The other night I was invited out for a night with the guys. I told my wife that I would be home by midnight… “promise!”

Well, the hours passed quickly and the beer was going down way too easy. At 3am, drunk as a skunk, I headed for home.

Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed three times. Quickly, I realized she’d probably wake up, so I cuckooed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself for having such a rapid, witty solution, even when smashed, to escape a possible conflict.

The next morning my wife asked me what time I got in, and I told her 12 o’clock. She didn’t seem disturbed at all. Got away with that one, I thought! Then she told me we needed a new cuckoo clock. When I asked her why she said, “Well, last night it cuckooed 3 times, then said, ‘oh f**k,’ cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more…. then farted.”