My friend Sabrina e-mailed this to me today. I’ve seen it before or I would definitely think it was her very own “I was so drunk...” story.
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!”
Well, the hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easily. Around 3 a.m., a bit loaded, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door the cuckoo clock in the hallway started up and cuckooed three times. Quickly realizing my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed another nine times. I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution, in order to escape a possible conflict with him. (Even when totally smashed... three cuckoos plus nine cuckoos totals 12 cuckoos... MIDNIGHT!)
The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in. I told him midnight. He didn’t seem upset in the least. Whew, I got away with that one!
Then he said “We need a new cuckoo clock.”
When I 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, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted.”
Throw in some radishes and shoe-stealing and this would be the story of my sister’s life.
You are mistaken. That night ends when I trip over the coffee table and puke up something I don't remember eating!!
ReplyDeleteO how I love this sibling rivalry between my girls!! Wonder which family heritage is coming out?
ReplyDeleteAnd therefore...your mom likes me best. :) xoxo
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