A/N: This is probably the most original idea I've had in a long time. And it's so hilarious.

I sat in Glee club as Finn, Rachel, Quinn, Sam, and Blaine went over a song for Regionals. Apparently, it was the show choir committee's bright idea for the theme to be the 1970s and then Sam's suggestion that they do ABBA. Of course, Santana had a few snide remarks about how gay the '70s were before Rachel, in another of her attempts at standing up for me (like I need it), got into another argument with Santana. This one did not lead to Santana's usual attempts at Rachel's life, but it came pretty close. And so here the rest of us were, watching them sing "Summer Night City" and there was me, wishing that Blaine would sit down so I could mess with that gelled mess of hair of his. I love him to death and all, but sometimes I wonder how much the gel seeps through his scalp and messes with his brain.

"Kurt, what do you think?" A voice cut into my thoughts.

"Huh?" I muttered, looking up to find Rachel staring intently at me.

"I said, what do you think?" she said impatiently.

"It's…okay," I tried to smile, but Rachel narrowed her eyes at me and spun around.

"From the top!" she ordered. No one dared to argue. At this point, Rachel was in commando mode and would not let anything get in the way of us winning Nationals.

"Fucking A, Rachel's in one of her moods again," Joel said from behind me. I turned to look at him; Rory was sharing his iPod earbuds with him. "Quite frankly, I'd rather listen to the Jonas Brothers than the lot of them." I looked around the room: Mike and Tina were leaning on each other half-asleep, Quinn leaned over her chair to talk to Artie, Brittany and Santana were making out, and Sugar was texting.

"That does it!" Rachel screeched. I covered my ears and shut my eyes. Everyone looked up to see Rachel fuming. "Do you realize what is at stake here? It is the last year for some of us and it would be nice if we won Nationals!"

"Maybe if you and Gigantor didn't mack out onstage, we would've!" Santana quipped.

"And so the arguing begins…" Joel muttered.

Once the arguing had finally ceased (which took almost an hour), Rachel announced that she was going to sing something upbeat to get people in the mood. And once again, I felt like throwing up.

"I don't think I need the reasons why I won't succeed

I haven't started

Let's get this show on the road

Let's make it obvious Eva Peron is off and rolling

I came from the people

They need to adore me…"

Rachel sang. I stood up and walked out of the room. I couldn't take any more of Rachel's incessant bitching and songs that demanded attention.

"Kurt?" Blaine called after me. I closed my eyes to hold back tears at Blaine's slightly broken voice, but suddenly found myself lying on the floor.

I awoke, still on the floor. Gee, what a great school, I thought bitterly. No one bothers to help people up anymore. I sat up and rubbed my head. Either it was me or McKinley looked really different: the walls were no longer covered in pennants and whatnot, it was merely painted black. Standing up, I put a hand on a locker to steady myself.

"Oh my God, Kurt, are you okay?" A voice called out. I shook my head and found an arm around me. The little knife marks on the left arm told me immediately that it was Joel.

"Yeah, I-I'm fine," I stammered. "Joel, is that you?"

"Of course it is, Kurt. Who else could it be?" He sounded much more chipper than usual. I finally looked up and he was smiling brightly, which was new. Joel never smiled; at least, I've never seen him smile. "You look confused," he said. "Do you know where you are?"

"McKinley?" I mumbled, grabbing his shoulder to stay upright.

"Well, at least you haven't lost your memory," Joel chuckled. "Blaine! Brittany! I found him!" My heart sped up at the mention of Blaine. Maybe he could explain why Joel was all spry and not cynical like he usually is.

"Kurt, you know who I am, right?" he asked.

"Blaine Anderson, you're my boyfriend," I whispered. Blaine looked confused.

"I'm not gay, dude," he said. I froze. "Brittany's my girlfriend."

"Okay, what the hell is going on here? Since when are you straight? Since when is Brittany a brunette? Since when is Joel so fucking happy?"

"You don't need to swear, Kurt," Tina's voice put in. She was wearing a yellow dress and had her hair up in a bun.

"Kurt, did you have a concussion? You should go to a consultant and have it surveyed." Sam walked over and took Tina's hand, squeezing it gently. When did Sam use big words? I wondered on top of everything else.

"Come on, Santana, I know you like me back!" Another voice called out. Santana, now with long blonde hair, ran past the small gathering. The shout came from none other than Sebastian Smythe, who looked so much different out of his Dalton uniform. "Man, why is she so hard to catch?" he complained. He spotted me. "Oh, hey, Kurt," he said, smiling.

"What are you doing here?" I looked back at him, blinking rapidly.

"I go here, duh," he replied.

"You go to Dalton and you're gay. You spent most of the year chasing Blaine," I said.

"Kurt, I'm straight and Blaine, you're hot, no homo. Thing is, I want Santana Lopez, but she just won't listen!" Sebastian took off after Santana again. I followed the others back to the choir room where I saw what was probably the most shocking out of all of this crazy.

"I love you," Mr. Schue said, but he wasn't talking to Ms. Pillsbury.

"I love you too, William," Coach Sylvester replied, kissing Mr. Schue.

"Oh. Sweet. Vuitton."

Songs featured:

"Rainbow High" (from Evita) - Rachel