The crowd jeered as Jerry Springer told the guy in front of him, “The DNA test proved positive!  You ARE the father!”
The guy bent over and hid his hands in his face as a slightly overweight and much endowed black girl jumped out of her seat and started to call the man in every blue-toned and off-colored way imaginable.  All the while he just sat there, his shoulders convulsing with emotion.
“And that is not all that we have in store for you,” Springer said as the crowd booed and hissed.  He motioned to the lady still spewing names.  “If you can sit down please?”
The girl haughtily sat down as the man raised his head, tears trickling down his cheeks.
“Stu, what do you have to say?” Springer asked.
Stu turned his head to the girl and spoke.
“Hon, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble…”
“You’d better, you two-faced bastard!” she shot back, much to the approval of the crowd.
“But if I had known, I wouldn’t have gone to Iraq five years ago.  I would have tried to work it out.”  He grinned widely.  “And since I know that the kid’s my own,” he said, reaching into his pant pocket, “this makes it easier.”
So in front of national television, he got down on one knee and presented her with an open box.  In that box was a golden ring set with a rather large diamond.
“Monique Hartford, will you marry me?”


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