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 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.