—I write on paper, write on wall
With foolish heart a foolish scrawl.
You say—the hands of fools
Deface the table and the wall—
Erase it all! Erase it!
(The pencil falls to the floor with a loud crash.)
I try to help the best I can
I wield a sponge, as you recall
But when the cleaning up is done
Let’s see this super sage emit
Upon the walls, sagacious shit!
(The Scholars begin beating Nietzsche with whips, as a Voice intones: “Pleased to meet you! Pleased to meet you!”)
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Jesus Christ—I heard one bad boy, i.e., Bad Boy Nietzsche, using the word “Paradise”—but this does not look like Paradise the way I imagined it.
NIETZSCHE (Pushing away the Scholars): Wrong.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: What’s wrong about it?
NIETZSCHE: Here I am. Doing my thing, in a place that looks very much like Paradise.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: If Mr. Nietzsche says so, then I guess this is really Paradise.
NIETZSCHE: Here is a list of potent items.
(The items start being passed over the walls that simulate the ocean.)
A crown.
THE CHILD (Carrying a stuffed toy horse with a crown on its head): Oh yes, here’s a really nice crown.
NIETZSCHE: A drum.
THE CHILD: Here comes a big drum.
NIETZSCHE (Holding up his hand): Hand.
THE CHILD (As the Scholars hold up their hands): But there are so many hands available, Mr. Nietzsche. How can we choose just one?
NIETZSCHE: Blindfold! Blindfold!
THE DANGEROUS MAN (As the Scholars cover Nietzsche and the Dangerous Man’s eyes): Under the circumstances, a blindfold— (He slaps Nietzsche, who grabs a chair to defend himself) —might be appropriate.
NIETZSCHE: Knife.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: OK.
NIETZSCHE: Is a chair appropriate?
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Chair. Very appropriate.
THE CHILD: Maybe you favor physical objects over people, Mr. Nietzsche.
(The big bass drum that has been passed over the wall has tubes coming out of it, with funnels on the ends of the tubes, wide end outward. As the music rises, Nietzsche sniffs at a funnel, then holds it to his chest. The Dangerous Man hits the drum, and Nietzsche staggers back as the thud pounds against his heart.)
NIETZSCHE: Maybe that hurts people, but that’s OK. Because I do not favor people. No—not people—but what’s inside people. (Again he allows the Child to place a tube on his chest. The Dangerous Man hits the drum and Nietzsche staggers) Again and again. Shaking things to their very foundations. My iron fist. My feet like fire. My knife like a terrible kiss. (Pretends to stab himself, and a Scholar brings a bloody rag with which Nietzsche tries to clean his hands) Stabbing oneself—hands covered with blood—
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN (A white shawl over her shoulders): Beautiful white wings. (Spreads her arms to extend the shawl like wings) Red blood falling from the eyes.
NIETZSCHE (Wrapping himself in her shawl): That which is oppressive to me, all that I hurl into the depths. Once and for all.
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: Wings.
NIETZSCHE: Yes! Wings! The divine art is flying—to great heights from which one throws what is oppressive into the depths of the ocean! (Skulls appear in the ocean, and Falsetto Voices cry: “Peek a boo.” Nietzsche sings out in falsetto) Shipwreck! (A little boat appears at the top of the ocean) I throw myself into that ocean—Shipwreck! I do throw myself into that terrible ocean! (Dances, stumbling)
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Not much of a dancer, are you Mr. Nietzsche?
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: A better dancer than a singer, maybe.
THE CHILD (With a cymbal and drumstick): OK, everybody start dancing! (Hits the cymbal) And again! And again!
(A large cutout puppet slides in from the side, so big it has to bend at the waist to fit beneath the ceiling. It slowly kicks its leg as it advances. It is, perhaps, the God of Shipwrecks. All start screaming and clawing the walls as the music becomes deafening and the boat heaves violently.
They fall to the floor as the lights fade to black, and a Deep Voice is heard proclaiming: “Shipwreck, shipwreck.”
The lights return and the Child is seen alone, staring at the little boat on the top of the ocean.)
He thought he saw a giant boat
Beneath a silver moon.
He looked again and saw it was
His lonely living room.
He thought he saw the sailors
Throwing bread crumbs toward the sea.
He looked again and saw
A giant fish is eating me!
ALL (As they claw the walls): Help! Help! Help!
NIETZSCHE (Slowly collapsing to the floor): Ow! A splinter, my finger . . .
THE DANGEROUS MAN (Pulling Nietzsche’s briefcase out from beneath a bench): Hey— Look what I found. This is for you, Mr. Nietzsche. (Nietzsche reaches for it, but the Dangerous Man pulls it away and runs to the wall) OK. Let me correct myself—Mr. “Bad Boy” Nietzsche.
NIETZSCHE: What’s in the briefcase?
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Jesus Christ—I don’t know.
NIETZSCHE: Open it.
THE DANGEROUS
