The other night I was invited out for a night with the girls. I told Jerry that I would be home by midnight, ‘I promise!’ Well, the hours passed and the Bacardis went down way too easily.
Around 3 a.m., a bit loaded, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hallway started up and cuckooed 3 times.
Quickly, realizing Jerry would probably wake up, I cuckooed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution, in order to escape a possible conflict with him.
(Even when totally smashed… 3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos totals = 12 cuckoos, midnight – brilliant eh?)
The next morning Jerry asked me what time I got in, I told him ‘midnight’…
He didn’t seem pissed off in the least. Whew, I 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 shit’.
It then cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another three times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted
