It's worse; we have a series of new-ruins that have Elly trying to palm off leaden prose about Scrubbing-the-floor-as-existential-horro
Panel 1: Button-nosed, dot-eyed Mike asks Young Flapandhonk what she's writing on her typewriter; she says it's a story for her class. He asks if she can read it to him and she says "Sure."
Panel 2: She does a slow burn as he, like any normal child would, asks questions. He wants to know what it's about, if he's in it, if it's about him and how long it is.
Panel 3: She realizes that his evil, unfair need to know what's going on instead of leaving her in isolation with her muse will not cease as he asks if the story will have pictures in it and how much longer she'll be writing.
Panel 4: She screams in rage because she has to interact with her children and her spouse isn't supportive enough to give her the total isolation from the world that she thinks writers need.
Panel 5: Mike tells John that he was right; writers are temper mental.
Summary: Eventually, Elly fills Mike's head with the delirious fantasy that writers work best when they're isolated from their annoying families and inconvenient real world; also, he marries a woman who is only too glad to keep him from ever having to interact with or know things about his own kids.