She told her husband she would be home by midnight. Well, the hours passed and the champagne was going down really smooth. About 3 a.m., drunk as a skunk, she headed for home.
Just as she got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed three times. Quickly, realizing he’d probably wake up, she cuckooed another nine times. She was really proud of herself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution in order to escape a possible conflict with him.
The next morning her husband asked her what time I got in and she told him “about 12 o’clock” and he didn’t seem disturbed at all. Whew! Got away with that one! Then he said, “We need a new cuckoo clock.”
When she asked him why, he said, “Well last night our clock cuckooed three times, then said ‘oh shit,’ cuckooed four more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another three times, giggled twice more and then tripped over the cat and farted.”