Super Schnoz and the Invasion of the Snore Snatchers Read Online Free PDF Page B

it was a moose or a black bear,” TJ whispered.
    Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”
    And that’s when a cannon blast of frigid water hit me full force in the stomach.The water pressure was so powerful it knocked me off my feet and sent me nosefirst into a thick maple tree. My Mardi Gras mask flew off my head and landed on a branch above my head. Vivian and the Not-Right Brothers got the same treatment. The intense surge of water sent them flying a good ten yards into a stand of white pine.

    When I came to my senses, I saw Dr. Wackjöb emerge from the woods dragging a fifty-footlong fire hose.
    He looked at Vivian and the Not-Right Brothers. “That’s what you get for trespassing!” He then turned to me, an angry scowl on his face. “And as for you, Gríöarstór Nef, that was for ruining two hunks of my precious hákarl!”

CHAPTER 11
    ROTTEN SHARK MEAT
    I reached for my bottle of cayenne pepper, ready to sneeze Dr. Wackjöb back to the Paleozoic Era, but Vivian stopped me.
    â€œStop spraying us!” Vivian shouted. “We have proof that aliens exist!”
    Dr.Wackjöb lowered the fire hose. “What kind of proof?”
    â€œA video,” TJ said. “The kid you called Gríöarstór Nef —whatever that means—has been visited by aliens. They shove big pipes up his honker and make him snore.”
    A look of skepticism washed over Dr.Wackjöb’s face. He held up the hose, like he was going to water blast us again. “I’ve been laughed at and shunned by the scientific community,” he said bitterly, “I won’t allow a bunch of children to make fun of me too.”
    â€œWe’re not here to make fun of you,” Vivian pleaded, and then plucked the flash drive from her pocket and tossed it at Dr. Wackjöb’s feet. “Plug this into your computer and watch it for yourself,” she said. “It’s a video of weird aliens doing some nose experiment on Schnoz.”
    Dr.Wackjöb picked up the flash drive, rubbing it gently with his fingers like it was a precious diamond. He looked at us, back down to the flash drive, and then back at us again. “What are your names?” he asked.
    â€œVivian.”
    â€œTJ.”
    â€œMumps.”
    â€œJimmy.”
    â€œAndy,” I said. “But my friends call me Schnoz.”
    â€œOr, if you get on his bad side,” TJ added,“he’ll become Super Schnoz and pepper-sneeze you all the way back to Iceland. This guy’s whiffer has the power to blow up a fleet of armored tanks and blast an eighteen-wheeler in half.”
    Dr.Wackjöb stared at my nose for a long second. “I like the name Gríöarstór Nef for you better. Follow me. My computer’s in the observatory.”
    All of us looked like dripping wet rats as we trekked to the observatory.
    Vivian handed me my mask. “Here,” she said. “You’re not Super Schnoz without your disguise.”
    â€œI might as well leave it off now,” I said. “Dr. Wackjöb’s seen my face so what does it matter?”
    The Not-Right Brothers and Vivian plugged their noses as soon as we stepped into the compound.
    â€œThat smell is disgusting,” Jimmy choked.
    â€œIt reeks like your gross old Super Schnoz suit,” Mumps gagged.
    â€œThat’s the building where he dries the meat,” I said. “The place is full of the stuff.”
    â€œAsk him what it is,” Vivian said.
    I broke away from the gang and caught up with Dr.Wackjöb. “Excuse me, but can you tell me about that meat drying in that building? What’s it called again?”
    â€œHákarl,” Dr. Wackjöb said, not breaking a stride. “It means rotting shark in the Icelandic language. It’s a delicacy in my country served at the midwinter Þorrablót Festival.”
    My nostrils flared wide. Any food that