The naive little dunce can write its little email to the professor, fine. It can pray all it wants. But it will never, never get into the Chemistry of Art, not over Gimlock’s dead body! The override codes I keepses! I keepses them all to Gimlock, and when the sillies come to me for help I laugh and giggle at them, for you see, their tomfoolery is my lifeblood. I feel each override request that the silly types, and I laughs. No classes shall I ever let the stupid ones into, though they tickle me so with their hopes.

Gimlock reads the little Stupids’ emails and laughses, imagining the tears of the poor little Silly. No Intro To Creative Nonfiction for you! If Gimlock wanted to, Gimlock could give the silly what it wantses, but you see, this is not Gimlock’s job, no, not Gimlocks’ job at all. Gimlock got tenure seven years ago, so Gimlock never has to be helpful again!