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 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 he'd 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 didn't seem disturbed 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 shit," cuckooed 4 more
times, cleared its
throat,
cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice
more, and then
tripped over the cat and farted
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