Careful if you’re late home after a girl’s night out!
I was invited to an evening out with the girls. I told my husband I’d be good and that I would be home by midnight, no later. “I promise…”
The evening was grand. The chat and the laughs were great. The hours slipped by, the margaritas flowed, and before we knew it, it was almost three o’clock! A bit unsteady on my feet, I made my excuses, hailed a taxi and headed home.
As I entered the front door, the cuckoo clock started to give the time call. It cuckooed three times. Quickly, realising my husband might wake up, I came up with an ingenious solution: when the cuckoo clock stopped, I cuckooed myself another nine times, reaching the count of twelve.
The next morning, pretty seedy but not about to show it, I got up and prepared breakfast. My husband sat in the kitchen and asked what time I got home last night. I told him midnight and he didn’t seem at fazed. Whew, was I relieved!
“I think we might need a new cuckoo clock.”
Heart in mouth, I asked why.
“Well, through the night I heard it give three cuckoos then say, ‘Oh, sh**!’ before cuckooing three more times. Then it hawked and cleared its throat and cuckooed another three times. After that it giggled, cuckooed twice more, tripped over the coffee table and broke wind before cuckooing one last time!”
Thanks to John for sending this through. If you want to read some other great jokes, click here. Or to submit one of your own to share with the Starts at 60 community, click here.