You know, I've never been a big fan of Sherlock Holmes.  My dad calls him the world’s greatest detective, but a stinky old pipe-smoker is not my idea of a hero. 

         My name is Will Allen.  You’d never guess that I’m a detective myself, especially since I’m not one of those… well, detective-looking kinds of guys. Still, I've cracked some of the biggest, strangest cases you could ever imagine.  But not one of them was stranger than how I got started doing this in the first place.

           I wasn't always a detective, you see.  I mean sure, sometimes my mom would say something like, "That's amazing Will!  How did you know I baked cookies while you were out?  I aired out the kitchen so you wouldn’t smell them!" and I would tell her, "Easy, mom.  There's a trace of flour on the counter, the oven door is warm, and you hid something in the breadbox real fast when I came in."

           Yeah, I’ve always been kind of a natural when it comes to solving problems.

           Well, most problems, anyway.  Sometimes even I needed help, which is where my story begins.

    You see, I had a problem I couldn't solve.  But it wasn't as simple as finding my dad's missing golf club.

           I had a monster under my bed.