The other night I was invited out for a night with the boys. I told my wife that I would be home by midnight, “I promise!” Well, the hours passed and the drinks went down way too easily.

Around 3 a.m., a bit pissed, 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 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 her. (Even when totally smashed… three cuckoos plus nine cuckoos totals twelve cuckoos MIDNIGHT!)

The next morning my wife asked me what time I got in. I told her ‘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 shit.’ Cuckooed four more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another three times, laughed, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted.”