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 margaritas went down way too easy. Around 3 a.m., a bit blitzed, I headed home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed three times.
Quickly realizing my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed another nine times. I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution, even after drinking so much.
The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told him midnight. He didn't seem disturbed at all.
Whew! I 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, crap," cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the cat".
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