The end of Virgil Kenroyd began with the letter “i.” The girl at the bank was new, and didn’t double check her work before hitting ENTER .

When the credit card came, Virgil was halfway through dialing the activation number before noticing it had “Virgil Kenroid” on it. So he hung up and dialed the 1-800 number for customer service.

They were very nice, and sent a replacement to “Virgil Kenroy.”

It was as if a hole had been blown in a dike: by Wednesday his mailbox was full of junk mail for “V. Kennell,” “Virgo Kenner,” Vergil K. Roy,” and a host of others.

He threw them away. But then the electric bill came for “Vigil Kern” and the gas bill was to “Vigo Henreid” and the phone was for somebody else. Although he mailed checks, his utilities were cut off anyway. A week later, he came home to find his front door key no longer worked.

He faded quickly after that last betrayal. Virgil Kenroyd ended in a ditch beside I-95, though nobody appreciated it as such…

In fact, the death certificate read “John Doe.”