The other night I was invited out for a night with “the boys”. I told my wife that I would be home by midnight ..promise!
Well, the hours passed and the beer was going down way too easy. At around 2:30 a.m., drunk as a skunk, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed 3 times.
Quickly, I realized she’d probably wake up, so I cuckooed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself, having a quick-witted solution, even when smashed, to escape a possible conflict.
The next morning my wife asked me what time I got in, and I told her twelve o’clock. She didn’t seem disturbed at all. Whew! Got away with that one!
She then told me that we needed a new cuckoo clock. When I asked her why, she said, “Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, then said “oh shit,” cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then farted.”
Jean
