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 2:30am, 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 three times.
Quickly, I realized she'd probably wake up, so I cuckooed another nine times. I was really proud of myself, having a quick witty solution, even when smashed, to escape a possible conflict. An oldie, but still goodie.
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 four more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another three times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then farted."
