 The other night I was invited for a night out 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, realizing that 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 (even when totally smashed) in order to avoid a possible conflict with him.
The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told him "midnight". He didn't seem pissed 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 3 times, then said 'Oh. Shit, then 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." |
