Rhinotillexomania

So, Georgina’s dad was what you’d call a real nose picker, alright.

Dewey followed him around for a few days and all the stuff Dewey had been taught as a kid to stop doing—belching, yawning loudly, and sure, he’d admit it, nose picking—this guy dished them out like a preschooler during story time.

From his spot in the closet, Dewey had a clear view of Georgina’s dad at his desk. First there was the sideways thumb pick. Dewey spied him in front of the computer with his thick left thumb up the side of his left nostril. As his right hand rested on the mouse and flipped through the day’s news stories, the left thumb, supported by the pointer and middle fingers against the side of his nose and his cheek, would start its work—up to the top and slide down . . . up to the top and slide down . . . up to the, ah! Got one. Pull, pull, pull with the left thumb until he’d slid out his morsel. Then he would mindlessly roll and roll it and . . . drop it onto the carpet.

He’d go back again until he’d made an entire sweep of his left nostril and then, crossing his left arm over to his right nostril, continue to work the mouse with his right hand and sweep the sides of his right nostril for boogers.

Dewey noted he’d stop his “work” if the phone rang or someone came in. But then he’d go right back to it.

Georgina’s dad punctuated the end of each nose picking session by a pinch to his nostrils with his thumb and forefinger three times, and then he’d rub under his nose with his pointer finger.

It went the same way each and every time he sat down in front of a computer or television—he’d sit down and, bam, reach for the stars. Dewey took extra care to wipe the bottom of his shoes before going back in his own home.

Car rides had an entirely different style of picking. Dewey discovered this by actually following him to work. Clara sat on four pillows to make herself tall enough to reach the steering wheel of her Buick station wagon. The dashboard was covered in toy frogs she’d collected, which had attached themselves from years in the sun.

She wore big sunglasses—each lens was the size of the magnifying glass in Dewey’s science kit. She looked like some sort of alien-fly-bug creature, but she had been riding in cars almost since the advent of them, and she knew how to handle the road . . . even in a station wagon!

Dewey held onto his hat as they hit the curves and sat in the back, slouched down in his seat with his own dark glasses on and his notebook out, observing Georgina’s dad.

“Look at that, Clara. The car ride pick is a full finger insert,” he commented as he attempted to take notes while the car bumped along. “More of an excavation than a sweep. Looks to be some wet stuff along with the boogers he’s, eww, great! Rolling up it in little balls for a while—wait, I’m starting the clock—before actually setting them free on the highway,” he narrated from the back seat. “Three minutes on that one!”

“Get over a lane, would ya, Clara? I need some cars between us for cover.”

Dewey put his binoculars up to his eyes just in time to catch Georgina’s dad wiping lingering snot from his fingers onto a tissue in a nearby Kleenex box. As far as Dewey could tell, though, Georgina’s dad didn’t actually remove the tissue from the box, but instead just wiped it on the one still in there. Dewey made a mental note to never use tissues at Georgina’s house.

When he got home at the end of the day, that man was still at his picking. Dewey wondered how on earth one man could actually produce so many nuggets to pick.

“Eww! Nuggets?” Seraphina cried when he reported his findings so far.

“I’m sorry,” Dewey feigned a formal, nerdy voice. “I should have said ‘dried up nasal mucus.’”

“Not helping!”

“You’re too picky.”

“Ha!”

“Seriously. Don’t be a snot bag about this. I need help.”

“Dewey!”

“OK, OK. I’ll snot. I mean stop!”

Seraphina was laughing as Clara came in with a fresh batch of what looked like brownies.

“Brownies?” asked Dewey in surprise.

“Yes, I decided to try something bar shaped for a change. Do you approve?”

“This is higghly irreeeglrar,” he glugged, his mouth full of brownie and milk.

But he went back for more, so Clara took that as an affirmative and went back to her baking. If these went over well, she planned on doing the next batch with Tootsie Rolls as the chocolate base, though that probably meant poor Michael would never try one!

“So, next steps?” asked Seraphina as she reached for another brownie.

“Honestly, this one has me a bit stumped. I think I’ll let it percolate a bit and move on to his burping and see where that takes me. He yawns really loudly, too, sometimes—like, too loudly. Georgina didn’t mention it, but I think it might be part of the picture here.

“Anyway, he seems like a nice enough guy. Just some advice for you. If you go over to Georgina’s house, I’d keep your shoes and socks on.”

“Why?” asked Seraphina.

“Can’t really say more. Client confidentiality and all. Just trust me on this one.”

“OK,” she replied. “Any updates on your life?”

“Nope. Last I heard we’re set to move to Alaska this summer and nothing, not even my mother, the person who gets cold when the temperature drops below seventy degrees, is going to be able to stop it from happening.”

✀

Dewey stayed up late that evening replaying the tape of his parents’ conversation and making some notes.

Why is Dad frustrated? Whose thumb? What’s in Alaska?

Dewey felt like throwing over the chair in his room. Why did Pooh Bear have to come in and interrupt? How was he going to get the answers to these questions? He needed to think like Dewey, the parent-problem solver, not like the client. He sat down in the chair and put his face in his hands. Then he took out the sheet he’d filled out for Clara and tried to look at it as if he were Dewey Fairchild, PPS, not the guy whose parents were causing him problems.

OK. Step one: he needed to follow Dad around at work and see what was going on there. But how could he go unnoticed? He couldn’t. He wished he could just bug him with some spy device. Wait. He couldn’t go, but maybe Seraphina could! He’d send her in as a dental patient and have her spy for him. Maybe Colin, too.

Yes! That could maybe work as a start. With that idea he could finally breathe easier and head off to bed without too much tossing and turning.

The whole thing seemed so unreal. He wasn’t really sure what to do, but at least he felt like he’d be trying to do something now.

🖉

Dewey spent the following days observing Georgina’s dad’s behavior. As Georgina reported, he burped loudly after meals. She’d mentioned he sounded a good deal like an elephant seal, but hearing was believing. It was as if his whole stomach churned and echoed with a megaphone in his throat, and the noise slapped and flapped and roared.

He yawned almost as loudly and at inopportune times.

His wife was right in the middle of telling him about her day when a big one came on.

“So the thing that upset me the most about what Harriet said to me, and the reason I broke down and cried then and there was—”

YYAWWWWNNNN, Georgina’s dad’s mouth opened so widely, Dewey could have sworn it had hinges that must have come undone.

“Todd!” cried Georgina’s mother as she ran out of the room crying.

“What just happened?” Georgina’s dad asked Georgina and her brother. He seemed genuinely confused. They just went back to their macaroni and cheese. He finished his and belched.

🗁

“So all of this is pretty standard in your house?” Dewey asked Georgina, reviewing all that he’d observed over the last few days.

“Yep. I’d say that sums it up,” said Georgina, munching on a brownie with a sugar cookie layer in the middle. “Mmm! Interesting,” she added, nodding after she saw Clara looking for approval.

“Huh,” said Dewey. “Well, I suppose I have enough data to go on. I think we can assume he does this outside of the home as well . . . we know he does it in his car. Let me get back to you on the next steps. I want to do a bit more research. I have a hunch, but I want to see if it pans out.”

When Georgina left, he went to his desk to sit down and do just that. He still had a bit of time before Seraphina was due to arrive. He’d asked her to tell Colin to come, if he could, as well.

Wolfie had just returned from getting a haircut. Now, instead of looking like a small, plump sheep dog, he looked more like a frisky puppy. His fur, already soft before, now felt as soft as a mink coat, and Dewey really hoped he’d be willing to sit on his lap for a while.

At eighteen pounds, Wolfie was kind of big for the average-sized person’s lap. Plus, he really didn’t like to sit on a lap much, except when he was in the car, and it was moving.

Dewey wanted warm, soft inspiration though, so he hoisted Wolfie up and rubbed under his chin, hoping he could con him into staying, if only for a bit.

So far, so good.

Yawning, boogers, and burps. As he cross-referenced these it didn’t take long to realize that one thing these three things had in common was breathing. And Dewey was starting to wonder if somehow that might help his case. Yawning was about opening one’s mouth and taking in a long breath of air. It was an involuntary act and usually a result of being weary or drowsy, said the research.

Hey, it says here that contagious yawning can happen with dogs. Dewey tried yawning at Wolfie to see if he’d yawn as well. Nope. Nothing.

After Seraphina and Colin left, Dewey spent hours, late into the night, on the computer researching the causes of yawning, burping, and boogery noses.

All roads had led to one conclusion.

“Your dad’s not an inconsiderate lout,” Dewey shared with Georgina the next day in his office. “I think he has a medical condition called Rhinotillexomania or something like it, and needs help.”

Georgina’s eyes got as big and round as Clara’s cookies.

“Oh, no. Don’t worry!” assured Dewey. “I don’t think it’s anything serious. He could have allergies, or an acid reflux problem. Or both! A trip or two to a specialist though, and you will all be much better off, I’m sure of it.”

Georgina left, relieved and assuring Dewey that she’d be encouraging her dad to see someone in the next few days.

It had grown late again. He had figured out what to do for Georgina. Why couldn’t he do the same for his own family?

He scooped up Wolfie, who’d been sleeping in his bed, and put him on his lap. Wolfie yawned. So did Dewey.