As I write this, there is a private investigator in my yard. Why anyone would want to investigate privates is beyond me, but it probably has something to do with that joke being so old it's petrified.
I can't go into the details of his investigation without exposing my knowledge of a recent string of alphabet-related murders in the area and painting a big target on my back, so don't even ask.
Seriously though, before he showed up my sister and I were betting on what he would look like. My money was on a stodgy old ex-cop type with a mustache, a cheap suit, a porkpie hat, and a stogie in the corner of his mouth. Needless to say, I lost to my sister when he showed up in sequins and a codpiece. Foiled again!!!
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