From: The Last Will & Testament of Terry's Trucking

March, 1985: I’d have to say that Nuda outsnores and can outsleep anybody. Last night, hammered, he fell asleep at the table, later got up, ate, drank some more – like (we) he really needed more, then nodded out on the mattress on the floor and began a deep-throated, phlegmatic snore that vibrated the windows and with great heaving, snucking gasping sobs he roared on oblivious to himself, lost in tranquility, disturbed not the least while I was not going to sleep a wink. “…I’ll show you you prick!”, I yell above the tumult and grabbing my baseball bat begin to bang on the floor as hard as I can – a home run with every swing - two feet from Nuda’s snoring proboscis and he doesn’t even hear it. “O yeah you bastard…” I holler and begin smashing the cast iron top of my wood stove with a dust pan and the maddening cacophony is enough to deafen me & wake the dead but not Nuda who drones on and so now I execute the piece de resistance, the coup de grace and crank up the chain saw as absolutely loud as it will snarlingly go and I swear I heard his snore above the din. Exasperated and beaten I shut the saw down and return bewildered and sleepless to bed as Brother Soussery snorts and groans and moans his way through deepest slumber…