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 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, I realised she'd probably wake up,
so I cuckooed another 9 times.
I was really proud of myself, having a quick, witty solution,
even when smashed, to escape a possible conflict.
Next morning my wife asked me what time I got in, and I told
her 12 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, it cuckooed 3 times, then said
'oh fuck,' cuckooed four more times, cleared it's throat,
cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and
then farted.
