It's like Russian roulette if you had a kid with a fair-skinned girl, ain't it? I know I have a slight ginge gene in me (my hair went gold for about four months when I was two) so the possibility's there.
I think if I had a ginge daughter, I'd be okay with it. Maybe even give her one as she got older (but only when she was of a legal age... I'm not a pervert).
But imagine taking out a kid, and he's all white like snow, covered in freckles, and with hair the colour (color, Fat Yanks) of a period. People would come up to you and go "who's that ginger ****?" and you'd be like "It's my so... it's the neighbour's kid. I said I'd take him out because I pitied him."
Eventually, one day you'd say to your wife "I'm just taking the kid out for a bit. Just a walk, maybe feed the ducks by the canal."
You'd come back. Alone. She'd say "good night?" and you'd go "yeah, just got some fresh air."
She'd know you'd held his head under and drowned him like a cat in a bag. And you'd know she knew it. But you'd never talk about it, it would just be an unspoken secret that removed the sense of shame.
I think if I had a ginge daughter, I'd be okay with it. Maybe even give her one as she got older (but only when she was of a legal age... I'm not a pervert).
But imagine taking out a kid, and he's all white like snow, covered in freckles, and with hair the colour (color, Fat Yanks) of a period. People would come up to you and go "who's that ginger ****?" and you'd be like "It's my so... it's the neighbour's kid. I said I'd take him out because I pitied him."
Eventually, one day you'd say to your wife "I'm just taking the kid out for a bit. Just a walk, maybe feed the ducks by the canal."
You'd come back. Alone. She'd say "good night?" and you'd go "yeah, just got some fresh air."
She'd know you'd held his head under and drowned him like a cat in a bag. And you'd know she knew it. But you'd never talk about it, it would just be an unspoken secret that removed the sense of shame.
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