The Ghost And Ms. Chicken
A romantic retreat is ruined by a haunted campground.
I'm Penelope Spade, budding Private Eye. Beside me, in my blue Mini Cooper as we cruise up Highway 71, sits Katrina, my tall, blonde lover, her shorts accentuating her long, sensual gams. I met her on my first caper, six months ago. But time is taking its toll. Nothing I can put my finger on (or in), but we talk less and sex is now as infrequent as a good Star Wars movie. (I warn you before you waste a lot of time reading...