How To Cure Snoring
At a base camp out in the woods, no one wanted to bunk with George—his snoring was legendary. So the fellas agreed to take turns.
First night, Joe gives it a go. Shows up to breakfast with his hair sideways and eyes like saucers. “What happened, Joe?” someone asks. “Didn’t sleep a wink,” Joe groans. “George snored so loud I just sat there and watched him all night!”
Next night, it’s Bill’s turn. Same story the next morning—eyes bloodshot, hair pointing north. “George nearly rattled the walls down,” Bill mutters. “It was like trying to sleep next to a freight train.”
Then comes Pete’s night. Big fella. Ex-Navy. Quiet type. Next morning? He strolls in whistling, fresh as a daisy. “Morning, boys!” he chirps. They all stare at him. “Pete, how’d you manage?”
Pete smiles and says, “Easy. I tucked George in, gave him a little pat on the rear, and said ‘Goodnight, sweetheart.’”
He pauses. “George sat up all night watching me. I slept like a baby.”
