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 . Ah, the joy of hilarious characters...
Here are some quotes from assorted stories. MC is Memory.
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“Do you sell adventures? I’m fine with anything—enchanted forests and princesses and dragons, even the Great and Terrible Frying Pan of Doom.” Memory gulped. “Well, not the frying pan, if you can help it.” 
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     Downstairs, Mem heard the telltale sounds of Connor’s return – the slam of the front door, the clomping of his feet (still, no doubt, wearing muddy shoes) pounding up the stairs two at a time, the thunk his schoolbooks made hitting the floor of his bedroom, and his quieter progress back downstairs for some snack.  He yelled something she didn’t quite catch, probably asking about where the bag of chips had disappeared.  No doubt he’d eaten them in his sleep.
     Memory slowly walked downstairs, pausing to assess the damage on the way down.  Oh, well, it was only a couple of layers of mud, dirt, and other filth on the once-spotless antique rug. 
{Connor is her cousin, except she's adopted, so they aren't really related}
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     Wary and watchful, Memory began walking towards the closer edge of the forest, where the tall trees menacingly enfolded her in darkness.  It was this dense shadow that hid the huge boulder from her sight until it was too late: a crunching slap broke the night silence and Mem felt pain spread in her head.
     “Oww!”  Her voice lingered longer than it normally did in the still air.  In a quieter voice, Memory muttered, “Dirty great boulder, might as well slap me on the back for good measure.”
     “Problems?” asked a familiar voice.
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   “Yeah, I’m just fine, Stella {Memory's name in disguise}.”  Connor's voice had regained all of its former sarcastic sting.  “I mean, well, these stupid ropes are gnawing on me like mountain lions, and my feet are probably blistered to shreds, not to mention I haven’t eaten since before creation, but hey, what’s that compared to all the good stuff that’s been happening lately?”
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   “Hmm, well, not much of a living quarters to boast of, but hey, you never know with scrawny little girls how ferociously dangerous and unpredictable they can be, I suppose," said Minna, eyeing Memory with one raised eyebrow.
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   “Oh, yes, I’ve come to instruct you all about everything: what you need to do, how you need to do it, what’s proper and what’s not, what you can’t do, where you can and can’t go, what to do if you’re dying to use the bathroom and there isn’t one within three miles – you know, things like that.  Things you need to know.  And there’s a lot, so we’d better get started.”  Minna paused for breath, then added, “You know, I’m being given the afternoon off just to tell you stuff!”
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"But that'll have to wait until after we get off of these dreadful stairs – they’re a killer for skirts, really, and not much good to tired legs, either.  Nice workout, though," said Minna. "A girl I once knew told me about a girl she knew that knew someone who’d tripped on her skirt when going up the stairs, and she actually died.  Don't you think, after going to all that trouble, she would have bothered to die a bit more glamorous death?  But who knows, she might only have broken her pinkie finger, and the rest was added on in the telling.  Nothing exciting ever happens to us girls.”
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Connor raised his eyebrows.  “Just what have you been doing this past day?  All of a sudden you’re friendly with the Chief Evil Housemistress and you’re an expert at the language.  Did I miss something?”
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Well, I imagine I've bored you to pieces long enough. But hopefully you managed to extract a few laughs from the smithereens!