A wife’s excuse
The other night I was invited out for a night with "the girls."
I promised my husband that I would be home by midnight. Well, the hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easy. Around 3 a.m., a bit loaded, I headed for home.
Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed three times. Quickly realizing my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed another nine 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, three cuckoos plus nine cuckoos totals 12 cuckoos = MIDNIGHT!)
The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I said "Midnight."
He didn’t seem pissed off at all. Whew! 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. Sh*t,’ cuckooed Four more times, cleared it’s throat, cuckooed another three times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted."
