Super Schnoz and the Invasion of the Snore Snatchers (11 page)

On the last day of summer vacation before school started back up, I slipped out of the house and hopped on my bike. My neighbors were getting ready for work, their faces fresh from a restful night's sleep. I pedaled into town as Main Street was just starting to liven up with the morning rush.

All but one coffee shop had closed its doors. Stores like the Soundproofing Emporium, the White Noise Outlet, and the Earthquake Emergency Bargain Bin had gone out of business too. But the storefronts were not empty. New businesses had set up shop, like Glue More, Forever Stick, Snore Be Gone Bazaar, and the Snore No More Shack.

When the earthquakes stopped, the North American Seismological Laboratory moved out of the old toothpick factory and back to California. The new occupant of the brick building was Wackjöb Enterprises—Makers of Gecko Glue
^®
and Snore Cure Mist
^®
.

A large sign outside of town proclaimed: Denmark, New Hampshire—the Glue and Anti-Snore Capital of the World.

After experimenting more with the sticky, snotty gunk, Dr. Wackjöb discovered that by boiling down the synthetic setae into a mist it transformed into a cure for snoring. He wasn't sure why, but after several clinical trials the facts were undisputable.

Dr. Aðalbjörn Wackjöb, native of Iceland and resident of Denmark, New Hampshire, had discovered a permanent cure for snoring.

I pedaled past Dr. Wackjöb's factory toward the outskirts of town. There was a rumor going around that a dead moose was lying on the side of a country road. I had been neglecting my scent dictionary as of late and was eager to add some new smells. A decaying, maggoty dead moose would be a perfect new addition.

I felt a slight sting on my nostril. I reached up and gently touched my nose. The wound on my honker from the nose hair-rocket was healing, but it still hurt sometimes.

From down the road of I heard a loud sucking sound.The noise sounded exactly the slurping of a booger blob's phlegm-powered engine! I ripped open my backpack, threw on my Super Schnoz cape and Mardi Gras mask, and searched the ground for fallen pinecones. The nearby woods were full of them, so I shoved a dozen or so up my nose and waited for the booger blob.

The snotty thing was coming up over the hill! The sickly slurping sound was unmistakable. Just as I was about to fire, I saw that it wasn't a booger blob after all. Just a rickety old pick-up truck with a bad muffler.

Relieved, I unloaded my nose of all the pinecones except for one. If a real booger blog appeared on the horizon, I wanted to be ready.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Text copyright © 2014 by Gary Urey

ISBN: 978-1-4976-9910-6

Pictures by Keith Frawley

Pictures on vi, 16, 43, 56, 66 by Ethan Long

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