cassondra blake has lived in lima, ohio her entire life, that doesn't justify her actions but it's a got supporting factor. the dullness, the toxicity, the rough cut edges of lima heights has tampered her once vibrant personality.
one day she get...
"crazy what happened to quinn," sam observed, watching quinn and artie roll down the hall toward finn and rachel.
cass deeply inhaled, closing her locker, "yeah but that's why they say to not text and drive. our friend gets scrapped off the road while she drove to our other friend's wedding, could our lives get any more daytime tv?"
"i mean yeah, i could think of a few ways," sam smiled, stepping closer to her until the bell scared him away from her.
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quinn and artie finish their weirdly appropriate version of elton john's "still standing", "here's a lesson for your board, mr. schue. don't text and drive. ever. it's the stupidest thing i've ever done. besides sleeping with puck. there's a lot of rumors floating around, so let's clear the air. first of all, all my plumbing still works, which is awesome. but my spine was severely compressed in the car accident, which basically means i can't move my feet or legs. but the good thing is that i'm starting to regain feeling, so with a lot of physical therapy, and your prayers, i stand a good chance for a full recovery. so no tears. that means you, tina. oh, and i apologize for the number. my dance moves aren't as smooth as artie's yet."
"with practice, they will be," artie assures her.
quinn shook her head, denying that they will, "i promise that by the time we go to nationals, i'll be out of this chair, and dancing on that stage."
for booty camp, sue took over and was a drill sergeant, "five, six, seven, eight! stop! please, stop! this is an embarrassment. hey, mercedes. who you texting?"
"i'm not texting anyone, i'm donating to the obama campaign," mercedes tells sue as she plucks the phone out of her hands and throws it into the audience, shattering it. "my droid!"
finn walked in obliviously excited, "good news! i booked a tour at the railroad museum on friday, which means we're gonna have an awesome senior's ditch day. what is she doing here?"
sue got in the quarterback's face, screaming, "hey, granny panties! i'm taking over booty camp! get in a line! you're out of shape, you're constantly late, and when you're not too busy texting, you're complaining about the choreography you're too lazy to learn. you're nothing but a coven of tardy, narcissistic, bloated bags of cellulite who will stab each other in the back at the first glimpse of a solo in a competition hosted by a late-night horror movie host. well, those days are over."
cass and logan walked into their apartment, exhausted from sue's booty camp, plopping down on the couch beside will as he grades some papers, "how was booty camp?"
"if you let sue run it one more time unsupervised, i will be catching a charge," cass warns him, earning a look of alliance from her little brother.
"she's horrible, she smashed mercedes' phone."
puck called all the seniors to the library to discuss their senior ditch day, "we all know why we're here. i've waited five years for this. i want ideas for senior ditch day. go."
