text: [Themes: Comedy, Comedy, dog, alcohol, ghost, female protagonist]
  
  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.
  
  [Author's Note: 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.]
  
  > 2
  [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.
  
  > About yourself
  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.
  
  > Continue
  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?"
  
  > Keep going
  "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."
  
  > keep going
  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.
  
  > About yourself
  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.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying:
  your best set of glad rags (being worn)
  
  > About yourself
  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.
  
  > look at tank
  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.
  
  > examine the mermaid
  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.
  
  > knock on the tank
  (Cat got your tongue?)