OK, guys. I totally think I might have killed Biff. I was waiting in his bedroom, and when he came in I started to recite this poem I wrote him, and he just said “mammary glands or gtfo”, and I realized he didn’t appreciate my poetry or my scorpions and I hit him in the head with a bottle of cheap champagne. There’s blood everywhere. I gotta run. Maybe he’s not dead. If anyone hears either way, TM me. Don’t tell the cops anything.

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