Talk of The Villages Florida

The other night I was invited out for a night with "the girls."
I told my husband that I would be home by midnight. "I promise!"
were my last words.

Well, the hours passed and the Margaritas went down way too easy.
Around 3:00 a.m. and a bit loaded, we piled into a cab and headed
for our respective homes.

Just as I got through the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up
and cuckooed 3 times. Realizing my husband would probably wake up,
I quickly cuckooed another 9 times.

I was particularly proud of myself for coming up with such a
quick-witted solution to cover my tardiness. (Even when totally
smashed 3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos totals 12 cuckoos ... MIDNIGHT!)

The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I
told him midnight. He didn't raise an eyebrow or anything and continued
to read the morning paper.

Whew! Got away with that one! Then he said, "I think we might
need a new cuckoo clock."

When I asked him why, he said, "Well, last night our clock
cuckooed three times, then said, "Oh, sh..", cuckooed 4 more times,
cleared its throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice
more, then tripped over the coffee table and farted."