Super Schnoz and the Invasion of the Snore Snatchers

Super Schnoz and the Invasion of the Snore Snatchers

Greg Urey

Pictures by Keith Frawley

Albert Whitman & Company

Chicago, Illinois

For MJ, Gary Sr., and Don—
G.U.

Big honking thanks to Michnelle, Genevieve, Rachel, and Kaelin. Without you, life would STINK!—
K.F.

CHAPTER 1

WEAKNESS

E
very superhero has a weakness,” TJ blurted out one day while Vivian, Jimmy, Mumps, and I were sitting inside our secret hideout, the Nostril.

The morning sky was bright blue and the air was already hot and sticky. Summer vacation was almost over. My friends were back from their camps and my smell tour of the surrounding countryside was an amazing success. I had added sixty-four new odors to my scent dictionary and managed to go the whole summer without getting sunburn on my nose. (My mom had stocked up with several hundred gallons of SPF 500 sunscreen.)

“What weaknesses are you talking about?” I asked TJ.

“You know, like how Kryptonite makes Superman shrivel like a worm on sizzling asphalt.”

“And how Aquaman turns belly up if he's out of water for more than sixty minutes,” Mumps added.

“Don't forget Wolverine,” Jimmy said. “The Muramasa Blade completely destroys his self-healing powers.”

Vivian, who had been playing with her pet gecko, Mr. Sticky, looked up. “That's nothing,” she said. “What about Janet van Dyne—aka the Wasp?”

“What about her?” Jimmy asked.

“Her weakness is the Blob, who ate her in
Ultimatum
, Issue Two, and then remarked she tasted like chicken!”

For the next ten minutes, Vivian and the Not-Right Brothers argued back and forth about which superhero had the weirdest weakness: Thor letting go of his hammer for more than one minute; Venom, Spider-man's nemesis, and his vulnerability to extreme heat; Power Girl's negative reaction to natural elements; and the Green Lantern's strange aversion to the color yellow.

While my friends jabbered away, I reached up and grabbed my Super Schnoz costume off its hanger. I took a huge whiff of the fabric. The tantalizing odors of my last Super Schnoz adventure made the hairs inside my nose tingle. Even though it had been two months since our battle with ECU, I still smelled the rancid odor of burning Stryker combat vehicles, the pungent pastrami sandwich rotting away on Mr. Toby's desk, and the disgusting fragrance of Muzzle's aftershave lotion—an astringent mix of rubbing alcohol and menthol.

But most of all, my ultrasensitive, bloodhound-like scent membranes inhaled the nasty nasal sensations of the Gates of Smell.

“What's your weakness, Schnoz?” TJ asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe it's cayenne pepper. Snorting six bottles of the stuff nearly burned away my nasal lining.”

“Cayenne pepper isn't your weakness,” Mumps joked. “It gives you power the way rays from the sun fuel Superman's superhuman hearing, strength, and X-ray vision!”

Vivian and the Not-Right Brothers cracked up.

“Don't worry,” Vivian reassured me. “I know that stuff wasn't good for your nose. Hopefully, you'll never have to arm yourself with cayenne pepper again. But if you do, you need to carry a spray bottle of saline solution to moisten the inside of your nasal passages after every blast.”

“Schnoz will need more than a spray bottle to moisten that huge honker!” TJ squealed. “He'll need a whole tanker truck full of the stuff!”

“Very funny,” I said sarcastically. “If it wasn't for my nose, you'd be floating downstream on a smelly river of SPOIL. ECU would have destroyed our school, town, and possibly the entire world.”

Vivian gently picked up Mr. Sticky, placed him back inside his plastic mini-rainforest habitat, and closed the lid. “I don't know Schnoz's weakness, but I know the town's weakness. And it has nothing to do with sniffing pepper,” she said.

I shot Vivian a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

She wiggled her finger, indicating I should follow her. “Let's go for a ride,” she said. “The evidence is right under your nose in downtown Denmark, and you're not even aware of it.”

CHAPTER 2

CUP OF JOE

Vivian, the Not-Right Brothers, and I hopped on our bikes and cruised down the street. There's no way my nose could have missed something. After all, my greatest strength was the mighty booger blaster in the center of my face. The protruding proboscis had the power of flight and was capable of delivering a pepper-crusted snot missile so powerful that it could destroy a whole fleet of armored tanks. (Just ask the losers at ECU!)

Tall mountains surrounded the town of Denmark on all sides. The downtown area consisted of Main Street and a few smaller side lanes. I had explored all of them while searching out new smells for my mental scent dictionary.

Vivian's bike brakes squealed to a halt in front of Sleepy Joe's Coffee Shop.

“What are we stopping here for?” Jimmy asked.

“Look around, Schnoz,” Vivian instructed. “Tell me what you see.”

I scratched the tip of my nose, wondering what point she was trying to make. “I see a coffee shop and a bunch of stores,” I said.

“I see the same thing,” Jimmy said.

“Okay. Then tell me how
many
coffee shops you see?”

TJ started counting. “One… two… three… six… ten… eleven… twelve. There are twelve coffee shops on Main Street.”

“Schnoz, when you moved here last September at the beginning of the school year, there were two coffee shops in town,” Vivian said. “Since then, ten new ones have opened up. Don't you think that's a little strange?”

I shrugged. “People just like their cup of morning joe, that's all.”

Vivian let out an exasperated sigh. “Ugh! Then please tell me the names of some other businesses besides coffee shops.”

“The Soundproofing Emporium,” I said.

“And the White Noise Outlet,” Jimmy said.

“Ear Plugs ‘R' Us and the Earthquake Emergency Bargain Bin,” Mumps added.

“Don't forget about the North American Seismological Laboratory that just moved into the old toothpick factory,” TJ chimed in.

“What's that place all about?” Mumps asked, wiggling his loose bottom tooth. “I don't even know what ‘seismological' means.”

“Seismology is the study of earthquakes,” Vivian replied. Then she turned to me and pointed to the shoppers strolling down Main Street. “Take a look at those people's faces,” she said. “What do you see?”

I flared my nostrils and then took a good look at them. They were grown-up men and women. They all looked exhausted with big bags under their eyes.

“They look like they haven't slept in weeks,” I said.

“Exactly!” Vivian exclaimed. “And what would cause people to not sleep?”

I just stared at her, not knowing how to respond.

“Noise!” Vivian yelled. “Loud racket in the middle of the night that keeps people up. That's why there are so many new coffee, ear plug, and soundproofing places in town.”

“What's your point?” I asked.

Vivian stepped up to me and tapped the end of my nose. “You are my point,” she said. “Schnoz, you are the world's loudest snorer! You are the reason people aren't getting enough sleep! Every night the power of your snoring causes a small earthquake that registers a 4.5 on the Richter scale, and it's getting worse. Why do you think a scientific laboratory that studies geological disturbances moved to town?”

“I've never once heard myself snore!” I fired back.

“No one hears themselves snore because they're asleep when it happens,” TJ said.

“Um…Vivian's right, Schnoz,” Jimmy said. “You do have a bit of a snoring problem.”

“If I'm such a loud snorer,” I said, “then why didn't someone tell me a long time ago? Or when my family first moved here?”

Vivian, Mumps, TJ, and Jimmy stared at the ground, like they were ashamed to answer my question.

“Because your snoring has become the town's cash cow,” Vivian said finally.

“If it wasn't for your snoring,” Jimmy said. “Main Street would look like a ghost town with abandoned shops and boarded-up windows. As far as this town is concerned, your snoot is an economic engine.”

“Well, I find it hard to believe that you four knew about my snoring and never told me about it,” I said.

“Because at first your snoring was kind of funny,” Vivian said. “It was like the rumble of a distant evening thunderstorm. But over the last few months it has gotten a lot worse.”

“It's true, Schnoz,” TJ said. “There is a direct correlation between the escalation of your snoring, a seismological lab coming to town, and all the new coffee shops opening for business.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing! My nose felt like someone had sucked it dry with a vacuum hose. I was shocked, confused, and downright angry. I shifted my bike into gear and peeled out, racing as fast as could toward home.

CHAPTER 3

A CURE FOR SNORING

M
y parents were still at work when I wheeled up the driveway. I parked my bike and walked into the house. Mom and Dad had done extensive renovations in the last six months. I hadn't paid much attention to all the construction until now.

They'd had the entire foundation of the house reinforced with thick concrete. Workers had added steel frames to some of the walls. Mom had secured all of the heavy mirrors and pictures tightly. Dad had strapped all of our bookcases and cabinets to the walls to prevent overturning. He had even bolted down the refrigerator to keep it from toppling over. Stuffed away in a cabinet under the kitchen sink was a huge duffel bag labeled
Disaster Kit,
and it was filled with bottles of water, non-perishable food, and medical supplies.

In other words, my parents were earthquake-proofing the house.