Back in October 1825 Scottland, there was a mysterious murder mystery.

Detective Lolthxm8 showed up with his kek collegues, all in their 30s. Mister Adam Amistorisary showed up with his beautiful wife, KAREN. Roger Trentor, general of the Scottish Army, arrived in his sick mlg overalls and his slick Justin Bieber hair flow, as he magnificently arrived at Le Chateau Blanc with his petite fille. When the ball began, all 125 people of the party arrived. I, myself (Mr. Fattywannacraka aka Detective Lolthxm8) was soon clinging the wine glass, making a speech. "I'd like to thank everybody who showed up to this incredible ball hosted by I and my dear love, Mrs. 4hole. Please, enjoy yourselves!" Everybody cheered..

Except one man.

He screamed, and everybody turned his direction. In the middle of the floor laid a BLOODY BODY!!!!!111 I screamed "Ey, sho'op , will'ya lad? You're nu 'in butta' bloody finch, yeah?" And ran to the body.

The body laid in a pile of neckbeard sweat and pizza grease (veryspooky, huh?) I can see a small fedora in the pile of bloody blood-blood.

My dear wife yelled to the crowd "This is worst than the time I smacked you in the rose gar' en, yeah? Bloody finch".

I agreed to my wife because I had the spooks of mr skeltal in mah body, yeah? So I put up my beer glass and exclaimed...

"There's been a bloody murder tossed across 'ey sol', yeah?"

And sick mlg friend Adam yelled "WHO DID THIS 2spooky CRIMe?"

I told him "sho' op dear bastart, we told ta' yo no' in now shotop, lad, yeah, I'll toss your bloody neck with yor' loch ness monster, bawheed".

He shut his MLG mouth quicker than a sniper rifle can toss ya' back in Queen Anne's Rose Garden.

As I drank my mountain dew, I looked over at thou bastarts now wearin 'em baffies and exclaimed "nobody's leavin' till we solve this murder.

I heard a faint, "um wot, m8."