An old crippled man was just about as close to death as possible. His family of five–a beautiful wife and four children–stood around his deathbed awaiting the inevitable. Three of the children were tall, good-looking, and athletic, but the fourth and youngest was no doubt the ugly runt of the family.
“Darling wife,” the husband whispered, “assure me that the youngest child really is mine. I want to know the truth before I die, I will forgive you if–”
The wife gently interrupted him, and said, “Yes, my dearest, absolutely … no question … I swear on my mother’s grave that you are his father.”
The man then died, happy that he had finally asked the question that had bothered him for so many years.
After the passing of the beloved husband, the wife sighed under her breath, “Thank God he didn’t ask about the other three.”
A man went…
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