The other night I was invited out for a night with the ‘girls.’
I told my husband that I would be home by midnight, ‘I promise!’
Well, the hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easily.
Around 3 a.m., a bit loaded, I headed for home.
Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hallway started up
and cuckooed 3 times.
Quickly, realizing my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed another
9 times..
I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted
solution, in order to escape a possible conflict with him. (Even when
totally smashed… 3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos totals = 12 cuckoos
MIDNIGHT!)
The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, I told him
‘MIDNIGHT’… He didn’t seem pissed off in the least.
Whew, I got away with that one! Then he said ‘We need a new cuckoo
clock.’
When I asked him why, he said, ‘Well, last night our clock cuckooed
three times, then said ‘oh shit.’ Cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its,
throat, cuckooed another three times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and
then tripped over the coffee table and farted.