Lee Gambin: King of Bangor

KING: My poor attempt at a bad joke, all apologies; but you sure you don’t wanna beer instead?

PRINCETON: Oh I’d love one.

KING: Help yourself.

Princeton takes a beer. King puts a fresh piece of paper into the typewriter, rolling it down

KING: Did you know when an animal gets rabies they cant stomach water. In fact rabies is often sometimes called hydrophobia. As in the fear of hydration. Or the fear of water.

PRINCETON: Oh I ain’t scared of water, no way. I’m a big fan. It’s essential for guys like me.

KING: Uh huh.

PRINCETON: But I do prefer beer. Especially on hot days like this. But I really shouldn’t drink while I’m training.

KING: You in training?

PRINCETON: Yeah Mr. King. I’m a long distance runner. Have been for a little while now.

KING: (back to work) How interesting.

PRINCETON: I’ve told you before.

KING: Oh yeah?

PRINCETON: Yeah. You must of forgotten. But why would you remember that, I mean you’re so busy and everything.

KING: What else you do? Besides run and run errands for yours truly?

PRINCETON: Well nothing much…

KING: Nothing much?

PRINCETON: I mean its Bangor. What is there to do?

KING: Don’t underestimate small towns kid.

PRINCETON: I was born here and I’ve lived here all my life so what I do is what I’ve done from day one. That’s it. That’s all. Nothing else.

KING: Besides running.

PRINCETON: Yep.

KING: (writing down another idea) The running man…

PRINCETON: May I have another beer?

KING: You downed that one already kid?

PRINCETON: I drink real fast.

KING: Well you might have to be an occasional drinking buddy of mine down the track.

King offers another beer:

PRINCETON: Thanks.

KING: You ever wanted to run away to another town kid?

PRINCETON: Oh yeah. All the time. And not just some other shitty place here in Maine but like to Boston or New York or something.

KING: Would be nice huh?

PRINCETON: Well you tell me. You’ve been all those places. Are they? I mean are they nice?

KING: Yeah, give or take. But I’ll always come home. Bangor is where the heart is.

PRINCETON: Yeah. I understand. I mean, Bangor is home and as much as I complain about there bein’ nuttin’ to do ‘round here I really couldn’t leave it for good.

KING: Married to home turf.

Princess takes the package and unwraps it slowly. Her demeanor is pleasant, sweet, serene. She takes the book into her hands and it is not a copy of “The Dead Zone” but an untitled book with a picture of Princeton on the inlay.

She sits on the ground and reads. The prettiest of pictures

Princeton watches her and his demeanor changes. He becomes far more self-confident and not at all jittery as he previously was. He walks over to her, King watches them:

Princess notices Princeton watching and smiles but then realizes that he is the writer of the book she’s reading:

PRINCESS: Hey, you’re him aren’t you? On the sleeve of my book? The writer? That’s you isn’t it?

PRINCETON: Well that depends. Are you enjoying it?

KING: She’ll lie to you.

PRINCESS: Yeah. I am.

KING: She’s lying.

PRINCESS: It’s real good.

PRINCETON: Then I am the writer and that picture is a picture of me. Although why I chose to wear that shirt is beyond me… oh and I look so serious.

PRINCESS: You’re a native aren’t you? You were born here, right?

PRINCETON: Yes mam. Says so on the inlay.

He sits down with her

PRINCESS: What you doing back?

PRINCETON: I’ve come home to work.

KING: Can’t cut ties kiddo. Married to home turf.

PRINCETON: You a local girl?

PRINCESS: Born and bred. Can’t you tell? Don’t I have that small town coastal Maine vibe? It’s a distinct look you know?

PRINCETON: I’ve forgotten what it was like. But it’s all coming back to me now.

KING: Enjoy it while you can buddy.

PRINCESS: I’ve moved once or twice. The first time was to New York and then a year later to Boston, but for some reason I’ve always ended up here again.

PRINCETON: What brings you back?

PRINCESS: Not sure.

KING: Home is where the heart is. Don’t underestimate small towns.

PRINCESS: I’m a teacher. Just at the local high school. I teach art.

PRINCETON: Good stuff. I’m glad someone with artistic appreciation is enjoying that drivel I churned out those many years ago. You know, I was about to can that book. Tossed it right into the garbage I did.

KING: But it was saved. Rescued.

PRINCESS: But it’s so good. And critically acclaimed, and popular; its a best seller for goodness sake.

PRINCETON: Eh. It don’t do much for me.

KING: So hard on yourself. So down on yourself.

PRINCETON: So what you do for fun in this ghost town?

KING: It ain’t a ghost town yet buddy. And it’ll be worse than that soon enough.

PRINCESS: Not much. There isn’t much to do. It says here you’re married. Your wife in town with you?

PRINCETON: She’s passed away since then.

PRINCESS: Oh. I’m sorry.

PRINCETON: What about you? Boyfriend? I assume there’s no hubby with the lack of gold or silver wrapped ‘round that finger of yours.

PRINCESS: It’d be pewter in this town.

KING: Cheap kids, cheap thrills.

PRINCETON: No one for the local art teacher?

PRINCESS: There’s one guy that hangs around. But he’s ancient history now.

PRINCETON: Really?

KING: Small towns have their secrets.

PRINCESS: Oh he gets lonely now and then and I—well I help him out…

PRINCETON: A living breathing cure to the small town blues huh?

PRINCESS: Hardly. Everything is done out of boredom here.

PRINCETON: And that’s ninety nine percent of the reason why I became a writer Miss-?

PRINCESS: Norton. Susan Norton.

PRINCETON: Oh Doctor Norton’s girl?

KING: Old friends. Old ties.

PRINCETON: I wonder if he’ll remember me.

PRINCESS: Daddy never forgets a face.

KING: Tell her about the house kid. The house from your childhood. The main reason you’re back in town.

PRINCETON: Do you know the Marsten house?

PRINCESS: Who doesn’t?

PRINCETON: That notorious huh?

PRINCESS: Definitely. Every town needs a haunted house. It keeps the local kids occupied. It’s either that or cheap boxed wine and pot.

KING: I need another drink.

PRINCETON: I was one of those curious kids. I was dared to go in there.

PRINCESS: It gives me the creeps.

PRINCETON: I saw unspeakable horrors in there Susan… stuff that stays with you forever.

KING: The beauty of east coast New Englanders can easily be forgotten but images of death and decay can scar you for life…

PRINCETON: Who owns the place now?

PRINCESS: Some antiques dealer.

PRINCETON: An out of Towner?

KING: Definitely. Way out of town.

PRINCESS: Judging by his suits and the shipments I’d say he’s of good stock so yes, an utter stranger to these parts. His business partner is due to arrive anytime soon too. I think they’ll be living together in the Marsten house. I hope they’re gay, it’ll add some spice to this dull ole town and give the local gossips something to whisper about. Not that they don’t whisper ‘bout anyone else; especially those who aren’t yet married or with a decent trade under their belt—hey hang on a second, is the Marsten house the reason why you’re here? Are you writing about it? You gonna tackle some kind of horror story? A contemporary American gothic chiller by Ben Mears?

PRINCETON: (he’s become smitten by her) Hey can we do dinner? I’m staying at Eva Miller’s boarding house. There’s a kitchen there and hopefully the local drunk is out for the night—