Chapter Text
Live entertainment is one of the few things that draws a crowd to the slightly rundown galley / bar / starship social hub known as The Vatican. That, and the fact that the U.S.S. Greendale only has one working holodeck and a certain infamous study group has a habit of hogging it, even though there’s a signup roster and everything. Typical headliners include Lieutenant Vaughn, avid hacky sack player and musician, Ensign Lambert, aspiring stand up comedian with a voice as grating as Gilbert Gottfried and an act as cringeworthy as Carrot Top, and Vicki, who majored in dance at Starfleet Academy.
However, tonight’s entertainment will feature one of the Greendale Seven, and because they’re friends , the entire group agreed to attend, leaving The Vatican sparsely populated thanks to the now vacant holodeck everyone else rushed to take advantage of. It took some coaxing to convince Jeff to show up, but Annie was able to sell him on the merits of being a supportive friend by batting her eyes at him until he eventually caved.
In Jeff’s defense, they’ve been burned before. Abed’s observational standup routine was very specifically about his quarters and the parts of Deck Three adjacent to his quarters; only Troy seemed to appreciate the references. Britta’s slam poetry performance was aggressively awful in a way that even hipsters found insufferable. And Lieutenant Chang’s one-man show of Miss Saigon (which the group only attended on penalty of failure) was somehow even more racist than the original.
Shirley beams and waves at her friends, resplendent in her sequined purple dress. Normally she dresses a lot more conservatively, but it’s not every day a single mother gets to put on a show, so she brought her A-game. Jeff, Annie, Abed, Troy, Britta, and Pierce wave back with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
There are seven empty seats in the first row, but Jeff opts to sit in one of the many unoccupied chairs towards the back of the bar.
“What are you doing?” Troy asks, gesturing towards their assigned seating up front.
“Taking a seat,” Jeff replies, which seemed self-evident.
“Shirley saved us seats,” Abed reminds him, pointing to the seats, and at Shirley, who is still waving.
“And normally I wouldn’t deny everyone the opportunity to look at the back of my head, but I wouldn’t want to distract the audience,” Jeff replies smoothly.
“You’re just trying to hide in the back so you can sneak out,” Britta says, pointing a judgemental finger at him.
“And miss karaoke night? I would never.”
“Jeff!” Annie scolds him. “You agreed to be supportive.”
“I agreed to make an appearance,” he retorts.
“Leave him be, Annie," Pierce interjects. "Don’t hate the player, hate the game. He's an alone wolf.”
Abed frowns. This doesn’t match up with his recollection of Earth idioms. “I don’t think you’re saying that right.”
“Can’t you put your whole ‘too cool for school’ thing on hold for one night to support a friend?” Annie implores him.
“I was there for Troy’s rap battle,” Jeff protests.
“I almost had her,” Troy laments, his expression haunted. Lieutenant Commander Bauer has some mad flow for an eighty-seven year old white lady. “My palms were sweaty, knees weak, arms were heavy…”
“Save it for the mic, Childish Gambino,” Pierce interjects. Troy doesn’t get the reference which, to be fair, is over three hundred years out of date.
“Please?” Annie begs.
Jeff tries his best to resist her plaintive look, but he caves almost immediately. “You're becoming dangerous, Annie,” he says, pointing a finger at her accusingly. “It's those doe eyes.” She grins, pleased at having won him over.
Jeff heads to the front row seats with the others trailing behind him. Annie grins a self-satisfied little grin, which Britta notices and decides to comment on. “Someone has Winger wrapped around her little finger,” she teases, keeping her voice low enough so that Jeff can’t hear her. She bumps elbows with Annie and gives her a knowing look.
“He’s a good guy,” Annie insists. “He just hides it under sarcasm and one percent body fat.”
“If you say so.”
Captain Pelton, the self-appointed master of ceremonies for the evening, steps up to the stage wearing a figure hugging tuxedo with a decidedly feminine cut. The standing microphone is a little anachronistic, but it helps sell the night club vibe. Abed found it in a room full of Earth antiquities next to an answering machine and a portable CD player.
“Good evening Greendaliens, and welcome to Open Mic Night!” Craig announces eagerly. “Now, I’m afraid I have some bad news. Unfortunately, Some Worries will not be playing tonight, as their lead singer is currently recovering from a broken heart, thank you Britta.” Britta scowls, irked at being blamed (again) for a completely mutual poetry-related breakup. Vaughn stares at her from across the room like a wounded puppy, causing her to shrink into her seat. “However, we do have a very special guest performer tonight, in her debut performance here at The Vatican, our very own Shirley, of House…” he trails off as he realizes he doesn’t know. “Shirley everyone!”
The crowd, which consists of Shirley’s friends (Gary included) and maybe four or five other people clap with mixed enthusiasm. Shirley takes to the stage, beaming with pride, undeterred by the lackluster audience. Lieutenant Cory ‘Rad’ Radisson, a sweater-vest wearing man described as both dreamy and boyish (according to Craig Pelton) and aggressively assexual (according to Jeff Winger) does a little jazz hands finger warmup at his seat behind the piano. Troy tilts his head, wondering how they got it through the door before he remembers that transporters exist and occasionally they work.
“Tonight, I’d like to sing a little song for you that got me through some hard times,” Shirley says earnestly. “Just a little reminder that when times are tough, just remember that the Lord is watching out for you, and if you have a little faith, you will survive.”
Lieutenant Rad gleefully plays a familiar intro on the piano. And then, Shirley begins to sing.
“ wa'DIch mughIjqu' ghu', jIvanglaHbe'chu' (At first I was afraid, I was petrified)
jIH retlhDaq SoHbe'taHvIS not jIyInlaH 'e' vIHar (Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side)”
Abed leans forward in his seat, imagining English subtitles for audience members who are not fluent in Klingon.
“'ach ghIq qaStaHvIS rammey law' choQIH 'e' vIQub (But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong)
'jIHoSchoHpu', (And I grew strong)
''ej vIDIghmeH mIw vIghojpu' (And I learned how to get along)”
“Is that Eartha Kitt?” Pierce asks.
“Gloria Gaynor,” Abed replies. “A popular singer from 20th Century Earth.” The others stare at him, wondering just how extensive his knowledge of popular culture from 19th and 20th Century Earth is. “I know music too,” he adds with a shrug.
“ 'ej vaj loghvo' (And so you're back)
bIcheghlaw'pu' (From outer space)
'eQ jIyIt 'ej vI'elpu' 'ej naDev qatu'. 'IQlaw' qablIj. (I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face)”
“Shirley’s really good,” Annie says, nodding along with the beat.
“ Durghangvetlh QIp vIqa'nISpu' ngaQHa'moHwI' vISuqnISpu' (I should have changed that stupid lock, I should have made you leave your key)”
“Woo! Sing Shirley, sing!” Britta cheers.
“ chonuQmeH naDev Dacheghpu' 'e' vISovchugh qaStaHvIS lup (If I'd known for just one second you'd be back to bother me)”
“Play Free Bird!” Leonard yells, ever the contrarian.
“Shut up, Leonard!” Jeff yells back. “I know you were the one who clogged the holodeck biofilters.” Annie and Britta’s noses wrinkle in disgust, while Pierce just chuckles, because even in the 24th Century, farts are funny.
“Prove it!”
“DaH yIruch, jaH! lojmIt yImej (Go on now, go, walk out the door)
DaH yItlhe''eghchu' (Just turn around now)
neH naDev qalajqa'Qo'mo' ('Cause you're not welcome anymore)
cho'oy'moH 'e' DanID bImejpu'DI', qar'a'? (Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye?)
jIDej 'e' DaHar'a' (You think I'd crumble?)
jIQot jIHegh 'e' DaHar'a' (You think I'd lay down and die?)”
Grinning, Shirley points her microphone towards the audience, beckoning them to join in on the chorus. Unfortunately, most of them learned what little Klingon they know (some of which is actually Spanish) from Lieutenant Chang, but it’s the thought that counts.
“not vImuSHa'chugh, (Nor I love him, immensely)
bang vIwIvqangchugh, sé que seguiré vItlhob. (For my love, I'll ask my name.)
Y tengo todo jIHeghpu'bogh vIghom vIneH (I want to desire?? to mine in my ears)
romuluS vItlhutlhmeH jIH (I drink Romulan???)
'ugh vIqeltaHvIS (It was with a murderer of my father!)
Eventually Shirley’s song comes to an end and she shuffles off the stage, squealing with joy as Annie and Britta embrace her. Pierce tries to get in on the girly group hug, but Troy beats him to the punch, and soon all three women (and Troy) are jumping up and down in place exuberantly.
“Hell of a show, Shirley,” Jeff says warmly, tipping his glass to her.
“Right?” Lieutenant Rad says eagerly. “Isn’t she amazing? She’s a shoo-in for regionals!"
Pierce frowns, puzzled. It’s not the first time he’s heard someone mention regionals and the possibility of going to them. “What the hell are regionals?” he asks. Nobody answers him.
“Great show, Shirley. This development is an excellent way to add depth to your character,” Abed notes. “I was worried you were coming off as one-dimensional and you’d end up being underutilized, but I think you just secured your place at the table for at least five seasons.”
“Um, thank you?” Shirley replies, unsure if this was a compliment or an insult.
“What are your thoughts on auditioning for The Galaxy’s Got Talent ?” Pierce asks. “Of course, you’ll need a couple of backup dancers, but I’m sure Britta and Annie will be willing to fill in until we can find someone hotter. And you’ll need a manager, which is where I come in…”
“Um, no thank you,” Shirley replies bluntly.
“Let’s hear another round of applause for Shirley,” Captain Pelton announces. “And let’s welcome Shirley to take her seat because there are other performers,” he adds, passive-aggressively. Shirley and the others scurry to take their seats, nonplussed at being scolded by the emcee.
Captain Pelton continues. “Now, our next performer is someone near and dear to all our hearts. Someone you all see every day, but in a way, you never get to see at all,” he says, with a melancholy lilt. “Everyone, please put your hands together for Craigory Dean Pelton!”
“Did he just…” Annie starts to ask, but she trails off as her commanding officer rips off his tear-away tuxedo, revealing a very familiar sequined purple dress underneath it. Shirley looks down at herself self-consciously, then back up at the captain, who is wearing the exact same dress. He smirks, confident that he wore it better.
Everyone claps, because what else are they going to do?
The captain (who clearly wore it better) clears his throat into the microphone. “In the words of the greatest poet of all time, Sir Elton John,” Craig says solemnly. “‘My gift is my song, and this one’s for you.’” He points directly at Jeff, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
“Looking out on the morning rain
I used to feel so uninspired
And when I knew I had to face another day
Lord, it made me feel so tired
Before the day I met you, life was so unkind
But you're the key to my peace of mind”
Jeff groans and buries his face in his hands. Annie’s mouth hangs half open, dumbfounded. Troy tilts his head, like what? Britta isn’t sure whether to be indignant about Craig upstaging Shirley’s performance or supportive of him defying heteronormative gender roles. Shirley isn’t sure whether to be indignant about Craig upstaging her performance or concerned about the possibility that Craig looks better in her dress than she does. Pierce giggles, because a man is wearing a dress and Pierce is sixty-three going on four. Abed just takes in the performance.
“'Cause you make me feel,” Craig belts, pouring his soul into the microphone.
“You make me feel
You make me feel like a natural woman”
-
"Space…the final frontier," Captain Craigory Dean Pelton narrates into the stars. "These are the voyages of the U.S.S. Greendale. Her ongoing mission, to try not to crash into strange new worlds. To seek out new life and new civilizations, preferably without killing them. To boldly go where dozens of other ships have gone before!"
Star Trek: Greendale
Starring
Joel McHale as Ensign Jeff Winger
Alison Brie as Ensign Annie Edison
Gillian Jacobs as Ensign Britta Perry
Danny Pudi as Ensign Abed
Donald Glover as Ensign Troy Barnes
Yvette Nicole Brown as Shirley
With
Ken Jeong as Lieutenant Chang
John Oliver as Counselor Ian Duncan
John Goodman as Lt. Cmdr. Robert Laybourne
Paget Brewster as Commander Frankie Dart
Jim Rash as Captain Craig Pelton
And
Chevy Chase as Ensign Pierce Hawthorne