Out of the Chocolate Box (58)

The viewer showed a mass of black-brown lumps. The stench like rotting fish stung my nostrils.
I sniffed. ‘Can you smell that?’
‘What?’
‘That smell.’
‘What smell?’ The Commander remained unaffected by any smell.
‘The rotting fish smell.’ I put a handkerchief up to my nose and mouth. My eyes streamed. I gagged. ‘Sure the Storm hasn’t cracked…’

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Out of the Chocolate Box (57)

‘It’s the pollution. I must warn you about this planet. The laws on this planet are, that there are no laws. Every man does as he sees fit, to quote the Bible. When I read about Sodom and Gomorrah, I think of this planet,’ the Commander added. ‘Remember your spiritual armour, you will need it. And don’t forget your guardian angels, too. And whatever you do, stick by me, don’t go wandering off on your own—it’s a demonic jungle out there.’

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Out of the Chocolate Box (56)

Driver picked her crowded teeth with the end of a paper clip.
We sat at the bridge of the “Storm”, a small craft, but we did nothing, and the computer did everything: Navigation, piloting, maintenance—you name it, the machine did it, even serving tea and coffee.
‘I suppose a hundred years has passed back there,’ I said.
‘Oh, no my dear, nothing like that! Time doesn’t pass that quickly.’ Driver corrected. ‘Only a few months really.’

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T-K Team SA–Northern Flinders

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said the manager, ‘we don’t take VISA. Only MasterCard.’
‘What?’ But we were counting on our VISA to cover the costs.
We scraped together the cash amount for the three-nights of accommodation and emptied our wallets of all but a few notes. Romantic dinners in the restaurant, off our menu. The longed-for Ridge-Top Tour, off our track. Then cold hard panic struck, how were we to pay for petrol when we returned to Adelaide?

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K-Team Adventures Tasmania

As we ate our cheese and pickle sandwiches, the tour group lobbed into the hut occupying the room next to ours. Talk about free-tour-guide information. We sat, hiding behind the stone wall and unlit fireplace (told my beloved we should’ve bought matches), and feasted our ears on tasty morsels of Tasmanian history.

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