“What a freakin’ weird story that was,” said a thin young man with dyed white hair.
“I have others,” the old man said, putting his clothes on.
“I’m going to report you to the authorities for blasphemy,” said another student.
“Oh, goody,” was the nude man’s reply. “I could use the publicity. Maybe it will make me famous.”
“Could some of us -?” asked a woman with a blue shawl. “Could some of us hear more of your stories?”
“What a brave soul. Are there others in this room who would like to hear other demented stories of mine?”
“Yes,” said a few.
“The other stories are not like this one, I assure you. Another is a take on a fantasy novel, like this one was a take on a horror novel. An experiment, I assure you, nothing more.”
The class and professor were silent for a beat.
“I’ll tell you what. I’m editing some notes on a piece I’ve been writing for about seven years now. When I have collated them successfully, I could invite you up to my loft in the north for a reading and discussion time. Would you like that?”
Some said they would be open to that.
“Would you like me to tell you what the next short novel is called?”
“Yes,” said some enthusiastically.
“Well, I won’t tell you,” he laughed. “Maybe I will see you soon, and invite you all up for that. Adieu, my friends. It’s been fun.”
And with that, he left.