Murder! She wrote…


There were drips of blood in the room…no body was found, but the
blood wasn’t voluminous enough to suggest that someone died from it. It
was a mystery though. Who did the blood belong to? What happened in
this god forsaken room? Why am I posting about it? Burning questions
that only an intoxicated mind could think up. Burning like…like
something combustible. Worthy of an Agatha Christy novel, but I
couldn’t be bothered.

Scene: A few dismal drops of blood in a room. What happened and why and who and what and but and lah and di and dah.

Answer: Fucking veritas broke his meth pipe in my room,
resulting in me stepping on the glass and embedding a small piece into
me. Dickhead. πŸ˜‰

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