Still goofing off

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!" were my last words.

Well, the hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easy. Around 3:00 a.m. and a bit loaded, we piled into a cab and headed for our respective homes. Just as I got through the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed 3 times.

Realizing my husband would probably wake up, I quickly cuckooed another 9 times. I was particularly proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution to cover my tardiness. (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 raise an eyebrow or anything and continued to read

Then he said, "I think we might 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 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, then tripped over the coffee table and farted."