Sin

Omelette

"Well, it seems like it 's working." I responded. 

Finn walked beside me, "We used to do the same thing to other football teams before you joined yn." He continued, "We tried to get inside their head before a big game, like pull pranks to intimidate them."

"Yeah, well, the difference was our football team sucked." Puck interrupted him, "Those guys are golden."

Mercedes sighed, "And now that we lost Jesse, there's no way we could beat them."

"Come on, keep your heads up, guys." Kurt encouraged us, "It's going to take more than that to get us into a funk."

"Why do you guys keep saying funk?" I asked, "Did I miss something?" But my question went unanswered as we walked into our toilet paper filled choir room.

"I feel so violated." Tina pulled the toilet paper off the instruments. "It's like someone broke into our home."

Mr. Shue walked in, without missing a beat, gathered us around. "We all just need to calm down. It was just a lame little prank. And the fact that they're trying to get to us means maybe we got them spooked." Mr. Shue attempted to downplay the situation. 

Mercedes frowned, "They aren't afraid of anything, Mr. Shue."

* That number they did was fantastic. You know, which doesn't make any sense. They had all that equipment. How did they even get in?

"I gave 'em all keys." Coach Sylvester walked into the room with a group of students behind her. "Helped them do a sound check over the weekend. Hey, this way, fellas. Let's punch out this wall here. That'll open up the space a little bit."

Mr. Shue followed close behind her, "Sue, what are you doing?"

Coach Sylvester and Mr. Shue walked around the  room, arguing with each other. While the random students that followed after her took notes and drew pictures on their notebooks, we looked at the scene as it played out.

Mr. Shue grabbed the trophy and smashed it against the wall, making everyone in the room gasp. He looked at her, hoping for a reaction.

"You dropped your trophy, Sue." Mr. Shue attempted to hide his mischievous grin. 

"You know, for me, trophies are like herpes. You can try to get rid of them, but they just keep coming. You know why? Sue Sylvester has hourly flare-ups of burning, itchy, highly contagious talent. Enjoy your last few days here. This room is mine."

I didn't know whether to laugh or throw up at Coach Sylvester's descriptive trophy talk. 

We spent two days cleaning the choir room. Mr. Shuester was obviously too busy with his complicated marriage and weird situationship with Ms. Pillsbury to help clean up the choir room. The janitor was no help at all. As soon as he saw the mess, he  walked away, muttering that he wasn't getting paid enough for this. 

Mr. Shue walked into the room, clapping to get our attention. "All right, guys, today I want to talk to you about regrets. Who has some?"

Rachel sat by the piano frowning, "Giving my heart to Jessie, just to have it crushed like the stage floor at a performance of Stomp."

"Thinking "trust me" was a sensible birth control option." Quinn spoke up next to me. 

Mr. Shue paused, letting others add their own regrets but continued on, "We all have them. I just finalized my divorce. I regret living in a relationship that wasn't working. Letting her put me in these deep funks and not fighting back."

"Besides creeping us out, why are you telling us this?" Santa looked at him uncomfortably. 

I nodded completely weirded out by his marital problems. "Is this a McKinley thing? Because none of the other teachers I had were this..open about their problems."