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Michael hummed to himself as he collected dust and crumbs into a pile with his broom.
“Wah wah wah,” he… sang, if you could call it that.
Mike looked over from the couch. “What are you doing?”
“Sweepin’, pard.” He failed to hide his smug smile.
“No, I can see that. What are the noises you're making?”
“Oh, this ‘ol tune?” Michael repeated the line. “I rewatched The Good, the Bad and the Ugly last night. Cain't get the dang song out of my head. An’ I ain't just ‘wah’-ing for nothin’, it really sounds like that. Listen.”
Mike sighed.