Without hard work the sad man gets nowhere. He needs music
and now there is silence. The sad man buys food and watches movies and eats and
has the worst dream in the world. He wakes up troubled because he dreamed he
was trying to lock the doors and could not. He could not lock the doors and
everyone kept coming in while he tried to work and think. They tried to name
him Hugh, and Stan, and Hank, all these hefty, big-handed names, but he simply
wanted them to leave or be quiet while he sat at his bench in the basement and
made intricate things from wood. Animals and little houses and musical instruments
out of little chunks of mahogany and pine that he would carve intricately and
slowly when he could keep the people that called him Hank from always calling
him Stan and always opening his door and talking on him. Soon he would move to
a quiet part of town, where no one knew his name and he would pretend to be
mean and nasty. There the only names people gave him were names like Victor or
Dennis, and would leave him alone, he being unapproachable with such names. But
he made better animals and instruments there, by far, and had much more
intricate hands.