At the mortuary. Mortician reads the label tied to the cadaver’s toe.
Mortician: Wiltshire. Isn’t that five miles hence?
Assistant: Yes sir.
Mortician: I say, he looks awfully familiar.
Assistant: Yes sir. He does sort of looks like you.
Mortician: My word, you’re quite right my boy. Why, he even takes after you.
Assistant: The baker, Old Man Jones, sir. He delivers bread up to five miles away.
Copyright @ Eric Alagan, 2019