No one prompted this. However, we were chatting on the prompt-a-ma-jig on ElJay, and someone said something or other about Finchel. So I says, I says a finchel is this and a Puckleberry be this. And then I had the idea that Brittany should name some couples and give their definition. This is a lot funnier in my head, but I hope you still enjoy.

"It's TOO hilarious!"

"Omigod-omigod-omigod, I'm gonna pee my pants…"

"Do mine next, do mine!"

"What's going on guys?" Will Schuester smiled at his Glee students as he walked into the choir room. Today was going to be a good day if he had to tie it up and force it to be a good day. And things were looking up. All twelve of his Glee kids were sitting in a room together laughing and not completely at one another's throats. Mike was rolling around on the floor, which could have easily happened on any other normal day, but the rest of his guys were laughing too. And all the girls had smiles on their faces, except for Brittany, who currently was staring back at the Glee director with a blank expression.

"Mr. Schue, you gotta see this," Merecedes chuckled. "Brittany, what are Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury?"

"Wemma," Brittany shrugged. She could see her enraptured audience waiting for more so she sighed heavily and explained, "It's like an old English carpet bag maker that's got like, three old ladies stitching together stuff. They will never really die. But they don't really matter either. Also, the bags smell like paper towels and oranges."

The kids shrieked with laughter and Will could only furrow his brow as Mike began waving his hand from the floor he was currently rolling on.

"MINE, MINE!" he demanded. He took a deep breath and said, "What're me and Tina?"

"Chang-squared," Brittany said solemnly, staring at Tina as she squealed with delight. "It's not funny. It's a secret society of killer ninjas who specialize in climbing into computers and sticking the pornographic pop-up viruses there. They're the leading cause of computer waste."

"So what were YOU and Mike?" Santana demanded evilly, throwing an unnecessary smirk towards an unimpressed Tina.

"Bike, Santana. They're like, you know. Things you ride on," Brittany explained patiently, although her demeanor clearly showed that she thought Santana was having a truly clueless moment.

"Okay, so Coach Sylvester and Figgins?" Will asked curiously, eager to see what the completely innocent-minded Brittany would come up with.

"Sliggins," Brittany immediately replied. "Coach Sylvester said that together they would be the iron fist that crushed the life out of your overly permed skull."

"Oh." Will nodded, immediately regretting ever asking. He watched anxiously as names were thrown out and Brittany became a human relationship name generator, supplying the most ridiculous of names for the giggling Gleeks, who he had to admit, deserved the break after all their hard work in preparing for Regionals in the last few weeks.

"Surt. It's like the Candy Cane McFlurry, it doesn't always exist when it should exist, but its so so good."

"Quartie. It's a unicorn that I strangled to death because I'm way cuter and much more awesome."

"Jones-son. They're spice company that makes the really yummy nutmeg that the Cheerios snort when we need to make weigh-in. Also, they make pumpkin pie spice. Which I love."

"Shummel. It's the future and it totally happens. Like how Back to the Future totally happened and is currently happening right now."

"Do Finchel!" Santana smirked again, her evilness generating more eyerolls than usual.

"What's…what's a Finchel?" Brittany stuttered.

"Uhm…Rachel and-"

"There's no such thing as Finchel," Brittany shook her head adamantly. "It would be weird. Like, it would be a dying bird who ate rotten pastries. That's not nice. I like birds. Hey, is Kurt going to visit with his bird again? Because I liked to feed it post-it notes."

The Gleeks stared at Brittany as Rachel's face grew slightly pink from Brittany's insistent words. Finn glared out the window, still not wanting to rip the band-aid off of the fresh hell of teenaged romantic angst that had been festering since Christmas-time. Santana shrugged and looked at Brittany with an inappropriate amount of amusement and pure evil and said in a whisper that only Brittany heard,

"Rachel and Puck."

"Oh my gosh, you guys. Puckleberry is my favorite. It's like a delicious sundae that doesn't have animal parts but still tastes like heaven. And it's the only thing stopping world war three and the monkey virus that killed all those people in the Dustin Hoffman movie. I love Puckleberry. Everyone should, really. Or God will strike you down and make you look really, really stupid."

Puck grinned in spite of himself and Mike finally pulled himself off of the floor and gave his friend a high-five. Artie held up his hands with a confident dose of swagger, his right hand forming a P, and his left hand forming a B, and Brittany returned the hand gesture and cooed, "Oh my gosh, Artie, you know the international sign for Puckleberry! I love you. Let's visit that closet after practice."

"Brittany?" Rachel questioned. "Uhm…"

"Rupaul, what are the chances you can just relax and go with this epic shiz?" Santana demanded gruffly.

"Well, I'm uncertain of-"

"PUCK, really, shouldn't you be doing something right now?" Santana demanded. "I hope it involves less of Berry's gums flapping."

"Let's go, Berry. I'll drive you home," Puck said gruffly, his grin still simmering just below the surface of his smirk. He waggled his eyebrows at Santana and Brittany as he put a hand on the small of a still very confused Rachel's back as he lead her out of the room.

"Okay, where's the book, we have to figure out how much money Mamma just made," Santana grinned wickedly. She arched one perfect brow at an annoyed Finn. "Mamma does need to take a very special boy to Breadsticks…"

"Finntana is really yummy pizza…"