A Day in the Life

A Day in the Life

Vox Day entered the room with trepidation. He was clad in his usual: black leather shoes, black pants and suit, dark-but-stylish sunglasses, and a sword given to him by the receptionist as an accoutrement to his less than manly beverage. Storing the tiny pink piece of plastic in his pants pocket for later use, Vox moved to shake the hand of the man he was to meet.

“Ah, you must be Vox.” The man said eagerly. Like Vox he was well-dressed and somewhat short, but had a suspiciously full head of dark brown hair. “I can call you Vox, right?” the man added after a brief handshake. “The other name’s fine too, but I think you should start using Vox Day on your fiction as well.”

“I suppose I’ll have to consider that, Mr. Yu,” Vox responded generously in that my-balls-are-in-a-vice voice of his. Despite his name Mr. Yu didn’t look to be of Asian descent.

“Please, call me ‘Roon,’ as in ‘moon.’ Spelled R-U-I-N-E, I think. It’s what my friends around here call me. I don’t really know why. Must be French. I like it though, so it will do.”

“Well, alright Ruine, ‘Vox’ is fine with me.”

“Please take a seat,” Ruine told him, “We have a lot to do.”

Vox did as Ruine had suggested and pulled up a chair, then propped his arm straight up from the armrest on his elbow and resisted the urge to rest his chin upon his knuckles--eyes shimmering delicately--whilst daydreaming of soccer games.

“First,” Ruine began, “I really like the script. I’m told, however, that your contract stipulates a right to review it, but not necessarily to makes any changes, before production begins. I could have just had them mail it to you, although we might have a policy against that for security—secrecy—reasons; but also, I wanted to congratulate you personally for our success—your success, I mean—and to explain some of the changes we made from your… novel, is it?”

Vox simply nodded in the affirmative.

“Good. Well, here are some of the improvements we made…”

Vox raised an eyebrow.


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Spacebunny had made Vox take her to the movie theatre. Ever since Vox first described his meeting with the studio exec, one Mr. Yu, over a year ago, she couldn’t help but want to see the movie. She just wanted to torture him, he figured. He thought back to that fateful day, and shivered.



“Eternal Warriors” Ruine had begun, “Just doesn’t work. We have been accused of a lot of ugly, ugly things here in Hollywood—most of them true—but we aren’t going to stoop to that level, I’m sorry. I know you had your heart set on this. Don’t worry though, we like ‘The War in Heaven.’ It’s sufficiently dramatic, but not quite on the level of an 80’s Hasbro toy line.”



He remembered vividly how he had explained to the executive that it wouldn’t work out for him.



““If you want we can probably get you a part as an extra,” Ruine had suggested.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Well, here’s the script. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.”

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind,” Vox had told him frankly. “I don’t want to see the script anymore. In fact, I don’t want to see the name ‘Theodore Beale’ anywhere near association with this project.”



“It’s starting!” Spacebunny whispered with excitement as the lights dimmed and the screen lit up.

The words, “The War in Heaven” appeared in bold yellow-orange letters upon the screen. They were followed by the opening credits on a backdrop of a sunlit city in the clouds overlooking another beautiful (but eerie) city below. It was not unlike the lovely Rowena cover. A better start than he expected. Which was good considering that among the credits were, “Written by Vox Day,” and “With Collaboration from Vox Day” and “Based On the Original Novel by Vox Day,” also “With Special Thanks to Vox Day.”

“I told them I didn’t want my name on there!” Vox loudly objected. Too loudly, he realized, as several heads briefly turned to see what the commotion was.

“It isn’t your name, sweetie,” Spacebunny replied.

“I know, but the principle…”

“Shh…” someone whispered.


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“I like Kaym,” Mr. Ruine Yu told him. “Christopher too, although we might want to change his name… something shorter, stronger. What I do have a problem with is the Madonna Liquor guy…”

“Who?” It was the first time Vox had spoken up. He was having serious regrets already.

“The Devil. How was I supposed to pronounce it?”

“Nevermind. It’s not important. I’m sure the actors have it covered. But what is wrong with the character?”

“Well, it’s not true to say I have a problem with him. It’s just that there has been some concern of your portrayal of the character and how certain ‘Christian’ groups might react to… you know, the positive spin you put on him.”

Vox tried to say something, but Ruine interrupted.

“Now, I understand what you’re thinking. ‘I’m a Christian myself,’ you say, ‘how dare anyone question my faith because of my interpretation of the Bible?’ I know, I feel your pain. I’ve been subject to the same bigotry. That’s just the way it is, unfortunately. Not my decision. Out of my hands. Sorry.”

Vox groaned aloud.


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The movie seemed to be making sense for the most part. They hadn’t even changed Christopher’s name, although that was the least of Vox’s concerns. For the time being, however, Vox wondered if he had not, in fact, been dragged kicking and screaming into hell, but had died and gone to heaven instead.

Unfortunately heaven was being invaded. And Robin Williams was Jesus. Oh. My. Lord. Was that Keanu Reeves playing Abaddon? He hadn’t written that dimensionless a character, had he? But Melusine was being played by the always lovely Kate Beckinsdale, surely that made it all worthwhile? Surely that made anything worthwhile? Besides, at least the worst of intended deviations hadn’t been realized.


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“We,” Ruine said proudly, “Have written a much more personal relationship between Kaym and Christopher—really don’t like that name—which we think adds a whole new level to the story.”

“Wait,” Vox interjected. “You mean Prince Lucere is too objectionable, but not… that?”

“You’ve got to know your boundaries, Vox. That movie with Heath Ledger—Batman I think it was—was a huge success, even though their relationship wasn’t quite what the flyover folks call traditional.”

“…”

Don’t worry though, we’ve got some great up and coming actors to play those two, and even though we rewrote King Liquor—“

“Prince Lucere.”

“Yes, that guy. Even though we rewrote him, you can take some solace knowing that we managed to land Chris Rock for the part.”

“What? Really? Why?”

“Don’t you like Chris Rock?” Ruine asked.

“No… it’s just that this doesn’t seem like the best role for him.”

“Wait until you hear some of the lines we’ve given him.” Ruine dismissed his concerns. “Here, I’ll read some to you: ‘God, you get your holy ass down here so I can wipe the clouds wit’ you! Oh, not coming? Afraid? Or maybe you think it’s funny to keep a black man waiting, you racist mutha—holy sh**! Did you just take a crap in my general direction?’”

“Is this a joke?”

“Of course it is, Vox. Maybe my delivery is off. In any event, Chris Rock’s delivery is fantastic. It will be gold.”

“No, I meant... sigh.”

“Here’s another line I like, ‘Kaym, what are you doin’ wit’ your apprentice? That fire’s smokeless, damnit! I can see you! I don’ wanna, but I can see you!’”

“I’m sure he’ll make a fine Prince Liquorish,” Vox said sardonically.

“I thought it was Prince Lucere?” Ruine asked.

Vox considered hitting either his own or Ruine’s head onto the desk repeatedly.


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Vox wanted to cry out, clutching either side of his head in dismay. He decided he was going to leave the theatre, with or without Spacebunny. But cowed back into his seat by the sheer terror of what he witnessed, Vox settled for imagining the film was less horrible than it really was. Robin Williams was playing a good Jesus, Chris Rock performed admirably in his serious, tragic role as Lucifer, and Kate Beckinsdale was a naughty, naughty Melusine… Well, that last part actually was true. And it was the only thing keeping him in the theatre, albeit peeking narrowly through his fingers wrapped tightly around his face. He recalled the end of his conversation with Ruine.


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Ruine’s face had fallen after hearing Vox’s objections to the film, it was the first change in his expression for the whole conversation.

“Are you sure you don’t want accreditation?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I would sooner write a book about my hermaphroditic, psychic parakeet that helps me solve ‘petty’ crimes than be attached to this project.”

“That’s a shame. It’s going to be a blockbuster. But if you change your mind, or when you finish that book about the psycho parrot, you know where to find me.”

“In hell,” Vox muttered under his breath as he got up to leave.


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The film was nearing its end. The Devil and his angels were defeated, and the present scene faded in to Robin Williams/Jesus standing over Chris Rock/Lucifer as if in judgment. The two stood silent for some time. Suddenly Jesus said, “Satan, will you rejoin me? Turn from your wicked ways?”

“I’m sorry, big guy, but you know what they say, once you go black you never go back…” Ol’ Nick winked.

Jesus returned the wink, saying, “There’s always a place for you,” and then began to tear up.

“Don’t cry, Jesus. I don’t need that added to the list of my sins.” At this Jesus smiled weakly. “Besides, I’ll always be with you, right here.”

“Ow, blood hell!” Jesus cried. “What did you do that for?” He had poked him in the eye.

“What? Think I was gonna go ET on you? Come on, you know better’n that.”

“But that hurt!”

“I’m evil. What did you expect? Now are you gonna take that lyin’ down, or are we gonna part with a bang?”

“A challenge?”

“Bring it.”

“It’s brung, you rebellious cur, you.”

“Is that the best you can do? Hurl some lighting bolts already.”

“I already did… last night. At your momma.”

“Now we’re talkin’.”

The scene cut to Christopher, lying in his bed, having just refused the offer from his sisters to join them in church. Suddenly things grew steamy. Melusine slipped into the meat and wagged her finger at him, saying, “You’ve been a bad boy, Christopher. You haven’t called, you haven’t written, it’s been simply ages. Come back into the folds, we’ve missed you,” she smiled, then pouted, swishing her forked tail absentmindedly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t Melusine,” Christopher replied. “I’ve put all that behind me now.”

“Well fine then,” she said haughtily. “Be a slave to the king.”

“Mel… I’m so sorry. I wish there was some other way, but there isn’t. If there’s anything I can do for you.”

“You can die!” her eyes had suddenly gone a fiery red, her right hand a giant blade which she now drew back in preparation to skewer him. “If I can’t have you, then no one can!” she lunged forward to deliver the fatal blow. She, however, stopped suddenly, the flame engulfing her eyes flickering and then dying out. She looked down at him, frozen, her eyes now filled instead with regret as she whispered hoarsely, “Never forget what we shared together… it was special… for the ages.” Immediately thereafter she exploded in a cloud of ash which scattered to the four winds.

Behind where she had been now stood Mariel, his guardian angel.

“Bitch,” the exquisite tiny blonde, played by Heather Graham, said triumphantly as she sheathed her flaming sword.

“Mariel!” he cried. “Thank the Most High!”

“So you have decided to be a servant of his then?” she said coldly.

“Y-yes, I guess so,” he answered.

“You guess?”

“I will!” he said determinately.

“Well then,” she rolled the words playfully on her tongue, smiling warmly, “I guess I should give you your first orders then.”

“Orders?”

“Yes, unlike your sisters you have powers, or did you forget?”

“You want me to fight?”

“Not exactly…” she fluttered her devilishly angelic eyelashes whilst twirling several strands of her golden hair around one finger.

Handel’s ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ played as the stunning angel straddled her charge. As the screen went dark and the credits rolled Vox delicately removed his Armani sunglasses, staring blankly.

“Honey?” Spacebunny asked.

Vox did not respond at first.

Spacebunny continued to look at him, worried. She wondered if he would ever recover.

After much thought he finally responded; he shed a single tear which rolled gently down his cheek. “From where the reel now ends,” he said simply, “I will write no more forever.”






Several months later…

The studio had sent him a free copy of the unrated DVD just to torture him. Vox considered throwing it away immediately, but instead tossed it into a pile of other junk to be sorted through later.

Later that day, having finished what he had set out to do, he saw it lying there. He couldn’t resist. He had to know what else they had done to his precious…

After starting it up he clicked on the special features section that read “Deleted Scenes.”

There was only one scene listed, labeled, “Alternative love interest.” Maybe this is where they buried the Kaym perversion. Dare he? It didn’t matter now, Spacebunny had come in and just hit ‘play.’

Leviathan, a CGI construction given voice by Sean Connery, arose from the lake of fire. As Chrisopher mastered Leviathan, Vox, over his splitting migraine, barely heard Connery’s voice saying, “You’re the man now, dawg!” The aging actor then added, “Get on my back, boy. I bet you never thought you’d ride a beast like me. One with three heads and—”

Spacebunny turned off the television. Disgusting, she thought. “Vox, how could you write this stuff?”

Vox found himself in the grip of a seizure as he thrashed about the floor in a convulsive fit of madness. “Sweet Cthulhu, take me!” he cried.