The other night I was invited out for a night with "the girls". I told my husband that I would be home by midnight.
Well, the hours passed quickly and the vodkas went down nice and easy. Around 3a.m., I headed home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed 3 times. Quickly, realizing my husband would wake up; I cuckooed another 9 times.
I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution, in order to escape a possible conflict with him. (Even when totally smashed...3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos totals 12 cuckoos and that equals MIDNIGHT!)
The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in. When I told him I got home at midnight, he didn't seem pissed off at all.
"Whew! I got away with that one!", I thought.
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", then cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, then tripped over the coffee table and farted."
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