"Katya, I swear to God, if you don't stop stealing my eyeliner, I'm gonna—"
"Oh, calm down, you plastic Barbie skeleton!" Katya snapped, grabbing the eyeliner and yeeting it at Trixie with the kind of force usually reserved for shot-put Olympians.
But Katya's aim? Questionable. Instead of hitting Trixie, the eyeliner soared through the slightly open door of RuPaul's dressing room.
Thunk.
Both queens froze.
"Uh, what did it just hit?" Trixie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Katya shrugged. "I dunno. Probably a wall. Or maybe a Fabergé egg. You know she keeps them lying around."
Then came the sound. A deep, heavy thud—like a sack of glitter hitting the ground. Silence followed, and it was deafening.
"Wait..." Trixie's eyes widened. "What if that wasn't a Fabergé egg?"
"Only one way to find out!" Katya grinned like a raccoon about to knock over a trash can and pushed the door open wider.
Inside, lying face down on the custom sequin rug, was RuPaul Charles. Her six-foot-four frame was slumped like a mannequin that had just given up on capitalism. The eyeliner was still clutched in her fist, the crime scene looking disturbingly like a parody of Clue.
"Oh my God," Trixie whispered, slapping a hand over her mouth.
"Oh my GOD," Katya repeated, louder, before starting to laugh hysterically. "We killed RuPaul. Oh my God, we killed RuPaul!"
"Shut UP!" Trixie hissed, smacking her on the arm. "We're not even supposed to be in here!"
Katya dropped to her knees, poking Ru's shoulder. "Do you think she's, like, actually dead? Or just... drag-dead?"
Trixie grabbed her by the wrist. "Stop touching the body!"
"Fine, but for the record, it's YOUR eyeliner," Katya shot back.
"Not the point! Katya, this is serious!" Trixie paced back and forth, panicking. "Do you realize what Michelle will do if she finds out? She'll frack our wigs off! She'll frack us so hard we'll have natural gas coming out of our pores!"
Katya looked genuinely impressed. "You really think Michelle could frack without government clearance?"
"Katya!"
Just then, the sound of Michelle Visage's voice echoed down the hallway.
"WHERE IS SHE?" Michelle roared. "We're supposed to be rolling in FIVE MINUTES, and if I have to—"
Trixie and Katya locked eyes in full panic mode.
"We have to hide the body," Trixie said, her voice trembling.
"Wait—what? No, are you insane?" Katya threw her hands up. "Why don't we just tell Michelle it was, like, an accident? A tragic eyeliner-related incident? A beauty industry casualty?"
"Oh, sure. 'Hey Michelle, sorry we killed RuPaul, but at least her eyebrows were snatched!' Great plan, Katya."
"Fine," Katya grumbled, crouching down. "Where do we hide her?"
After a tense minute of brainstorming (and arguing over whether it was rude to refer to Ru as "the body"), they had a stroke of genius—or something close to it.
The Werk Room.
Dragging RuPaul's limp, shimmering form through the hallways was no small task. (Turns out charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent weigh a LOT when combined.) They dodged producers, interns, and a crew member rolling a suspicious amount of duct tape before making it into the sacred Werk Room.
"Okay, quick, where do we put her?" Trixie whispered, scanning the room.
Katya's eyes landed on the giant spinning lipstick reveal box—the one for dramatic elimination decisions. It was oversized, gaudy, and probably capable of hiding at least two bodies if needed.
"That," she said, pointing.
"No," Trixie said immediately. "Absolutely not."
"Yes," Katya insisted. "It's iconic."
Against her better judgment, Trixie helped Katya hoist Ru's body into the box, tucking her in next to a pile of discarded wig tape and an inexplicable pair of platform Crocs.
"Do you think she'd want to be remembered like this?" Trixie asked, genuinely unsure.
"Girl, it's better than being fracked to death by Michelle," Katya replied, brushing glitter off her hands.
The moment they shut the box, the door to the Werk Room swung open, and Michelle Visage stormed in, heels clicking like a death sentence.
"What are you two doing in here?!" she snapped, glaring at them.
"Uh... nothing!" Trixie said, smiling way too hard.
"Yeah," Katya added. "Just, um, rehearsing! For the reunion. You know, getting into the spirit of competition."
Michelle squinted at them, clearly suspicious. Her eyes darted to the lipstick box, but before she could say anything, her phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen and sighed dramatically. "For the love of Cher, where is Ru?! She said she only 'needed 5 minutes to realign her chakras.' Honestly, that bitch."
Trixie and Katya froze, exchanging a wide-eyed look.
Michelle shook her head, muttering, "You know, sometimes I think she's more high-maintenance than me. Anyway, get your asses back on stage. We've got a reunion to film."
She spun on her heel and left, leaving the queens standing in stunned silence.
"Katya," Trixie said finally, her voice trembling. "We just hid RuPaul's body in the lipstick box."
Katya grinned. "I know. Isn't it fabulous?"
