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This is an excerpt from my very first adventure with the enormous detective; in fact, this passage describes the first time I ever laid eyes on Harry Slothe.
He was seated behind a desk the size of a pool table, adding to his bulk from a bowl of Bavarian pretzels and an open bottle of lager.
I took in the great expanse of him - high broad forehead, dark eyebrows like brush strokes above his smoked glasses, a sharply proscribed widow's peak of brown hair. His mouth seemed to be in perpetual motion, talking or eating, sometimes both; beneath it, a waterfall of great rippling chins hid the Windsor knot on his striped tie.
Though he appeared younger, I put his age at over fifty, on the basis of geometric growth: how long it would take an eight pound baby to swell into this human mountain in a brown pinstriped suit speckled with pretzel crumbs and gleaming crystals of salt.
Adjusting his glasses, he bellowed past a mouthful of food. "As my assistant, your duties will be simple. Since I am ill-suited to the rigors of field detection, you will conduct my investigations. You will be my eyes and ears, as well as my hands and legs."
As he gulped the last of his lager, I hoped I didn't have to be his stomach and liver, as well."