ALEX'S DI$COUNT DRAGWORLD | PRESEASON
Fanta stepped into the gawdy tourist trap, careful not to let the fabric of her expensive coat touch any of the sticky, cluttered countertops. The interior of the store was a dimly lit explosion of drag memorabilia. Tacky neon lights promising BARGAINS and AUTHENTICITY blinked on and off, vying desperately for her attention.
Brightly coloured price tags and certificates of authenticity plastered everything. Neglected mannequins elbowed each other, leaning precariously off of their display platforms.
This tacky little place was Marie Kondo's worst nightmare.
Fanta's eye was drawn to a collection of mannequins - some missing an arm or a head - stuffed haphazardly behind a velvet rope. Draped in a variety of flowing greco roman silks, there was something oddly familiar about them.
The mannequins were bathed in the artificial glare of pink neon as a sign lit up above them. It read RDR4: GREEKGATE in a matter-of-fact cursive. A garish sign made hastily from construction paper read 100% REAL.
“Ugh. Jesus. Gross.” Fanta murmured, before popping a cold mozzarella stick into her mouth.
Fanta backed away, trying to navigate through the chaotic interior of the store. She bumped into something leathery, a nasty smell hitting her nostrils.
She turned, coming face-to-face with a mannequin draped in rotting meat. Flies buzzed about in a manic fashion, finding somewhere to lay their eggs.
A noticed tied around the mannequins neck read RD2: KITTY'S ELIMIMATION DRESS.
Fanta gagged, pinching her nose as she wandered aimlessly deeper into the bowels of the store, getting hopelessly lost amongst the tawdry merchandise.
She saw many worrying things during her brief venture.
A jar containing a vicious-looking kidney stone belonging to Bianca Bibancos, produced by her body due to the stress of losing to Euthenasia in RD1.
A controversial photo of RD2 winner Smacahoe posing with season 11 contestant Brooke Lynn Hytes back in 2013. A sticker in the lower left corner read BLACKFACE SCANDAL in a messy scribble.
The original vinyl recording of Little Dix's flopped single made during the girl group challenge in (trigger warning) Reddit's Rising Stars.
A jar of hydrogen peroxide that someone had anonymously threatened to poison Elle Crimson with - most definitely a sincere threat and not at all made up for attention.
The pogostick that Glamtina made her entrance on during (trigger warning) RRS shortly before being exposed as Sonya's messy alt.
The very paper bag that caused Portia to famously lose the glamour floorshow in the finale of RD2. Just looking at it made Fanta feel sick.
Fanta groaned, making her way over to the counter. She slumped against it, exhausted from the assault on her senses. After taking a moment to regain her composure, she reached across the counter and rang the bell - alerting the shopkeeper to her presence.
The shopkeeper took an entire two seconds to materialize, during which Fanta made a mental note to leave a scathing Yelp review for the slow service.
“HihowcanIhelp- oh my GOD-” the shopkeeper cried, “Fanta!? Is that you?”
Fanta lowered her sunglasses, peering over them cautiously at the familiar face.
It was Alex, the alleged founder of the community who had an undiagnosed addiction to casting nonexistent seasons.
“Alex…” Fanta said, “you look…”
Fanta coughed like a woman.
“...good.”
“You must be here to sign up to my new season-” Alex babbled, “-I mean how could you not?”
Fanta stared at him blankly.
“It's gonna be LIT!” Alex cried, “This is gonna be the season that explodes - I can FEEL it!”
Alex shoved a clipboard into Fanta's face. It had a crumpled sheet of paper tacked to it that read SIGN UP HERE it was empty.
Fanta swatted the clipboard away.
“Oh don't be like that-” Alex whined, “If you sign up for my season, I'll sign up for Dragula 4!”
Fanta grimaced.
“I'll consider it.” She lied.
“Listen, I'm here about something important-” Fanta explained, “-something top secret.”
“Is it those RDR queens?” Alex asked, “I hate those nasty pig bitches.”
Fanta blinked.
“No… something else.”
“Well whatever it is, I'm a different person now-” Alex confessed, “-positive vibes, baby!”
“Did you buy anything from GoodWill lately?” asked, “Anything… suspicious?”
“Like a trunk with a dead body in it?” Alex asked.
“I guess… I don't know…” Fanta replied, “What?”
“Yeah a dead body-” Alex repeated, “-I'll show you.”
Alex began to head towards the back of the store, gesturing for Fanta to follow. Fanta was reluctant, and double checked to make sure she had her pepper spray, rape whistle and hand sanitizer before following him.
Alex led her through a velvet curtain to a small backroom. The smell hit her like a truck. She clamped her fingers to her nose, fighting the urge to vomit.
What was that!?
Alex flicked the lightswitch on, exposing the chamber of horrors.
Bodies were strewn about throughout the room, bloated, stiff-limbed and in varying states of decomposition. Fanta took a step forward, unknowingly mashing some maggots into the carpet with the sole of her shoe.
“I was gonna call this the ‘Meet The Monsters’ room-” Alex explained, “-I was gonna charge fans to come in and take a look until I realized nobody actually watches Reddit's Dragula.”
Fanta stared down at the various corpses, stacked behind velvet ropes. She recognized some of them, or at least the ones not too far into decomposition.
Christina.
Miss Steak.
Sardonyx.
“Who… who did this to them?” Fanta asked.
“Oooooh-” Alex said, “-maybe I'll turn this into the Rising Stars room!”
“That's a terrible idea.” Fanta said, approaching a long velvet curtain. Stood before it was a plaque that read Hall Of Fame
Alex pulled a lever, and the motorized curtain began to retreat, exposing a series of ornate, golden portrait frames.
The first one was empty, it read Euthenasia in an elegant font.*
The next one read Smacahoe, and pinned to the wall with a large spike was her skinny corpse, a bulletwound blasted through her sagging face.
“Who would do this to my ghouls?” Fanta asked, “This makes no sense!”
“Um, do you even watch your own show?” Alex replied, “You kill everyone when they get eliminated.”
“Do not!” Fanta protests.
“Well somebody does-” Alex says, “I can't believe you never noticed.”
“I can't leave her up there like this-” Fanta says, gesturing upwards to Smac's corpse, “-she's a crowned winner, not a James Charles calendar!”
“If you want to take the star attraction of my ‘Meet The Monsters’ room, you're gonna have to make an offer.” Alex insisted.
“You're going to make me pay for a dead body?” Fanta asked in disbelief, “I thought you were turning this into the (Trigger Warning) Rising Stars room anyway?”
“Hey-” Alex said defensively, “-my seasons aren't going to fund themselves.”
CLUB 27 | WEEK 4
The damp, stained walls glistened under the stage lights as water leaked down from a burst pipe above the ceiling. The atmosphere in the makeshift dressing room was tense - and nobody seemed to be enjoying this weeks challenge.
Bianca admired her reflection - lips pouting, nose in the air - as she added some bobby pins into the folds of her turban. She was one of the few contestants who had voiced their disdain for the challenge - though she seemed to be doing this on a weekly basis.
[BIANCA BIBANCOS] “I was robbed back in season one. Wrongfully. You can check the spreadsheet.”
Bianca takes a moment to check her manicure. She flexes her fingers in a casual fashion.
[BIANCA BIBANCOS] “I have nothing to prove, but I do have a legacy to protect. The idea that my flawless track record could be tainted by my first ever low placement is… not cute.”
Across from her, Diana is teasing her white hair into a high quiff. She doesn't seem focused so much as she seems annoyed. She gives her hairspray an angry shake before setting her wig.
“I hate this challenge-” Diana announces to nobody in particular, “-I really fucking hate it.”
Bianca raises an eyebrow. Aristo takes a momentary break from adjusting his cincher, his attention drawn to Diana.
“I'm in the fucking bottom I can tell-” Diana blurts out, “-I should just pack my shit and go home already.”
Continuing to throw her strop, Diana tosses her can of hairspray over her shoulder. It flies across the club and bounces off of Flashback Mary's head before landing and disappearing in Tish's backfat.
[FLASHBACK MARY] “This queen has the worst attitude I swear to God…”
Flashback lifts a finger to the bump on her forehead. It's been covered with a used, crusty-looking Hello Kitty bandaid.
[FLASHBACK MARY] “She's gone from winning the first challenge to being a self-sabotaging brat. I can't with her.”
“Well if you're in the bottom, save me a seat, okay?” Aristo says, pulling the strings on his cincher and readjusting his internal organs, “-I'm really not feeling it this week. Oh at all.”
“If none of us compete this week, they'll have no choice but to give us a new challenge-” Bianca purrs, adding some highlight, “-I say we go on strike.”
“I don't even care anymore-” Diana cries, sweeping her products onto the floor, “-I'm over this shit!”
Diana stands up abruptly, causing her chair to tip over with a crash.
“Oop!” Tish exclaims, spinning round in her seat.
“What's the point of this dumbass lyric challenge anyway?” Diana asks, “-everyone knows it's rigged for that fat bitch Portia!”
“HEY!” Portia yells, wearing bugles on all ten of her fingertips, “Who are you calling fat!?”
Aristo and Satina both makes an attempt to calm Diana down, but it's too late, this queen seems to have made up her mind. Ripping off her microphone, she storms across the club making a beeline for the exit.
“Can someone pick up my nail that fell off because I'm such a FUCKING disaster?”
[SATINA] “Did this queen really just storm off the set? Is this bitch coming back?
The camera zooms into fire exit where we can hear the muffled attempts of a producer trying to talk Diana off of the ledge. It's not entirely clear but she seems to be shouting about her recent breakup with her internet boyfriend.
Satina and Aristo exchange awkward looks.
[SATINA] “I feel very uncomfortable right now…”
The tense silence is ended with an inappropriately timed crunch. One by one, Portia is popping the bugles into her cavernous mouth.
“Well I don't know about you queens-” Portia announced, “-but I thought this challenge was LOVELY gal.”
[PORTIA BELLA MUSHROOM] “I like that these girls are starting to see me as a threat. I like that I'm getting under their skin.”
Portia rips open another bag of Bugles.
[PORTIA BELLA MUSHROOM] “I don't need to remind anybody that I won the last musical challenge in Dragula herstory. They know. They're aware. And they can't STAND it!”
“I don't know how it'll play out, but I'm doing my best-” Flashback chimes in, “-I hope they like my video as much as I do.”
“I'll just be happy if I'm safe-” Satina says, “-I don't think that's too much to ask.”
“What about you?” Portia asks, gesturing over to Bella Esmeralda, “-ready to go home?”
Portia tosses a Bugle at Bella's head to get her attention. Seconds later Tish picks it up off if the ground and eats it.
Bella turns around slowly, it's very clear that she's making an effort to compose herself.
“I think we should all just focus on our own work-” Bella says diplomatically, “-and let the judges decide who's going home.”
Portia makes a throat slitting motion.
[BELLA ESMERALDA] “Why is this bitch so obsessed with me? You don't see Jennifer Lawrence and Jennifer Aniston fighting over this shit.”
The fire exit door opens, and Diana makes her moody return. She plops herself down at her makeup station and groans.
“Portia-” Diana says through gritted teeth, “-the producers would like me to publicly apologise for implying that this competition is rigged for you.”
Diana pauses.
“And I'll bake you a cake if you don't send me home.”
The sound of the generators humming breaks the deafening silence - a sparse selection of stage lights gradually turning on and unleashing a constellation of azure hues. The pearlescent lavender and ocean-blue lighting traversed down the marble stage in a calming gradient, shortly disrupted by the dawning of shadows from the competitors, walking out onto the main stage. Spotlights formed and cascaded down onto them, muting everything else in a veil of darkness bar the crystallised ‘Reddit Dragula’ sign that refracted rays of white light into crimson tones onto their backs. Two figures can be seen at the back of the stage, albeit out of focus, powerfully stomping to the front and standing before the panel. By the expression of worry spreading across the contestants faces, and the audible deep breaths they produced, one could only assume it was Fantasia and Smacahoe.
“Welcome Ghouls to the fourth panel of the season. This week, you were asked to select from a range of dead musical stars to embody in your own music videos, created for a single you were given with that role to rewrite the lyrics to - adding your own twist and signature. Alongside that, you were required to create a song list for the rest of the album and a description that summed it up in its entirety.”
Fantasia turns to Smacahoe, who after her recent visit to the mortician is looking more skinny and gorgine than ever before. Smac takes the floor:
“You were also provided the runway theme of Celebrity Skin, taking place right here in Club 27.”
The camera cuts to the competitors nodding, Bianca seeming to be the most panicked of them all.
[BIANCA BIBANCOS]: I’m really nervous, I don’t know how to feel about my work. A high would be nice but if you think I’m lying when I say we’re shitting bricks on this stage right now.
The confessional cuts back to the panel where Fantasia and Smacahoe have took places on their thrones, situated behind the surface and looking down to the remaining cast as their fates neared being chosen.
“You know, you barely look dead at all-” Fanta says, examining Smac's flawless beat, “-what did he use to fix that bullet hole?”
“Just some hot glue and desperation,” Smac replied.
Smac notices that Fanta is no longer covered in pulsing grey boils.
“It looks like your STD is all cleared up-” Smac says, “-your snapchat transmitted dis-”
“ANYWAY-” Fanta cries, turning back to the ghouls, “Let’s see your work, shall we?”
Here are this weeks submissions: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1XJiv2x0NsMkpbMa5J6kdz6EhawSlF_u7aw9AN4HsYlI/edit?usp=sharing
As the montage of floorshows concludes, a round of applause is formed by the competitors that congratulated each other for their work, some now more nervous than they had been before. The lights turn crimson, a warning that placements were to be declared.
“Bianca Bibancos, Satina... you are both safe.”
Bianca’s shakes continue, in shock that her nightmare of being bottom this challenge was over. Satina pats her on the back whilst relieved to be safe, taking Bianca by hand to the back of the stage.
“That means those of you left on stage represent the tops and bottoms of the week.”
Fantasia watches the optimism fade from the bunch, scared knowing that they had equal chances of being in the bottom three as they did the top three.
“It’s time to critique your work.”
Smacahoes Critiques: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AlKy7oQ4V2LxW3rU8qHbUlMURs4C1f4fsWgVpg739Kw/edit?usp=drivesdk
Fantasia’s Critiques: Have completed, adding in the episode when accessible.
The camera pans alongside the stage, some of the queens seem rather happy, whilst others start to look worried.
“Aristo, your embodiment of prince turned the forecast to purple rain, and your pop-art runway was a full art instillation, but it may not have fit the showbiz celebrity criteria. You’re safe.”
Aristo nods, thanking both hosts and heading to the back.
“Tish Hughes, this week your cannibalistic Whitney Houston was not right, but it’s ok and left us so emotional. Portia Bella Mushroom, your Judy Garland made us believe there was a place over the rainbow, and a pot of rainbow diet pills at the end of it…” .
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
“Portia, congratulations, you’re the winner of this weeks challenge.”
Portia breaks out into a vast smile, jumping up and down in excitement as she takes her first win of the season.
[PORTIA BELLA MUSHROOM]: Look at me winning the only two musical challenges ever in the history of Reddit Dragula. You girls better watch out, I’m coming for you.
“Tish Hughes, you’re safe.”
Tish congratulates Portia before taking her spot at the back of the stage, the camera turning to face the remaining there as their happiness for the winner fades out to their own concern .
“Diana, your Amy Winehouse tried taking us to rehab, I’m sorry my dear but you are one of the bottom two of the week.”
Diana bites her tongue, shaking her head in disappointment.
“Flashback Mary, your Marilyn Monroe had character, but not the character of the starlet we fell in love with. I’m sorry my dear, you’re also in the bottom two of the week. Which means Bella Esmeralda… you’re safe.”
Bella pulls Flashback into a hug, whispering good luck before she escapes the tension that had risen at the front of the stage.
“Portia Bella Mushroom, as this weeks winner, you must deliberate with the two girls and ultimately choose who to go home. Please read over this weeks critiques and take everything into consideration when deciding. This is your game, your decision.”
Congratulations Portia and all of you, you all pulled through a tough week. Good luck to Flashback and Diana, it was a hard decision so don’t give your hopes up. Portia, please message us your decision of who you want to eliminate once you have chosen.
SPREADSHEET: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1wysBvt45oyuoBP1apJ89H7r2sG3Asow_Fl5S3KJyojc
Submitted February 27, 2019 at 11:46AM by bbukrpdr https://ift.tt/2Tp8Gny
No comments:
Post a Comment