The Nose Knows: Worthy Attempt

By Herr D

I sat forlornly on the curb and shrugged. "Why nod?" I said, wiping my sore nose for the umpteenth time. "Cad HURD eddything, righd?"

"Of COURTH not!" said the black duck, "We do thith all the TIME!"

"Daffy's right for a change—" began the gray and white rabbit.

"HEY!"

"—it's a GREAT IDEER! Wutt?! I said you were RIGHT!"

Daffy muttered, "Bugth bugth me—"

Bugs shook his head. "Stop imperpetratin' Porky and go round up Elmer. I'll get Tweety and explain what we're doin.' You? Make us an Emily."

"Effigy," I said.

Bugs stuck a white gloved finger under my nose. "STAWP that! We're tryin' to HELP you! TWEETY! Oh, TWEE—EE—EETY! C'mere!" His gray arm stretched a bit longer than it should have been able to. They whispered for a moment.

"All I gotta do," said Tweety, "Is make a sign? And hep make a sca'ecwow? And I might be hewlping MIWIONS OF PEOPOOW?!" He darted in and out of several houses then, and brought back several items in seconds.

Bugs held up his other hand to whisper to me. "Dis is de secret to a great plan. Get UDDER people to do de hard stuff." He was doing as much as he normally does, standing there forcing my neck to crane by holding back a sneeze that wasn't coming. That sneeze that felt about six days overdue. He pulled out a carrot from nowhere and noisily bit and chewed.

Tweety rapidly stuffed some pulled weeds from a neighbor's compost bin into an orange and brown paisley polyester shirt, a pink pillowcase, and a fluorescent green pair of warm-up pants. "I can't beWIEVE they were just givin' dis stuff to de GoodwEEw!" He leaned the ugly result against a nearby telephone pole. He looked heavenward. "Mistew Cahtoonist? Could you do de wightin' fo' me? I can't spe-ewh."

The sight of the giant paintbrush coming down was somehow nauseating. I looked away.

Daffy came running up, dodging the only being with worse aim than a Stormtrooper. Elmer Fudd came looming into view with that ridiculous elephant gun. Daffy nearly head-butted him. "Did yew know, thir, that THAT man—" He pointed at me. "Hath called the poleethe? You, thir, are breaking the lawww." He pointed his wing-hand-pointer finger-thing within a millimeter of Fudd's nose. It jutht tho happenth, that thith ith NOT DUCK THEATHON!"

Elmer Fudd stood for a moment, staring in fear at the appendage in front of his nose. "No?"

"NO. It'th WABBIT THEATHON!"

Elmer confusedly waved the gun to point at Bugs Bunny.

"Duck season."

Elmer confusedly waved the gun to point at Daffy Duck.

"WABBIT THEATHON!"

Elmer confusedly waved the gun to point at Bugs Bunny.

"Duck season."

Elmer confusedly waved the gun to point at Daffy Duck.

"WABBIT THEATHON!"

"Duck season."

Elmer confusedly waved the gun to point at Daffy Duck.

Daffy Duck, worked into a lather, stomped up and down, shouting, "IT'TH ALLERGY THEATHON! FIRE!"

Elmer haplessly wheeled around to see the effigy, with a crude sign painted on it that said, 'Mr. Allergy,' and fired with a combination of a single shot and a three shot burst. With a triumphant smile, he shouldered the oversized gun and began to march off to his typical theme music.

"Well?!" shouted Bugs, Daffy, and Tweety, all smiles as they clustered around.