So it seems Emma was a virgin in more ways than one.
At least, we know at the episode's outset she was still innocent in the ways of Rocky Horror, and one assumes her virtue is still intact, even though it's hard to believe anyone could resist the carnal mega-tonnage of sex bomb Carl (John Stamos).
Even more shocking to Will than Emma Pilsbury eating her sandwiches with the crusts still on is the realization that all he had to do was take her to a flithy downtwn theater at midnight to sing along with a bunch of weekend trannies and and he'd be all up in her "dough" that very moment.
Okay, enough pastry jokes. The point is, prior experience with Emma wouldn't necessarily lead one to the above conclusion. Even so, before the sound of his own forehead slap has faded, Will tells Emma the glee club is -- purely by coincidence -- staging a version of The Rocky Horror Picture Show as well.
Honestly, Will's obsession with Emma is only going to lead to some kind of sordid tale of the kind usually associated with Charlie Sheen. For not only did he actively pursue her while a) he himself was married, and b) she was engaged, but Emma herself is obviously dangerously up there on the Barney Stinson hot/crazy scale, having bolted from the room during the night they were supposed to "go all the way," then rewarding him for confessing his love by leaping into the arms of...her dentist. Will apparently has a fetish for deflowering, a la Telly from Kids, and Emma has the emotional depth of a 13-year old.
Where was I? Oh, right...Will tells the club they're doing RHPS in the wake of Emma's cultural awakening. The key cast members end up about where you'd expect: Finn as Brad, Rachel as Janet, Artie as...Dr. Scott. The only mild surprise was the part of Frank N. Furter, which changed hands from Dancin' Mark to Cavity Fightin' Carl before ending up in Mercedes' lap. This, as it turned out, was one of the more pleasant moments of this week's show.
It was also nice to see original Rocky Horror cast members Barry Bostwick (Brad) and Meat Loaf (Eddie) make appearances as representatives of an unnamed cable news organization enlisting Sue's assistance in delivering an exposé on the production.
For once, it's hard not to see Sue's side of the story here. My high school edited the lyrics to Hello, Dolly when our drama department performed it, for crying out loud. So I think our principal, Ms. Parker, would have had two reactions to a proposed performance of a musical about sweet transvestite aliens and cannibalism: disbanding the theater department entirely, followed by spontaneous combustion.
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Will should know this, even as he trots the Cheerios and Tina out in fishnets and wigs (he had to "double up" on Magentas and Columbias) and seriously contemplates taking over the role of Rocky from Sam (who, let's not kid ourselves, has an ass that can crack walnuts). I mean, this is Ohio, not South Beach.
Side plots were few and far between, as the staging of RHPS was less a class assignment than it was Will's lust-fueled fever dream. Finn struggled with Brad's spending most of the film in his undies (because if there's any place a person with body issues should spend their free time, it's in the performing arts), and the show almost swerved out of PG-13 territory with Will and Emma's renditon of "Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me," which of course was also witnessed by Santana and Brittany.
Experiencing a brief moment of clarity, Will finally pulls the plug on the show, but not before an inspired rendition of "Sweet Transvestite" -- courtesy of Mercedes -- and the obligatory "Time Warp," which long ago found a home on the ever-growing list of songs I could go the rest of my life without hearing again.
We're Glee-less again next week because of the World Series. And as an aside, while I'm hesitant to throw my hat in with the non-Astros squad from Texas, any team that eliminates the Yankees from contention is all right with me. Go Rangers.