Chapter Four:
Bean Burritos and Getting Stuck in Elevators Never End Well
(No Seriously, it Really Doesn't)
There is nothing worse than accidentally forgetting your wallet at home.
Especially when you're in your local super market check-out line on a Saturday afternoon with 189 dollars and 14 cents in just Kit-Kat's and Laffy Taffy's and one fucking puny Jell-O cup.
(Just for the record, I could never see the hype with Jell-O. One minute it's a solid, the next it's a liquid – Jell-O is more confused about its identity than I ever could be. And I don't like the fact that I can both chew and slurp this "treat". Also, is it a desert or a trick made by the government to find creative ways to slip un-suspecting children fruits and veggies in manipulated liquid/solids that only fucking has two colors and jiggles more than a twerker's butt-check? Can you answer that question for me? Huh? Huh? Because the four-year-old Santana is still traumatized and screaming "Whyyyyyyyy?! Why couldn't I have gotten the pudding?!")
Anyways this, my friends, is where I shall start my story. Not because I forgot my wallet at home, but because Puck forgot his wallet at home and is now 189 and 14 cents in my debt.
So here's what been up: it's been a month since I got my cast off and everything has slipped back to normal – meaning Puck is still a fucking dick and I still might stalk Brittany on the internet. And just like before, no one can prove that I could be following her to her various social outings like football games, cheerleading competitions, dentist appointments – you know, the regular.
The only thing that has changed is that I now have a scar on my arm in the shape of Momo from The Avatar: The Last Air Bender.
Moving on to the real situation at hand: Puck is a fucking idiot who now owes me 189 dollars and 14 cents because he felt like being a dick and buying the rest of the packs of Kit-Kats and Laffy Taffy's from the store because a little kid cried on his vans. No, seriously, a little kid was having a temper-tantrum because his mother wouldn't let him get a Kit-Kat so Puck bought ALL of the Kit-Kats when he originally came to the store to buy a fuck ass Jell-O cup. It was like Puck first parked his car, then fucked the little kid's bitch.
And how did poor-old-me get dragged into this situation? I honestly don't even know anymore. In the heat of my bitter, angry rage – I forgot how I came to be.
But to make a long story short and over-simplified: Puck now owes me lunch for the next 3 weeks.
And all I want is a black bean burrito filled with rice, cheese, and jalapeno peppers. And what Mama wants is want Mama gets.
I didn't remember, however, that I had to go into school today to help Sue Sylvester move fertilized duck eggs and plant them in some Spanish teacher's (who shall remain nameless) office so they can imprint on him and never leave his side. Which is a really weird and elaborate plan that I am not able to discuss with anyone because I have the right to remain silent, and anything I say can and will be used against me in a court of law; therefore, I have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning.
So four bites away from finishing my beautiful black bean burrito, I made Puck drive me to McKinley where it seems my life always finds a way to make me miserable.
Que Quinn Fabray walking into the elevator with me.
Do you have someone who you always really wanted to be friends with, so you went out of your way to make that happen? But somewhere down the first few weeks of your friendship, you realized that, that person was super weird/crazy/not for you, but it was too late to back out of the friendship now that you started it?
This is why I cannot talk to Quinn Fabray.
She was a really cool girl once. Someone with humor, a need for speedy lunch room lines, and a love for bacon that would make Porky Pig think twice, folks. But sadly, she also has obsessions with things I just couldn't jump on and a vibe that makes me feel in danger of my life most of the time.
So of course when I see her, I'm thankful that I had a go-to musical influence.
Kanye West Helps Relieve My Kanye Stress
QUINN: Santana!
SANTANA: Quinn!
QUINN: Long time no see! I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!
SANTANA: I've been catching up on my Kanye Rest.
QUINN: Wait, what?
SANTANA: Because I've been on my Kanye Quest.
QUINN: Wait, Santan-
SANTANA: - Because I had to leave my Kanye Nest.
QUINN: I don't understa-
SANTANA: So that I could become my Kanye Best.
QUINN:
SANTANA: My life became a Kanye Mess.
SANTANA: And my mind was a Kanye Pest.
QUINN: Please, Santana -
SANTANA: But I just buttoned up my Kanye Vest.
SANTANA: And got myself Kanye Dressed.
QUINN: Please stop.
SANTANA :
SANTANA:
QUINN:
SANTANA:
QUINN:
SANTANA: So I wouldn't hang like Kanye Breast.
Que Quinn leaving the elevator three floors before the floor she pressed.
By the time I reach the Sue Sylvester's floor, I am calm and cool and at the peak of my Kanye Fest. The best thing about everything I say is that it is exactly what is on my mind at the time. I learned from Sue that anything held inside your mind will one day be stolen by the CIA anyway – so you might as well share it.
And after I finish the job that I am not liable to explain the details of – I was actually happier than I was in forever.
So when I got back into the elevator, I didn't think anything could possibly happen that would make me want to kill myself.
Oh, but things are never as they seem.
Elevators Are Not Santana's Stomach's Friend
Que Artie Abrams walking into the elevator. his prosthetic leg only barely noticeable.
SANTANA:
ARTIE:
SANTANA:
Que my stomach bubbling.
ARTIE:
SANTANA:
ARTIE:
ELEVATOR VOICE: Floor three.
Que Mike Chang getting on the elevator.
ELEVATOR VOICE: Going down.
MIKE (to Artie): Hey Man.
ARTIE (to Mike): Wassup.
Que my stomach saying "wja sdjk fasjd kajfn"
SANTANA:
MIKE:
ARTIE:
ELEVATOR VOICE: Floor two.
Que Mike Chang getting off the elevator.
ELEVATOR VOICE: Going down.
SANTANA:
ARTIE:
SANTANA:
ARTIE:
Que Elevator actually turning off mid-flight.
ARTIE: What the –
SANTANA: Seriously!?
Que Elevator's back up lights from generator coming on.
Que Elevator telling us to say calm.
Que my stomach talking back.
SANTANA:
ARTIE:
SANTANA:
ARTIE:
Que my silent fart….
ARTIE:
SANTANA:
ARTIE:
SANTANA:
ARTIE: *while sniffing* You've got to be fucking kidding me!
SANTANA:
ARTIE:
SANTANA:
ARTIE:
SANTANA: Well… Look on the bright side… At least your prosthetic leg is only barely noticeable.
And I swear, in that moment, I died of being stupid.