Too Good For This World
Beyonce Departs To A Better Place
Three weeks ago today my prized fighting dwarf Beyonce left this world for the next. I buried her in the Rose Gardens, as the thought of all those strange men bumming eachother over her dead corpse in the Rock Gardens made my skin crawl.
The blood in her bedding made me suspect foul play. There were little tiny pin prick like dots of blood all over her bedding, and big thumb sized blobs, where she was curled up asleep. I think she was stabbed up by needles as she slept, probably when I was in the toilet, shower or kitchen, as that's the only time my door's unlocked.
I don't know who did it, or why, but it was probably one of the smackheads in the house, getting their own back because I wouldn't give them forty pence to call their smack dealer or something.
Thankfully I wasn't being raped in the arse by my local MP, whilst being held down by the local police, and forced to watch a local judge chop her in half with a shovel Bryn Alyn style, but all the same, it's not very nice.
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