Teen girl detective Nancy Shrew in "The case of the blabbermouthed boy"

It was a nice spring day and I had just finished making a lovely Easter bouquet for my girlfriend Sally who was coming over to spend the night.
I had planned to use Sally's over night stay to take our relationship to the next level. I had planned to wine and dine Sally and tell her I loved her, so I set up everything I needed in the rumpus room in our basement:
Just as my excitement was building to a fever pitch the phone rang. It was Sally's mom. She called to say that she had heard around town that I was a lesbian. I lied and told her I wasn't and that it was perfectly okay for sweet sweet pretty Sally to spend the night at our house and that if she forgot her night gown it was okay because I had a sheer baby doll nightie she could wear. But Sally's mom said she heard it from an unimpeachable source that I was gay and that Sally was my object of desire, so she did what her kind usually did, she sent Sally to live with a Mormon family in Utah until such time as they could pray the gay out of me.

Well, let me tell you, I was devastated. I was determined to find out who blabbed about me to Sally's mom. So I put on my thinking cap and I went out looking for answers.
I didn't find any but when I hit that pine tree but I did shake enough leaves and pine pollen loose to get me good and stoned. I packed all that stuff in my dad's bong and I smoked the bejeebus out of it. While stoned I got the idea to ask Mr. Bug if he knew anything.
It took me quite some time to understand the particular insect dialect Mr. Bug was speaking but after a few more bong hits I finally decoded it. Mr. Bug told me that the person who had informed on me was my own brother! It turns out he had been spying on me and that he wanted Sally for his very own. So after a few more bong hits I went out to find the little rat bastard.
I found him near the old quarry. Even though it was 99 degrees with 115% humidity there he was dressed in his winter jacket and he had his hat with flaps on. He looked ridiculous. I asked him what he was doing. He told me he was writing Sally a letter telling her all about his love for her and how I was an evil lesbian. Well, that did it. I snapped and made us both change our clothes and as he was tying his shoes I tossed all his muscadine grapes on the ground. As he began picking them up, I cold cocked him with a stick.
It turns out I didn't know my own strength because my blow to his head killed him. So I lured an evangelist to the quarry and I framed him for the crime. Now I live in gay married commune in Iowa, the hotbed of the radical gay marriage agenda.