What are you doing?” I asked Loretta. “Stabbing a cushion,” she told me.

What are you doing?” I asked Loretta. “Stabbing a cushion,” she told me.

Joel N. Ross
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Are you . . . lost?” “Not really,” she told him. “We just don’t know where we’re going.

Joel N. Ross, The Lost Compass
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Did you just call me ‘sweetie’?” I asked. She shoved my shoulder. “No.

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...Loretta threatened to beat him to death with a wooden spoon...

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We’re alive!” Swedish told her. “I did not see that coming.

Joel N. Ross, The Lost Compass
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Now you’re listening to Swedish ?” I asked her. “He thinks I’m the Compass because every time I see ticktocks, I happen to be there!

Joel N. Ross, The Lost Compass
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You know what to do?” “Wander around,” I said. “Until I spot a self-assembled whangdoodle from the Foggy depths.

Joel N. Ross, The Lost Compass
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Keep moving!” “Bea’s arguing with the floor.

Joel N. Ross, The Lost Compass
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What are you doing?” I asked Loretta. “Stabbing a cushion,” she told me.

Joel N. Ross, The Lost Compass
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Well, the bad news,” Swedish said from the wheel, “is that Chess still thinks he’s funny.” “What’s the good news?” Loretta asked, leaning on our little copper-tubed harpoon. “That Kodoc dropped a bomb on the city?

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Did Cap’n Vidious leave that? He is such a cuddlebunny.” “Yeah,” I said, “that’s exactly how I’d describe him.

Joel N. Ross, The Lost Compass
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