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The other night I was invited out for a night with the girls. I promised my husband that I would be home by midnight. Well, the hours passed and the margaritas 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 hall started up and cuckooed three times. Quickly, realizing my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed another nine 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 sh*t', cuckooed four more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another three times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted.....
 
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