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 promised.
Well, the hours passed and the champagne was going down way too easy. Around 3 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, realizing hed probably wake up, I cuckooed another 9 times.
I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution (even when smashed), in order to escape a possible conflict with him.
The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told
him 12:00. He didnt seem disturbed at all. Whew! Got 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 its throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the cat and farted.