(Cowering at the wall): Please stop—
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: Staring straight into the sun, which is probably the most painful thing I can think of—splinters going into my eyes!
(They all scream as the target leaves her eyes and the lights brighten.)
VOICE (Over loud music): Eyes eyes eyes!—
(A Phallic Serpent rises from the ocean, then sinks down again.)
NIETZSCHE: Where is my Chinese horse? Where is my Chinese horse?
THE DANGEROUS MAN (Overlapping): What the hell are you talking about? I don’t understand you, Mr. Nietzsche.
(Nietzsche falls to his knees.)
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: My God—here is a voice we dare not allow to speak directly because— (Puts her hands on Nietzsche’s brow) —the madness of this voice is infectious, and if one hears this voice speaking directly for itself, one is intoxicated by such speaking, one leaps from high windows, one plunges into wide rivers—from the power of whose turbulence—no escape seems possible.
THE CHILD (Prancing in the ocean, singing): I know where that voice is coming from—I know where this voice is coming from—
(The Scholars bring on two stuffed horses, which they throw back and forth. Nietzsche grabs one of the horses and dances with it affectionately. A Voice is heard over the music:)
VOICE: Here is a man—here is a man, here is a man who simply cannot opt out of his own self-destructive motives—who listens to himself only.
(One horse is wrenched from Nietzsche’s grasp, and he runs for the other, but that second one is thrown past him—he grabs for it but ends up clutching only his own body. He advances to the probe, throws himself against it and sings:)
NIETZSCHE: Where is my Chinese horse? Where is my Chinese horse?
(A wild dance follows. One of the horses is placed on Nietzsche’s back, and he prances around the stage as the Child hits her cymbals and the lights fade to black.
When the lights come up, the Dangerous Man is at the side of the stage dressed in a bloody apron and feathered hat, holding a tray of raw meat. Nietzsche slumps, exhausted, on a bench, embracing his horse.)
VOICE: Here is a man.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Hard to believe, Friedrich Nietzsche, philosopher of power—the missing years of sweet, gentle, Bad Boy Nietzsche—years in the desert, in the lonely mountains of China—unknown years in lonely rooms in Chinese rooming houses— (Drops the tray to the floor with a loud crash) —visited in secret—by the ghosts of wise men seeking power—ghosts of ancient China.
THE CHILD (Bending over the tray): Where is my Chinese horse?
NIETZSCHE (Rising, hugging his horse): This is my Chinese horse.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Chinese or no Chinese, that doesn’t mean shit to me.
(A crash of Chinese cymbals. The Beautiful Woman, with bare breasts, appears above the ocean.)
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: I can relate to this, please—I too am banished to some nether region, where the best I can do is to try understanding the goddamn rules on this particular shithouse planet—
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Sorry about this, Mr. Nietzsche.
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN (Disappearing): That bastard is NEVER sorry!!
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Hey!—spiritual self-laceration is not to my taste.
NIETZSCHE (In his own world, hugging his horse): Nobody sees my Chinese horse. Nobody sees my Chinese horse. Nobody sees my Chinese horse.
(The Child bounces up and down on a second horse as the Scholars dance around her. The Dangerous Man reenters carrying a ceremonial red Chinese wagon wheel.)
THE CHILD: Is it not true that to pursue and sing whatever one truly desires inside each moment as it passes—this is to pursue—incoherence in fact—
THE DANGEROUS MAN (Overlapping): Chinese whores and horses! Chinese horses and whores!
THE CHILD AND THE DANGEROUS MAN: True! True! True! True!
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN (Reappearing, fully dressed, as things quiet down): Mr. Nietzsche is a man who sees the darkness where other people think there is a light still shining.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: That doesn’t mean shit to this tough Chinaman!
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN (Crossing to cast a spell on Nietzsche): Shit-heads of the entire world. Do you really believe that Mr. Nietzsche’s purpose here on earth is to bring light into places where up till now there has been darkness?
NIETZSCHE (Sings, cuddling his horse in a corner): Nobody sees my Chinese horse.
THE CHILD (Lifting a whip): You’ve never even been to China, you bad bad bad boy.
NIETZSCHE: Whip me, sir, and you whip my horse. (She whips) Whip my horse, sir—and I, also, suffer those same blows. Remember—I’ll pay you very well.
THE CHILD (Backing away; singing): Jews in my bread . . . (Falls over a horse, cries out, and then recovers) I have wonderful—Jews in my bread.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: This does not look like China, you crazy man!
NIETZSCHE: Maybe not . . . but—I’m on my way.
(A tone sounds as the giant shipwreck puppet slides in again. This time, dangling from his fingers, there is a blackboard on which are written magical Hebrew letters. A pair of legs rises feetfirst from the ocean, and, between the two legs, the Phallic Serpent. Nietzsche grabs the whip and starts beating at the waves, rather ineffectively. A Voice sings out: “Hello! Hello! Hello!”
Nietzsche drops the whip and tries to erase the kabbalistic letters on the blackboard as the lights fade to black.
In the darkness a Deep Voice says: “Remember,” and Nietzsche cries out: “Hello!” Then the lights return, the puppet is gone, and Nietzsche sits alone on a bench. A moment later, a big snake with a human hand instead of a head jumps up from the ocean and plops onto the bench next to Nietzsche, with its tail still hidden, invisible inside the ocean.
The Child is heard crying, and then appears onstage, struggling step by step, supported by two crutches that are too big for her.)
(Running back and forth nervously; to the Child) Don’t cry . . . don’t cry . . .
