Just then, the dognappers hear AHH-OOOOSH-NIGOOBEN!
"What was dat sound?" Flack says.
SQUALL?
"Not dat sound, ya twit!" Flack angrily shoves the bugle into Tubbs' mouth.
Just then, Flack observes a guy with short, neatly-combed brown hair, wearing a white shirt with a collar, blue pants, brown shoes, and a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses walking past them. The guy sneezes, AHH-OOOOSH-NIGOOBEN! "Gosh," he says. "I sure do enjoy these carnivals, but they always wreak havoc on my allergies. Must be the sawdust…"
"Ahh, dat's jus' what we need!" Flack says schemingly. He turns to Tubbs(who pulls the bugle out of his mouth and stares at it, scratching his head). "Go get dat guy 'n bring him over here."
"Sure thing, Flack." Tubbs runs over to the guy, throws him over his shoulder, and hurries back.
"H-hey, what are you doing?!" the guy exclaims.
Tubbs stands the guy in front of Flack, who then grabs up a handful of sawdust from off of the ground and throws it in the guy's face. The guy sneezes, AHH-OOOOSH-NIGOOBEN!
Inside the machine, Duncan quickly produces a bellows and squeezes it hard. AHH-OOOOSH-NIGOOBEN!
"Say, that's pretty nifty," says Brighteyes. "Where'd you get that bellows?"
"Oh, I traded a guy a pearl-handled walking stick for it." the Dunker replies.
"But where'd y'all get a pearl-handled walkin' sti...oh, never mind." says Nose Marie.
"Dey did it again…I can't believe it…" says an astounded Flack.
"Excuse me," the guy says to Flack. "But I think you dropped a quarter."
"Ah, really?" the skinny dognapper bends over and begins scuffling around the ground. "Where is it?"
"Right HERE!" the guy kicks Flack in the bum, causing him to head-butt Tubbs in the belly, sending them both sprawling.
"Di'ja find da quarter?" Tubbs asks dazedly, after the guy has left.
"Dere weren't no quarter," Flack's voice escalates into a snarl. "It was just an illusion, like da notion dat you got any brains in dat BIG, OVERRIPE SQUASH-SHAPED HEAD A' YOURS!"
At that moment, a lady and her son walk by. "Look, Mommy," the little boy says, pointing at Tubbs. "That man's head is shaped like an overripe squash!"
"Didn't nobody never teach dat kid any manners?" the fat dognapper mumbles to himself, as he and Flack slowly climb to their feet.
"C'mon, Tubbs, we gotta find somethin' else. We ain't lettin' a buncha' mutts get da better of us!." The two dognappers promptly traipse off again.