Lee Gambin: King of Bangor

The scene shifts and we are now in a tangible reality of some kind; Queenie has become some kind of secretary to King:

QUEENIE: How was the interview Stephen?

STEPHEN: Not as daunting as I expected. My answers seemed to ooze out.

QUEENIE: See? I told you it wouldn’t be so bad.

Queenie walks over to a filing cabinet (a phone sits on the top) and goes through a mammoth amount of paper work. She fishes something out:

STEPHEN: It still wasn’t the easiest thing to get through though, I’d rather try rehab again to be totally honest.

QUEENIE: (re: his drinking) Well keep this up and you might be on your way.

KING: Don’t hound me, just let me be; I’m way on top of it.

QUEENIE: As you’ve always said.

KING: If you had a drink with me you wouldn’t think it was such a bad pass time.

QUEENIE: Oh so now drinking has become a hobby of sorts?

KING: Absolutely. Now join me. At least have a glass of wine for Chrissake. You’ll probably surprise yourself and have a good time. Come on, have a good time would ya? What are you afraid of?

QUEENIE: Shouldn’t you of all people know how to answer that question? You make a living out of giving folk a good scare.

KING: Well I’m pretty stuck at the moment.

QUEENIE: You’ll plough through the thickets. You always do.

KING: Did you read the interview?

QUEENIE: No.

KING: Anyone you know read the interview?

QUEENIE: No. Not that I know of. Not that I know anyone. I don’t talk to people anymore Stephen, you know that. I’ve made it a conscious decision to be the misanthrope that I am. It’s easier.

KING: Fair enough.

QUEENIE: Did you speak to Tabitha?

KING: She’s good. She’s good. Her and the kids are in Portland at the moment seeing some relative I’ve never heard of. But I know she’s over there as an excuse to give me room to write. She’s a good woman that Tabby.

QUEENIE: If we could all have partners that were that understanding.

KING: She’s the best. She hasn’t called just yet, but she’s the best.

QUEENIE: She’ll call when she gets there. It’s a bit of a drive.

KING: (pouring another drink) Gotta stock up on more booze soon…

QUEENIE: She’s worried about you.

KING: Worried? She shouldn’t be worried. I’m fine.

QUEENIE: You’re drinking too much Steve. It’s not good.

KING: Come on. I always drink when I work.

QUEENIE: And in between work and just before sleep and in the early hours of the morning. And I’m sure if I navigated your dreamscape you’d be sinking into your gin and vodka just as happily.

KING: The last thing I’d need is you in my dreams.

QUEENIE: Jeez you’re lucky I’m not sensitive or I’d take that as a severe insult.

KING: Ahh there I go again, not choosing the right words… I need to learn to shut my big ugly trap… always with the wrong words…

QUEENIE: Stick to putting them to paper. That’s where you shine.

KING: It’s the drugs. Not so much the drinking. Tabby’s concerned with the drugs.

QUEENIE: No shit.

KING: But just like the booze, I’m way on top of it all.

QUEENIE: Really just?

KING: Really just.

QUEENIE: She has every right to be worried but I’m not prepared to sound like a broken record player, I’m here to work for you and remind you about this.

She hands him the document she fished out

KING: What the hell is this?

QUEENIE: A contract.

KING: Contract?

QUEENIE: From Warner Bros.

KING: Warner hey?

QUEENIE: Yet another movie deal. A walk in the park really.

KING: Ooh… let’s see how the big ole studios wanna massacre my work hey?

QUEENIE: They’ve done pretty well in the past. Be nice. Play nice.

Princeton comes DS and rests by the filing cabinet. He wedges his hands into his jeans pockets and looks slightly concerned. It doesn’t suit him, but nonetheless he is concerned:

PRINCETON: I’m worried about my best friend Arnie.

King and Queenie continue:

KING: (scanning the contract put before him) I like this producer, I like this screenwriter, I like this approach.

QUEENIE: So I take it you approve?

KING: Do I have a choice?

QUEENIE: You know you do. Now is there anything I need to start on? Mail? More press junk?

Queenie puts on her spectacles and sits by King’s side sorting through mail while King grabs hold of a twenty dollar note from his chewed up wallet and begins to roll it up

KING: You could help me get this novel on the way.

PRINCETON: He and I have known each other since we were kids and we were a team ya know? Inseparable.

MR.KNIGHT: (from a far, to King) Married to your work pal. Stay obsessed.

Princess emerges from US and ends at polar opposite to Princeton. The two attractive youngsters frame the writer and his long suffering assistant

Princess and Princeton begin to share dialogue, discussing troubled people they know; living and recently deceased:

PRINCESS: (obnoxiously) Well I knew Carrie White for a long time and she deserved to die. (angry statement, giving the bird) Eat shit in hell Carrie White.

King stretches his arms over his typewriter

KING: Any ideas?

QUEENIE: It’s your baby Stephen. They’re all your babies.

KING: What kind of team are we?

QUEENIE: We’re not a team. You’re on your own.

KING: Well ain’t that a shame? Now lets help out the insomnia shall we?

He snorts a long line

QUEENIE: You know with the amount of money you spend on that shit you could get yourself a new typewriter. Or better yet a laptop or something from this century.

MR. KNIGHT: All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

KING: And give up ole Bessie? Never! I can’t part with her.

PRINCESS: (as if being interviewed by police) Carrie was a scapegoat sure. She was a joke to every one. The entire school hated her.

PRINCETON: As we got older things got a lot harder for Arnie. The poor guy was beaten up and teased by fucks like Buddy Repperton and his jerk off friends but I was always there to stand up for him.

PRINCESS: (to Princeton) Why would you bother being friends with someone like Arnie Cunningham?

PRINCETON: (offended) Huh?

PRINCESS: You’re high school royalty for fuck’s sake; football hero and campus stud and you still let ugly weedy Arnie hang by your side? That’s just plain weird.

PRINCETON: What the fuck are you on about, Arnie’s my best friend.

PRINCESS: Yeah well its odd. Such an unlikely pairing really. Dennis Guilder the all American guy and Arnie Cunningham the born loser. Didn’t the others call him Cuntingham? Wasn’t that it?

King pours himself another drink and starts typing

KING: (as he types, reading what he pounds out) The other girls laughed and threw feminine hygiene products at her, foreign objects to the likes of Margaret White’s sad little sap who was bunched up in a ball in the corner of the shower… (re-thinking) no, wait on (typing, reading) the others laughed and called her names, screaming at her like crazed harpies…

Princess and Princeton now notice King. Queenie continues to work on mountains of paper work

PRINCESS: She deserved it mister. She was such a retard.

KING: (studying his work) Nasty kids, nasty games…

PRINCESS: Are you listening to me? Do you know what that bitch did to the whole town? How many fucking people died?

King turns to Princess and stares right at her. He takes his glasses off and angrily points to her. He wants to spew out hateful words but he puts his glasses back on and goes back to typing

KING: I’ve known horrible kids like you all my goddamn life miss. What Carrie did was understandable.