Master Pfriem was a short, thin, but lively man, who never rested a moment. His face, marked with small-pox and pale as death, was dominated by a turned-up nose. His hair was gray and shaggy, and his small eyes glanced perpetually about.
He saw everything, criticized everything, knew everything best, and was always right. Once, while walking with arms swinging as if rowing, he knocked a girl's water pail into the air, drenching himself. "Stupid thing!" he cried, "Couldst thou not see I was behind thee?"
A shoemaker by trade, he worked with such force that he often elbowed bystanders. No apprentice stayed more than a month, for he always found fault with their work—uneven stitches, mismatched heels, or poorly cut leather. "Wait," he'd say, "I'll show thee how to soften skins," and he'd strike them with a strap, calling them all sluggards.
He himself produced little work, for he could never sit still. If his wife lit the morning fire, he'd rush in barefoot, shouting, "Wilt thou burn my house down? Does wood cost nothing?" If servants laughed by the wash-tubs, he'd scold them for gossiping and wasting soap, then knock over a pail, flooding the kitchen.
Seeing a new house being built, he hurried to the window. "They use that damp red sandstone!" he cried. "No one will be healthy there! The mortar is worthless! I shall see it tumble down!" He then rushed out to confront the builders, criticizing the carpenters' alignment and snatching an axe to demonstrate. Spotting a cart with young horses, he berated the peasant: "Who yokes young horses to a heavy load? They will die on the spot!"
Returning in a rage to his workshop, his apprentice handed him a poorly cut shoe. "Who would buy this?" Pfriem screamed. The apprentice replied, "Master, you may be right about the shoe, but it is the one you yourself cut out and were working on. You knocked it off the table when you jumped up. An angel from heaven would never make you believe that."
One night, Master Pfriem dreamed he was dead and on his way to heaven. Knocking loudly, he complained about the lack of a knocker. The apostle Peter opened the door and warned him to give up his fault-finding habit. "You might have spared your warning," Pfriem answered. "Here, everything is perfect."
Walking through heaven, he shook his head at what he saw. Two angels carried a beam obliquely. "Did anyone ever see such stupidity?" he thought, but held his tongue. He then saw angels drawing water with a leaky bucket to water the earth. "Hang it!" he exclaimed, but reconsidered: "Perhaps it is only a pastime."
Next, he saw a cart stuck in a hole, loaded with "good wishes." An angel harnessed two horses to it. "Two won't suffice," thought Pfriem. Another angel brought two more horses but harnessed them behind the cart. This was too much. "Clumsy creature!" he burst out. "Has anyone ever seen a cart drawn that way?"
Before he could say more, a heavenly inhabitant seized him by the throat and pushed him out with irresistible strength. Beneath the gateway, Pfriem turned to see the cart being lifted into the air by four winged horses.
At that moment, he awoke. "Things are arranged differently in heaven," he said to himself. "But who can patiently see horses harnessed both behind and before? True, they had wings, but who could know that? Besides, it's folly to fix wings to a horse that already has four legs! But I must get up, or they will make nothing but mistakes in my house. It's lucky I am not really dead."