I got invited out for a night out with the “girls” the other night. “I promise!” I said to my spouse, as I left for home at midnight.
The hours passed rapidly as time went on, and the margaritas ran out far too soon.
A little tipsy, I left for home about three in the morning. The cuckoo clock in the hallway started up and cuckooed three times as soon as I walked in.
I quickly realized that my spouse was probably going to wake up, so I cuckooed nine more times. I was rather pleased of myself for thinking of such a cunning way to avoid a potential argument with him.
(Even when completely destroyed) MIDNIGHT: 3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos equals 12 cuckoos.
My spouse asked me what time I got in the following morning, and when I replied, “MIDNIGHT,” he didn’t appear the least bit upset.
I’m glad I got away with it! “We need a new cuckoo clock,” he continued. He responded, “Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, then said “oh shit,”” when I asked him why. The creature gave four more cuckoo sounds, cleared its throat, made three more cuckoo sounds, giggled, made two more cuckoo sounds, stumbled over the coffee table, and farted.