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while screaming and waving my hands.
    Suddenly, by the power of grayskull, two items materialized in the sand right in front of me.
    One was a steel broadsword, of the King Arthur type.
    The other was a book of matches and a can of aerosol hairspray.
    Should Harry take the sword? If so, click here .
    Should Harry take the matches and can of hairspray? If so, click here .
    To return to the previous section, click here .

I knew the only way to get to the bottom of things was to actually do some work. This was unfortunate, as I preferred to take the easy way out. But since I was getting paid, I figured I might as well make at least a token effort.
    Unfortunately, Lulu was nowhere to be found. I should have gotten her cell phone number. I also should have gotten her address, having absolutely no idea where she lived. Planning ahead was one of those skills I hadn’t mastered yet.
    So I walked down the quaint dirt road to another plain house. I stepped onto the quant, plain porch and knocked on the quaint, plain door. A bearded man entered.
    “Are you Amos Coleslaw?”
    “No, I’m Amos Johannsen. What can I help you with, Brother?”
    “I’m looking for Coleslaw.”
    “I wish I could help you. How about potato salad instead?”
    “Not the food. The person. Where does Amos Coleslaw live?”
    “I don’t know anyone by that name. I’m sorry. There’s no one in Plaintown named Coleslaw. I’d be surprised if there is anyone in the country named Coleslaw. It sounds made up.”
    And then it hit me. It was so obvious I should have realized it sooner.
    This guy was obviously Amos Coleslaw, and lying about it.
    I shoved him backward and shut the door behind me. I was sick of all this Amish treachery. I swore I’d get the truth out of this man even if I had to beat him so hard he automatically confessed to everything I accused him of.
    “It’s all over, Coleslaw. I know everything. And I’m willing to smack you around until you admit to my outlandish whims. Tell me about Lulu.”
    “Who?”
    “Wrong answer. You had your chance. Now we do it my way.”
    If Harry should beat him into confessing, click here .
    If Harry should use reason and common sense, click here .
    To return to the previous section, click here .

Harry’s List of Bad Stripper Names
    We all know strippers named Candi and Princess and Chesty. Here are a few with unfortunate nicknames:
    Beans
    Clitorectomy
    Bulemia
    Iron Lung
    Wife
    Fisty
    Dingle Berry
    Melanoma
    Barbara Bush
    Queefmaster
    Sloppy Eighths
    Tranny
    Mom
    The Yeaster Bunny
    Open Sore
    Jesus
    Red Stain
    OD
    Crying Mail Order Bride
    Third Trimester
    Molested By Daddy
    Earl
    Spastic Colon
    Son
    Skid Marks
    Leaky
    Gramps
    To return to Harry’s Amish adventure, click here .
    To read another Harry adventure, where he battles zombies, click here .

Bored with people named Amos, I went back to my office and took another case.
    Chapter 1
    “It’s my husband, Mr. McGlade. He thinks he can raise the dead.”
    The woman sitting in front of my desk was named Norma Cauldridge. She had the figure of a Barlett pear and so many freckles that she was more beige than Caucasian. She also came equipped with a severe overbite, a lazy eye, and a mole on her cheek. Not a Cindy Crawford type of mole, either. This one looked like she glued the end of a hotdog to her face. A hairy hotdog.
    Plus, she smelled like sweaty feet.
    Any man married to her would certainly have to raise the dead every time she wanted sex. But I didn’t become a private investigator to meet femme fatales. Well, actually I did. But mostly I did it for the money. And hers was green just like anyone else’s.
    I took a can of Lysol aerosol deodorizer from my desk and gave the air a spritz. Now it smelled like sweaty feet and pine trees. With a hint of lavender.
    “I get four hundred a day, plus expenses,” I told her.
    I put away the air freshener and tried to sneak a look behind her large round Charlie Brownish head. When she walked into my