Old Jack had only a few minutes to live. His wife and four boys, three of whom had blond hair and the other ginger, sat at his bedside.
“Em, please explain to me why one of our boys has red hair.”” “Is he indeed my son?”
Emma put her palm on her heart and declared vehemently that he was really his son.
“Oh, thank heavens!” croaked the old guy, and he died smiling.
The wife sighed heavily as the family exited the room. “Thank goodness he didn’t inquire about the other three.”
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