Around 3 a.m., a bit loaded, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door, the pinche cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed 3 times. Quickly, realizing my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution (even when totally smashed), in order to escape a possible conflict with him.
The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told him "Midnight". He didn't seem pissed off at all. Whew! 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,", cuckooed 4 more times, cleared it's throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted."
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