Bad Boy Nietzsche! and Other Plays. Richard Foreman
squeeze inside this ugly thing—
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: That ugly thing?
NIETZSCHE: Squeeze inside, please! For me.
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: Do you imagine us having sex inside that thing, Mr. Nietzsche?
NIETZSCHE: No. I never said that.
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: Guess what, Mr. Nietzsche. Imagine it, and it might happen.
THE CHILD (As all three enter the cabinet): Obviously it’s going to happen.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Obviously.
(With the other three inside the cabinet, Nietzsche lies on the bench and becomes very excited imagining what’s happening inside the cabinet. The Scholars fan him as the Voice sings a falsetto: “Hello—hello—hello!” Nietzsche falls off the bench in excitement. He rises and hears the moans of sexual excitement from inside the cabinet. As the noise dies down, he looks sadly toward the cabinet.)
NIETZSCHE:
I do not love my neighbor near to me—
But wish he, or she—
Were high up and far away.
(He bangs once on the piano keyboard and howls.)
How else could he, or she—
Become my guiding star?
(From inside the cabinet the Child squeaks in pain. The Dangerous Man mutters: “You’re such a child.” They all exit the cabinet.)
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: All done in here, Mr. Nietzsche.
NIETZSCHE: What happened to the ten dollars, please?
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: Don’t worry, it’s still in our shoes.
NIETZSCHE: OK. Take the money out of the shoes, please. And now see if the money STINKS!! (Pause) Well? Does it stink?
(Pause.)
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: You’ve been a very bad boy, Mr. Nietzsche—
NIETZSCHE: Yes. (Slaps his own wrist) I have—tell me how I’ve been bad.
THE DANGEROUS MAN (Indicates the Beautiful Woman): You had sex with this lady, I believe.
NIETZSCHE: No, that’s not possible.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: A certain species of girlfriend—
(The Beautiful Woman starts chasing Nietzsche around the bench. He falls and she is on top of him, caressing him.)
—a possible wife; an everlasting bundle of—“look but don’t touch.”
(The Voice intones: “Pleased to meet you.”)
Upside-down on the other side of the world, Mr. Nietzsche?
NIETZSCHE (Trying to avoid her caresses): I have not done this terrible thing!
THE DANGEROUS MAN: But you have.
NIETZSCHE (Looking away): In my dreams only.
(The Beautiful Woman leans over and kisses Nietzsche.)
THE CHILD (Sings): We all love Chinese babies.
(Nietzsche pushes away from the Beautiful Woman, as the Upside-down Cardboard Legs and Serpent rise up from the ocean.)
NIETZSCHE: No! In my dreams I have. So punish me for such terrible dreams.
(The Dangerous Man, the Beautiful Woman and the Child strip to the waist.)
THE DANGEROUS MAN: Punishment can sometimes be given on demand, but most of the time, what you ask for isn’t exactly what you were asking for—am I right, Mr. Nietzsche?
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN (As she and the Child strike erotic poses): Say something, Mr. Nietzsche.
THE DANGEROUS MAN (Looking at the Beautiful Woman and the Child): Hey. Very nice.
THE CHILD: Say something wonderful, Mr. Nietzsche.
NIETZSCHE (His eyes glued to their naked breasts):
Lest her happiness oppress us . . .
(Nietzsche leaps up and grabs a sword, which he points at the Beautiful Woman and the Child.)
—Cloak yourself in devilish tresses
Devilish wit and devilish dresses,
All in vain! Her eyes express her angelic—saintliness.
(The Voice sings: “Hello, hello,” and the Deep Voice intones: “Ow!” The Scholars run on, all carrying oversized wooden phalluses which they manipulate in inventive ways, as the Beautiful Woman sings operatically: ”Friedrich Nietzsche!”)
(Watching the Scholars rub their phalluses) This too shall pass.
THE DANGEROUS MAN: This will not pass, buddy.
NIETZSCHE: Help me. (Takes off his pants)
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: You bad boy.
(Nietzsche lies back on a bench, holding his penis, as the Scholars gather around to look.)
NIETZSCHE: Help me!—I have this appendage on the front of my body that swells up sometimes. It does—it really does! It’s called my penis, I suppose.
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: You bad, bad boy.
NIETZSCHE: A great variety of species on this planet have a similar system that swells up. But why is this necessary? Why? Why?
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN (Advancing toward Nietzsche and posing): Maybe the grid on which you chart your experience is never your experience, Mr. Nietzsche.
NIETZSCHE (Rising to study her exposed breasts):
Oh, why is she clever now, and so refined?
On her account a man’s now out of his mind.
His head was good before he took this whirl,
He lost his head—to the aforesaid girl!
(The Scholars run in with white sheets, some trying to clean the walls, others winding Nietzsche in a sheet to hide his penis.)
I’m sorry. I’m sorry—I have this appendage—on the front of my body—it swells up sometimes.
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: Make some babies, Mr. Nietzsche.
NIETZSCHE: Babies? —NO! (Runs to grab onto the cannon, holding it like a security blanket)
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN (Hushed voice, displaying her body): Millions and millions of babies—making millions and millions of thoughts, Mr. Nietzsche—until that one day finally comes, when every possible thought has finally been thought, Mr. Nietzsche.
NIETZSCHE (Whispers): Is that really possible?
(The Beautiful Woman comes to look at Nietzsche, then turns and throws herself against a probe.)
THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN: But—it takes a lot of babies—until all possible thoughts—
(There is a thud that throws the Scholars against the walls.)
—can finally be thought. So then—this