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So what's the point? Have the most thrills?

  • So what's the point? Have the most thrills? Amass wealth & power? Leave as many progeny as possible? No answer. Is it to work earnestly? Sacrifice what's precious? Discover the unk

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  • ind unicorns in the world and de-horn them? Still no answer. Then: "Well, maybe." A-ha! Now I was getting somewhere. "Tell me what happened," I demanded. Bertrand waffled.

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  • The ground below my feet became all soft and squishy. Bertrand was up his neck in quicksand and it looked as though I'd be sinking fast as well. My questions went unanswered

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  • as I sank below the quicksand. Suddenly, my feet began to move freely, then my waist, and then wit ha plop my whole body crashed through the ceiling of a secret underground lab.

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  • The secret underground lab was a giant black dog that no one knew about that lived underground. When I crashed through the ceiling I landed on his back.

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  • "Well, that explains that," said Detective Buddy, looking down through the hole in the first story ceiling that was now being sanctioned off with caution tape. "The lab was a labra

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  • doodle. So it could never have won Crufts anyway. I'll cross it off my list of suspects." That night Det Buddy couldn't sleep. Visions of exploding labradoodles inhabited the darke

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  • st corner of his unsettled mind. What would happen at the dog show if he didn't catch the labradoodle bomber first? Sweating, Det. Buddy reached into his desk drawer and pulled out

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  • a slice of strawberry cheesecake. It helped him focus. Okay, all he had to do was set a trap for the labradoodle bomber..."What do labradoodle bombers like?" Det. Buddy asked his

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  • brother, but he didn't know either. We spent all afternoon trying to find the right food, and eventually found it was half a cup of sugar mixed with a crushed banana.

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