Just after I got married, I was invited out for a night with “the boys.” I told the misses that I would be home by midnight … promise!
Well, the yarns were being spun and the grog was going down easy, and at around 3 a.m. full as a boot, I went home.
Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock started, and cuckooed three times. Quickly I realized she’d probably wake up, so I cuckooed another nine times. I was really proud of myself, having the quick wittedness — even when smashed — to escape a possible conflict.
Next morning the misses asked me what time I got in and I told her 12 o’clock. Whew! Got away with that one!
She then told me that we needed a new cuckoo clock. When I asked her why she said, “Well, it cuckooed three times, said, ‘dang it,’ cuckooed another four times, farted, cuckooed another three times, cleared its throat, and cuckooed twice and giggled.”