(The Dangerous Man and the Child hold their stomachs in pain and collapse to the floor.)
If we ate this holy bread, we could all die.
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: Since we are all going to die—from this bread—or maybe not from this bread—it doesn’t matter what happens to us. Therefore, we should kill people.
THE DANGEROUS MAN (Rising slowly): What people should we kill?
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: People we don’t like. People who are already dead.
THE CHILD: That means lots of people.
THE DANGEROUS MAN (Following Nietzsche, who has moved to the side of the stage, protecting his bread): This is all—very interesting.
NIETZSCHE: Remember—I’ll pay you very well.
(Nietzsche sits in a high-backed chair next to the bench. The Dangerous Man selects a golf club from a bag, which a Scholar has carried in. He examines the club carefully, then comes forward and gives a tremendous whack to the back of Nietzsche’s chair, sending Nietzsche sprawling onto the floor as the Beautiful Woman and Child giggle.)
THE DANGEROUS MAN (Putting away his club and nudging Nietzsche with his foot): Jesus Christ—maybe you should work out a little, Mr. Nietzsche. I don’t think you look sufficiently muscular.
THE CHILD: Oh no—he doesn’t look even a little bit muscular.
NIETZSCHE: I’m not supposed to be muscular.
THE DANGEROUS MAN (Selecting another club): Of course—we’d be a little worried if you got TOO muscular— (Whacks the chair, again sending Nietzsche sprawling) Up on your feet, Mr. Nietzsche! Come on now—
(He steps over Nietzsche and climbs up to stand on the bench, hands on hips, as the Scholars enter in the shadows, carrying sticks from which dangle small yellow Jewish stars.)
NIETZSCHE (Struggling to his feet): I can do that by myself.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Turn around. Look me in the eye—
NIETZSCHE: I’m already doing that.
THE DANGEROUS MAN (Spreading his arms halfway): I want you to hold out your arms. (Nietzsche slowly does so) Good. Now—I want you to whisper loud enough so that we can all hear you whispering: “Hello! Am I a prophet flying over the countryside looking into the future?”
(The Beautiful Woman and the Child rise and bow their heads in prayer.)
NIETZSCHE (As he and the Dangerous Man both slowly flap their arms): Yes, I am.
THE DANGEROUS MAN (Mockingly): Well, yes I am, yes I am . . .
(Music builds. Nietzsche backs into his chair. The Dangerous Man gets a golf club and again hits the chair, sending Nietzsche sprawling.)
NIETZSCHE (From the floor, in pain): Tell me. Do you very much like—playing golf?
THE DANGEROUS MAN (Jumping back up onto the bench): As a matter of fact (Does a sudden pose to show his muscles popping) I do like playing golf.
NIETZSCHE: Really?
THE DANGEROUS MAN: I like it.
NIETZSCHE: Why?
THE DANGEROUS MAN: No reason. (Relaxes; he’s threatening nevertheless) But you know how much I like golf.
NIETZSCHE: No, I didn’t know that.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: We’ve been friends for ten years—
NIETZSCHE: Ten long years.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Ten wonderful years.
NIETZSCHE: Ten long years.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: After ten years of friendship, you should know golf is one of my favorite hobbies.
NIETZSCHE (Rising, looking into the distance): You know what? I’ve seen you going off to play golf so often, I’ve concluded—it’s a hobby.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Right. I like it.
NIETZSCHE: Well, I believe you. (Stumbles about with a golf club, tries to execute a golf swing, and gets tangled up in himself until he drops the golf club on his foot) You like it because— (Giving the golf club to the Dangerous Man) —you’re good at it!
THE CHILD (Excitedly, as Nietzsche sits): He hopes to get better. And better—
(The Dangerous Man crosses behind Nietzsche’s chair and starts whacking it with his club as Nietzsche slides to the floor, exhausted.)
—and better and better and better!
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Excuse me, Mr. Nietzsche, but wasn’t there supposed to be money in this for the rest of us?
NIETZSCHE (Pulling out a wallet full of money): A promise is a promise. (Throws bills into the air)
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: Oooh. The gods provide. —Where does all this wonderful money come from, Mr. Nietzsche?
NIETZSCHE: I don’t want to know such things.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Right. Some people get nervous about money.
NIETZSCHE: How did it come to be that there is—money? Rather than—no money?
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN (Giggling): Thank goodness.
NIETZSCHE: How did the world decide to invent, and spew forth—money!?—take off your shoes, please—
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN AND THE DANGEROUS MAN: What?
(The Voice starts singing a falsetto: “Hello! Hello!” Nietzsche grabs a whip and stumbles about the stage, ranting in gibberish, as the upside-down legs again rise out of the ocean with the Phallic Serpent between them. Nietzsche bangs into a wall and the Voice, deepened, exclaims: “Ow! Ow!”)
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: You don’t mean take off our shoes?
NIETZSCHE: I promised lots of money. I’m going to stuff ten-dollar bills inside everybody’s shoes. (Begins to do so)
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: That’s crazy.
NIETZSCHE: Yes—I’m going to squeeze ten dollars inside this shoe, and another ten dollars, and lots and lots of crumpled-up ten-dollar bills.
(The Falsetto Voice sings: “Hello, hello.”)
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: This is crazy—
NIETZSCHE: OK. With ten-dollar bills stuffed inside everybody’s shoes, are those shoes a little bit uncomfortable maybe?
THE CHILD: My shoe is very uncomfortable.
NIETZSCHE: Yes! But having those extra ten dollars makes being uncomfortable—“OK.”
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Ten dollars—not a big sum, Mr. Nietzsche.
NIETZSCHE: Ten dollars? —Well, ten dollars is ten dollars, my friend.
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: OK. We have ten dollars in our shoes. Now what?
NIETZSCHE