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 easy.
Around 3 a.m., a bit loaded, I headed for home. Just as I got in
the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed 3 times.
Quickly, realising 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, and I told
him ' Midnight '. He didn't seem ticked off at all. Whew! 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. sh*t.', cuckooed 4 more times, cleared
it's throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and
then tripped over the coffee table and farted.'
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