INT: WERKROOM
(All the queens from last week walk in and see the queens from the first week. Everyone immediately hates each other for no discernible reason.)
Bianca: Oh look, it’s the also-rans. Don’t take it personally if I don’t remember any of your names, okay? You won’t be around long enough to merit it, so don’t jump the gun.
Gia: Honey, I don’t jump the gun because I am the boom-boom gun. Tim Gunn. Naked Gun. Boom boom naked Tim boom gun.
Ben: Oh, don’t mind Gia. Her idea of snappy word play is stringing together random words in a bitchy tone of voice and then hoping it makes sense.
(RuPaul enters.)
RuPaul: Oh good, you’ve all met and already hate each other! This makes our editors’ jobs so much easier. Anyway, now that you’re all acquainted, pair up with a partner and straddle each other as a promo for Island House, the gay resort that’s sponsoring this episode.
Courtney: Is it just me, or are these mini-challenges becoming progressively more pornographic as the show goes on?
RuPaul: . . . Becoming?
INT: STUDIO
(The girls straddle one another for the sake of a lip-sync, with the top girl serving as the torso and arms while the bottom girl serves as the legs. No one does marvellously well, but it does give us an opportunity to stare face first at Milk’s ass-taint-cock area, and Jesus pancake-flipping Christ. YES.)
INT: WERKROOM
RuPaul: Okay, holy shit, the winner is Milk. And also whoever Milk was partnered with. Adore, I wanna say? Anyway, the challenge this week is to split into teams and act out horror movies. I’m sure now that you’ve mingled, you’ll mix up the groups and —
(The queens immediately split into the groups from the last two weeks.)
RuPaul: Or just do exactly that. Once again, this makes editing the show way easier.
(Ru exits. Milk and Adore get to work getting their teams ready.)
Milk: All right, so I’m going to start by assigning roles based on which character you can best play. Courtney and Bianca, you’ll play the horny, sassy ladies. Trinity and Joslyn, you’ll play the ditzy schoolgirls. Darienne, you have the best face, so you’ll play the demonic decapitated head, and I’ll play the crazy old woman. Now, let’s rehearse so that we have our lines memorized. Go team!
Adore: I have no idea what I’m doing, so April will play the butch real-estate lady, Vivacious will be the decapitated head, and no one memorize their lines because HERP DERP.
INT: CLOSED SET
(The queens act out their respective horror movies. Milk’s team brings it together with only a few hiccups down the road. Meanwhile, Adore’s team has no idea what they’re doing or how to do it, and shit gets so bad that Vivacious literally waits a whole 10 seconds after the cue before delivering her line.)
INT: MAINSTAGE
(The queens come marching one by one, hurrah. Hurrah. They’re judged by Ru, Michelle Visage, Santino Rice, Cersei goddamn Lannister and Linda Blair. The casting department pat themselves on the back. Everyone watches the completed movies, and it’s pretty clear that Adore’s team couldn’t act their way out of a wet, pink, furry box.)
RuPaul: Wow, that was fucking awful. Milk, your team wins by default. And I guess we’ll give Darienne the win because we like your cape.
Darienne: WOO! Vindication, bitches! Let’s all go in the back and drink our non-Absolut vodka cocktails.
(Milk’s team leaves.)
RuPaul: Look, aside from Ben, every single one of you could very well be in the bottom based on how badly you suck. But Adore, a lot of what went down tonight was a result of your piss-poor leadership skills. So how about you explain to us very carefully why we shouldn’t send you packing.
Adore: I was on American Idol.
RuPaul: Oh, that’s right. Okay, Vivacious and April are in the bottom two, then. Lip-sync to a Selena Gomez B-side no one has ever heard of from a Disney channel show no one cares about.
(They do. April immediately takes off her dress for no particular reason, while Vivacious keeps her Sonic the Hedgehog outfit on. It’s a super close lip-sync, but it’s pretty clear Vivacious is going home.)
RuPaul: Sorry, my dear, but your time has come. At least you were memorable, right?
Vivacious: I guess so. All right, Ornacia, let’s go home.
Ornacia: I’m so fucking disappointed in you right now, I can’t even look at you.
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