I'm back! Did you miss me? I hope not. Sorry that I haven't updated in about a week and a half. I really am sorry. I hope this chapter will make you forgive me, because if it doesn't, then I will probably have to resort to extremely sarcastic measures in the next chapter. (Extreme measures may include Quinn taking out all her post- partum emotions on Jesse or on some other person, Finn and Jesse having a sing off, or another option that I'm saving for later… which involves Wemma.)

Puck's POV

"Puck! Did you hear about Jesse and Rachel?" asked Quinn excitedly. I could tell from her face that it was good news. (Which was good for St. James, because I occasionally dream of messing up his face.)

"What about them?" I asked curiously.

"Guess!" she screeched.

"Guess?" I said, my voice thick with disbelief.

"YES. That's what I just said," moaned an exasperated Quinn. I sighed as I realized that her post-partum craziness wasn't going away anytime soon. Still, it could be kind of amusing at times.

"Uh… they had sex again?"

"SHHH! Beth's right here, you idiot!"

"She can't understand us!"

"Maybe she doesn't know what it means, but I don't want a sin to be her first word. How do you think your mom will feel if when we scream because Beth said her first word, and she comes down and Beth croons 'sex, sex,' to her?"

"You do know that everything that just came out of your mouth sounded completely ridiculous, right?"

"Think whatever you want, but you'll be the one whose words are 'ridiculous' when she says that she'd like to thank her father after winning an award for being in some porn film."

"You really have high expectations for her."

"Well, she is our daughter after all, no matter how much your mom wanted her mother to be Jewish."

"Don't worry about Mama Puckerman Sr. Just wait 'til we get to see the look on her face when she hears that 'the nice Jewish girl' that I dated' has one in the oven."

"Mama Puckerman Sr.? What am I, Mama Puckerman Jr.?"

"Yep."

"That is so insulting!"

"Aww, you know you love it."

"Damn you, Noah Puckerman."

"So, what happened with the Berry and St. James? Or, do you want me to guess again? But that'll probably lead to some off topic conversation about me poisoning Beth's ears."

"I really hope she inherits my sassiness and sarcasm in stead of yours, because mine are funnier and much less crude. The big news is that Twinkle Toes is moving in with Man Hands."

"Seriously?"

"I kid you not, Puck."

"Wait, what does that mean?"

"It means that he IS moving in with her, you idiot. I swear, sometimes you're as dumb as Finn."

"That is so insulting," I say, trying to mock her and sound like she did when she said it."

"Don't judge me," yelled Quinn defensively as she scooped up Beth and stomped out of the room. Yep, post-partum craziness was still going strong. I followed her into the living room.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I really am, Quinn. You didn't actually sound like that, MILF."

"I'm not talking to you."

"Will you at least sing with me?"

"No."

"Not even the song we wrote?"

"Which one?"

"Beth, We Love You More Than Pie."

She didn't respond. I took out my guitar and started playing it anyway, knowing that Quinn would crack and sing it with me. I strummed until it was time for me to sing.

Beth,

Please don't do Crystal Meth,

Or die a fiery death.

Beth, We love you more than pie,

So please don't die.

Grudgingly, Quinn sang her part.

Honey,

You are my bunny,

So sweet and funny.

Your smile is sunny,

We don't want life insurance bringing us money,

So please don't die.

We sang the rest of the song together.

When we see your face we always smile.

Though you were a pain in our asses for a while,

We'd walk many a mile

In the wet watery Nile,

To preach a false alibi at your trial!

But please don't commit crime,

Even though your father's as good as grime!

We love you all the time.

You're worth more than a dime!

YEAH!

"Do you think Beth loves us?" asked Quinn, who looked up at me nervously, as if she might want to shy away from my answer.

"Yes; how could she not after we wrote her that bitchin' song?"

"Oh Puck, sometimes I worry about you. Which makes me worry about our daughter."

"You know what we should do?"

"Practice Christianity and abstinence?"

"No, we should write Rachel and Jesse a song."

"Puck?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"Everybody does."

"Especially Santana."

"Jealous much?"

"No!"

"You're jealous."

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No I'm not, Puck."

"Of course you're not."

"Let's just write the damn song."

So, this was kind of short, but I hoped you liked it. Reviews make me happy.