon rush?" Neon Mumu Lady asked him.

An hour and three baths later, the dog (whom Kurt had christened Monty), proved to be a brown and white ball of fluff with two black rings around his eyes and the biggest tongue Kurt had ever seen.

It was still a school day, so he couldn't really call his girls. He hated the thought of calling Puck…but…times and measures being what they were, he was desperate.

"Yo! Tinkerbelle! What's up?"

"Puckerman, look, I'm going to let that go because I'm kind of…NO! NOT THE $800 PERSIAN SILK! BAD MONTY!"

"Dude! If you're playin' around on my boy, I am TOTALLY not down with that."

"No, no, no, Monty's not an actual person. Why am I even telling you this? I am NOT about to justify my actions to someone whose hobbies in the Thunder Clap included, and I quote, 'boffing Cougars.'"

"Look man, you obviously called me for a reason, and it wasn't to rag on me…soooo…"

"Do you know any vets?"

"I know a couple of Vietnam vets and one Desert Storm vet. Dude's really messed up though. Kinda sad…"

"No, not VETERANS. Actual you know…vets. Animal doctors."

"Oh, dude! You could've just straight-up asked, you know?"

"Just give me the number," Kurt snapped.

"You sure you can handle the stress of a new addition to the family, man? You seem a little…stressed?"

"Puck!"

"Okay, okay. Just so happens, my sister works the counter at a vet's office. I'll tell Sarah to give you the hook-up."

"At least the female members of the Puckerman family are helpful" Kurt muttered not entirely under his breath.

"You know I could text Leah and tell her you're hanging with a dude named Monte." Puck pointed out. "Your call."

"I regret every day I ever taught you the dance to Single Ladies."

"Only because I did it better than you. Now find a pen Hummel and write this down. Some of us have work to do."