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 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 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, in order to escape a possible conflict with him.
(Even when totally smashed...3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos totals
12 cuckoos = MIDNITE!)
The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in. I told him
"Midnight". He didn't seem mad 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 it's throat, cuckooed
another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped
over the coffee table and farted."
😆
good one 😆
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