Why I'm glad I don't have a 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" were my last words.



Well, the hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easy. Around 3:00 am and a bit loaded, we piled into a cab and headed for our respective homes Just as I got through the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed 3 times.



Realizing my husband would probably wake up, I quickly cuckooed another 9 times. I was particularly proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution to cover up my tardiness. (Even when totally smashed...3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos totals 12 cuckoos....MIDNIGHT).



The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told him midnight. He didn't raise an eyebrow and continued to read the morning paper. Whew! Got away with that one!!



Then he said, "I think we might need a new cuckoo clock."



When I asked him why, he said, "Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, then said, "Oh, shit," cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, then tripped over the coffee table and farted.