The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows Episode 11: Caleb Collins Fights Back, Part ONE

Lovingly dedicated to Tom Jennings/Don Briscoe. You've been an inspiration. For this, you are truly avenged. :)

MILLIGAN: Good evening, and welcome once again to The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows. I am your host, Sir Simon Milligan, deferring, if you will, any need to monologue a cryptic version of the sinister divulgences as once were announced by various cast members. Enough hot-potato has been played on that account. (Weirded out.) Wait what, ouch! H-h-h-hot potato? Where did this come from?

HECUBUS: Toss it to me, Master! Ouch! Hot!

MILLIGAN: Well so much for my summoning! Manservant Hecubus, ladies and gentlemen.

[hoots and applause]

HECUBUS: Ouch! Thank you! Ouch! It's like a red hot coal from-ouch-the darkest underworld. Ouch!

MILLIGAN: (aggravated) Oh, Hecubus, get rid of that, will you? And not at me!

HECUBUS: Did someone in the audience order a hot-potato? Oh, you sir? Here, stick your fork there-ah! Ouch!

MILLIGAN: Oh, just stab it- oh, hey, three pronged fork! That's a devilish diner for you! Enjoy your meal.

HECUBUS: And now we must update our listeners with what is happening upon the Collinwood Estate, and thereabouts.

MILLIGAN: Yes! While Tony Peterson and Carolyn Stoddard have won the hearts of Gull Cottage, they've decided to stay there for some R&R. Also, at the main house of Collinwood, Elizabeth Stoddard has been moved to the sofa by Roger Collins and Cousin Lily as they reacquaint with each other while attempting to revive Mrs. Stoddard from her unexpected swoon.

HECUBUS: Master, why did Mrs. Stoddard faint, anyway?

MILLIGAN: Obviously because Cousin Lily was so ghoulishly elegant.

HECUBUS: Oh! Of course, Master.

MILLIGAN: Meanwhile David and Sarah are having the play time of their life at The Old House, and what adults remain are too tired to concern themselves much with the noise they might be making. However, the one adult who has not remained has finally reached home and will be confronting her father about all that Sarah explained, and more.

[Dark Shadows theme]

HECUBUS: And now at the Evan's Home.


[door shuts]

MAGGIE: (distressed) Pop? Pop?

[steps, wiping hands on cloth]

SAM: (brisk) Ah! Had a good evening, Maggie? Just got the new percolator fired up again. Works like a charm.

MAGGIE: That's… great… but…

SAM: (concerned) Oh, dear. Maggie, you look terribly worried. A little sour date can do that. Have a seat.

MAGGIE: It's not that, and I wasn't on a date… I mean…

SAM: (concerned) Maggie Evans, sit down here. Now look me in the eye and tell me.

MAGGIE: Well, I don't know where to start… I just… (stammers) Pa—Pa?

SAM: (light gasp) So… do you… are you, recalling things… as well?

MAGGIE: Recalling? … what?

SAM: Maggie, you look very tired. Did you get enough sleep?

MAGGIE: Yes, I'm sure, but so much has been happening. Pop, where did that painting go?

SAM: Oh? The one of the Captain? Miss Stoddard and Mr. Peterson picked it up this morning to take it back to Schooner Bay. It's all done.

MAGGIE: Oh, well, that's good, but what I meant was, who was in it? I mean. Did you know him? The Captain?

SAM: Oh… (sighs) Yes, I think did is the operative word.

MAGGIE: DID? Pop? What has been going on?


HECUBUS: And while Sam attempts to give young Maggie an explanation, our Lily of The San Fernando Valley, and Roger Collins share the job of bringing Elizabeth Stoddard back to consciousness.

LILY: Lizzie… Lizzie?

ROGER: Here, try these. I'll get her a brandy while I'm at it.

LILY: Here, smelling salt, Lizzie, come on, come on now.

ELIZABETH: (sniffs) Oh..ah, OH!

LILY: It's all right, Lizzie, it's me, Lily. Oh, I was worried you might not recognize me.

ROGER: Here, Liz, have this. And don't be so anxious. It is Cousin Lily, I've assessed that. She's just a bit dressed up.

ELIZABETH: Oh, oh… yes, let me have a (sips) all right, I might get myself to… Cousin Lily… is that really you?

ROGER: (a tad impatient) Of COURSE it's her, Liz. Give her some credit for livening up a little in such a graceful gown… even if she did throw on a greenish-white pallor. I'm sure she's just having a bit of fun.

LILY: Oh, well. I suppose neither of you ever saw me this way. It is my most natural form.

ELIZABETH: (taken aback) Natural?

LILY: (innocently) Why, Elizabeth. You look disapproving.

ROGER: (glass clumps to table) Well, I certainly am. Elizabeth Stoddard, our Cousin Lily has come all the way here at lightning speed to help you retrace your steps. I believe you ought to be grateful, even if she is a bit queer to look upon. Pause and acquire a little perspective. I'm sure she has the best intentions. If it's so difficult to digest her visually, then maybe you should just have your bit of women's talk (takes a breath) with your eyes shut.

ELIZABETH: Oh… I… I am surprised… but… I suppose you're right, Roger.

ROGER: Of course I'm right… and now… I think I'll leave you two to have your time alone. I have to wonder where my son has gone… and frankly, (cheering up) a walk through the woods to the Old House will be fine, brisk exercise.

[steps, front door shutting]

LILY: Well, I see Roger is still rather good at having a bluster. I find we've got that in common.

ELIZABETH: (sighs) Oh, I suppose. Mind you, he has been rather chipper lately. It's turned things around.

LILY: That's good to hear. He seems less lonely than I expected, what with losing that lovely wife.

ELIZABETH: Lovely?

LILY: Yes, you know… (happy whisper) the fiery one.

ELIZABETH: (laughing through nose) OH, my… I was reminded you could get me to laugh. Although I can hardly believe I ever could when it came to Laura.

LILY: (pleased recognition) Ah, Laura, that's right. Well, I'm not sure why it's funny, but whatever works. Oh… (skid across table) Is this…?

ELIZABETH: Ah, I see you've found her picture. That's Victoria. She was my nephew David's governess for a few years. Recently she got married.

LILY: Ohh… I thought she might be Carolyn minus the hair. She resembles you.

ELIZABETH: That's just it, Lily. I think she might be mine.

LILY: (light gasp) Oh! My, you mean… (lowering voice) Leslie's?

ELIZABETH: (inhales) Now you've said it. I thought I'd never hear that name ever again.

LILY: Elizabeth, if we were going by looks solely, she resembles him a bit as well.

ELIZABETH: I want to agree with you, but you know I don't even have a picture of him?

LILY: (happily) I do. (ruffling noise) You see?

ELIZABETH: (Gasping) Oh… wait just a moment. (steps, shuffling, doors closing, steps, sits) Be careful with these photographs! You don't have one of me in, well, a delicate state, do you?

LILY: Elizabeth! I only brought one little bag with me. Anything else is coming by express luggage, and I didn't want to bring it all. But you two were so happy in this one, I had to bring it.

ELIZABETH: Ah, yes. I've had a little passion in my life to look back on. It's hard to believe I was that rebellious, but it was true.

LILY: And me; I was certainly in a rebellious phase of my own. I'd been doing my best to put my kitchen in proper order, and the men at home gave me grief that I was overtly contemporary. So I showed them. When I walked out that door to come get you, they didn't even recognize me. I thought I might as well alter my standards as drastically as they claimed.

ELIZABETH: (Amused) Really? So that's the reason I thought I was seeing Yvonne DeCarlo when we first met?

LILY: Oh, Lizzie, and didn't you strike a resemblance to someone? Ha-ha!(claps) We hit New Brunswick like a couple of Hollywood Starlets. They loaded those compliments like a pirate's hull.

ELIZABETH: (light laughter) Yes, yes, I remember the compliments… but there was only one fellow I ever cared to hear them from.

LILY: Aw, that's my girl. He was very dashing, and rather comical, too.

ELIZABETH: I agree… thank you for bringing this. It's good to see his face again.


MILLIGAN: And we join Roger Collins, freshened by his walk to the Old House, only to find a different form of calamity awaiting his gaze.

[knocks, door opens, sounds of ruckus and children's laughter]

WADSWORTH: Good evening, Sir.

ROGER: Good—what the devil is going on in there?

WADSWORTH: Yes, it can be a tad a nerve-wracking at this point of playground hysteria.

ROGER: (aggravated/confused) David? David? Erm, where is Cousin Barnabas?

BARNABAS: (hazily content) Over here, Roger.

ROGER: (steps) Barnabas Collins, what the deuce is going on around here?

BARNABAS: Ah, Roger, can't you tell? It's the pitter-patter of happy feet.

ROGER: Pitter-patter? Sounds more like a wrecking-ball! David can't be making all that noise on his own!

BARNABAS: Oh, Wadsworth, could you make a little suggestion to them?

WADSWORTH: (slightly agitated) As you wish, Sir, but you do recall in my contract that working with one child was acceptable, but children is pushing it.

BARNABAS: I understand. Just a light suggestion.

[sounds of steps up the stairs and eventually the ruckus dissipates]

ROGER: So! You… why, you look as pleased as I've ever seen you. How can that entire rumpus affect you so?

BARNABAS: Ah, Roger. I have allowed the implausible for the gift of what I was hopeless to ever expect. Sarah has come home for a while, and making peace.

ROGER: Who? Sarah… PEACE? Well, all right, they've quieted down some.

BARNABAS: Roger, David is happy, she is happy and I can't help but invite it all, dream or no dream.

ROGER: Hmmnn… From what I've seen it's as real as it gets. If this Sarah you speak of is the ghost everyone has claimed I must say she sounds as corporeal as a child can get! They'll likely damage more than half the renovations you've had put into effect.

BARNABAS: (contentedly) I don't care… I just don't care. Let them shred the wallpaper, demolish the Lincrusta, and break every spring on every bed jumped upon. I just (laughing lightly) don't… care.

ROGER: (slowly begins to chuckle) Well, why not? I don't know half of what goes on around here, but I know most of the time it makes little to no sense anyway. And here I am back to my impatience while I've been advising everyone else to relax and enjoy themselves. What's a little noise when we have so much to celebrate? I'm eagerly awaiting my annulment to be verified anyway.

BARNABAS: Oh? OH? (claps, rubbing hands) That is marvelous news. I must say you really worried us taking up with that woman.

ROGER: I know. It was like I was under a curse or something.

BARNABAS: Ah, ha… Ah, Roger, believe me, I understand. Now, (liquid pouring) Let us toast the contentment.

ROGER: Oh, thank you. To contentment! (glasses clink, sipping, mild cough) What is this?

BARNABAS: Water.

ROGER: OH? We're toasting with glasses of water?

BARNABAS: Yes, water. I think one spirit in this house is enough for now.

[glasses clinking]

ROGER: Now, I know something is off… ah, well. (sips)

BARNABAS: Hot cross bun?

ROGER: Ah? Well, don't mind if I do.


MILLIGAN: And we return to the Evans Cottage where Sam and Maggie continue their discussion, while the coffee's on the perk.

[percolator sounds in the background]

MAGGIE: So, in this other life, you and I had the same relationship…

SAM: Yes, convenient in a bizarre way.

MAGGIE: But, you and the Captain recognized each other from a more in-between realm.

SAM: I know… it is hard to believe.

MAGGIE: Well, it would be except, if I was going to shrug it off as a drunken merriment I'd have to be an innocent bystander to it and I'm not. With Sarah coming back and my flashes of insight… or déjà vu… whatever it is… I have to believe you.

SAM: And the alternative…

MAGGIE: Ooo! I hate thinking about it. You could be dead, and I'd have no recourse but to pawn everything and move in as governess at Collinwood. At least now I have a choice… and you, Pop.

SAM: Thank you, Maggie. I would have hated to leave you… do the words "mon petite mademoiselle" ring any bells?

MAGGIE: My little… something. Meh, don't start on the French just yet. My head is already spinning.

SAM: I know what you mean. However, I went through an inordinate amount of recall all at once. Sounds like you're digesting it slowly.

MAGGIE: But it doesn't stick, Pop. It's like it comes and I deny it and I can't hold on to what I've seen.

SAM: Hmm. For all I know that might be far more normal. This kind of thing seems destined to be prevented. I remember some balderdash… heh, well, I thought it was balderdash at the time, but you know, those hypnotizing sessions some people get and they remember all kinds of crude details.

MAGGIE: Oh? Hmm, hypnosis… why is it… I feel like… that's what's put me in this trouble to begin with?

SAM: Say! There's a thought. Doctor Hoffman… didn't she use hypnosis when she treated you? Maybe she had you in a trance, heard some of this stuff and tossed it off as a total fantasy.

MAGGIE: Wow… it just gets murkier.

SAM: Ah, sounds like the percolator's finished. Let's pour this out.

[clicking cups, liquid pouring]

MAGGIE: I think I'll add a little chili pepper. Maybe that'll wake me up more. So, how much did Barnabas Collins offer to pay you for altering that portrait?

SAM: Five hundred dollars.

MAGGIE: For real?! I know he's wealthy but a price like that still sounds desperate. That's a good down payment on a 4-door sedan.

SAM: I know. And I can't accept it.

MAGGIE: Pop! You're going to turn it away? After all you've gone through?

SAM: No, not entirely. We'll get by and he had a few other paintings in mind anyway. But this one feels like blood-money, whether or not I've been enlightened by the experience. I'll ask him not to make the check out to me. I aim to donate it to a cause. It's one based in New York, I just have to call and ask to whom it should be filled out. Anyway, what about you? How do you feel about Barnabas Collins?

MAGGIE: (clink of cup to saucer) That's a juggle. He's really scared me at times, and then at others I find myself amazingly satisfied. And through it all those flashes of familiarity come in to interrupt them. Sometimes they're startling and sometimes they're wonderful, and sometimes it's subtle, like a head tilt I recognize or an inflection of his accent, both foreign and reminiscent of something.

SAM: (snaps fingers) And that portrait! The man must be a reincarnation of the other. Plus with his historical and familial compulsion to restore that house to what it was, and recognizing Sarah the way he did; he probably knows he's come back too and just doesn't say it. People would think he was a crackpot.

MAGGIE: And he uses phrases and words that can't just be slang out of England, not modern slang anyway. (chuckling) You should have heard how he sent away the magazine rep, though! I know I needed that laugh pretty bad.

SAM: (light chuckle) Sounded like a good one. I must say, we should look through that crate, but now that I have so many of the pieces to the puzzle I'm more than a little worried to go over there. It's going to look like such a desolate wasteland of what was once so elegant to me now.

MAGGIE: Ah, Pop. Always the tortured artist. You could do some sketches of the place if you get too uncomfortable. Sounds like a unique theme, half distressed and half sparklingly regal.

SAM: Ha! That's the ticket. (pause) Maggie, what were they going to pay you to take up the Jane Eyre bit up at Collinwood anyway? Six hundred a week?

MAGGIE: Pop! I don't believe so. Why did you come up with such a large figure?

SAM: Oh, many years ago you spoke of how Victoria was so brave to go. They couldn't pay you a hundred bucks a day to work in a spooky joint like that. I figured six hundred for the five days was more than one hundred a day.

MAGGIE: HA! Did I say that? I guess I would have. But- let's quote ourselves correctly; Why should I hate Collinwood? It's just a nice, respectable house filled with nice, respectable horrors.

SAM: Touché.


MILLIGAN: We now take a quick look-see upon the inhabitants and guests of Gull Cottage in Schooner Bay.


[sounds of ocean and seagulls etc, steps and a tray is set down]

MRS. MUIR: Ah, a little herbal tea, and some hors d'oeuvre. You two seem very cozy resting on the porch.

CAROLYN: (blissful) Oh, thank you so much for letting us stay a while. The weather is so gorgeous and this view is wonderful.

MRS. MUIR: You're welcome. I've always liked it… Oh, looks like Candy and Jonathan are keeping those kites up.

CAROLYN: Yes, it's actually been relaxing to watch them. I've been reflecting on their mischievous food fight and how we have them to thank in a way for all this turning out so well.

MRS. MUIR: Yes, but never let on. We got lucky but no need to encourage bad behaviour.

TONY: (sighs) I have to admit it is a beautiful day. I haven't seen anything like it for a dog's age.

[small dog barking]

MRS. MUIR: Now, now, that was no reflection on you, Scruffy.

TONY: I'm not in any hurry to find out, but I do wonder where the Captain's gone?


MILLIGAN: Yes, we have been wondering when the Captain would get to his errand.

HECUBUS: Well, Master, it seems that Captain Gregg was having a hard time locating the Stephens home. There seems to be a discrepancy of whether it really was so near Manhattan or actually in Westport, Connecticut.

MILLIGAN: Westport, Connecticut? That's quite a commute. How many newspapers did Mr. Stephens subscribe to in order to endure the train distance to his Manhattan office each day? Or did he spend his time clipping coupons for the A&P?

HECUBUS: Perhaps Mr. Stephens listened to a portable music device?

MILLIGAN: (sighs) Yes, Hecubus, I'm sure the man lugged around a bulky reel-to-reel machine. That would certainly have passed the time!

HECUBUS: Hee, hee, hee.

MILLIGAN: At any rate, Captain Gregg, after a couple of failed attempts, has finally arrived within the house at 1164 Morning Glory Circle.


GREGG: Ah… so this is what a modern home looks like these days. It's no Gull Cottage.

[steps down stairs]

ENDORA: (suspiciously welcoming) Oh? Hmm… came in on your own did you?

GREGG: Ah! Good afternoon!

ENDORA: Shh! Come this way. I can tell you're not a brush salesman, and arriving as you did I presume you're hardly human.

GREGG: Yes, Madame. I hope my appearance has not alarmed you. Do tell me, why must we draw away from the stairs?

ENDORA: My grand-daughter is having her siesta. I am watching over her.

GREGG: Oh… I see. Let us adjourn closer to the fireplace. So you are the grandmother?

ENDORA: (self-assured, as usual) Yes… as for you… I can almost place you.

GREGG: (thoughtfully) And I you. Tell me did you ever sail upon the Atlantic in… well. I dare not presume a woman's age.

ENDORA: More and more familiar… from the looks of you I dare ask if it mayn't have been the 1860's?

GREGG: Ah, That would be putting it some time ago. But I must admit you to be quite correct.

ENDORA: Oh… (gratified) Well, it is nice to meet a higher element of specimen in my daughter's home.

GREGG: You flatter me, Madame. So, I gather you are one of the lovely witches hereabouts and not the standard make of mortal.

ENDORA: Quite so! Now, tell me, wasn't there a bit of a ball upon The Hawk, perhaps about 1863?

GREGG: (recalling) Why, yes! Ah, those were the times. Much more ornamentation along everything.

ENDORA: Precisely. I've often wondered why so much less is ornate now with so many more inventions of putting that into effect.

GREGG: You do impress me, Madame. Did we not have a dance upon The Hawk?

ENDORA: Ah… well…

GREGG: Yes! The song was "Thermen Waltz" and you braved an altercation of convention and asked me for a dance, did you not?

ENDORA: Yes… I believe I did.

GREGG: And then I… oh… wait a moment.

ENDORA: Yes?

GREGG: (fumbling) I, ah… I think I may have had to use the facilities.

ENDORA: (stretching the pleasant tone) Keep thinking, sir. You're getting warmer.

GREGG: Oh.. ah… I remember… now… oh… dear…

ENDORA: Yes… Captain… Daniel…. Gregg… you… refused me.

GREGG: Well, I, I must have had good reason.

ENDORA: (peeved) Good reason? To refuse a lady taking an unconventional chance? Perhaps I might turn your head about this time, Captain.

GREGG: Madame, I'm sure you're powers are indomitable, but I am a ghost now. And I have powers of my own!

ENDORA: Oh, yes? Show me!

[thunder crashes]

ENDORA: Ah, ha-ha-haaaa! We'll see about that.

[heavy rain pelting cloth and sloshing water]

ENDORA: You probably want to halt the water works, Captain.

[sounds stop, except for sloshing and dripping]

GREGG: (shaking off, water dripping to carpet) Yes…. I see… my… it's been some time since I've been so very… wet.

ENDORA: And you still haven't apologized, Captain.

GREGG: Madame? Haven't you had your revenge?

ENDORA: Oh? Perhaps I haven't gotten started yet.

GREGG: Oah! Just like a woman! Never allow one on board ship! Bad luck!

ENDORA: OH? The flaming impudence. Don't start with me Daniel Gregg! I remember when you were a mere cabin boy!

GREGG: And here I was looking for help.

ENDORA: HELP? You want help from me?

GREGG: I doubt I could afford it. I'm looking for a Samantha Stephens.

ENDORA: My daughter? Very interesting! Did you intend to cast aspersions on her as well?

GREGG: No, I do not, Madame. I'm here for the sake of a friend.

ENDORA: Well, as of right now… any friend of yours is as near an enemy of mine as you'd like to know.

GREGG: But, Madame, I must-

ENDORA: Away you go, Captain Gregg! Until you can learn some manners!

[harp ripple]

GREGG: (with echoing voice) Blast you, WOMAN!


MILLIGAN: Hmm… that didn't quite go as he'd hoped. Ah, well.

HECUBUS: I suppose he'll be fine. And for our audience, we abruptly halt this episode because your creator has come to the realization that its original inception was too darn long.

MILLIGAN: It IS a long road before us. And so PART TWO of Episode 11 of The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows shall be coming soon if no catastrophe's manage to halt it's flow. We'll see you all a little later!

[Witchcraft by Matt Costa as outro]

All Due Respect to:

The Kids In The Hall

Clue (1980's film)

The Munsters (1960's TV Show)

The Ghost And Mrs. Muir (1960's TV Show)

Bewitched (1960's TV Show)

And of course, Dark Shadows (1960's TV Show)

The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows is a Daryl Wor production.


[Author's Note: Both parts in text form are in the same area here to keep from altering the numbering system. I had to split the podcast version in two separate chunks because it ended up being over an hour in length. Feel free to check out the podcast version at archive dot org, podomatic or iTunes. Would love to hear if you enjoy it and what you liked.]


The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows Episode 11: Caleb Collins Fights Back, Part TWO

Lovingly dedicated to Tom Jennings/Don Briscoe. You've been an inspiration. For this, you are truly avenged. :)

MILLIGAN: Welcome back! We dispense with the usual trivialities to this jump into part two of our epic 11th Episode. We left off where our Captain Gregg was foisted into realms unknown by Endora when they met.

HECUBUS: Not very nice, Master.

MILLIGAN: No… quite evil, indeed. Manservant Hecubus? What do we have to look forward to now?

HECUBUS: Currently there is a Nicholas Blair off to visit a bit of a coffin parlour.

MILLIGAN: (sighs) Och… Him again?


[door knocker hits twice, door creaks open]

UNDERTAKER: (gloomy-drawl) Mm-yes?

BLAIR: Ah, you're the undertaker, yes?

UNDERTAKER: That is correct, sir. I do recall an appointment with a Mr. Blair at this hour. Do step in.

BLAIR: Ah, quite an array of choices here- eh? Huh? What are you doing?

UNDERTAKER: Just taking a few measurements (pencil scribble) it's never too soon to plan ahead.

BLAIR: What? You're much mistaken. This is for my grandmother. I am in perfect health.

UNDERTAKER: Of course, sir… but it is a very insecure world isn't it?

BLAIR: Only lately.

UNDERTAKER: Ah, I understand sir. I believe that you wanted the stained mahogany with scarlet lining, though I am afraid…

BLAIR: Huh? What on earth is that cutlass carved into the top for?

UNDERTAKER: As I was about to warn you, Mr. Blair, we have yet to complete the engraving.

BLAIR: (taken aback) Pardon me! I didn't request an engraving.

UNDERTAKER: Oh… aren't your grandmother and yourself… interred at the Collinsport Inn?

BLAIR: Yes, of course. What does that have to do with a symbolic engraving?

UNDERTAKER: Do forgive me, sir. I naturally presumed you both were part of the Shriner's gathering there and would approve of their logo upon the casket. Perhaps your grandmother is fond of Caribbean History? I know the cutlass was used for harvesting sugarcane and so on.

BLAIR: (snorts)Hmmph, well we do have a minor connection to Martinique.

UNDERTAKER: Excellent sir. It is marvelous how some mishaps turn out so comforting.

BLAIR: (sighs) Very well. So, may I presume you could have this coffin delivered with some kind of covering? I've found that the manager of the Inn isn't so reasonable.

UNDERTAKER: Ah, well, that would not be part of the normal formalities. Have you had your grandmother presumed dead?

BLAIR: Heh… She's not dead, but she isn't so well. I'd like the casket today.

UNDERTAKER: As you wish. Would tomorrow be suitable?

BLAIR: Well, tonight would be better. I only have one more stop on my way back to the Inn.


HECUBUS: As this transaction is completed, there are a few stirrings from the less aggrieved at Wyndcliff Sanatorium.


[door closes]

STOKES: Ah, lovely office, Doctor.

HOFFMAN: Yes. Looks like the fish are all well and good… oh, well. I see one is missing. (sighs) Well, what did I expect? I haven't been very attentive lately, and one can only presume so much from a quick replacement and an intern. So, how is the patient?

STOKES: You'd be surprised, I think. Mr. Loomis is doing quite well… ahem… for a start.

HOFFMAN: Oh, no… he's not still drawing practice strokes and spacing, is he?

STOKES: No, no. But he is working on the capital letters. I'd hoped he would start with the smaller version of the cursive alphabet, but he is determined to stick to what he considers the basics.

HOFFMAN: Mmm, he should probably just practice with numbers, but if he has a mind to do it—

STOKES: Let him do it his way, I know.

HOFFMAN: Professor? That's the third time today you've finished one of my sentences. Am I really so predictable?

STOKES: Oh, I don't think it's that. (fingers along books on shelf) Ah, I see your copy of Bulfinch is rather worn. Would you like a replacement copy? I have several.

HOFFMAN: Well, that's kind of you to offer, but I usually check the more modern Edith Hamilton books on mythology now… Not that a great deal of my patients require me to use it… not that I see a great deal of patients anymore…

STOKES: Yes, I had wondered. Perhaps you've got more taste for lecturing?

HOFFMAN: Ah… perhaps … to a certain person.

[phone rings, picks up phone- and yes a clunky 1960's one]

HOFFMAN: Hello… oh, well, Dr. Lesh isn't here right now… What? Oh! Yes, this is Dr. Hoffman, I'm just surprised to receive a call here right now… Oh, Mr. Evans? … Hmm! That is strange… I wonder what could be causing that… Well, I'm not sure when I can—oh, actually now that I think about it, I can't see why I can't come over tonight… Oh, yes, in my professional capacity, yes. Well, I'll have to stop into Collinwood before then… Oh?... All right I'll tell him. See you then.

[phone clunks down]

HOFFMAN: Well, that was something… Sam Evans to call out of the blue about Maggie having flashes of… hmmm.

STOKES: What did he want you to tell to whom?

HOFFMAN: Even stranger, he wanted to send a Hearty Hello to Barnabas Collins from the both of them.

STOKES: I suppose there are good feelings between them.

HOFFMAN: None that I ever expected to see again. (contented hum) I suppose things really are settling down around here. Wouldn't that be splendid?

STOKES: Yes, and perhaps more splendor to come. Shall we go together to Collinwood?

HOFFMAN: Oh, I'm actually planning to head to the Old House on the estate, not the main one.

STOKES: Just what I was after.

HOFFMAN: Ah, well, why not? It's all going so well, and I must say, I'm enjoying the company of an academic lately.


HECUBUS: AND with no one the wiser to any possible troubles, we follow Nicholas Blair and his mischievous grin as he assumes to take over one of the lesser known homes on the Collinwood Estate.

MILLIGAN: Ah-ha! Let's see if this time he can succeed at any deviltry… WITHOUT stealing our lines!


BLAIR: (speaking to himself, walking) This should be simple enough. I know some of what I expected to happen here went troublingly wrong, like why Mrs. Stoddard was still alive and getting kicked out of Collinwood. They should have given me this old place. Well, looks like it hasn't been used in nearly a hundred years. This old House by The Sea is empty enough. It should be as vacant as… as… well, as Cassandra's expression when people caught on to her real identity as Angelique.

[door knob rattling, door creaking, steps echoing]

BLAIR: (gloating) Oh, yes, this will be perfect, no more kowtowing to that Mr. Wells buffoon. All this space and they want to keep it locked up? I can empathize if it's greed. Ah, these rooms, perfect. Don't worry my little abode. I'll take good care of you.

[scuffing steps]

TOM JENNINGS: Hello? Who's there? Mr. Collins?

BLAIR: (under his breath) Damn… (regular voice) Oh, hello there! Do pardon my intrusion. I was just looking around.

TOM: Oh… So, is this how hardware suppliers dress these days? That being the case you can bring in the shipment of two-by-fours I need for the support beams, unless-

BLAIR: (self-assured) Oh, no, no, I'm not with any hardware store.

TOM: Aah, I didn't think so. Well, I guess you're early bringing in the Persian rug. Mr. Collins didn't want that installed until I'd had better flooring to replace the old tiles in here.

BLAIR: Oh, no… I'm not in the rug business.

TOM: Is that so? It gets better. I guess you don't belong here at all, huh?

BLAIR: Well, I just wanted to have a look around. It's quite a spacious… empty… house.

TOM: It's not for sale.

BLAIR: Ha. Nor do I wish to buy it.

TOM: I see. Tell me, do you use a special pomade to wax that moustache, or do you just like checking its twirl while you talk to people?

BLAIR: (haughtily) Welll, I can tell there's going to be some wising up to attend to around-

[loud thumping sounds interrupt]

BLAIR: What was that?

TOM: (laid back) That? Yeah, the noise gets rather stupendous on days like this. I've chalked it up to the house settling or a secret gathering of beatnik wayfarers hiding out up there. If it's the latter I'm sure they eagerly wait for me to leave so they can get back to reading some Kerouac.

BLAIR: Bosh! There can't be anyone up there. It's just you and me, young man, and let me tell you-

[loud thumping sounds continue]

TOM: Holy smokes! That sounds like someone… or something on the top of the stairs.

BLAIR: Well don't just stand there. Go up and sort it out!

TOM: (well-mifffed) Hey-hey! Who are you to call the shots around here? I've been hired to do a job and put this place in apple-pie order. So take a hike, BOZO!

BLAIR: Oh, yeah?

[thumping sound gets louder then halts]

MALE VOICE: (Downeast Maine squawk with Victorian highlights) All right! I've had it. ONE person was just as well, but two of ye is too much fer me!

TOM: (under breath) Cripes… what a beard.

BLAIR: Oh, and who are you?

MALE VOICE: My name is Caleb Collins.

TOM: WHAT?

BLAIR: WHAT?

MILLIGAN: WHAT?

HECUBUS: ALL RIGHT! Another "my-name-is" for my collection!

CALEB: Ye'heard me! It's bad enough I have to stay in this place one hundred years after my death, but to have my home knocked into and then echoing with useless arguments is beyond my patience. I managed to keep away from Daniel's palpitations over Valerie, Elder Quentin's haranguing, Judah's nasty old skull, not to mention Roxanne and all that ding-bat Trask nonsense, along with any other pesky poppycock dunderheads who managed to show up… back in, what is affectionately said by others to be, "MY DAY". Now I must needs listen to the posturing of a hired man and The Imp of The Perverse!? I may not have been much more than a milksop when I was alive, but believe you me; I've had plenty of earthbound existence to make up for it.

TOM: Oh, oh… well… Mr. Collins-

CALEB: Just hold it, handy-man. Now, you there, Mr. Moustache, or don't they call you Blair?

BLAIR: (alarmed) Yes?

CALEB: Vamoose! If I find you've stepped one pointy toed shoe back on my property, I'll be sure to make you believe that the inheritor of Harrowby Hall's Water Ghost had it EASY! Ye'hear?

BLAIR: Well (super-nervous) I don't get the reference, but I believe you.

[stumbling footsteps rushing out and door slams, then door knob rattles]

CALEB: And as for you!

TOM: Y-y-yes… sir?

CALEB: (relenting slightly) Come on back now. You got every call to be here' n'all. My great-grand-nephew hired yer to fix up the place and you seem like a decent lad.

TOM: Well… I had heard there were ghosts on the estate. Although… I hadn't counted on this.

CALEB: It's all right. I won't hurt ye. And I hope I haven't harmed any skepticism that you were especially fond of in your personality. I've likely shattered some of it.

TOM: Oh… well… um… I figured it's either true… or, well. I could be plain nuts.

CALEB: Of course you're nuts! If you weren't nuts what in the heck are you doing in Collinsport? Everyone's nuts around here.

TOM: Er.. oh?

CALEB: Don't tell me you haven't noticed!

TOM: No, sir… well, maybe a… a little. That guy was gutsier than I'm used to anyway.

CALEB: Yeh! Not expecting to see him again. Eh, I see you're still shaken up. Let's just pretend I am alive for now, ye can tell Roger about it later if you really want to.

TOM: I'll have to tell him I saw somebody here.

CALEB: (more jovial) Yeh, sure, a'course. Anyway, I can't promise to stay out of your way, but you may not notice me too much more. Hee-hee! I did enjoy the beatnik line, Mr. Jennings. That actually happened once.

TOM: Oh? And?

CALEB: And what? I knocked around the walls and shook them up enough to leave without their bindles, no more to tell.

TOM: (nervous laughter) Oh!

CALEB: That's better. Hee-hee-hee. (sighs) Well, I guess I better let you get on with your work. And by the by; I know those food cans I kept are rather nasty… AND poisonous with the lead soldering they used to use, so watch out for that when it comes time to dispose of those.

TOM: Really? All right, that's good to know. It's okay I get rid of them?

CALEB: Carefully, mind you! And don't just toss them any place; make sure it's done safely.

TOM: You got it… Mr. Collins, anything else I should know?

CALEB: Yeh, stay away from those apple crates in the basement!

TOM: Why? Have you got some pirate treasure stashed in them or something?

CALEB: Nah, nah—it's my collection of Schweppes bottles. I don't want a single one of them touched.

TOM: Schweppes bottles? Sir… I think by now they've likely… lost their fizz.

CALEB: Bah! That's no issue. I drank the soda before your grand-daddy was even born! I'm just saving the bottles.

TOM: May I ask… well, any special reason you have a collection of Schweppes bottles?

CALEB: What do you care? Maybe I packed 'em in salt water and sand to cloud the glass for a cheap thrill! Or perhaps I warrant to use 'em to send corked messages out to sea and play with the heads of some fool archaeologists. There's any number of uses for an empty bottle.

TOM: Wow… you really are… were… a hoarder.

CALEB: You better believe it. Objects, items, things… they're all better 'n' people any day. 'Specially the cod-pickin' crazies I'm related to!


HECUBUS: Hee-hee-hee! Well that Nicholas Blair didn't steal our lines and he didn't succeed.

MILLIGAN: Yes. That is most reassuring all'round. It seems at this later point in the day, The Old House will be receiving many callers.


WADSWORTH: Sir, I have laid out Miss Sarah's room, but I'm afraid I must wonder why such a little lady of her type requires a room to herself.

BARNABAS: My good man, life without a room to oneself is barbarous. But, the main thing is she asked for it, and I aim to give her anything I can that she requests. Ah, I can see you're still a bit shaken by all the noise.

WADSWORTH: Yes. It has quieted down with Master David and Mr. Collins departure. Neither child appears to be the type to make so much noise… alone.

BARNABAS: I apologize, Wadworth. You've been one of the most understanding men of service I've ever encountered. And yes, I suppose two together can stir up some noise, but two together so happy to see each other again, excited to share and compare all the details of this house they've experienced…

WADSWORTH: Yes, sir. And I gladly accept your apology.

[knocks on door, steps, opens door]

SAM: Ah, Wadsworth, wow. Looks as though you've seen a ghost. I didn't think anything could shake you up.

WADSWORTH: A day of children's rough-house play might do that, sir.

MAGGIE: Oh, you poor dear. Why not give yourself a walk?

WADSWORTH: Yes, I believe I shall, madam. (exits)

SAM: Well, Mr. Collins, you look fresher, though perhaps somewhat fatigued.

BARNABAS: Oh, Mr. Evans! I'm afraid I've neglected you. I owe you quite a sum. (gets up, opens drawer)

SAM: Ah, before you do that, I don't want that check signed out to me. I think we all know what that painting job was meant to pursue, and much is being discovered when it comes to the repetitions of the supernatural, eh?

BARNABAS: Repetitions? Supernatural?

SAM: Reincarnation, Mr. Collins. You know, when people return from an old life into a new body to complete any… unfinished business?

BARNABAS: Oh, I suppose I've heard a little about reincarnation.

SAM: (chuckling) Yes, I think you have. Now, make the check payable to… The Parapsychology Foundation. And, could you write "reincarnation research" into the notes area of it?

BARNABAS: Hmm! If you're sure… I suppose I can squeeze it in there.

[scribbling, perforated paper tearing, door knocking]

MAGGIE: I'll get it.

BARNABAS: Here you are, Mr. Evans. And I must thank you most graciously. I do intend to hire you for less crucial work in the future, but nonetheless welcome portraits.

SAM: Good, as you likely realize, I won't see a penny of the payment for this one.

[door opens]

HOFFMAN: Ah, Maggie. You look very well. I'd heard you weren't so much.

MAGGIE: Oh, that's Pop and I. We're trying to get to the bottom of some memories that flash and then lapse back with me. Wait, wasn't Professor Stokes with you?

HOFFMAN: Yes, he decided to join Wadsworth on his walk. I was hoping to get a ride with you and Mr. Evans if I could. I'm not sure this is the right place to discuss your therapy.

MAGGIE: True. Well, Pop, all done in here?

SAM: Oh, yes. Well, Doctor Hoffman, we might as well wait in the car. Perhaps you have another patient to consult here.

MAGGIE: Farewell, Barnabas. I hope to see you soon, quite soon.

BARNABAS: Oh, of course. I look forward to that. (door shuts)

HOFFMAN: I wouldn't look so forward to it, Barnabas. You know what they've been asking for?

BARNABAS: What with everything going so well, I can't imagine it's so horrible.

[stair steps]

HOFFMAN: They want her memories back. The ones that I suppressed… for your sake.

BARNABAS: (mounting shock) No! No, there's something else going on. There must be. She knows too much Josette really knew. You know she found a crate in Josette's room and she knew what was in it.

HOFFMAN: Oh? That's all likely from her old stay here. She probably just opened it when you kept her here, remember. When you were a much less winsome gentleman?

BARNABAS: Doctor, that crate was sealed, and quite forcibly opened by Wadworth. The three of us were there to investigate it. She could never have opened that and sealed it shut again in her condition then.

SARAH: Of course she couldn't.

["Filby's Theme" by Russel Garcia from 1960's film "The Time Machine" plays]

HOFFMAN: (gasp) Sarah… Collins?

BARNABAS: (coolly) Yes, Doctor. I have an… out-of-town relative staying with me. Now what other kind of blessing do you require?

HOFFMAN: Well, wha- I… I'm so confused.

SARAH: The Evans are waiting for you, Doctor Hoffman.

HOFFMAN: (stammering) Sarah, why? What do you know?

SARAH: Only that you need to help her. (stair climbing steps)

HOFFMAN: Sarah, wait!

SARAH: I'll be here for a while, Doctor. You'll have time to talk to me later. (steps fade out)

HOFFMAN: Well… well… I'm dashed! You behave like this is no matter at all. What insanity!

BARNABAS: It's been quite a mixture of events, but I am willing to go along with whatever my sister so desires, Doctor. I love her that dearly. Now, is there any possible way to find out why Maggie recalls all this… without her… stumbling upon my own devious actions of over a year ago?

HOFFMAN: Hmmph! As usual, Barnabas, you ask for the impossible. I can promise nothing. Though it would be nice to have all of what's been going on explained.

[door opens]

BARNABAS: If that's what you want then perhaps you shouldn't keep the Evans so long. Maggie can likely tell you everything. She was here with me when Sarah arrived with David.

HOFFMAN: (chuckling scoff) Oh! Its times like these I want to go back to my practice. Compared to this estate, Wyndcliff is obviously a mediocre guest house! (slam)

SARAH: Barnabas! Come up stairs and see! He's done such a splendid job on my room!

BARNABAS: On my way! (sighs) Dear Providence, please… if this is a dream, don't let me awake from it.

[stair climbing steps, music fades out, and then "Dark Therapy" by Echobelly as closing theme]

Dark Therapy

High above the roof tops,
Higher than the milky way,
Slipping through the hour glass,
Shooting up the desert plain,
You are one life older than before,
But you can't stop this chill,
Now you're falling in slow motion,
Though the air is still.

If you close your eyes than I can take you all the way,
Let me close your eyes and I will take it all the way.

You are on the outside,
Hands upon the window sill,
I am on the inside,
Carving up the hunters kill.

If you close your eyes than I can take you all the way,
Let me close your eyes and I will take it all the way.

Cruising on a missile,
Cruising on a desert plain,
Wading through a minefield,
Wading through the monsoon rain,
Surfing on an oilspill,
Surfing on a perfect wave,
Porn upon the airwaves,
Rituals of the mating game.

If you close your eyes than I can take you all the way,
Let me close your eyes and I will take it all the way.

All Due Respect to:

The Kids In The Hall

Clue (1980's film)

The Munsters (1960's TV Show)

The Ghost And Mrs. Muir (1960's TV Show)

Bewitched (1960's TV Show)

And of course, Dark Shadows (1960's TV Show)