When I was in college, I took a writing course taught by one Professor John Joy. I wrote a story for the class called “Another Wilma,” in which Fred Flintstone comes home to discover Professor Joy dressed in drag as Wilma. Wilma, it seemed, had to check into rehab for a drinking and drug problem, and Professor Joy agreed to take her place so as not to arouse suspicion from Barney and Betty. Needless to say, when Barney and Betty come over to visit they realize there is a man in drag pretending to be Wilma. Fred Flintstone collapses into a severe nervous breakdown and Professor Joy pulls off his Wilma wig, curses, and goes home for a bath. Alas, he slips in the tub and breaks every bone in his body, requiring that he be hospitalized in a full body cast. While lying immobilized in his hospital bed, he is visited by Shamu the Killer Whale. Shamu mistakes Professor’s Joys eyebrow wiggling for a carnal invitation. I ended the story there and wrote “To Be Continued.” In grading the story, Professor Joy wrote underneath those closing words in large red block letters: GOD, I HOPE NOT!
There was no grade on that paper — Professor Joy was appalled, for numerous reasons (chiefly because I described him as “short”). I passed the class, eventually — I think he was happy to get rid of me.
But what was the final grade?