As always, he was dressed in an impeccably tailored suit and looked like he belonged on the cover of a men’s fashion magazine, rather than standing in the living room of The House on the Hill.
“If I politely tell you to go to Hell, is there any chance you’d actually comply with that request?” I asked as I grabbed a Snapple out of the cooler.
The truth was, there was no way I wanted to go back to work. My vacation has been so relaxing, so productive, and so stress free. Why would I want to leave such a perfect world?
“Unfortunately for you, there is no way to banish me back to my home,” Lucifer informed me with a sly grin as he strolled over to the couch. “Only I can decide when it’s time to descend into the Hellfire. Unlike some unlucky souls, I don’t have to punch a clock.”
“This unlucky soul has the free will to punch your smug face,” I pointed out. “Don’t you ever forget that.”
The Prince of Darkness feigned fear in an attempt to boost my spirits. It was like being a school kid again. Now that September had arrived, summer vacation was over and it was time to go back to school.
Oh how I wished only school awaited me on Tuesday. Those were the days.
“At least you had a great vacation,” Satan reminded me. “You made great progress on the screenplay rewrite, wrote some of your best blog posts in a while, kept up your running game, and manage to catch up on sleep. That’s a vacation for the ages.”
“I really did,” I had to agree. “People don’t seem to get that a productive staycation can be even better than going away to some exotic location.”
“An exotic location where you could get sick on the food, spend a ton of money, and be even more stressed than if you had just gone to work,” The Devil concurred as he snatched a Snapple of his own out of the cooler.
“When I have a vacation like this, it confirms that my life would be so much better if I could figure out how to stay home and write all day,” I daydreamed.
“You certainly never seem to run out of ideas,” Lucifer agreed. “If you weren’t cranking out a blog post, you were writing a short story, or you were editing your screenplay.”
“The voices in my head keep me very busy,” I said as I gently rapped on my skull. “They never stop screaming story ideas at me. It’s so hard to ignore them when I’m a work, and when I do, the stories back up on me and I get nasty headaches.”
The Prince of Darkness sipped his Snapple and nodded in sympathy. “We really do need to find you a financial backer. Have you heard anything from your producer friend about the screenplay projects?”
I have learned that the Hollywood game followed its own set of rules, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.
“Nothing yet,” I sighed. “I did send him an email this morning, though, with just enough anger and guilt added that I should get some sort of a reply.”
“Your life would really change if one of your screenplays went into production,” Satan pointed out the obvious. “I hope everything works out this time.”
So did I because I wanted nothing more than the opportunity to write full time. If that were the case, I’d never have to dread returning to the office after a wonderful vacation…