A Guest In The House Of Bags

DEB

I'm sorry I was late.

MIKE

It's okay.

DEB

Were you waiting long?

MIKE

A few minutes. I couldn't really sleep last night so I was up with the sun. I had just gotten here.

DEB

I'm sorry. I couldn't get the kids moving this morning. They missed the bus. I had to drive them to school. Traffic was lousy.

MIKE

I understand.

DEB

I usually don't make excuses. I hate excuses. I haven't been myself lately. Sorry.

MIKE

For what? (Beat.) So this is where I'll be, huh?

DEB
This is it. This'll be your office. That's your desk.

MIKE

It's perfect.

DEB

Any questions?

MIKE

When do the shipments usually arrive?

DEB

There's no telling. The normal delivery guy is really a delivery gal, and she can be a bit irregular.

MIKE

Irregular?

DEB

Sweet as can be just not entirely with it.

MIKE

I see.

DEB

Well, I have to go get the store ready to open. I'll be out front if you need me.

MIKE

I'll be okay.

DEB

I look forward to working with you.

MIKE

Me too.

DEB

I'm stern, but I'm fair.

MIKE

Nice to know.

DEB

Welcome to the 'House of Bags', Michael.

MIKE

Thank You. (DEB turns and exits. MIKE Surveys his new work space.) Well, here we are. (MIKE crosses to the desk and starts going through some paper work. It is completely un organized. From the stage left wings enters WENDY, the delivery gal. She wears a uniform, but not very well. Her shirt is unbuttoned, revealing a bright T-shirt. Her work boots are untied. Her cap is on crooked, and she's listening to head phones. She is young and believes herself to be a rebel. She is pushing a dolly of boxes.)

WENDY

Here we go; more boxes of bags! Where do you want them?

MIKE
(Without motioning.)

Over there.

WENDY

You new?

MIKE

Yeah, I'm Mike.

WENDY

I'm Wendy.

MIKE

Pleasure.

WENDY

First day.

MIKE

Very first.

WENDY

Do you like bags, Mike?

MIKE

Pardon?

WENDY

Bags. You know, 'The House of Bags'. Do you like bags?

MIKE

I've never really thought about. Why?

WENDY

It just seems like a funny place to work for someone like you.

MIKE

Someone like me?

WENDY

Yeah, what are you twenty something? Thirty something?

MIKE

Roughly.

WENDY

Exactly. Most of the people that work here are either college kids or retirees. There's not much glory in the bag business.

MIKE

No, I suppose not.

WENDY

Where's the boss lady?

MIKE

Up front. She kinda leaves me alone.

WENDY

Good for you. She nuts, you know? I'm serious, she's gotta a screw loose or something. She's gotten real uptight lately?

MIKE

Lately?

WENDY

Yeah, she didn't used to be so bad.

MIKE

I'll take your word for it.

WENDY

It's the bags. They drive people insane.

MIKE

I'll keep that in mind, Wendy.

WENDY

You start off normal, then you become consumed with the world of bags. Paper. Plastic. Shopping. Brown. Colored. Little. Big. The next thing you know your hearing voices and claiming to be the god of thunder!

MIKE

What?

WENDY

Just talking. Don't mind me. Well, I gotta a few more boxes. I'll be right back. (She starts off.)

MIKE

Do you like bags?

WENDY

I hate them.

MIKE

I'm sorry to bother you.

DEB

Don't be silly. I can spare a few minutes.

MIKE

I just wanted to ask you about a few things.

DEB

Shoot.

MIKE

How is the merchandise organized?

DEB

What do you mean?

MIKE

I've been trying to make sense out of the boxes back here, and as far as I can tell, there's really doesn't seem to be any discernible pattern to the storage.

DEB

No?

MIKE

No, it all seems to be just thrown together haphazardly and pushed against the walls or thrown on random shelves. It's a nightmare.

DEB

Yours or mine? Well, I tell you what, I trust you.

MIKE

What does that mean?

DEB

It means, I trust you to fix it. You can fix it?

MIKE

Sure.

DEB

Good. Let's just hope that once you have it all organized the ghost doesn't mess it all up again.

MIKE

The ghost?

DEB

I told you this storeroom is haunted, didn't I? Oh, don't be frightened. He's harmless. He just likes to play practical jokes, move things around and hide things for awhile.

MIKE

I see. Well, I'll keep an eye out.

DEB

It's just a little joke we all have. When something goes missing we blame it on the ghost. "Oops, I can't find my pen. I bet Bob took it. Hey, I bet Bob stole my watch. Bob must have pulled the fire alarm.""

MIKE

The ghost's name is Bob?

DEB

We named him Bob.

MIKE

Bob's a good name.

DEB

Well, I better get back up front. Next time you don't have to physically come and get me. Just dial me on the intercom like I showed you.

MIKE

The intercom? You didn't show me an intercom.

DEB

I didn't? On the phone?

MIKE

What phone?

DEB

The phone on your desk. (The two search the desk.) There used to be a phone here. What happened to the phone?

MIKE

What happened to my lunch?

DEB

Bob!

(Lights out.)

WENDY

How goes it, Mike?

MIKE

Wendy.

WENDY

What are you doing?

MIKE

Trying to get things in order here. It's taken a few days but I think I almost have things organized.

WENDY

Good for you. I've got one here for you.

MIKE

Thanks. (WENDY places the box down and MIKE signs her clipboard.)

WENDY

You doing okay?

MIKE

Yeah, why?

WENDY

You just look run down. Tired.

MIKE

Didn't sleep too well last night. That's all.

WENDY

If you say so. See you when I see you.

MIKE

Hey, can I ask you a question?

WENDY

You just did. Go ahead.

MIKE

Has Deb ever told you about Bob?

WENDY

The ghost? Do you like ghost stories? I know this great one about a old woman and her dog.

MIKE

Forget it.

WENDY

Okay, sorry, I was just kidding. Yeah, so boss lady thinks this place is haunted. I told you she's nuts.

MIKE

You don't think it is?

WENDY

I don't believe in ghosts. There's an explanation for everything.

MIKE

But I could swear sometimes it feels like I'm being watched.

WENDY

Paranoia.

MIKE

But I keep losing things.

WENDY

Senility.

MIKE

I've been hearing these noises.

WENDY

Rats.

MIKE

Don't say that. I hate rats.

WENDY

You have to ask yourself one important question. Why would a ghost be haunting the storeroom of 'The House of Bags'? Hmm?

MIKE

Maybe he's a angry consumer. (Beat.) You're right. I'm being silly.

WENDY

Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.

MIKE

Thanks.

WENDY

You bet. (DEB enters from the salesroom. She stops short when she sees WENDY.)

DEB

Hello.

WENDY

Back at you. Well, back to the grindstone.

(To MIKE.)

Don't worry you secrets safe with me. (Exits.)

DEB

Secret?

MIKE

Don't pay any attention to her. She's just playing around. Did you need something?

DEB

Yes, you had a phone call. She claimed to be your wife. I didn't know you were married.

MIKE

Almost a year now.

DEB

Oh, well you wife left you a message. Here.

MIKE

Thanks. (DEB exits. Mike reads the message and throws it onto the desk. MIKE kneels to examines the newest delivery.)

Wait a minute. Wrong box, Wendy. You delivered the wrong... (A strange noise is heard from off-stage right.) Hello? Is anyone there? (Suddenly a few boxes tumble from their precarious position.) Who's there? (A faint whisper of a child's laughter is heard.) Hello? (No answer.)

Great. I'm cracking up.

(Lights Fade.)

MIKE

Hello. (The mystery man resumes eating the sandwich in a nonchalant manner.) I noticed you seem partial to the egg salad. There's also some pretzels in there if you want. I'm Mike. Are you Bob?

BOB

There's two.

MIKE

Pardon?

BOB

Two lunches.

MIKE

Yeah, I need to eat too. I had some extra.

BOB

Thank you.

(Awkward silence.)

How are things working out for you here?

MIKE

Not bad. It's kinda mindless, you know, the work? A zombie could do it.

BOB

If you say so.

MIKE

You look familiar.

BOB

I'm sure I do.

MIKE

Do I know you?

BOB

You might.

MIKE

How long have you been here?

BOB

Not long.

MIKE

Sleep here?

BOB

Yes.

MIKE

You live here?

BOB

For the present.

MIKE

How long?

BOB

Not very.

MIKE

Why here?

BOB

What does it matter? What's with all the questions?

MIKE

Just curious. You know the manager thinks this place is haunted? Has anyone ever told you that you look just like... forget it.

BOB

What?

MIKE

Nothing.

BOB

You were saying I look like someone. Who do I look like?

MIKE

Uh, it's more of a resemblance.

BOB

Who do I resemble, then?

MIKE

It's silly. You're a dead ringer for Mark Twain.

BOB

Mark Twain?

MIKE

Yeah, he's an author. He wrote Huckleberry Finn. Tom Sawyer.

BOB

I know who Mark Twain is. I can read, books, even.

MIKE

I wasn't trying to imply-

BOB

No? His real name was Samuel Langhorne Clemens. He once said, "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco".

MIKE

Okay, I'm sorry. But it's uncanny. You could get paid to show up at parties and be Mark Twain. You could be a professional Mark Twain Impersonator.

BOB

There's probably not a big future in that line of work.

(Awkward silence.)

What are you doing here?

MIKE

Shouldn't I be asking you that question?

BOB

Don't answer a question with a question! That's annoying. What are you doing here?

MIKE

What do you... I don't understand the question.

BOB

You college educated, Mikey? Yes? Grad School? Med School? Law School? (MIKE flinches.)

Law School, hmm. How did you do? Pass the BAR? Failed it? What are you doing working here, in a place like this? Why are you stacking boxes of bags for minimum wage? What are you hiding from?

MIKE

Who are you?

BOB

I'm Mark Clemens! I'm Samuel Twain.

MIKE

No, I mean-

BOB

I'm a ghost! I'm Bob!

(Pause.)

Still wet the bed, Mikey? How are those nightmares treating you?

MIKE

That's an odd question!

BOB

Do you? Wet the bed, I mean?

MIKE
(Sarcastic.)

No, I kicked that habit along time ago.

BOB

Not so long as all that, huh? Sixteen years old.

MIKE

What?

BOB

Nothing. Forget I said anything. So, 'The House of Bags', huh?

MIKE

It's a living.

BOB

There's not much glory in the bag business.

MIKE

That's fine by me.

BOB

Come on, don't you want more?

MIKE
(Defensive.)

What do you do?

BOB

A little of this, a little of that. Freelance. I'm my own boss.

MIKE

It must be nice.

BOB

There's worse things in the world. How's the marriage?

MIKE

It's good. She's great.

(Pause.)

How did you know I was married?

BOB

I've noticed you don't wear the ring to work.

MIKE

I don't want to lose it. What business is it of yours, anyway?

BOB

It's not.

MIKE

Who are you?

BOB

Just me. Little, old, hungry me. (BOB starts to exit off the way he came.) Better be going.

MIKE

Wait. Jeez, you really do look like Mark Twain. It's eery!

BOB

You've got to learn to focus. You're obsessed. Thanks for the sandwich. (BOB exits. MIKE just stares after him for a moment. DEB enters holding a phone.)

DEB

Hope I'm not interrupting. Here.

MIKE

What's this?

DEB

It's a phone.

MIKE

I know that, why are you giving it to me?

DEB

Well, as it turns out it didn't magically disappear. Herman, he's the young man with the glasses behind the counter, apparently borrowed it for a few days.

MIKE

He borrowed the phone?

DEB

Don't ask me, I'm not very happy with him right now. I don't understand these college kids. Looks like Bob didn't steal it. I guess there's no such thing as ghosts. Well, carry on. (She exits. Lights fade.)

(Lights up. MIKE sits at his desk. He is sifting through old pictures. BOB enters from the wings and patiently waits. MIKE doesn't notice his guest for several seconds.)

BOB

What are you looking for?

MIKE
(Startled.)

Holy Crap, you scared me! (BOB doesn't respond.) I'm just looking through some childhood photos. I don't really know why. I didn't sleep all that good last night and I ended up going through my closet and I found a box of pictures. That's me. (Showing a picture to BOB.) Nine, maybe ten years old. That's my cousin Bridget. She's older than me, obviously. She used to baby-sit me.

BOB

She was quite the looker.

MIKE

Was is right. She doesn't look nearly as good these days.

BOB

No?

MIKE

She's barely recognizable. Developed a pension for fried foods and daytime television. It's a cliché I know, but it happens. I haven't talked to her in years. We lost touch. But we had some good times growing up. (Pause. The question still remains, it has plagued him for days.) How did you know I was married?

BOB

Lucky guess. Why do you keep it a secret?

MIKE

I don't. I told you I don't want to misplace the ring.

BOB

Things not going so well?

MIKE

No, things are going great. Things are good. We could be better off financially...

BOB

Who couldn't?

MIKE

Exactly, who couldn't? We'll get by. We always manage to get by.

BOB

Good for you.

MIKE

I just... I just wish I felt... more like an adult. When I got married I thought I'd feel more grown up, but I don't. I still feel like that awkward, bumbling kid who never could do anything right when things came down to the wire. I get so frustrated. So stressed out.

BOB

No wonder you have nightmares.

MIKE

I guess.

BOB

You never outgrow the child you were, that's a common misunderstanding. You just get better at assuming the role everyone expects of you.

MIKE

That's a cheery thought. Maybe you're right.

BOB

Maybe. Maybe I'm not. Maybe everyone else does feel like a mature adult. Maybe you're the only freak that doesn't feel like he's making a healthy contribution to society. Maybe your an aberration.

MIKE

Maybe I am? How did you know about the nightmares?

BOB

What?

MIKE

You said 'No wonder' I have nightmares. How did you know about that?

BOB

You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

MIKE

You're just some bum; some local vagrant, hiding away in the stockroom.

BOB

I'm not the one who's hiding. Tell me about your nightmares. Tell me about Bridget and the elevator.

MIKE

The elevator. It's always comes back to that, doesn't it? I had forgotten all about it until the other night. I was ten years old, or around there, and my family was living in an apartment building. The elevator had a glass door. You couldn't see through it. It was frosted. Or cloudy. I guess it was popular back then. Anyway, one day I was riding in the elevator with Bridget and a dark, greasy shadow slid by the elevator door as we were going down. I saw it again on the way back up. I remember asking Bridget what it was. (WENDY steps in from the wings and is now, temporarily, Bridget.)

BRIDGET

It's Mrs. Parnell.

MIKE

The landlord's wife?

BRIDGET

That's right, Mikey. When was the last time you saw her? You haven't, have you? She fell into the elevator shaft and was squished. That's why we always tell you not to play near the elevator. It's dangerous.

MIKE

I didn't understand. I didn't know how old Mrs. Parnell had fallen into the elevator shaft.

BRIDGET

Maybe it was an accident. Maybe she jumped. Maybe she was pushed. Murdered.

MIKE
Murdered?

BRIDGET

Maybe Mr. Parnell offed her. We've all heard the way they scream and argue with each other. Maybe he snapped. That's bad news.

MIKE

Why?

BRIDGET

Because if she was murdered it means her soul can't rest in peace. She's a ghost now.

MIKE

She is?

BRIDGET

I'd bet my life on it. She's probably doomed to haunt this elevator for the rest of eternity.

MIKE

That's terrible.

BRIDGET

That's not even the worse part, Mikey. I'd be careful if I were you. There's nothing a ghost likes better than to find and gobble up naughty children.

MIKE

Ghosts don't eat children.

BRIDGET

Oh, yes they do! Small kids are a ghost's favorite treat. (BRIDGET stands next to MIKE; forgotten for the time being.)

MIKE

I still don't know why she said those things to me. I was ten years old. I was scared shitless. I never rode the elevator alone after that. I'd rather walk up eight floors than risk meeting Mrs. Parnell, again, face to face. A couple months later we moved out of that apartment building. I never had to look at that greasy, smear of Mrs. Parnell's remains again. Of course now I know it wasn't true at all, but back then...

BOB

You believed it.

MIKE

Every word. I used to have the most frightening nightmares.

BOB

You still do.

MIKE

Yes. (DEB comes in from the wings as a 'squished' Mrs. Parnell. Her body is flattened. )

MRS. PARNELL

Remember me, little boy?

MIKE

Mrs. Parnell?

MRS. PARNELL

That's right. You're the little brat from apartment 820.

MIKE

But you're not real. You died along time ago.

MRS. PARNELL

I was murdered! Now I'm doomed to wander these halls for all eternity, and gobble up naughty little children.

MIKE

But ghost don't eat children.

MRS. PARNELL

Shows what you know. We love to eat children!

BRIDGET

I told you so.

MRS. PARNELL

Where are your parents?

MIKE

I don't know.

MRS. PARNELL

What are you doing here? Why are you all alone?

MIKE

I'm not alone. I'm with my cousin.

BRIDGET
(Starts to exit.)

Sorry, you're on your own.

MIKE

What? Wait! You can't leave?

BRIDGET

I have to go. You'll be fine.

MIKE

No, I will not be fine. Mrs. Parnell is going to eat me!

BRIDGET

No, she's won't.

MIKE

Yes, she will.

MRS. PARNELL

Yes, I will.

BRIDGET

Sorry, buddy. I have to leave. Good luck. (She exits.)

MIKE

Wait! Bridget, wait! Don't go! Don't leave me alone! (Mike collapses to the floor as MRS. Parnell looms above him. Suddenly she disappears in a flash and MIKE is left alone on stage; in the stockroom of 'The House of Bags' again.) Bridget? Bob? Bob? Where did you go? What just happened? Was that real? It felt pretty real.

BOB

(From the shadows.)

It was real. It was a dream.

MIKE

Well, which is it?

BOB

Why can't it be both?

MIKE

Because it can't. It's one or the other.

BOB

Says who?

MIKE

This can't be happening.

BOB

But it is, Mikey. It is.

MIKE

Who are you?

BOB

Why do you ask questions you can answer for yourself? You yourself said I seemed familiar.

MIKE

I said you looked like Mark Twain.

BOB

That came later. First you had the feeling that we'd met before.

MIKE

Yes.

BOB

Do you like Mark Twain?

MIKE

I haven't really read him since high school.

BOB

That's not what I asked. Do you like Mark Twain?

MIKE

Not really, no.

BOB

Mind telling me why?

MIKE

I don't know why, I just never have. Even when I was a kid, I thought he was... creepy. Yes, that's it. He was creepy. He scared me. Tell me who you are. Please.

BOB

Tell me why he scared you and I'll tell you who I am.

MIKE

(Simultaneously.)

I don't know. I think I saw a picture of him somewhere, maybe on a book, in an encyclopedia, or a portrait, I can't recall. Now I know as classic authors go, he was probably one of the most normal. He wasn't a Williams. He wasn't Poe. I just remember looking into his eyes, into his crazy, desperate eyes and thinking to myself, "He looks like the Bogeyman." The Bogeyman!

BOB

(Simultaneously.)

You know who I am. You remember who I was. When you were little I was there. When things went bump in the night, who do you think that was? The laughter that you could hear coming from beneath your bed, that was mine. Two glowing eyes staring out from you open closet door as you trembled in bed too terrified to sleep... me. It was all me. Give the man a prize!
Years later we meet again!

MIKE

That's ridiculous.

BOB

Is it?

MIKE

I don't believe in that nonsense.

BOB

You did once.

MIKE

And then I grew up.

BOB

Yet, I still exist.

MIKE

This is crazy. This whole situation is crazy. I, I am obviously going crazy. You're a figment of my imagination. You expect me to believe all of this. That you're he, that... that you've come back, that you're real... No, I don't buy it, not for one second.

BOB

I don't have to prove anything. You know, deep down, that I'm telling the truth, whether you buy it or not.

MIKE

But why?

BOB

Don't ask me? I don't want to be here. I shouldn't be here.

MIKE

I'm a grown man.

BOB

Exactly my point. This is embarrassing. I left you behind years ago.

MIKE

You left me behind? I outgrew you.

BOB

Obviously not. Here I am. So what are we going to do about this, Mikey?

MIKE

Don't ask me. You're the expert.

BOB

Oh, now I'm the expert. A few seconds ago you didn't believe in me. I was a figment of your imagination. You need to make up your mind. Do you believe in me or not?

MIKE

I guess I do. I mean I have to, you're standing right in front of me. The eyes don't lie.

BOB

Don't be so sure.

MIKE

Had to be the 'House of Bags', huh? I couldn't have taken a job at a youth center, a temp job, or some fast food dump?

BOB

It wouldn't have mattered where you went. You are the reason I'm here. Somehow, you did this... you are responsible.

MIKE

But I didn't do anything!

BOB

Maybe that's it. Maybe that's exactly right. That could be why I was able to come back. You're still the same person. You haven't done anything since I left.

MIKE

I've done stuff. I have. I grew up, graduated college, went out into the world and lived, decided to go to law school; criminal law, and got married.

BOB

(Mocking.)

Didn't take the BAR, chickened out and took a job here.

MIKE

I didn't chicken out! What's wrong with this job? I like it here.

BOB

Nothing's wrong with it. 'A zombie could do it', but hey, I'm no judge - and you are not a lawyer. Why is that?

MIKE

I don't know. I graduated with the top of my class; even did fairly well on the BAR. One day I just started to wonder what difference it all makes? The world, the way it is... one more well-intentioned lawyer isn't going to matter. Tell me if I'm wrong but I don't see the point. And if there isn't a point, why go through with it? Why set yourself up for such a monumental disappointment? After spending all that time pursuing, what I thought was, a noble cause the bottom fell out. There was nowhere to go. Do you know what I mean?

BOB

No. It sounds like a load of horse manure to me? 'Noble cause'? Did you really think that that's what you were doing; pursuing a 'noble cause'? Did you wake up everyday and say to yourself, "Well, time to go and pursue my noble cause."? What are you, Superman? Mikey; Defender of Truth, Justice, and the American Way! My hero!

MIKE

That's not what I meant.

BOB

No wonder you failed. Who could live up to all of that pressure?

MIKE

I didn't fail anything! I chose another path.

BOB

You ran off with your tail between your legs. This isn't a path, this is a diversion. This is a lame attempt to fool yourself into believing that you haven't given up; but you have.

MIKE

No, I haven't!

BOB

Wake up. This isn't you. You'll never be happy here. You'll never feel right about your decision.

MIKE

So what am I supposed to do? Forget all of my doubts, my fears and fight for what I feel is right?

BOB

Yes. That's why you went to law school. If you fail then you fail, but you've got to at least try. Argh, I'm wasting my time. I sound like an afterschool special. (BOB starts to exit.)

MIKE

Where are you going?

BOB

It would seem I'm going nowhere, fast.

MIKE

I guess we, at least, have that in common.

BOB

But you can change that. I shouldn't be here. I've got better things to do. You've got better things to do. You need to fix this. Oh, and about your wife?

MIKE

What about her?

BOB

If you love her - every now and then take your head out of your ass and let her know it. You're not in this alone.

MIKE

That's what she says.

BOB

But you never listen. Mark Twain once said, "Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great."

MIKE

Great? I'd settle for just normal.

BOB

I'm counting on you.

MIKE

(Turning away.) You're counting on me. Everyone's counting on me. Who can I count on?
(BOB has disappeared. After a few moments. MIKE crosses to his desk. He picks up the phone but does not dial. He hangs up. Lights out. The end.)