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 champagne was going down way too
easy.

Around 3 a.m., drunk as a skunk, 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 he'd 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 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 12:00. He didn't seem disturbed 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 no', cuckooed 4 more times, cleared
its throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and
then tripped over the cat and farted."