Zozzled
by Steph Cherrywell (2019)
Genres: Comedy

Hotsy-totsy! It's 1928 and you're madcap flapper Hazel Greene, tottering around the city's finest hotel with a gullet full of giggle juice... until a gaggle of ghosts shows up to spoil the fun by turning every drop in the place into lousy, undrinkable WATER. Explore the beautiful Poseidon Grand Hotel, meet Barnaby Mooch the Magnificent Pooch, and get splifficated on a snootful of ectoplasm in this paranormal puzzle comedy.

action: %
response: Hiya, fish! My name is Hazel Greene, and your name is You Lucky Devil, because you're about to do what about a million jealous dames only wish they could - be ME for a night!

Before we get to it, though, I gotta ask you, you want to give the rules of the game a little once-over? This'll be especially useful if you haven't played a text adventure before, but even if you're really on the trolley it might help to see which commands you'll be using.

1) Ab-so-lute-ly!
2) No thanks, Hazel.
action: 2
response: [No thanks, Hazel.]

Now let's get to it already! Starting now, you're me, Hazel Greene, the swellest sheba ever to grace a gin joint. You're parked in the lounge of the prestigious Grand Poseidon Hotel with a gullet full of giggle water, and you've been making the bedroom eyes across the room at a fella who you're just about sure is that hot pepper pie of an artist who's been in all the papers lately.

Sure looks like it's gonna be a nifty night.
action: About yourself
response: Sure looks like it's gonna be a nifty night.

"RAID!"

Oh, phooey.

The lounge erupts into the kind of chaos you haven't seen since Komodo's last two-for-one stocking sale. Shrieks ring out. Patrons in various degrees of spliffication are fighting each other to get to the exits. The bartender bowls over some sheba in a mink on his way to the door, but a couple of bulls from the SPD scoop him up a few feet shy.

Now, the last thing you need is to get pinched with the old lady already on the warpath because of what you did to the Ford. And could the timing be any lousier? You JUST dropped half a clam on this drink, and you haven't even touched it yet.

1) Toss it out and beat feet for the doors.
2) Hide under the table and gulp it down.
action: Continue
response: you're in, Mr. Cantaloupes."

As the bulls peel off, Donnie Cantaloupes tucks the bills back into his pocket and leans down, stone-faced. "You shouldn't be careful, miss. The last agent who tried to shut me down is still alive and completely unharmed."

The weedy guy leans in too. "Allow me to translate, on account of the boss's unique speech impediment making it difficult to parse his meanin'. The boss is sayin' you ought to be careful, 'cause
the last agent who tried to shut him down caught a bad case of dead. And that's the sort of thing that could be contagious, if you get my drift. Right, boss?"

"Wrong."

"That means 'right'. See?"
action: Keep going
response: "That means 'right'. See?"

The lady prohi straightens. "Mr. Cantaloupes, if you're attempting, in your...unique way, to threaten me, than you most assuredly can expect the arrival of another think in the near future. As soon as we confirm the presence of alcohol on the premises - "

One of the bulls coughs. "Agent Byrd - "

"What is it, Johnathan?"

"There's no alcohol."

"Obviously, he's hidden his supply. Keep looking. In the meantime, tally up the drinks. Each and every one is a seperate violation, and I intend to press charges for every single one of them."

"That's just it, Agent Byrd. There's no alcohol in these drinks. None! Can't smell it. Can't taste it."

"You administered the McGinley Test?"

"Of course! And McGinley's still on his feet, sober as a judge!"

"What?" Agent Byrd and Donnie Cantaloupes say in unison. "Are you telling me the crowd became this inebriated without a drop of alcohol? Nonsense!" Byrd continues.

"Well, that's the other thing," the bull says. "Nobody here's actually drunk. They're just disheveled and confused."

Agent Byrd gapes. "But that's preposterous!" She raises a hand. "Johnathan, secure the exits. None of you are leaving this hotel until we are able to determine the nature of this deception."
action: You keep going
response: until we are able to determine the nature of this deception."

Another of Donnie Cantaloupe's minions scurries up. "Boss! Boss!" he squeaks. "I checked on the, ah, barrels of 'mineral water' in the cellar. And they ain't 'mineral water' no more! They're actual
mineral water, as in the real stuff!"

"I want everybody out!" roars Cantaloupes. The weedy guy translates: "Nobody is goin' anywhere until we find out who the wise guy is who made off with our 'mineral water'. Right, boss?"

"Wrong!" Cantaloupes snarls, pounding the bar with one large fist. "Somebody steals from Donnie Cantaloupes and gets away with
it. When I find out who's got my supply, I won't do anything in particular to them or their family! They'll walk away on two intact legs, with all their thumbs, and without a broken whiskey bottle in their keister!"

"Threats won't be necessary, Mr. Cantaloupes," the prohi says calmly. "I'll see that your stolen propery is recovered. I'll ever let you say goodbye to it before we pour it into the sewer and arrest you."

Some of the hotel guests are slinking back to their rooms. You're not actually staying here - you started the night a few blocks away, and sailed into the Grand Poseidon on a sea of gin - but you can't stand to be around crowds of sober people, especially not when you're so unpleasantly clear-headed yourself. You make your way out into the lobby for some slightly fresher air.
action: About yourself
response: lobby for some slightly fresher air.## Hotel Lobby
The sumptuous entrance lobby of the Grand Poseidon Hotel. Aquamarine lights play over the leather couches and rich mahogany paneling, making the whole room look like it's underwater. Outside to the west, you can see the hustle and bustle of a Saturday night in downtown Seattle.

In the center of the room is an enormous fish tank. To the north is the Neptune Lounge, which is crawling with the fuzz, to the south, past the front desk, is the hotel office, and a hallway leads east. A crystal column houses the elevator.

A mermaid is swimming lazily around in the tank.
action: Inventory
response: You are carrying:
your best set of glad rags (being worn)
action: About yourself
response: You are one swanky sheba, sister! You're dolled up in your best set of glad rags, suitable for turning a fella's head and doing plenty to the rest of him, too.

The mermaid swims slowly in a sad circle.
action: You look at tank
response: A huge cylindrical tank stretching from the floor to the ceiling. There's got to be about a million gallons of water in there.

The mermaid drifts down towards the bottom of the tank, then back up.
action: You examine the mermaid
response: On closer inspection, not actually a mermaid - just some blonde sheba with a shiny fake tail wrapped around her gams and a couple of seashells stuck where they'll do her the most good. Her lung capacity must be posi-tutely amazing.
action: You knock on the tank
response: (Cat got your tongue?)
action: Look around
response: The sumptuous entrance lobby of the Grand Poseidon Hotel. Aquamarine lights play over the leather couches and rich mahogany paneling, making the whole room look like it's underwater. Outside to the west, you can see the hustle and bustle of a Saturday night in downtown Seattle.

In the center of the room is an enormous fish tank. To the north is the Neptune Lounge, which is crawling with the fuzz, to the south, past the front desk, is the hotel office, and a hallway leads east. A crystal column houses the elevator.

A mermaid is swimming lazily around in the tank.
action: You look at the couches
response: An expensive place to park a classy caboose.
action: Go north
response: The party's over. Now the lounge is just a sad room full of bulls and sober people. You can't bear to see that right now.
action: Look around
response: The sumptuous entrance lobby of the Grand Poseidon Hotel. Aquamarine lights play over the leather couches and rich mahogany paneling, making the whole room look like it's underwater. Outside to the west, you can see the hustle and bustle of a Saturday night in downtown Seattle.

In the center of the room is an enormous fish tank. To the north is the Neptune Lounge, which is crawling with the fuzz, to the south, past the front desk, is the hotel office, and a hallway leads east. A crystal column houses the elevator.

A mermaid is swimming lazily around in the tank.

The mermaid blows a few bubbles and  watches them drift towards the top of the tank.
action: You look at the desk
response: It stretches along the southern side of the lobby. You can see the hotel office past it.
action: You go to the east
response: As you step into the corridor, a faint shimmer passes across your field of vision, as if you've just looked through a slightly warped window. For a second, just one sweet second, you can almost taste champagne.

An east-west hall lined with pillars. Gilt-edged paintings decorate the walls.

The hotel lobby lies to the west, and the scent of lightly chlorinated salt water drifts in from the east.
action: You examine the paintings
response: Subjects include sea serpents, sultry sirens, and ships being dragged to the inky depths.
action: Go east
response: The corridor seems to stretch as you walk down it. You feel your
mouth filling with something cold, but delicious. It's gin! Sweet, succulent gin! Only you can't seem to swallow it...or spit it out...and it's freezing. Your cheeks are already starting to feel numb.

A woman in an old-fashioned dress, the sort your spinster-est
spinster aunt would wear, is walking beside you, eyes fixed on the end of the hall. But the hall keeps going. And going. And your cheeks feel as if they're going to shatter from the cold. The woman whips her head around and fixes you with a stare, a pair of slate-gray eyes nailing into your own baby blues - and now you're stumbling out into the warm, steamy air of the natatorium.

The woman walks north, her back to you, and strides into the gentlemen's changing room just as bold as anything.

A huge room lined with pearly tiles. A stepped series of circular baths are laid out like tidepools, but one large saltwater pool dominates the room. The eastern wall is painted with a bright, sunny beach scene.

The ladies' changing room is to the south, while gents have to head north.
action: You look at the pool
response: A bubbling pool of hot saltwater.
action: You go south
response: It's steamy and musty, with slick floors. Lockers line the walls.

You can see a stinky stocking here.
action: You look at the stocking
response: Whew! Smells like someone wore this to cut a rug on the hottest day of July after winning an onion-eating/bath-avoiding biathalon and then stuffed it in her brassiere for a month. Which is all by way of saying you've smelled fresher.
action: You take it
response: You pick it up gingerly between two fingers. Yeecch!
action: You go to the north
response: A huge room lined with pearly tiles. A stepped series of circular baths are laid out like tidepools, but one large saltwater pool dominates the room. The eastern wall is painted with a bright, sunny beach scene.

The ladies' changing room is to the south, while gents have to head north.
action: Go north
response: You give the joint the old once-over first, just to make sure nobody's watching, and then in you go.

A snazzy locker room lined with gleaming, brand new lockers, each emblazoned with a burnished copper number.

The woman is nowhere to be seen, but you can hear heavy breathing coming from one of the lockers - number 77.
action: You open 77
response: As soon as your fingertips brush the handle, the locker bursts beneath your fingers like an overripe melon in the sun, flooding your vision with

purple suns hanging overhead. Neon squiggles slice across your eyes like razor worms. This world is cold and dry, and your tongue feels like paper.

The woman stands before you, a single dark spot in the brilliance, growing as the light drains into it, until she's all you can see and you're not even sure if you see that other world at all. There is a single moment of perfect silence.

Then she explodes.

You see...things...dozens of creepy-crawly little things rushing toward you, crawling over you, wriggling across your skin like eels, and they feel like boneless dead things, but something about how they smell is appealing and familiar.

1) Inhale.
action: 1
response: [Inhale.]

You inhale deeply as the things rush past you. Maybe a little too deeply. You feel dizzy. Then you feel the cement floor of the locker room smacking into the back of your head.

You're dimly aware that people are standing over you, and thoughts drift through your mind - idle concerns like that you don't want people to think you're some wet dishrag who faints at the least little thing, and that you hope that the blood isn't ruining your new cloche, and that maybe you're dying.

You feel strong arms around you and now you're looking up into the face of an angel carrying you off to heaven and apparently angels dress like elevator operators.

And then it's off to Slumberland for who knows how long, but at least long enough to cart you to another room, because that's where you wake up. Specifically, you seem to be in a dark room, alone, lying on an uncomfortable cot made for someone shorter than you, lighter than you, and a whole lot less picky about where they park their person than you are.

1) Stand up.
action: 1
response: [Stand up.]

You haul yourself up, feeling like you've just gone ten rounds with Jack Dempsey after ten rounds of Jack Daniels. Unfortunately, the pleasant alcoholic haze is fading like a dream, while the just-got-the-back-of-my-head-smashed-in haze seems to be making itself right at home.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: right at home.## Closet
The inside of a dimly-lit storage closet, unfurnished except for an uncomfortable-looking cot pushed into the corner. One whole wall is covered with newspaper clippings, and a tower of dime novels teeters next to the cot. There's a door to the north.
action: You take the novels
response: There's too many of 'em to carry.
action: You go north
response: Second Floor Corridor, Right in the Middle
You're standing around the midpoint of a long hall that runs the length of the Grand Poseidon's second floor. There's a small closet to the south, and the hallway continues to the east and west.
action: Go east
response: Second Floor Corridor, East End
You're standing at the eastern end of a long hall that runs the length of the Grand Poseidon's second floor. Doors to the north and south lead to luxury suites, and the hallway continues to the west.

A laundry cart trundles slowly along the edge of the hallway, brass wheels squeaking.
action: You look at the cart
response: The cart, already piled high, prowls as if looking for more dirty laundry to add to its haul. You wish you could show this to the old lady. She's always claiming laundry doesn't do itself.
action: You search it
response: You swore off searching years ago. That sort of prying is for
the fuzz and your old lady. You'll stick with examining things, thank you very much.
action: Go south
response: You can barely see this suite beneath the dropcloth on the floor and the host of half-finished canvases leaning against every wall. The second floor hallway is to the north.

Crispin Fourment slouches at an easel, staring at a blank canvas with a tortured expression on his face.

A smallish display table sits a few feet from the easel. On it is an uninspiring bowl.
action: You examine the canvas
response: Crispin has painted a beautiful picture of a polar bear in a snowstorm! No, wait, it's blank.
action: You look at the easel
response: It's a Codman's Uncollapsable Easel. "Canvases clattering to the carpet? Should gotta Codman's, chum!"
action: You look at the table
response: An elegant little white-draped table, perfect for displaying the subject to be painted.

On the small table is an uninspiring bowl (empty).
action: You examine the bowl
response: A bland, boring bowl. No artist could possibly be inspired by this.
action: You say hello
response: (to Crispin Fourment)
There is no reply.
action: You talk to Crispin
response: Crispin looks up at you. His gorgeous peepers have lost their smoulder, and his complexion is pale and drained.

"Go away!" he moans. "I don't deserve admirers. I'm no artist!"

1) "Why would you say that?"
action: 1
response: ["Why would you say that?"]

"Look how they laud me! Look how they applaud! Look how they clap and cheer for me, when I am but a fraud! A joke! A piglet of pigment!" Crispin looks sadly at the blank canvas. "I want to be a real artist, but I can only paint dames!"

1) "So paint dames."
action: 1
response: ["So paint dames."]

"Ha! My populist claptrap period is over! Never another dame shall spill from this brush, for I now only paint Real Art, and Real Art means but one thing - bowls of fruit!"

1) "So paint...fruit?"
action: 1
response: ["So paint...fruit?"]

"I only wish I could!" Crispin sighs deeply. "And yet, every container I find is so...uninspiring. A true artist would be inspired. A true artist would capture the hell out of that bowl!" He sighs again. "I...I am not a true artist."

1) "Who says bowls of fruit are the only real art?"
2) "Well, good luck, Crispin."
action: 1
response: ["Who says bowls of fruit are the only real art?"]

"They all say that! Every real artist!" Crispin says glumly. He hands you a thick art history textbook. "It's right here in black and white. Read it for yourself. I used to scoff at the opinions of my betters, but...but tonight, for some reason...I just can't stop thinking about what a failure of an artist I am."

1) "Why not just paint what you like?"
2) "What kind of container would inspire you?"
3) "Well, good luck, Crispin."
action: 2
response: ["What kind of container would inspire you?"]

"Oh, maybe something with a bowlish...vasish...dishish quality, maybe in blue. No, white. No, red. And...maybe if it was large? Or small?" He puts his head in his hands. "I just can't think of what kind of container I should put the fruit in, but...but I know if I saw the right container on that table, I would be inspired!

1) "Why not just paint what you like?"
2) "What kind of container would inspire you?"
3) "Well, good luck, Crispin."
action: 1
response: ["Why not just paint what you like?"]

"I would never be accepted. They'd all keep laughing at me behind my back!"

1) "Why not just paint what you like?"
2) "What kind of container would inspire you?"
3) "Well, good luck, Crispin."
action: 3
response: ["Well, good luck, Crispin."]

Crispin sighs and goes back to staring at the canvas.

You can barely see this suite beneath the dropcloth on the floor and the host of half-finished canvases leaning against every wall. The second floor hallway is to the north.

Crispin Fourment slouches at an easel, staring at a blank canvas with a tortured expression on his face.

A smallish display table sits a few feet from the easel. On it is an uninspiring bowl.
action: Go north
response: Second Floor Corridor, East End
You're standing at the eastern end of a long hall that runs the length of the Grand Poseidon's second floor. Doors to the north and south lead to luxury suites, and the hallway continues to the west.

A laundry cart trundles slowly along the edge of the hallway, brass wheels squeaking.
action: You go north
response: This room doesn't look like it's been used in years. Everything's covered in a thick coat of dust-the Benzedrine bottles scattered on the floor, the drafting table shoved in the corner, and most especially the enormous scale model of the Poseidon Hotel which dominates the room.

A typewritten note is affixed to the model.
action: You read the note
response: FROM THE DESK OF ROWLAND STORK, ARCHITECTURAL GENIUS

Dear Thieving Pieces of Excrement,

From the day the first man took tool in hand and, brick by brick, built a palace for his inferiors, the noble Architect has toiled to provide comfort and civilization to the filthy subhman masses who despise him for his talents. Thus so it was with the latest chapter in this age-old tragedy, in which I, I, who set my glorious brain to laying the very foundations on which you crawl, you purulent, pus-sucking larvae, was hired to design a hotel under the EXPRESS CONDITION that not one detail of my art be DEFILED by pointless, mindless, stupid changes! It burst forth from the loins of my hands and mind as perfection - a true masterpiece. And was my masterpiece built properly, AS AGREED? No, says the man at the planning office, you can't build a structure this size out of gingerbread! No, says the man on the construction crew, we're going to use stone and cement instead! No, says the man at the front desk, you can't build a gigantic scale model in your room midway through construction, how will we ever get it out? We didn't give you our permission!

Well, I didn't give permission for my designs to be stained by the crude droolings of a bunch of single-celled parasitic idiot orangutans. You took my rights from me, and I shall take my hotel from you. The gift I've hidden in my room will soon blast your brains into the lifeless goop they are -

(The page is labeled "1 of 147", but the others seem to be missing.)
action: You examine model
response: A 1/10 scale model of the Poseidon Hotel which takes up nearly all the space in the room, and, oddly enough, looks like it's been put together entirely out of gingerbread. It's otherwise perfect down to the smallest detail. The doors are just big enough to squeeze IN.
action: You enter the model
response: You manage to squeeze yourself through the tiny front doors and into a perfect model of the hotel.

You're crouching on your hands and knees in a perfect stale-gingerbread recreation of the hotel's lobby. It should just be possible to crawl north or east, crawl OUT again, or go up the elevator shaft.
action: Go north
response: You crawl north into the Neptune Lounge.

You're on your hands and knees in a gingerbread recreation of the Neptune Lounge. You can back out to the south.
action: You look around
response: You're on your hands and knees in a gingerbread recreation of the Neptune Lounge. You can back out to the south.
action: You go to the south
response: You back up, returning to the hotel lobby.

You're crouching on your hands and knees in a perfect stale-gingerbread recreation of the hotel's lobby. It should just be possible to crawl north or east, crawl OUT again, or go up the elevator shaft.
action: Go upward
response: You push your way up the elevator shaft and scoot into the second floor hall.

You're lying on your stomach in a recreation of the second floor corridor. It's a very tight squeeze, and you can't do much here besides sliding back down. However, one of the gingerbread doors is open a crack to the northeast.
action: You go to the northeast
response: You can get your head through the door, but that's it; your shoulders are too wide, and forget about points south!

Your head is sticking into a recreation of the Arctic Suite. You can scrooch back to the southwest.

You can see a scale model of the scale model of the Poseidon Hotel here.
action: Go southwest
response: You pull your head out of the Arctic Suite and scoot a foot or so down the hall.

You're lying on your stomach in a recreation of the second floor corridor. It's a very tight squeeze, and you can't do much here besides sliding back down. However, one of the gingerbread doors is open a crack to the northeast.
action: Go down
response: You slide backwards and drop back into the lobby.

You're crouching on your hands and knees in a perfect stale-gingerbread recreation of the hotel's lobby. It should just be possible to crawl north or east, crawl OUT again, or go up the elevator shaft.
action: Go east
response: You crawl east into the Natatorium.

You're on your hands and knees in a gingerbread recreation of the hotel natatorium. The pool has been faithfully recreated in blue buttercream frosting. You can back out to the west.
action: You eat the frosting
response: It's hard as cement! It's gotta be awful old, too.
action: You examine the pool
response: It looks like it was probably creamy and delicious a couple of decades ago.
action: Go west
response: You back up, returning to the hotel lobby.

You're crouching on your hands and knees in a perfect stale-gingerbread recreation of the hotel's lobby. It should just be possible to crawl north or east, crawl OUT again, or go up the elevator shaft.
action: You go outside
response: You crawl back out through the tiny front doors in the Arctic Suite.

This room doesn't look like it's been used in years. Everything's covered in a thick coat of dust-the Benzedrine bottles scattered on the floor, the drafting table shoved in the corner, and most especially the enormous scale model of the Poseidon Hotel which dominates the room.

A typewritten note is affixed to the model.
action: You examine table
response: Looks like an ordinary drafting table.
action: You enter the model
response: You manage to squeeze yourself through the tiny front doors and into a perfect model of the hotel.

You're crouching on your hands and knees in a perfect stale-gingerbread recreation of the hotel's lobby. It should just be possible to crawl north or east, crawl OUT again, or go up the elevator shaft.
action: Go upward
response: You push your way up the elevator shaft and scoot into the second floor hall.

You're lying on your stomach in a recreation of the second floor corridor. It's a very tight squeeze, and you can't do much here besides sliding back down. However, one of the gingerbread doors is open a crack to the northeast.
action: You look at the model
response: A smaller model of the model you're currently inside, also made out of gingerbread. This one has wires coming out of it and it's ticking in a frankly kind of worrying way. A big red candy button on the hotel's face is marked "EMERGENCY DEFUSE".
action: You press the candy
response: You can't reach it from here. You can get your hands just about far enough into the room to touch your face, and that's it. Gee, if only your tongue was about a foot longer! For lots of reasons.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: You are carrying:
an art theory textbook
a stinky stocking
your best set of glad rags (being worn)
action: You examine the bottles
response: Someone must've really been burning the midnight oil! Staying up all night, you can understand. But staying up all night to work?
action: Go south
response: Second Floor Corridor, East End
You're standing at the eastern end of a long hall that runs the length of the Grand Poseidon's second floor. Doors to the north and south lead to luxury suites, and the hallway continues to the west.

A laundry cart trundles slowly along the edge of the hallway, brass wheels squeaking.
action: Go west
response: Second Floor Corridor, Right in the Middle
You're standing around the midpoint of a long hall that runs the length of the Grand Poseidon's second floor. There's a small closet to the south, and the hallway continues to the east and west.
action: You go west
response: Second Floor Corridor, West End
You're standing at the western end of a long hall that runs the length of the Grand Poseidon's second floor. Doors to the north and south lead to luxury suites. The hallway continues to the east. This is also the 2nd floor elevator stop, and you can push the pearl button to summon an elevator.
action: Go north
response: "Ah," says a voice as you enter the darkened room. "The spirits inform me that a new seeker has arrived. That is well. Eight is a very powerful number. In the tongue of the Orient, 'eight' holds the same meaning as 'life.' Come, join us, pilgrim. SIT IN this chair, take our hands, and help us breach the very veil between this life and the next."

As your eyes begin to the adjust the darkness, you see figures seated around a table. Looks like you wandered into a real live seance! Ain't that just the elephant's manicure?

The room is dark, the air thick with the smell of incense and burning spices. Half a dozen men and women are gathered around a table in the center of the room, holding hands, their eyes closed. The door back to the hall is to your south.

Madame Ping Ping sits at the far side of the table, hands clasped with the other seance-goers, eyes closed in concentration. Directly across from her is an inviting-looking tasseled chair.
action: You sit on the chair
response: The Atlantic Suite (in the tasseled chair)
The room is dark, the air thick with the smell of incense and burning spices. Half a dozen men and women are gathered around a table in the center of the room, holding hands, their eyes closed. The door back to the hall is to your south.

Madame Ping Ping sits at the far side of the table, hands clasped with the other seance-goers, eyes closed in concentration. Directly across from her is an inviting-looking tasseled chair.

You ease yourself into the comfortable tasseled chair and join hands with the seance-goers to either side of you. Across from you, Madame Ping Ping clears her throat, and the seance resumes.

"Spirit", Madame Ping Ping says, "we beseech you to show your presence!"
action: You wait for a while
response: Time passes.

"Knock once on the table, spirit!"
action: You knock on the table
response: You're holding hands with the people to either side, and if you let go, they're sure to smell something fishy.

The seance-goers mumble their agreement.
action: You wait
response: Time passes.

"All it will take is one knock. We must know you are here!"
action: Keep going
response: Time passes.

"Knock, spirit! Knock on the table!"
action: You examine table
response: A round table, perfect for dancing on, covering with drinks, or (in a very distant third place) holding a seance around, apparently.

"Spirit", Madame Ping Ping says, "we beseech you to show your presence!"
action: You get up
response: You let go of the hands to either side of you and stand up.

The room is dark, the air thick with the smell of incense and burning spices. Half a dozen men and women are gathered around a table in the center of the room, holding hands, their eyes closed. The door back to the hall is to your south.

Madame Ping Ping sits at the far side of the table, hands clasped with the other seance-goers, eyes closed in concentration. Directly across from her is an inviting-looking tasseled chair.
action: You look at Madame
response: A plump woman about your mother's age, dressed in a shimmering Chinese dress and a silken cape. Her black wig looks like it came from a Cleopatra fancy-dress costume.
action: Go south
response: An ordinary hotel room, neat as a pin. It doesn't look like anyone's staying in this one. A scenic picture hangs over the freshly-made bed. The only exit is north, back the way you came.
action: You look at the picture
response: It depicts a pirate ship sailing across rough seas, the pirates happily hoisting mugs of grog. You could sure go for some grog right now, and you're not even sure what it is.
action: You move the picture
response: It is fixed in place.
action: You press the button
response: The elevator doors slide open, and there's the elevator operator, some cute little sheba in a fancy aquamarine uniform, young enough that she's proably still got a handprint on her hindquarters from when the doctor slapped her.

"Oh, good!" she chirps when she sees you. "You're awake! Gosh, did you ever take a real whack-a-roo on the noggin!"

1) "And how! My head is still pounding."
2) "You couldn't have called a doctor?"
action: 1
response: ["And how! My head is still pounding."]

She nods. "That's one of the thirty telltale signs on a genuine ghostly encounter! Residual aches in the head, spine, shoulders, legs, or fundament, dizzyness, sallow complexion, general biliousness, distemper, soul rot, flashbacks, blackouts, inversions of balance, ennui, malaise, fever, generalized pox, itching, bloating, excess perspiration, not enough perspiration, wandering tongue--"

1) "Ghostly encounter?"
action: 1
response: ["Ghostly encounter?"]

"Oh, yes! This hotel is haunted, you know. All sorts of horrible things happened here!" She beams at you. "You were covered with spectral residue when we found you. Everyone else said that was just gunk from the locker room floor, but I knew the truth. I knew you'd touched the other world!"

1) "Kiddo, the only thing I want to touch right now is an ice pack and a few drinks to empty it into."
action: 1
response: ["Kiddo, the only thing I want to touch right now is an ice pack
and a few drinks to empty it into."]

"Sorry, Miss, but there's not a drop in the whole place. I think that's the work of the ghost, too. Because I know who the
ghost is!" She leans forward and sticks out one white-gloved hand. "Kipper Fanucci, student of the paranormal! Is me, I mean. Not the ghost."

1) "Hazel Greene, student of the alcoholic!"
action: 1
response: ["Hazel Greene, student of the alcoholic!"]

"Nice to meet you, Hazel!" Kipper pumps your hand up and down vigourously. "I can't believe I'm finally meeting someone with the Sight!"

1) "What is 'the Sight'?"
2) "Who is the ghost?"
3) "How did an elevator operator become a 'student of the paranormal'?"
action: 1
response: ["What is 'the Sight'?"]

"It means you can see into the spiritual realm...at least, a little bit. More than I can, anyway," she murmurs, a wistful look crossing her face. "You oughtta treasure it. It's a rare gift!"

1) "Who is the ghost?"
2) "How did an elevator operator become a 'student of the paranormal'?"
action: 1
response: ["Who is the ghost?"]

"Her name is Mildred Waverly. She was a temperance crusader who disappeared in this very hotel eight years ago
tonight, give or take a couple of weeks, and her body was
never found! There have been events for years! Drinks
mysteriously going bad, strange sounds coming from the basement...but never anything like this!"

1) "So this bluenose from beyond the grave has got us all stuck in a bone-dry haunted house, and I'm the only one who can see her?"
2) "How did an elevator operator become a 'student of the paranormal'?"
action: 1
response: ["So this bluenose from beyond the grave has got us all stuck in a bone-dry haunted house, and I'm the only one who can see her?"]

Kipper nods vigorously. "Now you're on the trolley!"

She pulls a battered pair of old-fashioned, wire-rimmed cheaters out of her pocket. "Take a gander at these! They were found in Mildred Waverly's room on the night she disappeared. She wore 'em everywhere, which means, according to Epstein's Principle of Sympathetic Resonance, they should be attuned to her. They might make it easier to find spectral traces. I've been looking through 'em all day, but if you don't have the Sight, they're just a pair of old glasses. Go ahead - try them on. Maybe you'll see something!"

1) Put on the glasses.
action: 1
response: [Put on the glasses.]

This still sounds like a barrel of banana oil to you, but you may as well humor the kid. You slip the glasses on, and -

There's a mysterious patch on the wall of the elevator, a sort of glowing greasy stain of light. It twists and quivers, seeming to sense that you're taking a gander at it, and finally peels away and reforms and - holy smokes, there's a ghost here!

There's a ghost right here, looking at you with its little
piggy ghosty eyes, making itself comfortable with a nice perch right on Kipper's shoulder! You take off the cheaters and rub your eyes, but the ghost is still there. Looks like once they decide to come out to play, you don't need the glasses to see them.

1) >LOOK GHOST.
2) >KILL GHOST.
3) >TALK TO GHOST.
action: 1
response: [>LOOK GHOST.]

It looks a splash of liquid, like the moment when a drink got dumped out or tossed in someone's face was frozen forever. When it sees that you're looking at it, it vamps like Clara Bow.

1) >ASK KIPPER ABOUT GHOST.
2) >KILL GHOST.
3) >TALK TO GHOST.
action: 3
response: [>TALK TO GHOST.]

The ghost just giggles wetly.

1) >ASK KIPPER ABOUT GHOST.
2) >KILL GHOST.
3) >TAKE GHOST.
action: 1
response: [>ASK KIPPER ABOUT GHOST.]

"You want to hear more about Mildred Waverly? Sure! According to Winslow's Three Precepts, a paranormal entity intersects the physical plane when one of Breznev's Five Conditions is met, and going by the Rule of Least Co-Corporeality..."

Boy, this sheba can beat her gums when she gets going!

1) >KILL GHOST.
2) >TAKE GHOST.
3) >OPEN GHOST.
action: 2
response: [>TAKE GHOST.]

You can't seem to get a grip on it. It's like trying to hold on to a damp tissue in a dream.

1) >KILL GHOST.
2) >OPEN GHOST.
3) >SMELL GHOST.
action: 3
response: [>SMELL GHOST.]

It smells a lot like a bucket of gin.

1) >KILL GHOST.
2) >OPEN GHOST.
3) >DRINK GHOST.
action: 3
response: [>DRINK GHOST.]

You lunge forward, put you lips on the ghost, and suck in, not really expecting it to work any better than anything else you've tried...but to your shock, it does! You slurp the ghost shrieking down your gullet. Not only did that get rid of the ghost, you really needed that drink!

Apparently this is how you get rid of ghosts. Who knew?

You draw back to see Kipper goggling at you. "W-what was that? One of those kisses they do to say hello in France?" She blushes. "Gee! I've never been French-kissed before!"

1) "No, I wasn't trying to kiss you! I was drinking a ghost off of your shoulder."
action: 1
response: ["No, I wasn't trying to kiss you! I was drinking a ghost off of
your shoulder."]

Kipper rolls her eyes. "Sure, like I haven't heard that line before. Wait - you're serious, aren't you? You actually succeeded in enclosing a second-order roaming malevolent sub-spirit in an organic containment matrix? Oh, Miss Greene, that's just the cat's pajamas! You don't just have the Sight! You have the Taste!"

She practically pushes you out of the elevator. "You put on those glasses and see what else you can find. I bet this place is just dripping with second-order roaming malevolent sub-spirits! Oooooh, gosh, this is exciting!"

Second Floor Corridor, West End
You're standing at the western end of a long hall that runs the length of the Grand Poseidon's second floor. Doors to the north and south lead to luxury suites. The hallway continues to the east. This is also the 2nd floor elevator stop, and you can push the pearl button to summon an elevator.
action: Look around
response: Second Floor Corridor, West End
You're standing at the western end of a long hall that runs the length of the Grand Poseidon's second floor. Doors to the north and south lead to luxury suites. The hallway continues to the east. This is also the 2nd floor elevator stop, and you can push the pearl button to summon an elevator.
action: Go north
response: The room is dark, the air thick with the smell of incense and burning spices. Half a dozen men and women are gathered around a table in the center of the room, holding hands, their eyes closed. The door back to the hall is to your south.

Madame Ping Ping sits at the far side of the table, hands clasped with the other seance-goers, eyes closed in concentration. Directly across from her is an inviting-looking tasseled chair.
action: You sit on the chair
response: The Atlantic Suite (in the tasseled chair)
The room is dark, the air thick with the smell of incense and burning spices. Half a dozen men and women are gathered around a table in the center of the room, holding hands, their eyes closed. The door back to the hall is to your south.

Madame Ping Ping sits at the far side of the table, hands clasped with the other seance-goers, eyes closed in concentration. Directly across from her is an inviting-looking tasseled chair.

You ease yourself into the comfortable tasseled chair and join hands with the seance-goers to either side of you. Across from you, Madame Ping Ping clears her throat, and the seance resumes.

"Knock! Knock!" the assembled seance-goers repeat.
action: You wait
response: Time passes.

"Spirit", Madame Ping Ping says, "we beseech you to show your presence!"
action: You wear the glasses
response: You slip them on. It's downright criminal to block the world's view of your kisser, but you've got to find where those ghosts are hiding!

"Knock once on the table, spirit!"
action: Wait
response: Time passes.

"Come on, don't be shy!" says the woman in the overcoat.
action: You examine madame
response: A plump woman about your mother's age, dressed in a shimmering Chinese dress and a silken cape. Her black wig looks like it came from a Cleopatra fancy-dress costume. It looks like she's possessed by a ghost.

"Knock, spirit! Knock on the table!"
action: You examine the people
response: A plump woman about your mother's age, dressed in a shimmering Chinese dress and a silken cape. Her black wig looks like it came from a Cleopatra fancy-dress costume. It looks like she's possessed by a ghost.

"Spirit", Madame Ping Ping says, "we beseech you to show your presence!"
action: You examine the seance
response: Six guests, three men and three women, are seated around the table, hand in hand, their heads respectfully bowed as Madame Ping Ping conducts the seance.

"Knock once on the table, spirit!"
action: Inventory
response: You are carrying:
a pair of spook-spotting cheaters (being worn)
an art theory textbook
a stinky stocking
your best set of glad rags (being worn)

"Knock! Knock!" the assembled seance-goers repeat.
action: You press the button
response: "Hiya, Miss Greene! Where to now?"

1) "First floor, please."
2) "Third floor, please."
3) "Seeya, Kipper."
action: 3
response: ["Seeya, Kipper."]

"Seeya, Miss Greene!"

Second Floor Corridor, West End
You're standing at the western end of a long hall that runs the length of the Grand Poseidon's second floor. Doors to the north and south lead to luxury suites. The hallway continues to the east. This is also the 2nd floor elevator stop, and you can push the pearl button to summon an elevator.
action: Go north
response: The room is dark, the air thick with the smell of incense and burning spices. Half a dozen men and women are gathered around a table in the center of the room, holding hands, their eyes closed. The door back to the hall is to your south.

Madame Ping Ping sits at the far side of the table, hands clasped with the other seance-goers, eyes closed in concentration. Directly across from her is an inviting-looking tasseled chair.
action: 1
response: ["First floor, please."]

"Sure thing!"

The sumptuous entrance lobby of the Grand Poseidon Hotel. Aquamarine lights play over the leather couches and rich mahogany paneling, making the whole room look like it's underwater. Outside to the west, you can see the hustle and bustle of a Saturday night in downtown Seattle.

In the center of the room is an enormous fish tank. To the north is the Neptune Lounge, to the south, past the front desk, is the hotel office, and a hallway leads east. A crystal column houses the elevator.
action: Examine tank
response: A huge cylindrical tank stretching from the floor to the ceiling. There's got to be about a million gallons of water in there.
action: Go south
response: The concierge appears, suggests perhaps madam would prefer an area of the hotel that's not restricted to employees only, and whisks away again. Looks like the hotel offices are off-limits to guests.
action: Go east
response: An east-west hall lined with pillars. Gilt-edged paintings decorate the walls.

The hotel lobby lies to the west, and the scent of lightly chlorinated salt water drifts in from the east.
action: You examine the scene
response: The painting glows with life - bright sands, blue skies, warm sun, bathers frolicking in the surf. In the foreground is lush beach grass and, off to one side, a whitewashed changing shed. The door of the shed looks so real, you just have to run your fingers over it - and you feel rough wood. It is real! Looks like there's a way
east from here, cleverly concealed as part of the painting.
action: Go east
response: You pull open the cleverly concealed whitewashed door. Beyond is a dark, cramped boiler room. About ninety percent of the space inside is taken up by an immense, medieval-looking boiler, and about half of what's left is full of awkwardly-placed pipes and a large, rusty valve wheel. That leaves a whopping five percent of the room available for you to occupy, which isn't ideal for a girl with a six-percent-sized figure. You suck in your extra percentage point and just manage to scoot past the pipes. It's repulsively hot and cramped in here, and the sound of rushing water is deafening. The only way out is back west, to the natatorium.
action: You look at the boiler
response: It's about the size of a luxury car and probably weighs twice as much. It looks like it probably started life boiling witches to death in the thirteenth century. Every so often it clunks and shudders ominously. It's connected to a mess of pipes.
action: You examine the pipes
response: They go in all directions, but the largest lead west. Probably those are the pipes that supply the natatorium pools with water. The thickest of the pipes is equipped with a rusty valve wheel.
action: You examine the wheel
response: It's old and rusty, but you could probably TURN it if you put your back into it.
action: You turn it
response: The wheel squeaks as you turn it. The rush of water lessens.
action: Continue
response: It's getting harder to turn. The water sounds like a trickle now.
action: Continue
response: With a grunt, you turn the wheel as tight as it can go, shutting off the hot water entirely. The only way to turn it now is back in the other direction.
action: You go to the west
response: A huge room lined with pearly tiles. A stepped series of circular baths are laid out like tidepools, but one large saltwater pool dominates the room. The eastern wall is painted with a bright, sunny beach scene in which is concealed a doorway leading east.

The ladies' changing room is to the south, while gents have to head north.
action: You look at the pool
response: A frozen sheet of ice.
action: You enter the pool
response: Sorry, sheba, but you left your ice pick at home.
action: You go south
response: It's steamy and musty, with slick floors. Lockers line the walls.
action: You examine the lockers
response: Rows of metal lockers. They smell damp, moldy, and unappealing.
action: You search the lockers
response: You swore off searching years ago. That sort of prying is for
the fuzz and your old lady. You'll stick with examining things, thank you very much.
action: You go north
response: You give the joint the old once-over first, just to make sure nobody's watching, and then in you go.

It's steamy and musty, with slick floors. Lockers line the walls.

One of the lockers is blackened and slightly twisted, as if it's been through a fire.
action: You examine the lockers
response: Rows of metal lockers. They smell damp, moldy, and unappealing. None of them have numbers.
action: You examine the locker
response: It's charcoal-black and twisted slightly out of shape. The number is missing, but you can see bare patches which look like a pair of sevens.
action: You open it
response: The locker is tightly sealed. Whatever's beyond it is still too strong.
action: Go east
response: A dark, dripping boiler room. There's a large boiler here, connected to the water supply and the pools to the west by a spaghetti of metal pipes. A rusty valve wheel juts from the side of the largest pipe. The only exit is west, back to the natatorium.
action: Turn wheel
response: You've barely touched the wheel when it begins spinning on its own, as the pent-up pressure from the boiler forces the valve fully open and water rushes loudly through the pipe.
action: You examine the pool
response: A boiling, bubbling cauldron of hot, salty water.
action: You go west
response: An east-west hall lined with pillars. Gilt-edged paintings decorate the walls.

The hotel lobby lies to the west, and the scent of lightly chlorinated salt water drifts in from the east.
action: You examine the paintings
response: Subjects include sea serpents, sultry sirens, and ships being dragged to the inky depths.
action: You go to the west
response: The sumptuous entrance lobby of the Grand Poseidon Hotel. Aquamarine lights play over the leather couches and rich mahogany paneling, making the whole room look like it's underwater. Outside to the west, you can see the hustle and bustle of a Saturday night in downtown Seattle.

In the center of the room is an enormous fish tank. To the north is the Neptune Lounge, to the south, past the front desk, is the hotel office, and a hallway leads east. A crystal column houses the elevator.
action: Go north
response: A real fancy place for swells to come and take in a show - crystal chandeliers, napkins folded in the shape of fish, the whole kit and kaboodle. One wall is mostly taken up by a bar that serves "juice," another features a stage that serves up "talented" performers, and the third is dominated by an enormous mural. The hotel lobby is to the south, the dressing room is to the north, and double doors lead east to the kitchen.

A discarded party blower lies on the floor.

A dejected daiquiri sits abandoned on one of the tables.
action: You examine the blower
response: It's one of those uncurling party favors you can BLOW to make a "whee!" noise.
action: You examine the mural
response: The mural depicts Nereid, Queen of the Saltwater Nymphs, leading her foam-drenched followers in an upriver charge against the brutal waterfall bulwarks of her freshwater archrival, Naiad. It's signed, in big looping letters,  C. Fourment.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: A real fancy place for swells to come and take in a show - crystal chandeliers, napkins folded in the shape of fish, the whole kit and kaboodle. One wall is mostly taken up by a bar that serves "juice," another features a stage that serves up "talented" performers, and the third is dominated by an enormous mural. The hotel lobby is to the south, the dressing room is to the north, and double doors lead east to the kitchen.

A dejected daiquiri sits abandoned on one of the tables.
action: You examine daiquiri
response: A single banana bobs fruitlessly in the non-alcoholic Misery Sauce. You can't bear to see this! You reach in and pluck it from its watery grave, then put the rest of the drink out of its misery by tossing it over your shoulder.
action: You examine stage
response: It's a stage for acts of various degrees of quality. Currently the placard advertises "Barnaby Mooch the Magnificent Pooch", who's famous for his "Death-Defying Miracle Escapes."
action: Look around
response: A real fancy place for swells to come and take in a show - crystal chandeliers, napkins folded in the shape of fish, the whole kit and kaboodle. One wall is mostly taken up by a bar that serves "juice," another features a stage that serves up "talented" performers, and the third is dominated by an enormous mural. The hotel lobby is to the south, the dressing room is to the north, and double doors lead east to the kitchen.
action: You look at the bar
response: The bar is untended. Or, to put it another way, the bar is unattended. All those bottles sitting out, unguarded, and you just know they're filled with nothing but water. It's enough to make a girl cry.
action: Go east
response: The concierge appears, suggests perhaps madam would prefer an area of the hotel that's not restricted to employees only, and whisks away again. Looks like the kitchen is off-limits to guests.
action: You go north
response: Props and costumes are scattered around this small dressing room. A full-length mirror leans against the wall. South leads back to the Neptune Lounge.

A large wooden crate sits against one wall.

A handwritten reminder is pasted to the wall.
action: You look at the crate
response: A wooden crate covered in stickers from exotic ports of call. It's securely nailed shut, and you hear a sad whine coming from within. It just might be possible to work the top loose from outside, if you really put your back into it, but it'd probably involve a whole lot of unladylike grunting.
action: You wear the glasses
response: You're already wearing that!
action: Open crate
response: A whole lot of unladylike grunting later, you've got the top open a crack, and that's about all this little pooch needed. You see a pair of furry paws slip into the crack, expertly working at the new weakness, and suddenly - KERPOWZO! The crate collapses into kindling, and a furry little fluffball explodes out of the wreckage. Barnaby Mooch, the Magnificent Pooch, is free at last! And he's using his freedom to lick your face, which is fine by you, 'cause there was some unladylike sweating involved too.
action: You examine Barnaby
response: A tiny terrier with stylishly bobbed brown fur and more brains than Dr. Frankenstein's icebox.
action: You talk to Barnaby
response: Barnaby barks happily at you.
action: You examine the reminder
response: A few short sentences in an angry-looking scrawl. You can READ it, if you put your mind to it.
action: You read the reminder
response: "All right, numbskull! You're in charge of this leg of the tour. Don't screw it up. All you've gotta do is get a few commands through your thick head and the dog does the rest, see? Remember:

Set him down first! He won't do this stuff if you're carryin' him.

HEEL TAP to make him 'sing.'

TOE TAP to make him 'dance'.

Don't get 'em mixed up, and DON'T let the marks get wise to what you're really doing. We want 'em to think the dog's smarter than they are instead of just smarter than you are. Oh, and remember not to lock the crate, dummy! You put him in anything locked, he'll just break it and get out. You keep it nailed shut. He can't get
out of that.

Oh yeah, and whatever you do, don't CLICK your HEELS. If I ever find out it was you that taught him that trick, I'll wring your scrawny little chicken neck and nail you to the wall. Got it, you puke-faced mug?

- Love, Mother."
action: Click heels
response: You click your heels together. At first nothing seems to happen. Then you smell the oh-so-unmistaken scent of rotten eggs, and Barnaby Mooch looks up you with a sheepish expression. This mutt's just violated the Geneva Gas Protocol!
action: Toe tap
response: You tap your toes, and Barnaby Mooch leaps into the air!
action: You examine the mirror
response: Wowee! You are one tempting tank of tomato juice, if you do say so yourself. And you do!
action: You get Barnaby
response: Barnaby barks happily and lets you scoop him up into your arms.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: Props and costumes are scattered around this small dressing room. A full-length mirror leans against the wall. South leads back to the Neptune Lounge.

A handwritten reminder is pasted to the wall.
action: Go south
response: A real fancy place for swells to come and take in a show - crystal chandeliers, napkins folded in the shape of fish, the whole kit and kaboodle. One wall is mostly taken up by a bar that serves "juice," another features a stage that serves up "talented" performers, and the third is dominated by an enormous mural. The hotel lobby is to the south, the dressing room is to the north, and double doors lead east to the kitchen.
action: Go south
response: The sumptuous entrance lobby of the Grand Poseidon Hotel. Aquamarine lights play over the leather couches and rich mahogany paneling, making the whole room look like it's underwater. Outside to the west, you can see the hustle and bustle of a Saturday night in downtown Seattle.

In the center of the room is an enormous fish tank. To the north is the Neptune Lounge, to the south, past the front desk, is the hotel office, and a hallway leads east. A crystal column houses the elevator.
action: You enter the elevator
response: The doors are clamped tighter than the old lady's legs on a Saturday night. You'd have to call the operator by pushing that pearl button before you can get in it.
action: 1
response: ["Second floor, please."]

"Sure thing!"

Second Floor Corridor, West End
You're standing at the western end of a long hall that runs the length of the Grand Poseidon's second floor. Doors to the north and south lead to luxury suites. The hallway continues to the east. This is also the 2nd floor elevator stop, and you can push the pearl button to summon an elevator.
action: You sit in the chair
response: The Atlantic Suite (in the tasseled chair)
The room is dark, the air thick with the smell of incense and burning spices. Half a dozen men and women are gathered around a table in the center of the room, holding hands, their eyes closed. The door back to the hall is to your south.

Madame Ping Ping sits at the far side of the table, hands clasped with the other seance-goers, eyes closed in concentration. Directly across from her is an inviting-looking tasseled chair.

You drop Barnaby in order to have both hands free and then ease yourself into the comfortable tasseled chair. He saunters under the table and parks himself loyally at your feet as you join hands with the seance-goers to either side of you. Across from you, Madame Ping Ping clears her throat, and the seance resumes.

"All it will take is one knock. We must know you are here!"
action: You drop Barnaby
response: Barnaby hops out of your arms.

"Knock, spirit! Knock on the table!"
action: Toe tap
response: You tap your toes, and Barnaby Mooch leaps into the air!
Unfortunately the poor kid didn't reckon on anything being in the way, and he bashes his tender coconut into the underside of the table with a loud knocking noise.

The seance-goers gasp. "He knocks!" Madame Ping says. "The ghost shows his presence! Oh, spirit! Speak! I beseech you in the name of Samurai, allow us to hear your mournful voice!"

"Oh spirit, speak to us!", Madame Ping Ping cries.
action: Heel tap
response: You tap your heel, and Barnaby Mooch lets out a mournful howl. "The spirit cries out in pain!" Madam Ping Ping cries. The guests murmur amongst themselves, worried.

"Are we quite completely sure this is a good spirit?" asks the nervous woman. "Not one from...one from...down there?"

"You must abandon such Western ways and embrace the spirit of the honorable East," Madame Ping Ping chides. "Do not the ancestors wash away such distinctions when their spirits travel to Mount Fuji to bathe in the headwaters of the Yangtze?" She glances around the circle. "Ah, but I see you have not progressed far enough along the Eightfold Path to abandon such earthly conceits. Very well. I shall now ask the spirit to prove it comes not from any underworld, but from the ambrosia-soaked rice fields of the honorable deceased."

"Ease our minds, spirit!" Madame Ping wails. "Show us you mean us well!"
action: Click heels
response: You click your heels together. A few seconds later, the air fills with the scent of rotten eggs. "Brimstone!" screams the nervous woman sitting next to you, releasing your hand. "Help! Help!"

"It's a demon! A demon!" shouts the man with the walrus moustache, fumbling with a cross. "I knew this was a stupid idea. It's come for our souls!"

"Not our souls!" the nervous woman screams. "Go away, demon! I'll never dabble in the occult again!"

Madame Ping Ping abruptly stops ululating. "Now, there's no need to go that far-" But it's too late. An umbrella clobbers the medium on the back of her head as a woman in a dark coat vaults over the table and scrambles towards the door.

"It's locked!" Dark Coat babbles, turning the knob the wrong way.

Walrus Moustache lifts the tasseled chair off the carpet. "I'll soon have it down," he growls.

"Scuse me, Mac!" you say, hanging onto the armrests for dear life. "This seat's taken! You want to give me a chance to vacate the premises before you go all Samson on the place?" Seeing the answer is apparently "no", you leap free just before the chair is sent hurtling through the door.

The seance-goers rush out in blind panic, leaving you flat on your keister, the room in a shambles, and Madame Ping Ping sprawled unconscious across the table. You're lucky you can blame this one on the dog.

The room is dark, the air thick with the smell of incense, burning spices, and just a hint of dog wind. The door back to the hall is to your south.

Madame Ping Ping is sprawled across the table, unconscious.

You can also see Barnaby Mooch the Magnificent Pooch here.
action: You get Barnaby
response: Barnaby barks happily and lets you scoop him up into your arms.
action: You examine Ping
response: A plump woman about your mother's age, dressed in a shimmering Chinese dress and a silken cape. Her black wig looks like it came from a Cleopatra fancy-dress costume. She's sprawled across the table, knocked out colder than a bluenose's boudoir. Looks like she didn't see that umbrella coming.
action: You wear the glasses
response: You're already wearing that!
action: Search ping
response: You swore off searching years ago. That sort of prying is for
the fuzz and your old lady. You'll stick with examining things, thank you very much.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: The room is dark, the air thick with the smell of incense, burning spices, and just a hint of dog wind. The door back to the hall is to your south.

A giggling ghost hovers over Madame Ping Ping.

Madame Ping Ping is sprawled across the table, unconscious.
action: You look at GHOST
response: It looks like a pint of delicious booze come to life.
action: You talk to GHOST
response: No point beating your gums there.
action: Drink ghost
response: You put your lips on the ghost and gulp it down. Mm! This stuff is posi-tutely the berries! It only takes a few swallows before the spectral killjoy is gone for good and the hotel is just a little less haunted. Gee, don't it feel swell to do a good deed?
action: Look around
response: The room is dark, the air thick with the smell of incense, burning spices, and just a hint of dog wind. The door back to the hall is to your south.

Madame Ping Ping is sprawled across the table, unconscious.
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying:
Barnaby Mooch the Magnificent Pooch
a banana
a party blower
a pair of spook-spotting cheaters (being worn)
an art theory textbook
a stinky stocking
your best set of glad rags (being worn)
action: You read the art theory textbook
response: Chapter 1: The proper subject.

(There's a lovely color painting of a bowl of fruit on this page.)

No choice you make as an artist is as important as choosing the correct subject. Let the amateur scribblers, the mere dilettantes, content themselves with great battles and last suppers, with windy moors and noble beasts and shapeless bursts of color. You are a Real Artist, and for a Real Artist there is but one subject: The Container of Fruit.

Find the most beautiful container you can. Fill it with at least
three kinds of fruit. Then simply place it on any convenient table or pedestal in front of you. If you've chosen the right vessel, then inspiration will flow like milk from a pent-up Holstein. Then, and only then, will you know you are a Real Artist.
action: Blow blower
response: You pop it in your mouth and blow. The paper part uncoils with surprising force and a nice loud "wheeeeee!" noise. You feel a little more festive.
action: You go to the east
response: Second Floor Corridor, East End
You're standing at the eastern end of a long hall that runs the length of the Grand Poseidon's second floor. Doors to the north and south lead to luxury suites, and the hallway continues to the west.

A laundry cart trundles slowly along the edge of the hallway, brass wheels squeaking. You can see a mysterious glow coming from the
cart. Maybe if you took a closer look...
action: Blow blower
response: You fish out the party blower, work your hand far enough into the room to pop it into your mouth, and blow. The paper roll is just long enough to smack the candy-colored button dead center, depressing it and shutting off the bomb.

A ghost bubbles out of the bomb, sloshes around in the tiny room, and pours out the window into the other, bigger Arctic Suite.
action: Go outside
response: You crawl back out through the tiny front doors in the Arctic Suite.

This room doesn't look like it's been used in years. Everything's covered in a thick coat of dust-the Benzedrine bottles scattered on the floor, the drafting table shoved in the corner, and most especially the enormous scale model of the Poseidon Hotel which dominates the room.

A smug-looking ghost floats in midair.

A typewritten note is affixed to the model.
action: Drink ghost
response: You smack your lips against the ectoplasmic creep and take a good long slurp. Pretty soon the ghost has been sent to that big old bloodstream in the sky. Too bad these little things don't have sheets, or you'd have three of 'em to be to the wind right now.
action: You go south
response: You can barely see this suite beneath the dropcloth on the floor and the host of half-finished canvases leaning against every wall. The second floor hallway is to the north.

Crispin Fourment slouches at an easel, staring at a blank canvas with a tortured expression on his face. He appears to be possessed by
one of the hotel ghosts!

A smallish display table sits a few feet from the easel. On it is an uninspiring bowl.
action: You put the banana in the bowl
response: You put the banana into the uninspiring bowl.
action: You talk to Crispin
response: He sighs heavily.

1) "Why not just paint what you like?"
2) "What kind of container would inspire you?"
3) "Well, good luck, Crispin."
action: 3
response: ["Well, good luck, Crispin."]

Crispin sighs and goes back to staring at the canvas.

You can barely see this suite beneath the dropcloth on the floor and the host of half-finished canvases leaning against every wall. The second floor hallway is to the north.

Crispin Fourment slouches at an easel, staring at a blank canvas with a tortured expression on his face. He appears to be possessed by
one of the hotel ghosts!

A smallish display table sits a few feet from the easel. On it is an uninspiring bowl.
action: You look at the cart
response: The cart, already piled high, prowls as if looking for more dirty laundry to add to its haul. You wish you could show this to the old lady. She's always claiming laundry doesn't do itself. Your spook-spotting cheaters reveal the source of the mysterious movement - this thing is possessed! Now if only you can find a way to satisfy this laundry cart's unfinished business...
action: You get the cart
response: The laundry cart really wants to stay where it is!
action: You put stocking in laundry
response: The cart accepts the repulsive thing with ecstasy. Taking such a wretched little rag to be washed must be a laundry cart's dream. With a lurch, it overturns, spilling undergarments, towels, and a fancy bellhop's uniform out onto the floor...and then a  ghost erupts from the piles of laundry!
action: Drink ghost
response: You're starting to get the hang of this! The ghost goes down the hatch faster than a sailor who just heard Clara Bow was berthed in his bunk, and with four drinks in you, you're starting to feel nicely haunted.
action: You take the uniform
response: Taken.
action: You wear it
response: You really oughta take off the glad rags before putting anything else on.
action: You go south
response: The inside of a dimly-lit storage closet, unfurnished except for an uncomfortable-looking cot pushed into the corner. One whole wall is covered with newspaper clippings, and a tower of dime novels teeters next to the cot. There's a door to the north.
action: You remove the glad
response: You shuck off your dress, hat, and pearls.
action: You wear the uniform
response: You shrug on the uniform and do up the buttons. Anyone who sees you would take you for an (unusually good-looking) hotel employee.
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying:
a bellhop's uniform (being worn)
Barnaby Mooch the Magnificent Pooch
a party blower
a pair of spook-spotting cheaters (being worn)
an art theory textbook
your best set of glad rags
action: You go to the south
response: Cleverly disguised as the Grand Poseidon's most beautiful bellhop, you hop over the counter and into an employees-only area.

Oof, this room's a real step down in the fanciness department. Looks like everyone cleared out after the raid, leaving nothing but a room full of desks and paperwork. The lobby is to the north. To the east is the door to the hotel's high security vault.

There's an apple sitting on one of the desks.
action: You examine the desks
response: They're just regular old desks, made out of cheap wood and without a single decorative fish or ornately carved siren in sight. They don't even have drawers. Donnie Cantaloupe really cheaped out on this place compared to the stuff the guests see.
action: You examine paperwork
response: It's mostly long lists of people who've checked in and checked out of the hotel at various times. Looks like Mr. and Mrs. John Smith are frequent guests.
action: You examine the apple
response: It's all bright and shiny. The desk musta belonged to a real apple polisher.
action: You go east
response: This is the hotel's vault, where guests can drop off their high-priced losables so they can debauch in peace. Nobody is at the teller's window, but the vault door has a deposit slot, for after-hours drop-offs. You can see a ghostly outline moving around beyond the vault door!
action: You examine the door
response: An extremely heavy and secure metal door. You can't see any way to open it, but there's a deposit slot in it for dropping off valuables.
action: You put the dog in the slot
response: Barnaby just fits through the slot, and wriggles out of your arms with a determined bark. Can Barnaby Mooch the Magificent Pooch escape from the Vault of Doom? Will he do it, folks?

A minute passes...

Two minutes....

When the tension is almost more than you can bear, there's a "kerchunk", and the vault door swings open. There, amid a fanfare of trumpets, stands Barnaby! He takes a bow, trots forward and thoughtfully kicks the door shut behind him - but not before the vault's ghost has slithered out as well.
action: Drink ghost
response: Y'know, these things could really use a little garnish. An olive or something. But there's nothing for it now, so you deploy your drinker and soon the ghost is nothing more than a hiccup and a grin.
action: Go west
response: Oof, this room's a real step down in the fanciness department. Looks like everyone cleared out after the raid, leaving nothing but a room full of desks and paperwork. The lobby is to the north. To the east is the door to the hotel's high security vault.
action: You examine the napkins
response: They're shaped like marine life.
action: You go to the east
response: Cleverly disguised as the Grand Poseidon's most beautiful bellhop, you slip through the swinging doors and into an employees-only area.

It looks a lot like other kitchens, probably; you make it a point to spend as little time in them as possible. There's a big industrial refrigerator and lots of counters. Swinging double doors to the west lead back to the lounge.
action: You examine the refrigerator
response: This refrigerator, much like the old lady that time she chaperoned your senior year homecoming dance, is sitting in the corner, humming quietly and radiating bitter cold. The refrigerator is closed.
action: You open it
response: You swing the heavy door open and get a blast of arctic air in the face.
A lone orange rests on the top shelf.
action: You take the orange
response: Taken.
action: You close the refrigerator
response: You swing the heavy door closed.
action: 3
response: ["Seeya, Kipper."]

"Seeya, Miss Greene!"

The sumptuous entrance lobby of the Grand Poseidon Hotel. Aquamarine lights play over the leather couches and rich mahogany paneling, making the whole room look like it's underwater. Outside to the west, you can see the hustle and bustle of a Saturday night in downtown Seattle.

In the center of the room is an enormous fish tank. To the north is the Neptune Lounge, to the south, past the front desk, is the hotel office, and a hallway leads east. A crystal column houses the elevator.
action: Go east
response: Second Floor Corridor, East End
You're standing at the eastern end of a long hall that runs the length of the Grand Poseidon's second floor. Doors to the north and south lead to luxury suites, and the hallway continues to the west.

You can see an overturned cart here.
action: You go south
response: You can barely see this suite beneath the dropcloth on the floor and the host of half-finished canvases leaning against every wall. The second floor hallway is to the north.

Crispin Fourment slouches at an easel, staring at a blank canvas with a tortured expression on his face. He appears to be possessed by
one of the hotel ghosts!

A smallish display table sits a few feet from the easel. On it is an uninspiring bowl.
action: You put the apple and the orange in the bowl
response: apple: Done.
orange: Done.
action: You talk to Crispin
response: He sighs heavily.

1) "Why not just paint what you like?"
2) "What kind of container would inspire you?"
3) "Well, good luck, Crispin."
action: Inventory
response: You are carrying:
a bellhop's uniform (being worn)
a party blower
a pair of spook-spotting cheaters (being worn)
an art theory textbook
your best set of glad rags
action: You take the pool
response: It's too old and hard to scoop up.
action: You get on the table
response: You plop your posterior on the small table. Crispin sighs. (A real sigher, this one.) "If only I could paint you," he says. "But
the rules are clear! It's a container of fruit, or nothing!"
action: Apple and banana
response: orange: Taken.
apple: Taken.
banana: Taken.
action: You eat the apple
response: Crunch! So long, apple!
action: You eat the orange
response: You peel and eat the orange. It's round, sweet, and a little tart, which are fine things for an orange, or anyone, to be. Yum!
action: You eat banana
response: You swallow the banana in a few bites. Yum!
action: You get on the table
response: You plop your posterior on the small table. Crispin sighs. (A real sigher, this one.) "If only I could paint you," he says. "But
the rules are clear! It's a container of fruit, or noth -

"So who's not a container of fruit? I've eaten a banana, an orange, and an apple. I'm a regular fruit salad."

"You mean - you - really?" Crispin brightens. "Then I can paint you! I can paint you! Oh, this is wonderful. Hold this! I have to capture you, now!" As Crispin picks up his paint brush, the ghostly presence erupts from his body. Now's your chance to get rid of -

"Up-bup-bup! Let's keep that pose."

Two hours later, Crispin finishes the painting and leaves, a tune on his lips.
action: Drink ghost
response: Slurp! Now you've got an even half-dozen of these little things gurgling around down there. You're starting to feel like a slightly plastered egg carton.
action: You open the locker
response: The locker pulses under your hands, and you feel the seal cracking. You can enter and face what lies inside now, or you can go back into the hotel and search for more ghosts.

1) I'm done with this place! Let's guzzle us a ghost!
2) Nah, I'm not ready yet.
action: 1
response: [I'm done with this place! Let's guzzle us a ghost!]

Nothin'. Just an empty locker. What a royal platter of the phonus balonus!

Until you realize that the musty room is somehow brand new, the tiles less cracked, the lockers gleaming. It's like you've stepped back into the past, like in that Christmas book, except instead of watching some crusty old bluenose waste his childhood working, you're seeing what happened here, in this very room, some eight years ago.

Donnie Cantaloupes swaggers in, dressed in a bathing suit, a towel around his neck. He's still huge, but in a different order, with more of his bulk filed under "M" for muscles, or maybe "M" for "Mamma mia, what a dish!" It's enough to make you want to run right out of here, find your younger self, and tell her to ditch the hopscotch a couple of years early.

1) Try to attract his attention.
2) Duck behind the lockers.
action: 2
response: [Duck behind the lockers.]

You dart behind the lockers, a little too late to avoid him seeing you if he could, but apparently he can't. It's either that or he's ignoring you, and since you're you, how likely is that? He
does turn around when another woman enters the room.

1) Who's the dame?
action: 1
response: [Who's the dame?]

She bears more than a passing resemblance to Agent Byrd - a tall, severe-looking brunette in businesslike tweed. This woman is older, though, with a sharp chin and a streak of gray in her hair. She storms up to Donnie, waving a finger in his face. "Don't think you can run away from me, Mister Cantaloupes!"

"Didn't I tell ya to back off, ya dizzy harpy?" Donnie roars back.

"One of your goons did mention it, yes," the woman says. "I believe his exact words were "one of these days, they'll find you floating face down in the Sound." I told him that was an ugly threat, and he said, and I quote, "It could be uglier. They could find you floating face up."

Donnie chuckles.

"I fail to see what's so funny, Mr. Cantaloupes. What would you friends at City Hall say if they knew you consorted with such ruffians?"

Donnie crosses his arms. "And what would your fancy-schmancy Temperance ladies say if they knew Mildred Waverly hung around in men's changing rooms?"

Waverly grins. "I made very sure that nobody saw me come in here, Mr. Cantaloupes. You can't hide behind your goons anymore. It's just you and me."

"Just you and me, huh?" Donnie says, casually approaching. She looks so much smaller than he does, and yet she stands straight and proud. "No witnesses?" And that's when he lunges for her.

"No witnesses?" And that's when he lunges for her.

It's nearly a minute before Waverly finally breaks the kiss to shoot a nervous look around the room. "You're quite sure we're really alone?"

"Isn't it a little late to be worried about that? Besides, didn't I tell you I gave them the night off?" Donnie says, stroking her hair."

"I thought you meant you didn't - oh, I'm sorry, it's just impossible, the way you talk. Poor Rosie used to have the same problem, but we fixed it years ago, thank goodness."

"Didn't I explain I can get around it by putting everything in the form of a question?"

"Like a stutterer learning to sing his words instead of saying them, yes, I understand. It's just confusing, that's all." She
gives him a teasing grin. "Sometimes I think things would had been easier if I'd fallen for the other doorman. The one who always tells the truth."

"And what fun would that be?"

"Not much," Waverly admits. "And we wouldn't have Rosie."

"Not much," Waverly admits. "And we wouldn't have Rosie."

"How is Rosie, anyway?" Donnie says. "Got to be getting pretty big by now, isn't she?"

"Nearly fifteen, and no, thank goodness, given that Walter is five foot two and weighs less than I do we're lucky she didn't end up with your body structure."

"Any girl would be lucky not to end up with my body structure, don't you think?"

"Now, that's not what I meant! You're very handsome for a mountain." She puts her head on his shoulders. "Oh, Donnie. I wish you could see her. I wish we didn't have to play around like this."

"Don't you think I wish that too, Millie?"

"I know you do. You're a good man, Donnie, but you've made a choice to do evil things." She sighs. "Those I suppose I'm hardly one to talk about that, am I? Nevertheless, as long as you continue to sell this poison -"

"What if I stop?"

"What if I stop?"

"What, just like that?"

"What do I need more money for? Wouldn't it be nice if we could all be a family?" He reaches into the locker and pulls out a bottle of champagne. "What would you say if I told you I picked this up today, and it'll be the last bottle of booze I ever buy? Now - how about a toast?"

toast?"

"You know I never touch-"

"It's okay just this once, isn't it? You don't think I'll tell any of your hoity-toity friends, do you?"

"I supposed not," Mildred says, blushing. She allows Donnie to pour her a glass and clinks it against his. "Very well. Just one. To us!" She gulps it down and makes a face. "Honestly, Donnie, I don't know where you get this cheap - "

And then her hand flies to her throat and she collapses to the tile, her face ashen.

her face ashen.

Poisoned. How? Not by Donnie. Any thought of that leaves your head when you see the look on his face as she falls, and the way he holds her as she dies.

He's still holding her when one of his weaselly looking henchmen saunters in. The goon's eyes widen as he takes in the scene. "Holy smokes, boss. You actually kacked the broad."

Donnie turns to look and him. Silently, he nods.

Suddenly, you smell strong spirits. You turn - and you're face-to-face with the ghost of Mildred Waverly.
action: You talk to Mildred
response: with the ghost of Mildred Waverly.

Her ectoplasmic body ripples and shimmers in the light. She's holey, like a hunk of Swiss cheese, the liquid weeping from the spots where the missing chunks of her body should be. She raises one hand and crooks her fingers towards you. Your belly gurgles. The spirits in the hotel, you realize, weren't really ghosts at all, but fragments of Mildred she left behind...and she's calling them back. A dizzying wave of sobriety crashes over you as the liquid leaches from your body and returns to hers.

When your vision clears, Mildred stands before you, more complete than she was...but still not complete. Either the missing pieces are driving her as koo-koo as a Swiss clock or she's just in a bad mood, because she's hissing up a storm and looking at you like she wants a fight.

"What? Hey, watch it!" you protest. "That was every drop of the stuff I had, I swear!"

But she advances for you anyway, reaching for your face with dripping fingers tipped with razor-sharp boozecicles. There's no reasoning with her in this state! There's only one way out of this, Hazel, and it's a good thing you're thirsty!

1) Drink.
action: 1
response: [Drink.]
action: 1
response: [Drink.]

You plant a wet smacker right on the back of Mildred's hand and inhale like your life depends on it, 'cause as far as you can see, it does. You've slurped her up to the elbow before she even realizes what's happening. Then she shrieks and tries to pull away. "Wicked girrrrrl," she growls. "Wicked, slovenly harrrrrlot! Get away from me!"

"Stick it in your ear," you manage in between gulps of her left shoulder.

"Sinnerrr! Scarrrrlet doxy! Floozy! Lush!"

"Aw, you sound just like my senior yearbook entry."

"You've rrrrruined my revenge! Rrrruined it! Rrrrrrrrruined it!" she screeches as her torso begins to crumble inward. You're getting light-headed, not to mention more than a little liquorlogged, but Hazel Greene doesn't put down a drink half-finished.

The ghost shrieks in anguish and frustration as her neck dribbles away, pulling her head - all that's left of her - towards its final fate.

"You may have won!" she screams. "But just look at you! You're not a girl. You're a brewery on legs! You're disgusting! And you're
drunk!"

The last bit of Mildred swirls into your mouth like water down the bathtub drain. "Oh yeah?" you manage, pausing for a hiccup powerful enough to break a window. "Well, so are you."

1) And that's about where you pass out.
action: 1
response: [And that's about where you pass out.]
action: 1
response: [And that's about where you pass out.]Or maybe you're
actually passing back in, because all of a sudden you've got the cold locker room floor pressed against your back and Agent Byrd slapping you in the face. "Wake up!" she says, before turning to someone you can't see because you can't move your head without everything smearing like a Picasso. "It's no use, she's too drunk. Get me a bucket of cold water."

"I'm not drunk!", you try to protest, but it comes out more like "Amm nawww rarrrunk" because you are, in fact, ossified right out of your little blonde skull. The same skull which Agent Byrd proceeds to lubricate with a gallon of ice water. "You're lucky to be alive," she says, helping you sit up. "The explosion shook the whole hotel."

Donny Cantaloupes rushes into the room, shoving onlookers out of the way. "What's goin' on in here?" he bellows. "Don't you know this is the gentleman's changing area?"

Agent Byrd stands up, triumphant. "It's clear to me exactly what's happened," she says. "You were hiding a cache of highly flammable contraband in this locker room, trusting that it's the one place I'd never dare check. This unfortunate girl snuck in to sample the merchandise, overindulged, lost her head enough to light up a quick jazz cigarette and - BOOM!"

"That's exactly what happened," Donnie says.

"A-ha!"

"Nah, you're takin' the boss out of context," says Donnie's right-hand man, weaseling up. "You gotta remember his speech impediment. And say, boss, I gotta tell you, I was checking the 'mineral water' and it's back to being 'mineral water', not, uh, mineral water, if you get me, see?"

"A-ha, again!" Agent Byrd says. "Don't think I don't know what you're talking about. Men, search the place! We've got you this time, Cantaloupes. And when I bust this place up from stem to stern, not only will we uncover your operation, we'll find evidence for the rest of it too. You'll finally face justice for the murder of Mildred Waverly." She leans forward, getting right in the big man's face. "You killed my mother," she hisses. "And pretty soon I'll be able to prove it."

Suddenly all business again, she backs off and kneels to face you. "Miss, we're going to need a statement."

You don't want to give a statement. In fact, you don't really feel like moving. For one thing, your head is swimming, and for another, speaking of swimming your stomach feels like it could double
for an Olympic-sized pool right now. You're retaining a lot of Mildred. But Agent Byrd is waiting. You're going to have to tell her something....

1) It's about your mother...
action: 1
response: [It's about your mother...]
action: 1
response: [It's about your mother...]"Your mother did this," you say.
"Or...her ghost did. She was angry with the hotel, and I don't blame her, because the way she died would have steamed anyone's celery. But it wasn't Donnie Cantaloupes who killed her!"

"No, it wasn't," Donnie Cantaloupes says suddenly. "I didn't kill her." Gasps ring out from the crowd as people work out what he just said.

"Uh, Boss," says Weaselly, "let's not say anything we shouldn't outta say in front of Janey Law here..."

""I didn't kill her!" Cantaloupes says again. "I haven't been carrying this secret around for eight long years. I'm not tired of it. No, I didn't kill her. It wasn't an accident, but that means I'm not responsible. It's not time for me to take responsibility for that. I don't deserve to go to jail."

"Nah, she wouldn't want that," you say. "The ghost showed me how she died, see, and-"

"The ghost?" Agent Byrd explodes. "The ghost? This
is a serious investigation, not a showcase for your D.T.s!"

"No, really, there was a ghost. Lots of ghosts. I've got this pair of cheaters, see, and - " You put your hand to your face. Where are your special glasses? They're gone!

"And just where exactly is this ghost now?

"Um, I'm not sure. Heaven, I think?"

"That's what I thought. And why, pray tell, do you think my mother would want me to show any regard to the criminal who killed her? Even 'accidentally'?"

1) It's like this...
action: 1
response: [It's like this...]

Well, what the heck. It's not over until the slightly-curvier-than-average lady sings, so you might as well get singing.

"Because I'm pretty sure this criminal is your father."

"WHAT?" Agent Byrd says.

"See, she and Cantaloupes were passionately in love. They were talking about you in the vision just before she died, which, incidentally, happened because she drank from a bottle of denatured alcohol by accident. He's your father, all right. Look, I've got parental issues too. Although at least my parents are married and, hoo boy, maybe I shouldn't have spilled this in front of all your co-workers, but oh well. There it is. Cantaloupes is your dad."

"Well, if the girl I found lying drunk in the men's changing room babbling about ghosts says it, I suppose it must be true!
Tell me, do you have even one single solitary shred of proof?"

"Uh. I didn't think of that. I don't suppose you've both got webbed toes or a funny  birthmark on the moneymaker, anything like that?"

"That's what I thought."

"Wait! I just remembered something! Mildred said...when you were young, you had the same speech impediment Cantaloupes does. You always said the reverse of what you meant!"

"That's ridiculous. I never did that."

"You must have been really young! You might not remember, but maybe if you talk to someone who knew you back then - "

"I said I never did that!" Agent Byrd says, her face turning purple. "Donnie Cantaloupes can be my father! It's possible!"

She claps a hand over her mouth.

"That's what I meant to say...I don't mean...I..." She swallows. "It never happens when I'm...that is to say...it only happens when I'm upset. And it doesn't prove anything." She looks at Donnie, her face a mix of curiousity and fear. "But...but I suppose you're not the only one who's made an accusation they can't prove tonight. Perhaps I was too hasty, Mr. Cantaloupes. Perhaps there was more to my mother's disappearance than I know. The booze, however...that, I'm
shutting you down for."

It wasn't exactly the tearful reunion you might have hoped for, but it'll have to do.
it'll have to do.

And so you find yourself staggering home at six-thirty in the morning, exhausted, reeking of liquor, and with instructions to talk to the police later. The old lady's going to have your hide. And you've already tossed your guts out onto two different lawns and one very surprised gardener who got in the way of the third lawn at the last second. It's just about your usual morning, in other words.

But y'know what, kid? Last night you un-haunted a hotel with nothing more than pluck, moxie, and your own talented kisser. Last night, you got past every problem the Poseidon Grand could throw at you.

"Roof! Roof!" Barnaby barks happily at your feet. Oh, yeah, there's that, too. You got yourself a dog.

All in all, not a bad night. Not a bad night at all!

THE END.
action: Look around
response: "Your mother did this," you say. "Or...her ghost did. She was angry with the hotel, and I don't blame her, because the way she died would have steamed anyone's celery. But it wasn't Donnie Cantaloupes who killed her!"

"No, it wasn't," Donnie Cantaloupes says suddenly. "I didn't kill her." Gasps ring out from the crowd as people work out what he just said.

"Uh, Boss," says Weaselly, "let's not say anything we shouldn't outta say in front of Janey Law here..."

""I didn't kill her!" Cantaloupes says again. "I haven't been carrying this secret around for eight long years. I'm not tired of it. No, I didn't kill her. It wasn't an accident, but that means I'm not responsible. It's not time for me to take responsibility for that. I don't deserve to go to jail."

"Nah, she wouldn't want that," you say. "The ghost showed me how she died, see, and-"

"The ghost?" Agent Byrd explodes. "The ghost? This
is a serious investigation, not a showcase for your D.T.s!"

"No, really, there was a ghost. Lots of ghosts. I've got this pair of cheaters, see, and - " You put your hand to your face. Where are your special glasses? They're gone!

"And just where exactly is this ghost now?

"Um, I'm not sure. Heaven, I think?"

"That's what I thought. And why, pray tell, do you think my mother would want me to show any regard to the criminal who killed her? Even 'accidentally'?"

1) It's like this...
2) It's like this...
action: 2
response: ["Third floor, please."]

"Sure thing!"

It's real swanky up here, and there's a big door to the east that looks like it's gotta be a private suite. A smaller door is to the west. Just like with the other elevator stops, you can push the pearl button here to call Kipper.

A stonefaced palooka stands at attention next to the door.
action: Go west
response: This is nothing but a small, dark, cramped, damp closet.

A metal hatch is set into a particularly wet patch of carpet.
action: You open hatch
response: You swing the heavy metal hatch open, revealing water about a foot down. Light glints in the depths.
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying:
an uninspiring bowl
a bellhop's uniform
a party blower
a pair of spook-spotting cheaters (being worn)
an art theory textbook
your best set of glad rags
action: You wear the rags
response: You wriggle into your best set of glad rags. Now you're ready to turn heads!
action: Go east
response: It's real swanky up here, and there's a big door to the east that looks like it's gotta be a private suite. A smaller door is to the west. Just like with the other elevator stops, you can push the pearl button here to call Kipper.

A stonefaced palooka stands at attention next to the door.
action: You look at the palooka
response: He's eyeing you suspiciously, which has gotta be one of your least favorite ways to be eyed.
action: You go to the west
response: This is nothing but a small, dark, cramped, damp closet.

A metal hatch is set into a particularly wet patch of carpet. You can see water below.
action: You remove rags
response: You shuck off your dress, hat, and pearls.
action: You wear the uniform
response: You shrug on the uniform and do up the buttons. Anyone who sees you would take you for an (unusually good-looking) hotel employee.
action: You go east
response: The stonefaced palooka opens the door for you.

This swanky private suite makes everything on the floor below look like yesterday's day-old donuts. White leather couches, silver fittings, wall-to-wall carpeting so plush you could sink into it like quicksand. A pair of goldfish float languidly in a crystal aquarium on the coffee table. There's a bedroom to the east, and the suite exit is to the west.

A mermaid getup is tossed carelessly on the floor.
action: You look at the mermaid
response: It's a pair of scaly trousers with a coppery sheen and gauzy "fins" on the bottom cuffs - the illusion of a tail is created by swimming with your legs clamped together. There's also a bra made of a couple of seashells just big enough to keep you from being hauled away
by the vice squad.
action: You wear the mermaid
response: You wriggle into the shiny, scale-covered trousers. Boy, these are tight! No wonder they tell you not to overfeed fish if they're expected to get into these pants. The seashell brassiere isn't the easiest to get on either. Eventually you're in it, though, and you make a pretty darn swell mermaid, if you do say so yourself.
action: You drop all
response: uninspiring bowl: Dropped.
bellhop's uniform: Dropped.
party blower: Dropped.
art theory textbook: Dropped.
glad rags: Dropped.
action: Go downward
response: You sit down and slide into the water.

You're floating inside the huge lobby fishtank. The hotel looks weird and distorted through the glass. The hidden exit hatch is in the ceiling above you, and the tank's pebbly floor lies far below.
action: You go downward
response: You're floating just above the layer of pebbles at the bottom of the tank. Patches of seaweed sway in the gentle currents. Outside, you can see the hotel lobby.

An enormous oyster is nestled in the seaweed.
action: You examine the oyster
response: This thing is huge! It's got to be at least thirty pounds if it's an ounce, and it's a lot more than an ounce!
action: You take the oyster
response: Taken.
action: Go upward
response: You swim up closer to the top of the tank.

You're floating inside the huge lobby fishtank. The hotel looks weird and distorted through the glass. The hidden exit hatch is in the ceiling above you, and the tank's pebbly floor lies far below.
action: Go upward
response: You pump your powerful tail and return to the surface.

This is nothing but a small, dark, cramped, damp closet.

A metal hatch is set into a particularly wet patch of carpet. You can see water below.

You can also see your best set of glad rags, an art theory textbook, a party blower, a bellhop's uniform and an uninspiring bowl (empty) here.
action: You remove the mermaid
response: You peel off the mermaid getup and neatly fold it into a scandalously small package.
action: You wear the uniform
response: (first taking the bellhop's uniform)
You shrug on the uniform and do up the buttons. Anyone who sees you would take you for an (unusually good-looking) hotel employee.
action: You take all
response: glad rags: Taken.
art theory textbook: Taken.
party blower: Taken.
uninspiring bowl: Taken.
hatch: Taken.
action: Go east
response: It's real swanky up here, and there's a big door to the east that looks like it's gotta be a private suite. A smaller door is to the west. Just like with the other elevator stops, you can push the pearl button here to call Kipper.

A stonefaced palooka stands at attention next to the door.
action: You go to the east
response: The stonefaced palooka opens the door for you.

This swanky private suite makes everything on the floor below look like yesterday's day-old donuts. White leather couches, silver fittings, wall-to-wall carpeting so plush you could sink into it like quicksand. A pair of goldfish float languidly in a crystal aquarium on the coffee table. There's a bedroom to the east, and the suite exit is to the west.
action: Go east
response: Hot dog, now this is a bedroom! It's about the size of a barn, with a huge four-poster bed slathered with shimmering draperies plopped right in the middle. The rest of the suite opens up to the west.

Gams Gillespie is here, combing her hair at the vanity.
action: You look at Gams
response: This is the famous Gams Gillespie, former chorus girl and current girlfriend of Donnie Cantaloupes. Dressed in a diaphanous dressing gown, she's seated at a vanity, combing out her long, damp blonde hair. It looks like she's possessed by a ghost!
action: You talk to Gams
response: Gams Gillespie stops brushing her hair and looks up at you. "Whaddaya want? I didn't call for no room service."

1) "You look a little blue."
action: 1
response: ["You look a little blue."]

"Well, whaddaya expect when I spend all evening underwater in that damn fish suit gettin' my anemones ogled for the edification of Donnie's payin' customers? It's cold in there! I keep tellin' 'im to put a heater in it, but no." She sighs. "Anyway, I got a bigger problem than a little gooseflesh."

1) "What kind of problem?"
action: 1
response: ["What kind of problem?"]

"A love problem, that's what kind!" she cries, clutching the hairbrush to her chest. "It...it haunts me. Almost like a literal ghost
or somethin'. I wish there was somethin' you could do, but it just ain't the sort of thing a kid like you could understand."

1) "Try me! I've been around the block a few times."
action: 1
response: ["Try me! I've been around the block a few times."]

"You ain't even been outta the garage, babyface, but all right. It's like this. Ya know how when a couple is together for a long time, they sorta...drift apart? He's off doin' his thing and she's off doin' her thing and pretty soon all the passion just wheezes outta the whole relationship like a fallen souffle, and one day she looks around her beautiful, expensive home and realizes she ain't been given the business, in a marital kinda way I mean, since who knows when. If you get what I'm sayin'?"

She pauses a moment to make sure you get what she's sayin'.

"Anyway, it so happens that this exact situation has befallen a certain pair o' lovebirds I know who shall remain nameless. I need some way to spice things up. One of those, y'know, whaddaya ya call 'em, acromegliacs!"

1) "Aphrodisiacs?"
action: 1
response: ["Aphrodisiacs?"]

She brightens. "Yeah! Those! You run down to the kitchen and get me one of those aphrodizzyacs! For the couple I know."

1) "And what sort of aphrodisiacs am I looking for again?"
2) "So tell me about this...'other couple'."
3) "How did you and Donnie meet?"
4) "Hey, do you work part time as a mermaid?"
5) "I found you an oyster! And oh, boy, is it a whopper!"
6) "Guess I'd better go get your order!"
action: 5
response: ["I found you an oyster! And oh, boy, is it a whopper!"]

She makes a disgusted face. "It ain't even cooked! Whaddaya, tryin' to give someone a case of the ptomaines?"

1) "And what sort of aphrodisiacs am I looking for again?"
2) "So tell me about this...'other couple'."
3) "How did you and Donnie meet?"
4) "Hey, do you work part time as a mermaid?"
5) "I found you an oyster! And oh, boy, is it a whopper!"
6) "Guess I'd better go get your order!"
action: 1
response: ["And what sort of aphrodisiacs am I looking for again?"]

"Something romantical. Something like...the meal Donnie and I had on our first anniversary. Just a pile of boiled oysters. No spices or nothin'. They called it Oysters Amour." She sighs and flutters her eyelashes. "It was magical."

1) "And what sort of aphrodisiacs am I looking for again?"
2) "So tell me about this...'other couple'."
3) "How did you and Donnie meet?"
4) "Hey, do you work part time as a mermaid?"
5) "I found you an oyster! And oh, boy, is it a whopper!"
6) "Guess I'd better go get your order!"
action: 6
response: ["Guess I'd better go get your order!"]

"Shake a leg, wouldya?".

Hot dog, now this is a bedroom! It's about the size of a barn, with a huge four-poster bed slathered with shimmering draperies plopped right in the middle. The rest of the suite opens up to the west.

Gams Gillespie is here, combing her hair at the vanity.
action: You go west
response: This swanky private suite makes everything on the floor below look like yesterday's day-old donuts. White leather couches, silver fittings, wall-to-wall carpeting so plush you could sink into it like quicksand. A pair of goldfish float languidly in a crystal aquarium on the coffee table. There's a bedroom to the east, and the suite exit is to the west.
action: Go west
response: It's real swanky up here, and there's a big door to the east that looks like it's gotta be a private suite. A smaller door is to the west. Just like with the other elevator stops, you can push the pearl button here to call Kipper.

A stonefaced palooka stands at attention next to the door.
action: You press the button
response: "Hiya, Miss Greene! Where to now?"

1) "First floor, please."
2) "Second floor, please."
3) "Seeya, Kipper."
action: 1
response: ["First floor, please."]

"Sure thing!"

The sumptuous entrance lobby of the Grand Poseidon Hotel. Aquamarine lights play over the leather couches and rich mahogany paneling, making the whole room look like it's underwater. Outside to the west, you can see the hustle and bustle of a Saturday night in downtown Seattle.

In the center of the room is an enormous fish tank. To the north is the Neptune Lounge, to the south, past the front desk, is the hotel office, and a hallway leads east. A crystal column houses the elevator.
action: You put the oyster in pool
response: You huck the oyster into the pool and watch it sink to the bottom like a stone.
action: You examine the pool
response: A boiling, bubbling cauldron of hot, salty water.

In the saltwater pool is an Oysters Amour.

A boiling, bubbling cauldron of hot, salty water.

In the saltwater pool is an Oysters Amour.
action: You drop all
response: hatch: Dropped.
uninspiring bowl: Dropped.
party blower: Dropped.
art theory textbook: Dropped.
glad rags: Dropped.
bellhop's uniform: Dropped.
action: You get in the pool
response: No thanks! That water's hot enough to cook you into tomato soup.
action: Turn wheel
response: The wheel squeaks as you turn it. The loud rush of water quiets slightly.
action: You look at the pool
response: A bubbling pool of hot saltwater.

In the saltwater pool is an Oysters Amour.
action: You enter pool
response: Luckily, you're dressed to get wet. You slide into the hot, bubbling water.
action: You get Oysters
response: You fish it out of the water.

Taken.
action: You go to the south
response: You would have to get out of the saltwater pool first.
action: You go outside
response: You hoist yourself out the bath, dripping with salty water. Phew! You're all red. If that bath was any hotter, you'd have been cooked like a lobster!
action: You go south
response: It's steamy and musty, with slick floors. Lockers line the walls.

You can see a bellhop's uniform, your best set of glad rags, an art theory textbook, a party blower, an uninspiring bowl (empty) and a hatch (empty) here.
action: You remove the mermaid
response: You peel off the mermaid getup and neatly fold it into a scandalously small package.
action: You talk to Gams
response: She stops brushing and looks at you.

1) "And what sort of aphrodisiacs am I looking for again?"
2) "So tell me about this...'other couple'."
3) "How did you and Donnie meet?"
4) "Hey, do you work part time as a mermaid?"
5) "One extra-large order of Oysters Amour, boiled to perfection!"
6) "Guess I'd better go get your order!"
action: 5
response: ["One extra-large order of Oysters Amour, boiled to
perfection!"]

"You brought it!" Gams squeals, leaping to her feet. "Oh, thank you, thank you! This'll reignite the passion. I just know it!" She shoulders the oversized oyster and, staggering under the weight, hauls it into the main suite.

"Cookie! Vincent! It's feedin' time for Mommy's little treasures!" You hear a splash as she drops the oyster into the aquarium.

Gams reappears in the doorway, her eyes bright. "It's workin'!
They're eatin', and once they're done, they're gonna be frisky as fry. My poor lonely goldfish'll be in love again, just like they used to be!" She gives you a peck on the cheek, followed by a wink. "Now, let's get out of here. My little babies are gonna be needin' their privacy!"

Throwing on a bathrobe, she dances happily out of the suite, leaving the ghost that was haunting her behind.

Hot dog, now this is a bedroom! It's about the size of a barn, with a huge four-poster bed slathered with shimmering draperies plopped right in the middle. The rest of the suite opens up to the west.

A giggling ghost floats in midair.
action: Drink ghost
response: You slurp down the fermented fiend with the skill of an expert...and the coordination of a gal with six drinks in her already, but never mind that, you catch it eventually. Something tells you, as the ghost giggles its way down your gullet, that you've just polished off the penultimate poltergeist. Now, half-ghostfaced and armed with your wily wits and a stomach sloshing with snagged spirits, it's time to return to the gents' locker room and finish of the last and worst of the bunch.
action: You go west
response: This swanky private suite makes everything on the floor below look like yesterday's day-old donuts. White leather couches, silver fittings, wall-to-wall carpeting so plush you could sink into it like quicksand. A pair of goldfish float languidly in a crystal aquarium on the coffee table. There's a bedroom to the east, and the suite exit is to the west.
action: You open the locker
response: The locker pulses under your hands, and you feel the seal cracking. You're confident, secure, and half in the bag. You've cleared the hotel of the other ghosts. All that's left to do is polish off this one last one.

1) I'm done with this place! Let's guzzle us a ghost!
2) Nah, I'm not ready yet.
action: 1
response: [I'm done with this place! Let's guzzle us a ghost!]

Nothin'. Just an empty locker. What a royal platter of the phonus balonus!

Until you realize that the musty room is somehow brand new, the tiles less cracked, the lockers gleaming. It's like you've stepped back into the past, like in that Christmas book, except instead of watching some crusty old bluenose waste his childhood working, you're seeing what happened here, in this very room, some eight years ago.

Donnie Cantaloupes swaggers in, dressed in a bathing suit, a towel around his neck. He's still huge, but in a different order, with more of his bulk filed under "M" for muscles, or maybe "M" for "Mamma mia, what a dish!" It's enough to make you want to run right out of here, find your younger self, and tell her to ditch the hopscotch a couple of years early.

1) Try to attract his attention.
2) Duck behind the lockers.
action: 2
response: [Duck behind the lockers.]

You dart behind the lockers, a little too late to avoid him seeing you if he could, but apparently he can't. It's either that or he's ignoring you, and since you're you, how likely is that? He
does turn around when another woman enters the room.

1) Who's the dame?
action: 1
response: [Who's the dame?]

She bears more than a passing resemblance to Agent Byrd - a tall, severe-looking brunette in businesslike tweed. This woman is older, though, with a sharp chin and a streak of gray in her hair. She storms up to Donnie, waving a finger in his face. "Don't think you can run away from me, Mister Cantaloupes!"

"Didn't I tell ya to back off, ya dizzy harpy?" Donnie roars back.

"One of your goons did mention it, yes," the woman says. "I believe his exact words were "one of these days, they'll find you floating face down in the Sound." I told him that was an ugly threat, and he said, and I quote, "It could be uglier. They could find you floating face up."

Donnie chuckles.

"I fail to see what's so funny, Mr. Cantaloupes. What would you friends at City Hall say if they knew you consorted with such ruffians?"

Donnie crosses his arms. "And what would your fancy-schmancy Temperance ladies say if they knew Mildred Waverly hung around in men's changing rooms?"

Waverly grins. "I made very sure that nobody saw me come in here, Mr. Cantaloupes. You can't hide behind your goons anymore. It's just you and me."

"Just you and me, huh?" Donnie says, casually approaching. She looks so much smaller than he does, and yet she stands straight and proud. "No witnesses?" And that's when he lunges for her.
action: You press the space
response: "No witnesses?" And that's when he lunges for her.

It's nearly a minute before Waverly finally breaks the kiss to shoot a nervous look around the room. "You're quite sure we're really alone?"

"Isn't it a little late to be worried about that? Besides, didn't I tell you I gave them the night off?" Donnie says, stroking her hair."

"I thought you meant you didn't - oh, I'm sorry, it's just impossible, the way you talk. Poor Rosie used to have the same problem, but we fixed it years ago, thank goodness."

"Didn't I explain I can get around it by putting everything in the form of a question?"

"Like a stutterer learning to sing his words instead of saying them, yes, I understand. It's just confusing, that's all." She
gives him a teasing grin. "Sometimes I think things would had been easier if I'd fallen for the other doorman. The one who always tells the truth."

"And what fun would that be?"

"Not much," Waverly admits. "And we wouldn't have Rosie."
action: You continue
response: "Not much," Waverly admits. "And we wouldn't have Rosie."

"How is Rosie, anyway?" Donnie says. "Got to be getting pretty big by now, isn't she?"

"Nearly fifteen, and no, thank goodness, given that Walter is five foot two and weighs less than I do we're lucky she didn't end up with your body structure."

"Any girl would be lucky not to end up with my body structure, don't you think?"

"Now, that's not what I meant! You're very handsome for a mountain." She puts her head on his shoulders. "Oh, Donnie. I wish you could see her. I wish we didn't have to play around like this."

"Don't you think I wish that too, Millie?"

"I know you do. You're a good man, Donnie, but you've made a choice to do evil things." She sighs. "Those I suppose I'm hardly one to talk about that, am I? Nevertheless, as long as you continue to sell this poison -"

"What if I stop?"
action: Keep going
response: "What if I stop?"

"What, just like that?"

"What do I need more money for? Wouldn't it be nice if we could all be a family?" He reaches into the locker and pulls out a bottle of champagne. "What would you say if I told you I picked this up today, and it'll be the last bottle of booze I ever buy? Now - how about a toast?"
action: Keep going
response: toast?"

"You know I never touch-"

"It's okay just this once, isn't it? You don't think I'll tell any of your hoity-toity friends, do you?"

"I supposed not," Mildred says, blushing. She allows Donnie to pour her a glass and clinks it against his. "Very well. Just one. To us!" She gulps it down and makes a face. "Honestly, Donnie, I don't know where you get this cheap - "

And then her hand flies to her throat and she collapses to the tile, her face ashen.
action: Keep going
response: her face ashen.

Poisoned. How? Not by Donnie. Any thought of that leaves your head when you see the look on his face as she falls, and the way he holds her as she dies.

He's still holding her when one of his weaselly looking henchmen saunters in. The goon's eyes widen as he takes in the scene. "Holy smokes, boss. You actually kacked the broad."

Donnie turns to look and him. Silently, he nods.

Suddenly, you smell strong spirits. You turn - and you're face-to-face with the ghost of Mildred Waverly.
action: You examine mildred
response: with the ghost of Mildred Waverly.

Her ectoplasmic body ripples and shimmers in the light. She's holey, like a hunk of Swiss cheese, the liquid weeping from the spots where the missing chunks of her body should be. She raises one hand and crooks her fingers towards you. Your belly gurgles. The spirits in the hotel, you realize, weren't really ghosts at all, but fragments of Mildred she left behind...and she's calling them back. A dizzying wave of sobriety crashes over you as the liquid leaches from your body and returns to hers.

When your vision clears, she stands in front of you, whole. She looks down at her hands, turning them over and over, observing their translucency. "I was so...confused," she says. "But I remember now. I thought the alcohol killed me, but...but it was denatured
alcohol. Poison. We knew it was out there, and we didn't do anything to take it out of the supply. We decided - " She smiles sadly. "We decided that anyone who drank it deserved what they got."

She pulls a bottle from...somewhere...and pours a glass of something sparkling. "Seems so silly, now. Here, drink this. I'll explain in a moment."

1) Drink.
action: 1
response: [Drink.]

You drain the glass It's pure and refreshing, with a surprising kick. "There you go, Hazel. You know, you really ought to cut back a bit. You're a smart girl, but you'd be smarter if you weren't plastered on cheap hooch all the time."

The light suddenly brightens. It's coming from a direction you can't quite make out, except that it's not a cardinal direction, or up, or down, or even in or out. Mildred turns to look in that same impossible direction and smiles. "But I supposed that's up to you, now. It's time for me to go. No more meddling in the world of the living for me."

She steps not-north-or-south-or-up-or-down, and she's gone, leaving you alone in the locker room. The very warm locker room. The very warm and wobbly locker room with the moving floor.

Mildred pops back in from wherever she went. "Oh, I did say I would explain, didn't I? This is going to sound awfully hypocritical, but I had to return what I took, and I needed a vessel through which to symbolically return it, so that drink I just poured you was, in a spiritual sense, anyway, several thousand drinks, and I'm
afraid you're going to be rather seriously inebriated in a moment, so..." She's already fading out, again, or maybe your vision is blurring.

"...say goodbye to Rosie for me..."

1) And that's about where you pass out.
action: 1
response: [And that's about where you pass out.]
action: 1
response: [And that's about where you pass out.]Or maybe you're
actually passing back in, because all of a sudden you've got the cold locker room floor pressed against your back and Agent Byrd slapping you in the face. "Wake up!" she says, before turning to someone you can't see because you can't move your head without everything smearing like a Picasso. "It's no use, she's too drunk. Get me a bucket of cold water."

"I'm not drunk!", you try to protest, but it comes out more like "Amm nawww rarrrunk" because you are, in fact, ossified right out of your little blonde skull. The same skull which Agent Byrd proceeds to lubricate with a gallon of ice water. "You're lucky to be alive," she says, helping you sit up. "The explosion shook the whole hotel."

Donny Cantaloupes rushes into the room, shoving onlookers out of the way. "What's goin' on in here?" he bellows. "Don't you know this is the gentleman's changing area?"

Agent Byrd stands up, triumphant. "It's clear to me exactly what's happened," she says. "You were hiding a cache of highly flammable contraband in this locker room, trusting that it's the one place I'd never dare check. This unfortunate girl snuck in to sample the merchandise, overindulged, lost her head enough to light up a quick jazz cigarette and - BOOM!"

"That's exactly what happened," Donnie says.

"A-ha!"

"Nah, you're takin' the boss out of context," says Donnie's right-hand man, weaseling up. "You gotta remember his speech impediment. And say, boss, I gotta tell you, I was checking the 'mineral water' and it's back to being 'mineral water', not, uh, mineral water, if you get me, see?"

"A-ha, again!" Agent Byrd says. "Don't think I don't know what you're talking about. Men, search the place! We've got you this time, Cantaloupes. And when I bust this place up from stem to stern, not only will we uncover your operation, we'll find evidence for the rest of it too. You'll finally face justice for the murder of Mildred Waverly." She leans forward, getting right in the big man's face. "You killed my mother," she hisses. "And pretty soon I'll be able to prove it."

Suddenly all business again, she backs off and kneels to face you. "Miss, we're going to need a statement."

You don't want to give a statement. In fact, you don't really feel like moving. You feel - peaceful. Mildred Waverly is in a better place. The hotel has been re-boozed, and even if the bar's closed, you're already nicely sloshed. You just want to put your head back on the floor and go to sleep. But Agent Byrd is waiting. You're going to have to tell her something....

1) It's about your mother...
action: 1
response: [It's about your mother...]
action: 1
response: [It's about your mother...]"Your mother did this," you say.
"Or...her ghost did. She was angry with the hotel, and I don't blame her, because the way she died would have steamed anyone's celery. But it wasn't Donnie Cantaloupes who killed her!"

"No, it wasn't," Donnie Cantaloupes says suddenly. "I didn't kill her." Gasps ring out from the crowd as people work out what he just said.

"Uh, Boss," says Weaselly, "let's not say anything we shouldn't outta say in front of Janey Law here..."

""I didn't kill her!" Cantaloupes says again. "I haven't been carrying this secret around for eight long years. I'm not tired of it. No, I didn't kill her. It wasn't an accident, but that means I'm not responsible. It's not time for me to take responsibility for that. I don't deserve to go to jail."

"Nah, she wouldn't want that," you say. "The ghost showed me how she died, see, and-"

"The ghost?" Agent Byrd explodes. "The ghost? This
is a serious investigation, not a showcase for your D.T.s!"

"No, really, there was a ghost. Lots of ghosts. I've got this pair of cheaters, see, and - " You put your hand to your face. Where are your special glasses? They're gone!

"And just where exactly is this ghost now?

"Um, I'm not sure. Heaven, I think?"

"That's what I thought. And why, pray tell, do you think my mother would want me to show any regard to the criminal who killed her? Even 'accidentally'?"

1) It's like this...
action: 1
response: [It's like this...]

Well, what the heck. It's not over until the slightly-curvier-than-average lady sings, so you might as well get singing.

"Because I'm pretty sure this criminal is your father."

"WHAT?" Agent Byrd says.

"See, she and Cantaloupes were passionately in love. They were talking about you in the vision just before she died, which, incidentally, happened because she drank from a bottle of denatured alcohol by accident. He's your father, all right. Look, I've got parental issues too. Although at least my parents are married and, hoo boy, maybe I shouldn't have spilled this in front of all your co-workers, but oh well. There it is. Cantaloupes is your dad."

"Well, if the girl I found lying drunk in the men's changing room babbling about ghosts says it, I suppose it must be true!
Tell me, do you have even one single solitary shred of proof?"

"Uh. I didn't think of that. I don't suppose you've both got webbed toes or a funny  birthmark on the moneymaker, anything like that?"

"That's what I thought."

"Wait! I just remembered something! Mildred said...when you were young, you had the same speech impediment Cantaloupes does. You always said the reverse of what you meant!"

"That's ridiculous. I never did that."

"You must have been really young! You might not remember, but maybe if you talk to someone who knew you back then - "

"I said I never did that!" Agent Byrd says, her face turning purple. "Donnie Cantaloupes can be my father! It's possible!"

She claps a hand over her mouth.

"That's what I meant to say...I don't mean...I..." She swallows. "It never happens when I'm...that is to say...it only happens when I'm upset. And it doesn't prove anything." She looks at Donnie, her face a mix of curiousity and fear. "But...but I suppose you're not the only one who's made an accusation they can't prove tonight. Perhaps I was too hasty, Mr. Cantaloupes. Perhaps there was more to my mother's disappearance than I know. The booze, however...that, I'm
shutting you down for."

It wasn't exactly the tearful reunion you might have hoped for, but it'll have to do.
action: You press the space
response: it'll have to do.

And so you find yourself staggering home at six-thirty in the morning, exhausted, reeking of liquor, and with instructions to talk to the police later. The old lady's going to have your hide. And you've already tossed your guts out onto two different lawns and one very surprised gardener who got in the way of the third lawn at the last second. It's just about your usual morning, in other words.

But y'know what, kid? Last night you un-haunted a hotel with nothing more than pluck, moxie, and your own talented kisser. Last night, you got past every problem the Poseidon Grand could throw at you.

"Roof! Roof!" Barnaby barks happily at your feet. Oh, yeah, there's that, too. You got yourself a dog.

All in all, not a bad night. Not a bad night at all!

THE END.
action: Y.
response: cheapglulxe quit with exit status: 0