At the lair, after hearing the Blowhole indeed had a cold in his head, they laid him on his little bed, making sure he was tucked in, well medicated, and fed. Alas, besides this wonderful 'celebrity treatment', it didn't make his sneezing any less powerful or his blowhole any less red.
Ten minutes after he was put in the bed, his blowhole started quivering. "ah-ah-AHCHOO!"
A massive sneeze punched a hole in the whitewashed ceiling.
"Oh neptune damnit," mumbled Blowhole. "And I spent WEEKS painting that ceiling. I thought it was bad enough when I broke that window the other day. HAH-CHOOO!"
The second sneeze nearly launched him from his bed but he quickly wiggled back under the covers. Groaning, he tried to clear his stuffed-up blowhole but alas, the mucus inside was so viscous that it hardly moved at all. Finally, he took a stick and gently plunged it up and down his blowhole, finally pulling out a massive wad of snot.
"Holy snot on a snot stick," he casually commented. "Literally." With that, he scraped the snot off the stick into the trash can. He could breathe a tiny bit better then.
"I shall (AHCHOOO!) cast my revenge of those penguins soon," he snarled to himself. "They haven't (HATCHOOO!) seen the last of me!"
