Every room at the Kachina Lodge was full when Beemerdons rolled into Taos late that night on his FJR.
As he approached the front desk, scratching his saddle-chafed nuts, he asked the night manager, "Isn't there anyone here who has a room with two beds and wouldn't
mind having a roommate for the night. Anything will do, I just need a place to sleep while SW-FOG is in town."
"Well," sighed the manager, "We do have a note here from SacramentoMike in room 69, and he's been looking for a roommate to share costs.
But I must tell you, Mr. Stanley, that he's had no takers because all of the other FJR attendees know that he snores like a friggin' volcano. We've already gotten complaints
from adjoining rooms! He's an incredibly loud bastard, he is!"
"Well, we all know SacMike is a bastard, but the snoring won't be a problem," said the weary Beemerdons, "just give me a key and directions to his room."
The next morning Beemerdons came down to breakfast looking rested and full of life.
The manager said, "How'd you sleep?"
"Never better!"
"And the snoring didn't keep you awake?"
"Slept like a baby."
This was too much for the manager's curiosity, "How did you ever manage that?"
"It was simple," replied Don. "He snored like thunder the whole time I was getting ready for bed, but once I was ready to sleep I simply went over to him,
(in my tighty-whiteys), kissed him softly - but passionately - on the cheek and said, 'Good night, sweet Mikey'.
He sat bolt upright, and watched me like a hawk the rest of the night."
