The other night, I was invited out for a night with the lads. I promised my wife I’d be home by midnight. As the night went on, the beers were going down way too easily, and before I knew it, it was 3 a.m. Loaded, I finally made my way home.
As I walked in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hallway started up and cuckooed 3 times. Panicking, knowing my wife might wake up, I quickly cuckooed another 9 times to make it sound like 12. Genius, right? Even drunk, I thought I’d brilliantly escaped a conflict!
The next morning, my wife asked what time I got in. “Midnight!” I said, feeling pretty confident. She didn’t seem angry at all. Victory!
Then she said, “By the way, we need a new cuckoo clock.” When I asked why, she explained, “Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, then said ‘oh s***,’ cuckooed four more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed three more times, belched, cuckooed twice, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted