The Cuckoo-Clock

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 blitzed, 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 (even when totally smashed), in order to escape a possible conflict with him. The next

morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told him midnight. He didn’t seem disturbed

at all. (Whew! 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 3 times, then said, “Oh, crap,”

cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more,

and then tripped over the cat and farted.”