Disclaimer: This story does not any way reflect me or my life.

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 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 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, in order to escape a possible conflict with him.

(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. I told him ‘MIDNIGHT’... he didn’t seem pissed off in the least.

Whew, I 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 three times, then said ‘oh shit!’ Cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another three times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted.’

Image Source: Canadian Progress Club

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