The Palace

 

#1
The Palace Bar was meant to be a refuge for all the poofs, queers, and trannies chewed up and spat out by the virulent streets of the 1980s. Meant to be.
Inside, Phil smashed a bottle over the countertop. “What did you do, you motherfucker?”
A young man lay motionless on the floor, skin pale as snow.
Mal stood over him, his face twisted in a malicious sneer. “The idiot little poofter has off’d himself.”
Phil moved forward, enraged and swiping at Mal with the broken bottle, but two patrons held him back. “What the fuck have you done?”
Mal let out a derisive laugh, “Didn’t need to do a fucking thing, your gutter-junkie of a whore did it all to himself. Not my fault he can’t hold his smack.”
But Mal was a jealous man. He had always been jealous of Jamie. Jealous that he had been the top queen at the Palace Bar. And he was nasty, especially when he didn’t get what he wanted. Phil knew that much.
“You did this. You gave him too much, I know you did.”
Mal grinned, “Prove it.”
Fuelled by his rage, Phil managed to pull himself free and tackle Mal to the ground. He pressed the jagged glass to Mal’s throat until it drew blood. Their eyes locked, filled with mutual hatred.
“Maybe if your boyfriend hadn’t flashed his tight little arsehole all around town, he wouldn’t have taken my rightful place,” Mal growled.
“You killed him because of some stupid fucking drag contest?” Phil’s eyes bulged with fury, “I’ll fucking kill you.”
Phil shoved the glass into Mal’s neck. Blood spurted from his jugular, spraying all over Phil. In his anger he couldn’t even taste the blood. Mal gurgled and struggled feebly before falling limp.
The patrons merely watched in shock as Phil pushed Mal aside to cradle Jamie’s still body. Phil kissed Jamie’s cold lips and wept, tears running down his blood soaked face.

#2
Executive Feedback: Whoa, we’re looking for something a bit less… explicit. Tune it down a little.

The Palace Bar was meant to be a refuge for all the gays, fairies and queens, escaping the virulent streets of the 1980s. Meant to be.
Inside, Phil smashed a bottle over the countertop. “What did you do, you bitch?”
A young woman lay motionless on the floor, skin pale as snow. Mal stood over her, his face twisted in a malicious sneer. “The idiot little tramp has off’d herself.”
Phil moved forward, enraged and swiping at Mal with the broken bottle, but two patrons held him back. “What have you done?”
Mal let out a derisive laugh, “I didn’t need to do anything, your gutter-junkie of a girlfriend did it all to herself. Not my fault she can’t hold her drugs.”
But Mal was a jealous man. He had always been jealous of Jamie. Jealous that a woman was the winner of the beauty contest at the Palace Bar. And he was nasty, especially when he didn’t get what he wanted. Phil knew that much.
“You did this. You gave her too much, I know you did.”
Mal grinned, “Prove it.”
Fuelled by his rage, Phil managed to pull himself free and tackle Mal to the ground. He pressed the jagged glass to Mal’s throat. Their eyes locked, filled with mutual hatred.
“Maybe if your girlfriend hadn’t slept around so much, she wouldn’t have taken my rightful place,” Mal growled.
“You killed her because of some stupid contest?” Phil’s eyes bulged with fury, “I’ll kill you.”
Phil pushed glass against Mal’s neck until it drew blood. Mal’s face contorted with pain and surprise.
Jamie wouldn’t have wanted this, Phil realised. He withdrew the bottle, and then smashed it over Mal’s head. He slumped, knocked out cold.
Phil pushed Mal aside to cradle Jamie’s still body. Phil kissed Jamie’s cold lips and wept, tears running down his face.

#3
Executive Feedback: There’s been a change of plans. We now want this marketed towards kids. Something suitable for a toy line.

The Palace was meant to be a refuge for princesses, fairies and queens. Meant to be.
Inside, Prince Phillip drew his sword from its scabbard. “What did you do, you witch?”
A young woman lay motionless on the floor of the throne-room, skin pale as snow. Maleficent stood over her, her face twisted in a malicious sneer. “The sorry little princess has taken a nap.”
Prince Phillip moved forward, enraged and swinging his sword, but two of his fellow knights held him back. “What did you do?”
Maleficent let out a derisive laugh, “I didn’t need to do anything, the princess pricked herself on a needle. Not my fault she’s so careless whilst sewing.”
But Maleficent was a jealous woman. She had always been jealous of the Princess. Jealous that she was the most beautiful woman at the Palace. And she was nasty, especially when she didn’t get what she wanted. Prince Phillip knew that much.
“You put a spell on her. You sang a song about it when you thought no one was around. I know you did.”
Maleficent grinned, “Prove it.”
Fuelled by his rage, Prince Phillip launched himself at the Witch, and tackled her to the ground. The prince pressed his sword to Maleficent’s heart. Their eyes locked, filled with mutual hatred.
“Maybe if your girlfriend had died with her parents like she was supposed to, she wouldn’t have taken my rightful place as queen,” Maleficent hissed.
“You killed her because you wanted the crown?” Prince Philip shouted in fury, “I smite you, fiend!”
The Prince struck Maleficent’s neck. Her body collapsed into a cloud of fowl-smelling black dust.
Having smote the witch, the Prince turned to cradle the Princess’s body. Crying, he gave her cold lips one last kiss goodbye before moving away.
“Prince Phillip? Was that you?”
The Prince turned, his beloved had awoken!

And they lived happily ever after.

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