When I was still a newlywed, I was invited out for a night with “the boys.” Being naive about these things at the time, I promised my wife that I would be home by midnight. Well, you know how these things go; the yarns were being spun and the drinks were going down easy, and at nearly 3 a.m., drunk as a skunk, I went home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock we had gotten as a wedding present started up and cuckooed three times. Suddenly, I realized she’d probably heard me come in the door, so I cuckooed another nine times. I was really proud of my fast thinking and having the quick wits, even when smashed, to escape a possible showdown. The next morning my bride asked me what time I got in. I told her, “midnight.” Whew! Got away with that one! She then told me that we needed a new cuckoo clock. When I asked her why, she said, “Well, last night at midnight, it cuckooed three times, said ‘Oh, No!’, cuckooed another five times, hiccoughed, cuckooed another four times, and then laughed hysterically!”
