Fred came home from university in tears.
Fred:
“Mum, am I adopted?”
His mother looked up from the kitchen, startled.
Mum:
“No, of course not, darling! Why would you think that?”
Fred pulled out a sheet of paper and held it up dramatically.
Fred:
“I took one of those genealogy DNA tests for my biology class. Look!”
His mother squinted at the results.
Mum:
“99.9% Scandinavian?”
Fred:
“Yes! You and Dad are both British! I’m basically a Viking, and you’re a pair of crumpets!”
His mother sighed.
Mum:
“Fred, I’m pretty sure your father’s temper counts as Viking heritage.”
Fred:
“But it says I’m genetically programmed to love ice fishing and fermented herring. I faint at the sight of sardines!”
Just then, Fred’s dad walked in, holding the TV remote.
Dad:
“What’s all this shouting? Did someone finally find my missing socks?”
Fred turned dramatically toward him.
Fred:
“Dad, am I adopted?”
His dad raised an eyebrow.
Dad:
“If you are, we want a refund.”
Fred waved the DNA results.
Fred:
“This says I’m Scandinavian. There’s not a single trace of British DNA!”
His dad took the paper and studied it carefully.
Dad:
“Looks more like one of those online quizzes that told me I was a breadstick in a past life.”
Fred:
“It’s legitimate! It says my ancestors pillaged villages while yours were planting potatoes!”
His mother sat him down.
Mum:
“Fred, listen carefully. We’re not hiding anything. You were born at St. Mary’s Hospital, delivered by a doctor who sneezed during the delivery, and you came out looking like a confused meatball. We have pictures!”
Fred looked even more confused.
Fred:
“Then how do you explain the DNA test?”
The family sat quietly for a moment.
Suddenly, his dad slapped the table.
Dad:
“Oh! That test! Did you use the kit from a website called ‘KnowYoGenes’?”
Fred:
“Yeah! You’ve heard of it?”
His dad started laughing.
Dad:
“That’s not a real DNA company, Fred. That’s the same website I used to find out which Lord of the Rings character I am. Spoiler: I’m an orc.”
Fred stared at him in horror.
Mum:
“Did it also tell you your spirit animal is a walrus with a university degree?”
Fred slowly nodded.
His parents burst out laughing.
His mother patted his hand.
Mum:
“Darling, next time your biology class asks you to take a genetic test, use the one from the university. Not one that gives you a Viking name and a battle-axe emoji.”
Fred buried his face in his hands.
Fred:
“So I’m not adopted, just gullible?”
Dad:
“Exactly. You take after your Uncle Terry.”
Moral of the story? Always read the fine print—especially if your DNA test comes with a discount code for medieval armor.