The other night I was invited out for a night with the guys. I told my wife that I would be home by midnight, ‘I PROMISE!’ I yelled. Well, with rugby on the big screen at Oldes Pub & Grill, the hours passed, and the beers went down, way too easily. Around 3am, a bit loaded, I headed home.
Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hallway started up and cuckoo-ed 3 times. Quickly, realizing the wife would probably wake up, I cuckoo-ed 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 her.
(Even when drunk as a skunk…. 3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos totals = 12 cuckoos = MIDNIGHT! – I fell asleep feeling chuffed with myself)
The next morning my wife asked me what time I got in. I told her ‘MIDNIGHT’. She didn’t seem angry in the least – whew, I got away with that one, i thought!
Then she said, ‘We need a new cuckoo clock.’
When I asked her why, she said, ‘Well, last night our clock cuckoo-ed three times, then said ‘oh s**t,’ Cuckoo-ed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckoo-ed another three times, giggled, cuckoo-ed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted.