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.
The hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easily and around 3 a.m. we piled into a cab and headed to our respective homes, quite inebriated.
Just as I walked through the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed 3 times!
Realizing that my husband would probably wake up to this, I quickly cuckooed another 9 times. I was quit pleased with myself for coming up with such a quick witted solution to cover up my tardiness. Even with my impaired judgment, I could count 3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos equaled 12 cuckoos!
The next morning, my husband asked me what time I got in, and confidently, I replied, "Midnight...like I promised." He didn't even raise and eyebrow and went on reading the morning paper! Phew! Got away with that one!
After a moment, he then replied, "I think we might need a new cuckoo clock."
A bit nervously, I asked him why, to which he responded:
"Well, last night our clock cuckooed 3 times, then said, 'Oh, crap,' cuckooed 4 more times, cleared it's throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, then tripped over the coffee table and farted."
Veni, Vidi, Velcro (I came, I saw, I stuck around.)