INT: WERK ROOM
(The queens enter, except for Gia, who went home. Fucking wonky-eyed troll baby. I can’t say I miss her.)
Joslyn: Thank god she’s gone. I swear, if I had to listen to Gia bitch about someone’s makeup when her face looks like a bad paint-by-numbers job, I’d kick her right in the tilapia.
Milk: Seriously, her face looked like an elevation map.
RuPaul: All right, queens, stop reading Gia and start reading each other. Or in Laganja’s case, pout like a four-year-old girl for the next few minutes.
Bianca: I can’t read these bitches! Mostly because I’m pretty sure Adore is illiterate. And how could I mock Darienne Lake? She’s gorgeous! She looks like someone poured her into her dress but forgot to say when.
Ben: And what can I say about Bianca? Other than she’s so old her first wig was made from mammoth hair. Oh, and Laganja sweetheart, I love your lip-synching! Mostly because it’s the only time you don’t fucking talk.
(Laganja pouts some more.)
RuPaul: All right, you all had some fun. Now it’s time for the main challenge, which is to throw down in a ’90s rap battle. Because nothing’s more hilariously awkward than white people trying to be gangster. Isn’t that right, Laganja?
Laganja: COME ON, POUTY FACE!
INT: CLOSED SET
(The Ru-Tang Clan and The Panty-Hoes go head-to-head in a rap battle. It’s hilariously awkward, and since I just did a string of rhyming couplets for the Rusical recap, I’ll keep this brief.)
Panty-Hoes: Yo listen up, bitches, Drag Race on the scene,
Freeze these other skanks out like a Dairy Queen,
Don’t bother coming at me ’cuz you’re gonna lose,
We’ll read your narrow ass like you’re Dr Seuss.
Ru-Tang Clan: That’s cute and all, but I get drop-dead gorgeous,
Stand in the shade of our talent, ’cuz it’s fucking enormous,
Your rap game’s weak, you can talk the talk,
But at the end of the day, you can’t sissy that walk.
(There’s a reason I’m not a rapper.)
(RuPaul sits on the judging panel with Michelle Visage, Santino Rice, Eve and Trina. The category for the night is Crazy Sexy Cool, because fuck it, we’re in week six. We might as well cast the broadest net possible before we really start throwing the crazy shit at them.)
RuPaul: Since there are nine queens left, this is the last episode where safety is a thing, so let’s get it out of the way: Courtney, you’re resting on pretty. Laganja, you’re resting on overly rehearsed catch phrases. And BenDelaCreme, you actually didn’t do half bad, but you got out-rapped this week. Enjoy your non-Absolut cocktails in the back.
Laganja: Oh boy, another opportunity to pout on Untucked. COME ON, MEDIOCRITY!
RuPaul: All right, now for the top queens. Joslyn, you continue to be a delightful little surprise, and Bianca did pretty well for a woman who’s 37 going on dust. But we’re going to give this one to Adore, because she actually did half decent and also, she’s basically our pet project this season.
Adore: Yay! I’m malleable for the judges!
RuPaul: And now for the bottom three. Darienne deserves to be in the bottom three this week, but since we need her to be the season’s bitch now that Gia’s gone, Milk and Trinity have to lip-sync. Lip-sync to a Salt-N-Pepa song, because Trinity needs to stick around for another week.
(They lip-sync. Honestly, the song choice makes this one pretty one-sided, but I can’t be mad because both queens kill it. Fucking nail it.)
RuPaul: Sorry, Milk, but it’s your time to sashay away.
Milk: It’s okay. I’m just happy I outlasted Gia, that graffiti-faced troll bitch.
(I don’t like Gia.)