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 2:30 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 realized she'd probably wake up, so I
cuckooed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself,
having a quick-witted solution, even when smashed, to
escape a possible conflict.
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 crap,"
cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed
another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and
then passed gas." |
