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 easy.

Around 3:00 AM., a bit loaded, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall 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, and I told him “Midnight!” He didn’t seem pissed off at all. Got away with that one! What a sneaky bitch I am!

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 it’s throat, cuckooed another 3 times, laughed out loud, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted.”