It was a dark and rainy night. Water drenched me in it's wetness and made me long to be home in my own shower and out of the rain. I put on my clothes and stepped back into my office.

My name's Dick. Dick P. Niss. My friends call me 'Wiener' because I won the hot dog eating contest at the '72 Saratoga County festival. Actually, that's not completely true. I don't have any friends. In this business you can't afford to.

I'm a private eye.


BAM!!!! The door to my office swings open just as I finish pulling on my trousers. It's Fishy McSkank, my secretary, snapping her gum and strutting in a miniskirt that's at least 3 sizes too small.

'Wiener?' she snapped her gum at me with a biting touch of wit. 'There's a lady here to see you.'

'Don't you ever knock?' I cleverly retorted. I was always quick with the line. That's why my ex left me. 'Send her in and take off for the night, kitten. Go find yourself a tiger.' I grinned. 'I'll entertain the client.'


'Sure you will, Wiener.' She popped her gum and slammed the door behind her, giving one last look my way as she stepped out. I remembered to take down the girlie pictures from my wall just in time.

'Knock, knock,' said a soft voice from behind the door and in came a nice piece of meat. We're talking Grade A beef here, if you know what I mean, enough to make any man stop in his tracks and salivate.

'You got the wrong guy,' I said, loosening my tie. 'Butcher's one store down.' The meat delivery guy apologized and left.


And just then she strolls in. We're talking legs up to her shoulders and curves to put a circle to shame all beneath a red camisole shawl. My jaw dropped and my tongue rolled onto the floor. She picked it up and handed it to me and sat herself down.

'I'm looking for help Dick, and I'm told that you're the man to talk to.'


'Please, call me Wiener, Ms...?' She crossed her legs the other way. 'Tight. My name's Cherry Tight.'

I knew that of course. I'm a private eye.