
You got it, not me.
Brando sounded like somebody on a 90cc Honda Mountain bike or a pack of drunken Shriners on Mini Bikes. Finally at about 1am, I wined you're right and moved the pair to the living room, thinking this would solve the problem. When Brando wasn't snoring, the two of them would walk down the hall to bedroom and stare through the gate wondering what they had done wrong to get kicked out of the bedroom. They would stand there for a few minutes and then click their way across the laminate floor back to their beds.
Today, they are still wondering what went wrong and are stuck to me once again like two hairy leeches.
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