Diclaimer: I do not own GLEE or any of its characters.

Dear Journal,

I've decided to skip my tanning trip down in Boca and focus on my plot. It's quite ingenious, actually. The plan consists of thirteen steps. Each step representing a person I must bring down in order to destroy the club; one for each of the GLEEKs and the last for Schuester. Edith and Figgins don't really count, as I cannot bring them down. Oh, it's marvelous, Journal! Just marvelous! That's beside the point now. The meeting yesterday went swimmingly. God how I wish I could've punched Fitzsimmons right in the nose. And that Karen had the AUDACITY to tell me that I'm a bad role model for her children? First of all Journal, her daughter is a first class whore and her son, the worst kid on the Swim Team. Why does she think they're good? She'll probably blame me for Global Warming as well, Journal. Sometimes, Jorunal, I feel that you are the only one who really understands me. You know all of my secrets, all of my favorite foods, and other miscellaneous things about me. Why? Well, I guess it's because you care so much Journal. Oh! I've got to go water Penelope and then feed her some flies! Until tomorrow, I bid thee farewell. Love ya like a sistah. Sue.

It was Tuesday. It was only day one of my month long suspension, and I already knew what I was going to do. I was going to begin enacting my devious plot, but I must not forget to water Penelope. Therefore, I got up from my desk, walked over to the darkest part of my town house, my closet, and looked at my beautiful Penelope, my Venus flytrap. I see so much of myself in her. We are both beautiful. We are both carnivorous. We both hate curly haired insects. Ah, me. Could she be any more beautiful? No.

I fetched the water pail, gave her a light drizzle and set it back down next to her. It was then time to feed her. I pulled a Ziploc bag out of a nearby drawer. It was full to the top with flies, dead flies. I slowly opened the bag and put some in her mouth. We had that mother-daughter type of connection. She gobbled those flies up and, in a way, thanked me. I blew her a kiss, grabbed a new tracksuit, green in color, and left her in her anonymity.

I slowly descended my stairs and looked at my living area. On the table were cheerleading magazines galore. A large, plasma screen television blaring Fox News sat in the corner. Glenn Beck was on. Sometimes I sit on my couch and think about punching him in the face.

Once I reached the foot of the stairs, I noticed my mail slot open up and a few chubby fingers pushing some papers through.

"Thanks, failure," I said accepting the pile of bills and notices. I simply took a step into my living area and shredded them. Why notify me by killing trees? I heard the mail carrier grumble something in response but I knew that if it was important enough for me to hear, it would have been said louder.

My cuckoo clock then told me it was 12:00 and time to go. Go where? I had nowhere to go. I was left to bask in my glory at home. NO! I was going to go to McKinley. Nevertheless, I needed a disguise. I would start my plan today.

William McKinley never disgusted me more than it did now. I looked at the school and had the sudden urge to vomit on a student. Heck, I would do that anyway. The student body here is so vile and repulsive that I don't even know how I made it this far before getting a suspension. Aha! Target acquired. Silent Matt. How did he even get into that GLEE club? Blast! Santana would see right through my disguise of a hooded sweatshirt and awkwardly shaped sunglasses. I cannot let her see me.

"I wonder who will coach us now that Sue's been suspended," I heard her say as I strutted by.

"What? She was suspended?" I heard Brittany ask, to which Santana rolled her eyes and walked away with silent boy.

"Brittany! Psst! Brittany!" I whispered.

"God?" she asked, looking around moronically.

I rolled my eyes and looked at her. "Yes. It is me, God," I responded.

"Oh my God – I mean, oh my. What do you want? Has my time come?" she asked. Students passed by and watched as she had a conversation with herself.

"No, no, I just need you to walk over to the wom-person to your right and have a chat with her," I said ingeniously.

"Oh, okay!" she replied, happy go lucky. She turned to her left and looked around, "God, there's no one here."

"Idiot! Over here!" I loudly whispered.

Startled, she turned around, saw me, and slowly walked up to me. "Hi. Are you the one God told me to talk to?" she asked.

I nodded and looked at her, "Brittany, it's me…Coach Sylvester."

"Oh my God – I mean, oh my…you sound a lot like God. I would know he and I just had a conversation."

"Noooo, you were just talking to me, okay? Now listen to me. I need your help," I said.

"Wait, I don't get it…so you're God?"

"No. Listen, you imbecile! I need your assistance!"

"Ok…" she said blankly as I began to tell her my ingenious plan. She nodded a few times so I thought she understood, but there was not a moment that I began to doubt her capabilities. Is she a first class bimbo? You bet, but she is a trooper. She looked at me, smiled and walked away.

"Pawn to silent Pawn 4. Phase One: Complete."

A/N: So, Chapter 2 is here and I hope it did Sue some more Justice! More to come!