Handyman

By FRANK BANTA
They didn't have to worry about a thing for the rest of their natural lives....
James Ypsilanti swung at the door with the steak cuber. Or was it the cube steaker? No matter. The door was a good, hardwood door and resisted his onslaught well. But time was on his side.
He had the energy and the time, he knew, and sooner or later the door would be kindling.
It was the door to his room. It was evident to him that he did not need the door to his room and that he did need heat. In fact he had better get some heat pretty soon—although he was keeping warm enough for the present by beating on the door. So he would beat this door to kindling, and then he would build a nice, cozy fire in the hall that would keep him warm for a long time ... if he was stingy with his fuel.
The carpenter came by. The carpenter was always coming by, except when you wanted him, Jim realized. The carpenter was a mighty, mighty busy fellow.
The carpenter stopped short when he saw Jim demolishing the door. In fact he came to a grinding halt.
Jim, why didn't you tell me!
Carpenter, how was I to know where you were? Who can ever find you?
I know Jim. Jim, you work so hard!
Yes! he said, pounding.
Take this hatchet, Jim. A hatchet is what you demolish doors with! Good-by. The carpenter departed.