Stripped
an excerpt

I used to love ranch dressing, true story. I'm convinced you can put it on just about anything; buffalo wings, pizza, even celery sticks. Assuming you are one of those sickos who can actually stand to eat celery sticks in the first place. But salad, man, that's the best. That's where ranch dressing really shines. You'd be hard pressed to find me eating a plate full of green stuff unless it was covered in that tangy, creamy goodness.

In my opinion, the only way you can make it any better is by throwing in some naked women. Not in the actual salad, of course, but dancing in front of you. That may sound like a tall order but I know a place that's figured out the perfect combination of tomatoes and, you know, tomatoes.

The Naked Croûton. Western Massachusetts' only strip joint to feature a full lunch time salad bar. It's just a little hole in the wall outside of the town where I live. The place isn't much to look at from the outside and it's easy to miss if you don't know the exit off of Route Nine, but it's totally worth checking out. Nubile college chicks writhing in front of you while you chow down on cheese, bacon bits and lettuce? What could be better than that? I want to find the man who though of this place and kiss him. In a completely non-gay way, of course.

I used to go here all time, three or four times a week. People said I was an idiot for doing it just because I was driving twenty miles out of my way for a ten dollar salad bar. But hell, people have called me an idiot for worse, so I didn't mind. I just told them they didn't know what they were missing.

All of that has changed, unfortunately. Now it's rare that I go out to the the Croûton. Too many bad memories. Just one month ago now, Elizabeth Martelle was still alive and well. I wonder if I could have done anything to prevent her death. I guess at the time I was too busy staring at her boobies. Now she's just a dead college kid who never got a fair shot at life. Yeah, I guess you could say the salad and breasts combo that I used to enjoy so much has soured on me now. I never knew that ranch dressing could taste like murder.

Oh yeah, my name's Fish, Tom Fish. I'm a private investigator and this is my story. Well, one of them.