Henry Fails to Achieve Full-Ghostliness

Henry is becoming more invisible and more insubstantial every day. He still lives at the same address, but increasingly as a kind of ghost. His neighbors say they never see him coming or going these days, yet there has been no particular change in his routine. If Henry were to rob a convenience store (preposterous-- he never would), none of the witnesses would be likely to remember any of his features.

Henry thinks it will be a good thing when he finally achieves full-ghostliness, because then he can live anywhere he wants without paying rent! In a state of full-ghostliness he can have a view, and hardwood floors, and air-conditioning, and a claw-foot bath tub-- although when he slips into the tub the water will not be seen to rise.


Trouble is, Henry’s dog Hilda is not becoming more invisible. She has a healthier relationship with the Actual, and that anchors Henry somewhat to physical reality. After all, his highest calling is to cook Hilda’s food and provide for her every need. She is superior in every way, and Henry is her butler, valet, and chamberlain.

Something of the Victorian value of Duty is at play in all this. Henry is grateful for the employment, despite the fact that full-ghostliness must, for the time being, be postponed.