Sunday, September 09, 2012
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 f**k," cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then farted.