text: [Themes: Comedy, ghost, dog, female protagonist]
  
  > look at your surroundings
  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.
  
  > Go south
  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.
  
  > Go south
  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.
  
  > enter the elevator
  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.
  
  > 1
  ["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.
  
  > sit in the chair
  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!"
  
  > drop Barnaby
  Barnaby hops out of your arms.
  
  "Knock, spirit! Knock on the table!"
  
  > Toe tap
  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.
  
  > Heel tap
  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!"
  
  > Click heels
  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.
  
  > get Barnaby
  Barnaby barks happily and lets you scoop him up into your arms.
  
  > examine Ping
  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.
  
  > wear the glasses
  You're already wearing that!
  
  > Search ping
  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.