Glee: Season 3, Episode 9

Alright fellow writers, it’s that time of the year: the annual “holiday” episode of Glee.

*cough* Christmas *cough*

You should have that checked out.

But seriously, y’all, theme episodes totally always work out are never the worst examples of our writing.

Hey, I know! Let’s throw in Mercedes singing that endlessly recycled Mariah Carey version of “All I want for Christmas is you” at the start.

Shut up, you know you love it.

Yah, plus this doesn’t hurt.

Should we neglect the oft-mentioned fact that Rachel Berry is Jewish by having her say right before the cut to credits, “Best. Christmas. Ever,” without a hint of sarcasm?

If we did it last year, then we can do it this year. I believe the term for this is “canon.”

Plus it’s super hard to remember this stuff, you guys, am I right?

[A rabble of agreement fills the writers room. Accurately referencing scripts that were written a year ago is super hard. Suddenly, and with the delicate finesse of a hummingbird piercing a spider’s web, a wrinkle in time opens in the center of the room, revealing the Ghost of Ryan Murphy Past.]

Booooooooh! I am the Ghost of Ryan Murphy Past. I have come to warn you of what happens when you depict foursomes on television and have plots involving body parts sewn together to create the “perfect woman.” You must be careful!


[Pausing to catch their breaths as the air rapidly reenters the room, the writers are struck by a sense of loss not altogether unfamiliar. Did they imagine it? Did anyone else see it? What did the ghost mean?]

Uh, so anyway…shouldn’t Sue have a more clever name for Blaine than “other gay?” She already used that naming convention on Mike Chang. And would she even know who he was to begin with?

I can’t hear what you’re saying over these loud sweaters. And besides, it’s time for the triumphant return of Jane Lynch.

In the spirit of Christmas, [jump-zoom] get out of my office.

You’re in my office, remember?

Leprechaun Boy from The Glee Project — which I clearly watched but am going to pretend that I didn’t by continually not knowing the contestants names — has approximately zero charisma. He seriously just stands with his hands in his pockets making the same faces singing that he does when talking. And now he suddenly has a chain wallet and oversized vintage collar jackets? How did he even win?

[A writer makes the “sucky-sucky” gesture with hands.]

I say he’s high on music, and baby Jesus.

The King?

I have a crazy idea!

Well don’t keep us waiting!

12 minutes into this episode, we should have not 0, not 1, but 3 shitty songs.

Woh, woh, woh. They should sing, you’re saying?

“Rabble, rabble, rabble!”

Err,um, we need to think of a reason why Rachel would hate the gift of a pig donated to a needy family in a third world country.

Survey says: she a Jew.

Oh, uh, I guess that would work…they do hate pork. I was thinking more along the lines of her suddenly being vegan. You know, not just vegetarian, just go ahead and make her full-on vegan…something we totally won’t forget about in 2 weeks.

[With all the commotion, the writers didn’t notice the sound, at first. It was not quite a knock but more of a thump. It seemed to be coming from the door, then the windows, next the sink, then the ceiling, and then finally it stopped. An instinctive silence hushed the writers. Had they imagined this too? It had been an odd winter, afterall. Out of nowhere a nurse shark is hurdled through the window, crashing across the writers table, knocking over iPads and chomping on champagne flutes, sending shards of glass to the floor.]

Boooooooooh! Scary! I am the Ghost of Ryan Murphy Present, and I too have come to warn you. You see, this television show has long since spiraled out of control. The characters hardly remember even their own pasts, the plots often move too quickly or not at all, and most of the funny moments are jammed into nearly inaudible 1/2/3-liners reserved for just the tertiary characters.

[blank stares]

OK…let me make this more clear: “Jumping the shark” is a term for when a television show (or otherwise popular phenomenon) has reached its peak and quickly goes downhill. You see, the writers room is an ocean, and Kurt Hummel is jumping it on a jet ski. Or, um, no…the show is the ocean, and Brittany is the jet ski, and she’s being ridden by Gwyneth Paltrow. Fuck. I’m pretty sure I had a point somewhere. Well, just take my word on this whole maritime metaphor thing. Get your act together!

[Unbeknownst to the ghost, one of the more daring writers has crept up behind with a fire extinguisher. After an embarrassing attempt to “shoo” him away, the ghost — with head slumped (from being partially decapitated, not from shame) — shambles out of the room.]

Now let’s talk about this whole black and white “PBS special” thing, which will apparently comprise the bulk of the episode. I have to say that I like this a lot. Who ever came up with it gets a raise. Oh right, that was me. It gives the characters direction within the narrative, and dare I say…gives us direction in our writing.

Truth. I’m not sure why we don’t just have the characters come up with excuse after excuse to plan, choreograph, and rehearse “specials” throughout the year.

Yah, I like where this is going. Maybe a talent show “special” and a mini film project “special.” You know, other than just randomly breaking into song in the middle of school, they could instead have credible and cohesive motives for singing and performing.

Hell, the singing and performing might even be above average!

True, true. Let’s all marinade on this. By which I mean, let’s hurry up and forget we had this brilliant idea.

What idea?

I do appreciate where we’re going with this gay riff on 1950’s leading men…but “Let it Snow’s” female part is beyond Chris Colfer’s register. I’m sorry. It is. Still, this is a cute idea, and I fully think the two [of the show’s biggest stars] will pull it off nonetheless.

They should kiss at the end, right?

Too gay. Let’s make them “bachelors.”

That’s an odd choice since this bit is full of intentional and ostensibly funny anachronisms (laptop, Elizabeth Taylor’s death, a black woman allowed in white people’s presence without a mop in her hands, etc.) anyway. Why not make them fully gay?

Too gay.

Rachel should try out/rehearse a wholly different song than the one she ultimately sings in the “special.” You know, because that makes sense.

Yah, but it’s cute.

Cute in the sense that the Old Navy commercials from the 90’s were cute.

Right. They were.

Yah, but what ever happened to that old woman?

She married the Snapple Lady in Vermont I’m pretty sure.

Jane’s hawking Snapple now? First Nook, now this?

No, I mean…nevermind.

Wow, I’m loving the idea for a Brittany-led Cherios baton 80’s spectacular. Let’s have her do a random but fantastic rendition of “Christmas Wrapping.”

My favorite part is where we cram Tina and other boring characters in the background without explanation, and I loves me some baton twirli…

[The writer is cut off by a piercing, blinding light that springs forth from the mouth of every writer in the room. Somehow, in an odd ancient dialect, a voice can be heard within the light.]

I am the Ghost of Ryan Murphy Yet to Come! I’m like, super rich, y’all. I just came here to tell everyone that. Carry on.

[The mouth-lights begin to pulse a cold purple, then a vibrant yellow, before finally settling into a haunting rhythm of grey/pink/green that lasts for another 25 minutes. The writers agree to never discuss the many ghosts of Ryan Murphy ever again.]

All of my Christmas wishes came true. Well, all except one.

Butt sex?

Besides that. This episode has ended up like, super Christiany.

Wait, wait, wait. Sam is serving food in the soup kitchen? He would be eating that soup. He is poor, as we’ve explained several times. Just because he is living with a friend doesn’t mean he doesn’t still need to send money home so his family can afford Hamburger Helper. Come on, people! Remember our secret word for the week, “continuity?”

Now that you’ve said it out loud, it’s invalid. Peewee Herman rules.

That’s…not how that works.

Shut up, I’ve almost got the ending planned out in my mind. You see, the Gleesters abandon the homeless people to film 95% of the aforementioned hokey but cute black and white PBS “special.” However, we obviously can’t have them truly neglect the needy, so let’s have them arrive at the last second to sing “Do they know it’s Christmas time at all?”

Yes, clearly we should go that route. Gotta pay them bills, and iTunes royalties aren’t cheap, gurl.

True dat.

OK, let me just make sure we write in some not so subtle gay subtext between Trouty Mouth and Leprechaun Boy [that we’ll never fulfill] and of course a subtle connection between homelessness, Africa, and pigs…and yep, another fucking great episode hammered out. Good job, y’all!


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