George came home from University in tears.
"Mom, am I adopted?"
"No of course not!", replied his mother. "Why would you think such a thing?"
George showed her his genealogy DNA test results. No match for any of his relatives, and strong matches for a family who lived the other side of the city.
Perturbed, his mother called her husband. "Honey, George has done a DNA test, and... and... I don't know how to say this... he may not be our son."
"Well, obviously!" he replied.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"It was your idea in the first place" her husband said. "You remember, that first night in hospital when the baby did nothing but scream and cry and scream and cry. On and on. And you asked me to change him."
"I picked a good one I reckon. Ever so proud of George."
Little Johnny comes downstairs crying.
His mother asked, "What’s the matter little Johnny?"
"Dad was hanging pictures, and just hit his thumb bang on with the hammer!" said little Johnny through his tears.
His mother was touched by the boy's sensitivity, but didn't like seeing him cry.
"That’s not so serious." She tried to soothe him. "Now I know you're upset, but a big boy like you shouldn’t cry at something like that. That's something to laugh about."
"I did!" sobbed Johnny.
There once was a girl named Sue. She came down with the case of the flu. She let out a sigh, "My temperature is high, what ever shall I do? Oh my! Oh my! I think I will die. What ever shall I do?"
So, she stumbled out of bed. "I know I'll take some meds. If this the flu, I take an aspirin or two. Then I'll drink some broth and some juice. Oh my! Oh my!" she began to cry. "I think this is acute."
So, she grumbled back to bed and pulled the covers over her head. She let out a sneeze, a cough and a wheeze. "Won't someone help me, please? Oh my! Oh my! Will I survive the case of the crazy flu?"
So, she finally fell asleep. She slept and slept for a week. She tossed and turned, her symptoms have passed. Her temperature normal at last. "Oh my! Oh my! I think I survived this case of the crazy flu."
There was once a young man who, in his youth, professed his desire to become a great writer. When asked to define "Great" he said, "I want to write stuff that the whole world will read, stuff that people will react to on a truly emotional level, stuff that will make them scream, cry, howl in pain and anger!" He now works for Microsoft, writing error messages.