Free Super Schnoz and the Booger Blaster Breakdown by Gary Urey

essence.
    â€œScientists first separate the chemicals in the dung and then process the different aromas at high heat and pressure. Presto! The end product is completely natural and an amazing alternative to synthetic vanillin!”
    â€œWhat in the world are you mumbling about?” the zoo attendant said.
    With the thrill of finally sniffing out the secret of Strange, I had totally forgotten that I had illegally entered the camel enclosure. My nostrils flared, hoping for a gust of wind to carry me to safety. There was nothing. The once-strong breeze was now a gentle whisper.
    Three zoo security guards wearing badges and carrying nightsticks burst through a heavy metal door. The first guard was tall and skinny. The second one was short and plump, and the third guy looked like he was about eighty years old.
    The zoo attendant pointed at me. “He’s the one!”
    I frantically searched my pockets for a bottle of cayenne pepper, hoping a little sniff could propel me back over the fence. Or at the very least, I could use it to give the guards a peppery sneeze while I made my escape. My heart sunk into my stomach. The only items I found were a half-eaten pack of Sour Patch Kids and a palm full of sticky lint.
    A loud grunting sound blasted in my ears. I turned around and saw the hairy Bactrian camel that had hockered on me. The thing was a huge male, standing at least seven feet tall. He calmly chewed on his cud while simultaneously spraying more loads of Strange-scented poop out of his butt. That’s when the idea hit me. Without a second to lose, I leaped onto the camel and landed right between his two fuzzy humps.
    â€œGiddy up!” I shouted, poking his ribs with my heels like I had seen cowboys do in the movies.
    The camel didn’t budge.
    The tall guard burst out laughing. “That ain’t no horsey, little boy.”
    â€œCamel rides start at noon on the main lawn,” chimed in the plump one. “Get your tickets in the gift shop.”
    â€œPictures included!” The old guy guffawed through a set of pearly white false teeth.
    â€œQuit fooling around!” the zoo attendant ordered. “Get that kid off Humphrey before he gets hurt.”
    Humphrey must have been the camel’s name. What came next made me promise to give Humphrey a big, wet kiss after this was all over. As the three guards closed in on me, Humphrey’s cheeks bulged like a giant prehistoric chipmunk. The camel then took aim and fired three rounds of gloppy, frothy spit right in their faces.
    â€œGross!” the plump guard cried.
    â€œI just had my uniform dry cleaned, and now it’s ruined!” shouted the old guy.
    The zoo attendant grabbed a hunk of braided rope off the ground. She quickly tied it into a lasso. “Come off that camel this instant or I’ll rope you like a suckling calf,” she threatened.
    â€œOpen the gate, and I’ll leave,” I fired back. “No questions asked.”
    â€œYou ain’t going anywhere,” the tall guard barked, his angry face still dripping with camel saliva. “You broke park rules. You’re paying a hefty fine and then heading to juvie jail.”
    The word “jail” sent shivers down my nose. I could see the scenario play out in my head: Dr. Wackjöb paying my fine and then having to tell my parents that I was in juvie jail for breaking into a camel enclosure at the Central Park Zoo. After my prison stint, my parents would probably ground me for a year!
    A loud Jeep painted to look like a tiger wheeled up to the camel exhibit. Two more security guards hopped out and made their way in my direction. As the Jeep sat idling, its exhaust backfired like a shotgun blast.
    Humphrey went crazy.
    With me still on his back, the camel stampeded through the enclosure. I grabbed a fistful of Humphrey’s coarse hump hair and held on for dear life. We dashed past a bunch of Arabian camels munching on hay. They charged right