Lee Gambin - King of Bangor

QUEENIE: You have all the time in the world.

PRINCESS: Your writing is like Christine. It cancels out the fodder that gets in your way and builds you and shapes you.

PRINCETON: But it can shape you into something sinister.

I’m scared of Arnie now Mr. King. I’m real scared. I’ve never actually been scared in my whole life; not really, no football match, no date with some chick, nothing to do with drinking or driving or my parents or my friends or school or my grades, nothing has ever made me nervous or scared. I mean properly scared. But right now… it’s all—different.

And I’m not only terrified for Arnie’s sake, but for everyone else’s. Every one who loves him. They seem to be…

PRINCESS: Fodder to cancel out.

PRINCETON: (clarity) Yeah.

Princeton and Princess disappear into darkness as Mr. Knight comes to ‘life’. He moves toward King carrying a six pack:

MR KNIGHT: Hey sorry I’m late.

KING: You made it! Jesus Christ I was gonna send out a search party.

QUEENIE: And you’re lookin’ at her right here.

KING: (to Mr Knight re: Queenie) She makes for a good looking bloodhound don’t she buddy?

The sound of a baseball game on television is heard and a shaft of light from an o.s television set hits Mr. Knight

MR KNIGHT: Did I miss anything?

KING: To be honest I’ve been working like a dog, slaving away here to even notice.

MR KNIGHT: That ain’t like you Steve. The Red Sox are a big part of your life for Chrissake.

KING: Ahh yeah, they were.

MR KNIGHT: What you working on?

KING: A novel.

MR KNIGHT: (no shit) Yes…? And it’s about…?

QUEENIE: He hasn’t decided.

MR KNIGHT: Ahh. One of those periods huh?

QUEENIE: Care to dig him out of it?

KING: Care for something to go with those beers buddy?

King tosses him a bottle of speed pills. Mr Knight catches them they same way he caught the piece of paper earlier

MR KNIGHT: (reading label) Dexedrine.

KING: Damn straight. You’ll enjoy the game and those beers a thousand times more.

MR KNIGHT: Amphetamines so early in the day Stephen?

KING: (to Queenie) He always calls me Stephen when he’s disappointed in me.

MR KNIGHT: Folk’d think you were a truck driver or something the way you down these fuckers.

KING: I am. Cruising down the highway waiting for that interesting hitchhiker to pick up who’ll inspire some words for me to string together. Some scary words. And if the words don’t scare ’em then they better repulse ’em. Make ’em sick. Ohh yes my man I am one helluva truck driver.

MR KNIGHT: Well I’ll stick to beer if its all the same thanks.

Mr Knight places the pills back on the table. Queenie stands up and moves to USR, dimly lit. King continues to type and drink. He unscrews the pill box and takes three. Downing them with scotch

MR. KNIGHT: Its your youngest’s birthday sometime soon ain’t it?

KING: Sure is.

MR KNIGHT: How old?

KING: Eight.

MR KNIGHT: Jeez Louise its already been that long huh?

KING: Yep.

MR KNIGHT: Doing anything for him?

KING: Tabitha’s givin’ him a party. Right here at home.

MR KNIGHT: Well I’ll be sure to bring my kids down.

KING: You better.

MR KNIGHT: God, the eldest got under my skin just two months ago.

KING: Oh yeah?

MR KNIGHT: The damn whippersnapper got into my paper work for the stock take this month. Decided to make little ole paper dolls outta ’em.

King starts to laugh, still busily typing

KING: Ha! What a hoot!

MR KNIGHT: It’s my wife’s fault. She taught him how to make the darn things and when she ran out of paper the little tike got up to my den and had his way with a month’s worth of work. Shredded to pieces they are now.

KING: Ahh ya gotta love kids.

MR KNIGHT: Of course. Of course I love my kids. But that kind of thing can make you just get real… well…

KING: (suddenly interested) What?

MR KNIGHT: Well I hate working on that crap Steve. You know that.

KING: Numbers. Urgh. They scare the hell outta me.

MR KNIGHT: Exactly. Well, when I finally get through the fuckin’ shit I can rest as ease…

KING: Sink a few beers…

MR KNIGHT: And just relax. But that little—

KING: Go on.

MR KNIGHT: Well what if one of yours came in and you were half way through, or even worse, three quarters of the way through a novel and one of your own thought he’d grab a couple of Crayolas and draw all over them there sheets of paper. What would you do?

KING: Well I’d—

MR KNIGHT: And don’t think rationally about it, just go instinctively, as if your kid was some grown man, a complete stranger fucking with your work. What would you do?

KING: I’d bash the living hell outta him.

MR KNIGHT: Exactly.

KING: But every one gets frustrated with their kids pal, you don’t suddenly become saintly as soon as you become a parent. There are times I wanna throttle the throats of those little bastards but I love ’em…

MR KNIGHT: But there’s that thought. And that thought is there. It’s always there.

Mr Knight slowly morphs into Jack Torrance from King’s novel “The Shining”. King becomes nervous, frightened:

KING: What are you saying? What are you suggesting?

MR KNIGHT: Wendy and I never talk about it, but I can tell that it bothers her still to this day.

KING: Oh yeah…? What?

MR KNIGHT: After my boy did that, after he shredded those papers to smithereens I lashed out. I lashed out big time too.

KING: You—ya hit him?

MR KNIGHT: Gave him one big wallop across the throat. He bruised up pretty much straight away.

KING: Oh man, that’s real bad…

MR KNIGHT: Wendy got to him and asked if I did that and of course he told her…

KING: Real real bad…

MR KNIGHT: She baby’s that kid. She always has.

KING: I’d never hit my kid, never ever…

MR KNIGHT: Oh but you might. Who knows Stevey boy, you may even wanna kill the fuckers and even chop pretty little wifey up into pieces too…

KING: Fuck off… get the fuck outta here…

MR KNIGHT: All work and no play Stephen.

KING: Stop it. Get lost.

MR KNIGHT: Have another drink.

KING: I will. I fucking well will!

MR KNIGHT: Imagine what those little monsters can do to you Stevey; tearing you to shreds, ripping you apart!

KING: Get lost! Just fuck right off will ya?

Princeton races in exhausted. He is sweating. He has changed from Dennis Guilder to someone from the ‘real’ world. He carries with him a parcel wrapped up in a brown paper bag. It’s the shape of a book

PRINCETON: Stephen I got here as soon as I could.

KING: Jesus Christ you scared the shit outta me.

King’s fear is swallowed and he is relieved its Princeton

PRINCETON: First edition. “The Dead Zone”. All yours.

KING: Ahh nothing finer then a fresh off the print first ed.

MR Knight leaves his beers for King and joins Queenie

PRINCETON: I been running.

KING: I can tell. (staring at him) And I can smell.

PRINCETON: I thought you needed it by a certain time and I waited for ages at the book store, and the lady there wasn’t helpful—

KING: Wasn’t she?

PRINCETON: And the fans. My God have you met them?

KING: Certainly not.

PRINCETON: I don’t know how you do book signings but their rabid. Like rabid dogs.

KING: Hmmm…. rabies….

King jots down a note on a near by piece of paper

PRINCETON: Can I get a drink of water please?

KING: Water?

PRINCETON: Yeah.

KING: What’s that?

Princeton looks slightly confused, he has finally gotten his b reath back though