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 s**t," cuckooed 4 more times, cleared
its
throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more,
and
then farted."
Comments (Add Comment)