From the page:
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Hargrove the Marxist Detective and the Adventure of the HMS Hoobe-Entwhistle
Chapter 1 Remain Calm, Passengers. This is Just a Fire Drill
“Anybody can be stupid, but some people abuse the privilege” – Stalin
The violent pitching of his bed threw Hargrove onto the floor and from a fitful, uneasy sleep into fitful, uneasy consciousness.
He didn’t move from the cold floor, preferring to let his razor-sharp
detective’s instincts sift through the information his senses fed him.
The first thing that struck him was how much his bedroom had changed
from what he remembered. Without waking him, someone had come into his
room at night and remodeled everything. His ceiling was now made of
metal plating, as was the bed at his side. Instead of the broad window,
now there was what looked to be a small rabbit hole. How strange, he
thought, how exceedingly strange.
And there was the yelling outside his new metal door; that was strange too.
Suddenly, he sat up and Hargrove’s eyes filled with a particular gleam.
“A mystery,” he breathed, with awe normally only possessed by
8-year-olds getting a pony for their birthday.