"By King Midas's freshly trimmed moustache!" Smush exclaimed. "Is it just me, or has your nose gotten bigger?"
"Thank you for noticing," Mogey replied, blushing ever so slightly. "I've been breathing only through my mouth for the last six months, and I think it's really paying off. My smeller has swollen up enough that I think I could really be in the running for Snout of the Season this year."
"Frontier Teen's most frivolous and prestigious accolade? Have you forgotten about Mergle the Schnozz?"
"Of course not," Mogey replied mournfully. "His beak has been named Snout of the Season for eight years running. But don't you think I have a chance?"
"Ordinarily I'd say yes," Smush rejoined, "but rumor has it Mergle has a brand new wart on his nozzle. It's even more bulbous than it was the first half of his legendary career. The man's got an eggplant between his eyes."
Mogey threw himself to the ground, howling like an old-timey business tycoon when not one candidate named Chauncey showed up for his chauffeur job interviews.
"Of course..." said Smush.
"Yes?" Mogey inquired, picking his face off the ground and a Swedish fish out of his hair. The tone Smush had used could mean one thing and one thing only: he was contemplating some devilment.
"Well, we could always... shall we say... tip the scales in your favor."
"How?"
"I know a certain hornet named Bumble Babineaux," Smush explained. "He's always looking to help a friend out of a jam but also he actively enjoys stinging people. A couple of quick jabs to the honker and your nose'll be twice the size of Mergle the Schnozz's. You're happy, Bumble Babineaux is happy, bada bing, bada beeson, you're Snout of the Season."
"Is he the one I always see buzzing around anytime we try to have a picnic or enjoy a glass of crystal light on the porch?" Mogey asked. "He's always seemed more menacing than helpful. And wouldn't this be cheating?"
"Trust me," Smush assured him. "Bumble Babineaux is very discreet."
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