The other night, I was invited out to the Arena to watch playoff hockey with the guys. Told the wife that I would be home by midnight: “I promise!” Well, the team won, and the pretty lights caught my attention - as well as a few bachelorettes, and it seemed the honky-tonks were calling my name. The hours passed, and the Virgin Islands rum went down way too easily. Around 3 a.m., a bit loaded, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hallway started up and cuckooed three times.
Quickly, realizing my wife (a lovely missus, by the way) would probably wake up, I cuckooed another nine times. I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution to escape a possible conflict with her. (Even when totally smashed… 3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos totals 12 cuckoos= MIDNIGHT! ... nailed it!)
The next morning my wife asked me what time I got in, and I said proudly, “MIDNIGHT”…. she didn’t seem pissed off in the least. Whew, I got away with that one! Then she said, “We need a new cuckoo clock.” When I asked her why, she said, “Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, then said “oh crap”. It cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another three times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted.