KING: I don’t want to think about that. My kids are gonna live forever.
PRINCESS: Just picture it. What would you do? How would you cope? How could you cope?
KING: (stumped) Ahh—I-I couldn’t.
QUEENIE: But you’d have to. Wouldn’t you?
KING: Get out of my house.
QUEENIE: I don’t think so Paul.
Queenie gets up. She is frightening. She retrieves a large mallet from near by. It was hiding all this time. She thumps into her open palm staring at King
KING: I’m not Paul, who the fuck is Paul?
QUEENIE: I don’t like how you’ve been writing.
KING: You don’t have a say.
QUEENIE: I don’t?
KING: No!
QUEENIE: I’m your biggest fan Paul. I need to have the final say.
KING: Stop calling me Paul!
QUEENIE: But you are Paul Sheldon. The world famous romance novelist. My favorite novelist. My darling Paul Sheldon…
KING: I’m not no fucking romance novelist you crazy bitch!
QUEENIE: Now Paul is that the way to speak to your number one fan? Especially when I saved you from that freak accident? You could have been stuck in that snow. The police wouldn’t of found you for days!
KING: What the fuck is going on?
QUEENIE: Write what I see is fit Paul, that’s how things are gonna work from here on in.
KING: (typing) So the writer, angry and agitated and frustrated and fucking pissed off grabs hold of the mother fucking axe and in one swift mother fucking move he slices the goddamn mother fucking head off his biggest fucking fan!
Queenie brings the mallet down straight onto King’s legs and he screams in agony
She does this again; his scream is even more intense
QUEENIE: There’s no nobility in that kind of talk Paul.
KING: (screaming in pain) Jeeeeeeesus!
QUEENIE: And stop using the Lord’s name in vein. (to Jesus) Forgive him Father for he knows not what he does.
Mr Knight and Princeton appear. Mr Knight is stern faced and sad. He is telling Princeton some bad news:
MR KNIGHT: This is the worst part of my job Mr King. I don’t know how to say this…
KING: That’s not me.
QUEENIE: (cold) Yes it is.
PRINCESS: (sobbing) It is… it is…
PRINCETON: What is it, just tell me for God’s sake?
MR KNIGHT: The snow was heavy on the freeway and your wife’s car was just—
KING: That’s not me!
MR KNIGHT: Mr. King, your wife and children were found days later…
PRINCETON: Stop it!
KING: Yeah stop it!
PRINCETON: What are you saying?
MR. KNIGHT: your wife and children are dead Mr. King. I’m dreadfully sorry.
PRINCETON: Oh God!
KING: Stop it that’s not me!
PRINCESS: I wish it wasn’t but it is, it is…
KING: Enough! For fuck’s sake this has to end now!
PRINCESS: How will you cope? How could you cope?
QUEENIE: Write them out of the story Paul.
KING: Get the fuck out of here…
QUEENIE: You need to write them out. It will benefit the book.
PRINCETON: (grim) I know a place. It’s beyond the path. I can bury Tabby and the kids there and they’ll come back, I just know it. It worked with my cat. He’s fine and dandy now…
PRINCESS: Take them there. Dig them out of their graves and take them there.
PRINCETON: It’s an ancient Indian burial ground I know about.
MR KNIGHT: Sometimes dead is better Mr. King.
QUEENIE: Exactly. Kill them off. Don’t you dare start typing their names. They don’t need to be mentioned ever again. You just type these six final words: His wife and kids were dead! You kill them off then you can be mine for good.
MR KNIGHT: It’s all about mixing up your play time with your wok time Jack.
PRINCETON: I buried them in the Pet Sematary.
PRINCESS: Good work. They’ll come back. They always come back.
KING: Good work.
QUEENIE: No! You don’t bring them back from the dead you hack! You let them go! Let them die!
KING: No! I can’t! I won’t!
QUEENIE: Bury them and forget ’em, let ’em rot in the earth, that’s what needs to happen… that’s what you’re supposed to write!
KING: I’m not writing that!
QUEENIE: Yes you are.
KING: No!
QUEENIE: If you don’t there’ll be hell to pay! Your biggest fan demands you kill them off!
She slams his legs again
KING: (in agony) I don’t give a flying fuck what my biggest fan wants!
QUEENIE: You should and you will! Now write it! Write!
PRINCETON: Come home Tabby, come home kids! Come back home to daddy!
MR KNIGHT: All work and no play…
PRINCESS: Save them Mr. King…
QUEENIE: Write them out of the story, it will benefit the book, now write, write, write, write!
The frenzy dies down. Stephen King relaxes
The others fade out into darkness. We can still hear their voices:
PRINCESS: A telekinetic teen.
PRINCETON: A demonic car.
MR KNIGHT: A haunted hotel.
QUEENIE: A pet cemetery.
The phone rings
King picks it up
KING: Hello? (beat then relief) Ahh Tabby honey how are you? (beat) To get to Portland ok? Good to hear. How’m I doin? Why does everyone ask that? Ha ha. Yeah baby I’m doin’ fine. How are the kids? Good. I’m glad. Hope they don’t have too much fun up there… Portland’s more deathly dull than this place for the lil’ bastards. Work? Oh yeah, its comin’ along real nicely. (a long beat) Yeah sweetheart.
KING: Thanks for calling and letting me know you’re all safe and what not. I’ll speak to you soon. Love ya. Bye.
He hangs up and goes to his desk
He picks up a bottle and begins to pour. But stops half way and then collects everything and puts it away
He then sits back down; back at his god, and begins to type. Slowly at first, then the rhythms pick up speed and a work is in progress
The end
Curtain call all in unison; all together
About Lee Gambin
A Melbourne, Australia based playwright, screenwriter, film and theatre essayist and journalist for famed USA horror film magazine Fangoria Lee Gambin has worked in independent theatre for many years as well as Artistic Director of his own independent theatre company. He has worked as a lecturer for numerous film societies and film festivals including the Melbourne International Film Festival, the Analyzing Genre Program, Movie Maniacs Intl. and is in current collaboration with famous institutions such as American International Pictures and Famous Monsters of Filmland.
Special Note Regarding Production of the Play
King of Bangor is a one act play written by Lee Gambin and is readily available for production by theatre companies (both established and independent) or theatrically involved individuals.
As a five-hander with minimal sets and costumes, the play is an extremely appropriate and manageable one for many theatre companies and individuals. We most definitely encourage performers and production companies to take on this highly dramatic piece.