There was just one issue—no one wanted to share a room with Carl.
Why?
Because Carl didn’t just snore—he shook the walls.
So, they agreed to take turns bunking with him.
Night one: Steve drew the short straw.
Next morning, he stumbled into breakfast, hair wild, eyes bloodshot.
“What happened, man?”
“Didn’t sleep at all. Carl sounded like a chainsaw caught in a blender. I just sat there… watching.”
Night two: Mike’s turn.
He showed up looking like he lost a fight with a dump truck.
“You alright?”
“His snoring rattled my teeth. I gave up and counted ceiling tiles till morning.”
Night three: Big Frank volunteered.
Former linebacker. Tough guy. Everyone figured he could handle it.
But the next morning, Frank walked in fresh-faced, sipping coffee, not a hair out of place.
“Wait—how are you okay?”
Frank just smiled.
“Simple. I tucked Carl in, fluffed his pillow, and kissed his forehead goodnight.
He was too scared to fall asleep. I slept like a baby.”
