What Would Happen if Rami Got Auf'ed - Project Runway
Yeah, this was on my Facebook. But I adore it and am putting it here, too.
It was down to the final two. The “Make a Wedding Dress from a Clown Suit Challenge” had taken several causalities into Nina Garcia’s claws, Michael Kors’ flamboyance, and guest judge Ryan Seacrest’s reflective teeth. But now it was down to just two contestants: Rami and Ricky.
Rami looked as poised as ever. Perhaps his standard draping technique didn’t suit the polka-dotted lacy hell fabric, but at least it was stylish and sophisticated to the greatest degree. Ricky, on the other hand, was bawling once more, his eyes glowing like two fish bowls about to be smacked open. His dress had, as always, attempted to be lingerie chic. Instead it was clown cheap, ugly, and unoriginal.
Heidi Klum cleared her throat. “Bof ov vou ad problems vith zees challenge.” Then, upon clearing it again, her strange, dubbed-over voice in better English came out.
“Ricky. Your design was boring, uninspiring, and would cause any bride to commit seppuku.” Ricky’s hands fell over his face, trying to keep the tears from melting him any further.
“Rami. Your design was typical Rami and not suited for this challenge. We wanted you to surprise us. Instead you gave us the same old thing.” Rami looked unfazed, most likely because he had already sold this gown to Jessica Alba for the MTV Music Video Awards.
Heidi made her pouty suspenseful face. “Ricky….” Ricky looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “You’re in.”
Ricky gasped and let the tears wash over his undeserving face. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” he squealed, running off the stage before Heidi gave him permission.
“That means Rami, you’re out. Auf Wiedersehen.” Heidi got out of her seat and took Rami’s hand. He bent over to kiss her check and suddenly Heidi fell over, a huge bloody stab wound in her belly. Rami straightened, lifting a knife above his head.
“I AM RAMI!” he shouted, waving the knife. “I am the most talented designer in this fucking competition! And you eliminated me! You eliminated me instead of that whiny little bitch Ricky! I’ll shank all of you!”
Michael Kors was already by Heidi’s side, trying to save his one-of-a-kind couture outfit that he’d made for her. Rami slashed his throat and then sunk his knife deep in Nina Garcia’s abdomen, silencing her screams.
Ryan Seacrest looked like he was going to attack Rami before the thought dawned on him that Rami was from Israel and was completely badass and that he, Ryan, was a pansy, fop-wanna-be girl. So instead he batted his eyelids, unsuccessfully trying to seduce Rami out of stabbing him.
Rami now stood on the runway, covered in blood, his knife slick. He smiled. “This is so much better than Bryant Park.”
With that, he pocketed the knife and left.
Author's Note: To conclude, Ricky is a little bitch and Rami is a badass.
There will be more fan fiction to follow.
It was down to the final two. The “Make a Wedding Dress from a Clown Suit Challenge” had taken several causalities into Nina Garcia’s claws, Michael Kors’ flamboyance, and guest judge Ryan Seacrest’s reflective teeth. But now it was down to just two contestants: Rami and Ricky.
Rami looked as poised as ever. Perhaps his standard draping technique didn’t suit the polka-dotted lacy hell fabric, but at least it was stylish and sophisticated to the greatest degree. Ricky, on the other hand, was bawling once more, his eyes glowing like two fish bowls about to be smacked open. His dress had, as always, attempted to be lingerie chic. Instead it was clown cheap, ugly, and unoriginal.
Heidi Klum cleared her throat. “Bof ov vou ad problems vith zees challenge.” Then, upon clearing it again, her strange, dubbed-over voice in better English came out.
“Ricky. Your design was boring, uninspiring, and would cause any bride to commit seppuku.” Ricky’s hands fell over his face, trying to keep the tears from melting him any further.
“Rami. Your design was typical Rami and not suited for this challenge. We wanted you to surprise us. Instead you gave us the same old thing.” Rami looked unfazed, most likely because he had already sold this gown to Jessica Alba for the MTV Music Video Awards.
Heidi made her pouty suspenseful face. “Ricky….” Ricky looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “You’re in.”
Ricky gasped and let the tears wash over his undeserving face. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” he squealed, running off the stage before Heidi gave him permission.
“That means Rami, you’re out. Auf Wiedersehen.” Heidi got out of her seat and took Rami’s hand. He bent over to kiss her check and suddenly Heidi fell over, a huge bloody stab wound in her belly. Rami straightened, lifting a knife above his head.
“I AM RAMI!” he shouted, waving the knife. “I am the most talented designer in this fucking competition! And you eliminated me! You eliminated me instead of that whiny little bitch Ricky! I’ll shank all of you!”
Michael Kors was already by Heidi’s side, trying to save his one-of-a-kind couture outfit that he’d made for her. Rami slashed his throat and then sunk his knife deep in Nina Garcia’s abdomen, silencing her screams.
Ryan Seacrest looked like he was going to attack Rami before the thought dawned on him that Rami was from Israel and was completely badass and that he, Ryan, was a pansy, fop-wanna-be girl. So instead he batted his eyelids, unsuccessfully trying to seduce Rami out of stabbing him.
Rami now stood on the runway, covered in blood, his knife slick. He smiled. “This is so much better than Bryant Park.”
With that, he pocketed the knife and left.
Author's Note: To conclude, Ricky is a little bitch and Rami is a badass.
There will be more fan fiction to follow.