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A Night Out With The Girls

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 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 (even when totally smashed) in order to escape a possible conflict with him.

The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in and I told him "midnight." He didn't seem mad at all.

Whew! Got away with that one.

Then he said, "I think we need a new cuckoo clock."

When I asked him why, he said, "Well, last night our clock cuckooed 3 times, then said, "Oh shit," cuckooed 4 more times, cleared it's throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, then tripped over the coffee table and farted."