Out of the Chocolate Box (44)

The former Captain of the Sister Ship, Commander Driver, appearing more foreboding in a habit, glared at us. ‘What, do you think you are doing?’
Günter and I jumped apart and stared at our boots as if we were naughty school children who had been sprung.

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Out of the Chocolate Box (41)

Günter stared down at the plain and sea below, his mouth agape.
‘Could you navigate?’ I had been waiting to ask that question for weeks. ‘I’ll let you do the return trip, promise.’

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Out of the Chocolate Box (33)

The world outside our tiny sphere turned from day to night. I twisted my head around. The view of Boris’ backside through the back windscreen; one big black cockroach hole—the details too disturbing I can’t bring myself to describe them—in my face.
‘Agrhh! He’s on top of us.’ I clutched Günter’s arm. ‘Help! He’s going to eat us.’
Delaney looked back and rolled her eyes. ‘You really have to wonder about that guy.’

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Out of the Chocolate Box (26)

As I approached him, Fahrer snatched the container. ‘I’m not going back.’
I checked the time. The time did not look good. It would be late in the morning by the time we reached camp. ‘Okay, that’s fine! They were talking about leaving you behind anyway,’ I replied. ‘And since they wanted me to help you, I won’t go either. And if you don’t mind me saying, in your emotional state, it would be a good thing if you didn’t board the LSS.’ I was bluffing.

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Out of the Chocolate Box (1)

Last time I saw Geoffrey Fox, he wore an alien costume, you know, the one with the grey skin and bug eyes. Fasnacht, Basel 1995. This Aussie, a colleague of Papa’s at the university, should don a mask and space suit and enter into the parade while my dear (and I’m being sarcastic here) fiancé, Johann stowed himself away in his lofty apartment in Altstadt (Old Town). ‘I will not partake of such frivolity.’ Johann said and stuck his nose up in the air. One day he will fall because he never looks to the ground. He’s too good for us mere mortals. ‘I won’t be the richest man on the planet if I keep my nose grovelling on the floor.’

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