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
three times.
Quickly, realizing my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed
another nine 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. : 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, ****.' Cuckooed four more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed
another three times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over
the coffee table and farted.