Enter Sebastian Smythe, leaving a trail of venomous slime behind him. “That might not be the best idea,” he says, then turns smarmily to Blaine. “Hey Blaine. Hello, everyone else.”
Kurt looks at Blaine. “Does he live here or something?” Then he turns to Sebastian. “Seriously you are always here.”
Artie ignores the drama. “Why don’t you think that’s a good idea?” he asks.
Sebastian gives an evil grin. “Because we’re doing MJ for Regionals. You see, Warblers drew first position, so as soon as I heard what your plan was, I changed our set list accordingly.”
Rachel asks him how he heard, and he says he got it from Blaine. “I just called for a tip on how to get red wine out of my blazer piping, and he would not stop going on about it.”
Blaine shifts uncomfortably in his seat as all eyes turn to him. “I may have mentioned it.”
The bf is not happy. “How often do you talk?” Kurt asks him.
Sebastian perks up, evilly. “Oh my god! Hey, Kurt. I didn’t recognize you. You are wearing boy clothes for once.”
Santana, bless her razor blade-laden little head, has had enough, and jumps up. “All right, twink,” she says, making ten thousand extremely young fans hit Google, “I think it’s time that I show you a little Lima Heights hospitality.”
Up until now, I was totally enjoying this scene. It was evil and slithery but still fun. And then Sebastian has to ruin it with his racist crap.
“Unless you want to join your relatives in prison, that’s probably not the best idea,” he tells her. “You see, my dad is sort of what you’d call a state’s attorney. But if you had a piñata you wanted delivered, I bet he could make sure that got to them.”
Now he’s gone from being funny-evil to a plain old unpleasant, nasty person with no redeeming qualities at all. And the next person who gushes to me how he and Santana are so “hot together” in their upcoming scene? No me gusta.
The New Directions kids storm into the choir room. Tina, in her one line of the night, says, “There has to be some sort of show choir competition committee we can complain to.”
Blaine is, as usual (but not always) the voice of calm reason. “I know it sucks, guys, but it’s not the end of the world. Heck, you had your set list stolen the day of the competition at sectionals and you pulled that one off, right?”
Yes, Blaine, and they also wrote both their songs for Nationals the night before and that didn’t work out too well.
Artie isn’t interested in calm reason. “They can have our Journey and our Dreamgirls, but pilfering my Michael? Mm-mm, that’s another level of not okay.”
Puck calls Blaine an “Eggs Benedict,” but Finn cuts off that line of thought, telling them they should be less concerned with complaining about the Warblers than with beating them.
Will, it turns out, is “less worried about our set list right now, and more interested in getting us in the right mind set to crush those guys.” You know, Will, traditionally, this lack of focus on the set list has not worked so well for you. Just a thought.
Will goes to the whiteboard and writes, “WWMJD?” Then he translates: “What would Michael Jackson do?”
He’d fight back,” Finn responds. “He’d say, Regionals is ours, MJ is ours. And if they want it, they can pry it from our sequined gloved hand.” Okay, that was funny, even if I don’t think that’s what Michael Jackson would have done.
“Straight up,” Artie agrees. “In 1983 MTV said they wouldn’t air his ‘Billie Jean’ video. What’d he do? He fought back. They aired it, and the Thriller album sold an additional ten million copies.”
“I know what Michael would do,” Blaine says. “I think he would take it to the streets.” No, he really wouldn’t. He’d call his team of high-priced attorneys. But if it means we get to see you and Santana in your bad-ass hoodies, I won’t mind you being wrong.
So we’re in a deserted nighttime garage somewhere, and the Warblers, in their school uniforms which I believe they must sleep in, come stalking toward Santana and Blaine in formation.
They stop. “Well, we’re here,” Sebastian says.
“We’ve got something to settle,” Blaine says. “Both of us want to use MJ, but only one can.
Santana tells him they’re having a “Jackson-off,” then says, “Winner gets the King of Pop for Regionals.”
“Us against the two of you?” Sebastian sneers. “You really think you’re that bad? Is that what they teach you at that little public school of yours?”
My hatred of him, which I didn’t think could grow, just did.
“It’s time to see who’s bad,” Blaine says, and then Santana snaps her fingers and the New Directions come dancing in (moves they learned, I believe, in their recent production of West Side Story), and the two choirs sing and dance to the song “Bad.”
First, the Warblers aren’t “bad” because you can’t be bad while wearing a blue blazer with red piping. And compared with the Warblers, the McKinley kids seem positively street. So setting aside the sense that you’re watching Up With People attempt to be “bad,” there are actually some fun things about this number. Most of them being Santana, and the satisfying noise the New Directions makes when they smack their palms on the floor of the garage.
Sebastian obviously perceives the group to be a real threat. Either that or he is just a vicious jerk. Either way, he gets out a slushy and goes to toss it in Kurt’s face. And Blaine leaps in front of him and takes it in his face, then falls to the floor crying in agony, the red slushy spreading on the floor around him while the rest of the glee club hovers and Kurt drops to his knees and tries to comfort him.
It’s sort of like the bashing scene in Queer as Folk only without all the horror and seriousness, isn’t it?
And yeah, I admit it: My heart jumped when Blaine took that slushy for Kurt, and while I’ve always been a fan of this pairing, it was mostly because Kurt wanted Blaine. Now I love Blaine on his own, too. Best. Boyfriend. Ever.