You wander into the livingroom, picking your legs up over the long noose-like fabric of the carpeting. On one end stands a television so large that anyone within a mile could watch it. Adjacent to that stands a firm couch with a coffee table in front.
But what greatly distracts you is the sound: a loud nasal snore amplified almost a thousand times. As you approach the couch, you see two enormous feet dangling over the arm.
As you wander beneath the coffee table, you can see a sleeping giant. In boxers, the giant hunk rests with his head in the crotch of the cushion and the other arm. His mouth opens and closes like a living cave, his uvula dancing with each rumbling breath. Each time he snores, you shut your nose tight.
"God, his breath reeks!" you think to yourself. "Like old potato chips and beer, gross!"
Unaffected by the opinion on his breath, the giant continues to snore.
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