x_project | Y'know, this could probably go here, too . . .

Apologies for the double-post to those of you who have me on their friendslists, but people keep making these encouraging remarks. :) For those of you who haven't seen it yet, I got to kicking around ideas for what might happen many years down the road when the current crop of teenagers is all grown up and famous, and this is what came out. Non-canonical, of course, and also fluffy near the end.

People Magazine called him Hollywood's Busiest Man and gave him a cover story. I only note that because they scooped me; I was leaning toward "Mr. Ubiquitous" and they could've found a better photo, in my opinion. Luckily for my pride, though, James Madrox wasn't a one-hit wonder, and so I found myself walking into his office one morning.

I've been in a few directors' offices. Producers, too. I've even been in a writer/director/producer's office on one memorable occasion; memorable because he threw an ashtray at me, mainly. The one thing they had in common was that everything from the oversize desk to the plush carpet to the art on the walls was designed to impress and intimidate. Got kind of old. Madrox's office was a surprise that way--scuffed hardwood floors and a utilitarian desk, it had a kind of homey understated comfort. I say understated, not unimpressive--the only painting I recognized damn near had to be a Colbert original.

The man himself came around his desk and shook my hand, we blew a few minutes on the usual get-to-know-you small talk, and then we got down to the real interview--shared a laugh over the box office returns on "One Man Show," and he told a funny story about placating the Teamsters after they realized the title also referred to the film crew. Then we finally came around to the real reason I was here.

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past several months, you've heard about "Seeds of Change," the miniseries everyone's calling the voice of the mutant generation. I asked him if he'd bought the wheelbarrow to carry the awards home with yet, and he laughed.

Then he stopped, all of a sudden, and I swear suddenly he was a million miles away. He let out this long breath, and his whole body relaxed, tension I didn't even realize was there just draining out of his shoulders and neck. He smiled a little, warm and soft, and I was wondering if maybe I should clear my throat or something when his eyes focused again.

"I'm sorry," he said, "could you come back tomorrow?" That sweet smile was still playing around the corners of his mouth. "My wife just got home."