The police came round today. There was a murder. It was just my best friends. I pushed her down the stairs. I killed her. Just kidding! she farted. But in a way, I killed her for it. But it wasn’t murder. Instead, we snorted our brains out like preschoolers over it. I guess even age doesn't change our sense of humour. Or how much our relationship really means to me. Or how much it annoys me when she polices me because she's a police officer. But I still love her. And I guess you could say she’s worth killing for. Love you bestie x

:)