There’s a man lying on his deathbed, surrounded by his loving wife and three beautiful, talented, intelligent children — and the youngest, an unattractive lump. He turns to his wife and says: “Honey, I need to know before I die: is our youngest child really mine?” His wife looks deeply into his eyes and answers, “I swear by all that’s holy that Chris is your biological child!”
As her husband expires, she thinks to herself, “Thank God he didn’t ask me about the first three!”
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