"The bass fiddle sings with deep articulation.

The piano delicately calls.

The banjo playfully plucks.

The bass fiddle returns and and sings aloud."

The floor rattled and shook under Henry's feet as the large door opened. It revealed a hall of instruments on shelves with old wooden planks that broke with a single swing of his axe.

He stepped over the broken lumber and entered a rather obscure room. The walls were the same faded yellow, but it had writings.

"Sing a happy song.

Whistle a merry tune.

Wait for his arrival.

He is coming very soon."

Henry read under his breath. Looking under the short poem was a desk with a small plush, exactly identical to the one he had to find earlier, a couple of candles that illuminated the small room, and a banjo leaning on it next to a tall stool.

But it was the corner of the room that caught Henry's eye. A stack of tapes labeled one through fourteen. He picked up the first tape and pressed play.

"The second Henry left, everything

went downhill; as soon as the ink

machine came around, that is.

I may have not liked him much,

but I think that he was the one who

was keeping Joey Drew on the

ground.

Now he's saying that he needs a

completly new crew for voice acting

and whatnot. Why is that? I don't

know. Even though I'm a part of this

studio, I get kept out of everything

that's happening to it, apparently

it hasn't been much different with

other workers.

What on earth are you doing, Drew?"