Brace yourself!
I should probably apologize, shouldn’t I? It’s just that I can only keep those dorky word-play impulses quashed for so long and then…BAM! I’m powerless. Next thing I know, I wake up in a public library parking lot surrounded by old puns and used quips, my clothes reeking of stale double-entendres, and a rumpled note containing a single cryptic homonym clutched in my ink-stained fingers.

It sends a message to me of authority! San Francisco inside makes me curious!
It’s an orange crate–for a flat of oranges. Soooo…just what were those oranges doing hiding out in a deserted building in Kaukauna, huh?
Note to self: I need to swear off late-afternoon 3-shot lattes.