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


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