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Alexander the Great meets Diogenes, the Dog Prophet

Time: during the decline of the Athenian urban enclaves around 336 b.c.e. The once great city of Athens has recently transcended a social dishevelment of justice and human rights. There is great disillusion, and a shift in the macrotemporal psyche of the citizens.

The Place: a WHORE HOUSE where DIOGENES has just spent the night with NYMPHOS, the goddess of all night sex - and they sit together on the papyrus mulch bundles outside watching the EXCREMENT CARTS back into a nearby pond only a few yards away.

O you goddess! Nonpartisan sitting
on free men such as me.
In every form our limbs did flail!
Our screams; conduction by the gods!
and with steady measure!
How you exalted me; how such lips
impel the tremble and lunge
of my desire!

O Diogenes, you old dog!
How you propel my carnal
How you giddy me in dimples!
I am only left to marvel, why it is - 
that you,
the umparalled and most colossal of 
lovers, are so embattled and
short on cash?

It is the states doing.
Those pocking swine give all the mazuma
to the soldiers - dolts
with broadswords, so they may hack away
what little they retain and prace off to
war, the enuchs!

NYMPHOS laughs as a helicopter flies
over. DIOGENES looks at Nymphos tunic and wags his tongue at her.
Tell me O Nymphos! Why do you chose to dwell where the state has espoused to jettison its offal - And heap their
impotent fantasies at your feet?

Tell me, O Diogenes!
Why would you make such a query?
Do you not also dwell amidst the flying sputum from the mouths of those you call riffraff?

This is true.
Yes I love to shower in their sputum,
with my mouth wide open!
Nymphos, O goddess of endless
sex, you are the piety in my heart.
You have edified mine, and I only
confide that the luscious flowers
grow for you around this cesspool;
So I may fleece them and drape them on
your abdomen and take in the quintessence
of your groove, alive and clammy
with passion!

Diogenes, you have lapsed from my
poisoned honey - yet you have ministered
to me well.
You have tutored me dogmatically in
every canine skill.

You have called me a dog before, are you
so surprised?

I am in rapture tove been your first
student. It will ferment to cliche, no doubt
but a jewel billet amoung the people.

They both sit and hold each other for awhile and watch as clumps of shit fall out the back of a WOODEN CART into the POND.


The CHORUS consists of naked and painted, mentally ill people who talk at the same time.

We are the eyes of the cosmos!
Flies on the heap of sputum!
We roam the streets of Athens, and talk
synchronous - 
We never speak out of turn!
O Diogenes, dog prophet!
O Nymphos, goddess of all night sex!
O they are two people - oh!
And they sit and watch the excrement carts, near the pond.
And Nymphos shudders in abstraction;
And Diogenes departs to rove the streets
of Athens,
Like we do - endlessly urinating.
CHORUS -cont
We pursue Diogenes, the dog prophet!
We adhere to him because he exhibits
distinctive odor,
And we reek as well!
We emulate the dog down to the baths, and watch him as he bathes in front of young people and wipes his buttocks with laurels!

O Diogenes, sexy Saddhu! Where are you
roaming now, Saddhu of Athens, city of sputum!

DIOGENES walks through the streets of Athens skaking his head and holding a LANTERN as the Chorus follows him like zombies. A pack of dogs runs up to the Chorus and starts licking their knees.
Chorus starts to chant.

O Dogs! Dogs of the street, O Dogs!
You lap at our knees, you lap, lap.
You lap at our knees, you lap, lap.
O Dogs! Dogs of the street, O Dogs!
You lap at our knees, you lap, lap.

You pissing peons, theyre dogs!
Dolts! Dolts! Go, get!
Work on some other composition!
Away with you, go follow Alexander!
Boy Alexander - chant about the excrement carts in his honor; now go!

The Chorus suddenly scatters in all directions, throughout Athens pur-grumbling like raccoons.

~Scene Two~

DIOGENES enters the BATHS OF ATHENS and FREE CLINIC, where he sells his blood for wine and one alotted bath.

People are bathing and lying around in the DIRT. DIOGENES is there too, drying off under Apollos tunic.

Enter the young ALEXANDER THE GREAT.

I am Alexander, son of Phillip of Macedonia! 
Soon to be the greatest hero this shitty little town has ever seen!
The townspeople have told me you are strong in their noses. 
Diogenes, O prophet of Dogs!
They say your logos is loco?
Is that the skinny, scruffs?

I am Diogenes, the dog.

The dog?

I nuzzle the kind, bark at the greedy,
and bite louts . . . 

You intrigue me old man. What can I
do for you?

Stand Out of My Light!! Or get me a towel you fathomless militant!

ALEXANDER orders his slaves to deliver 100 towels to Diogenes.

Diogenes, now you have towels to wipe
yourself with.
For your wisdom I could give you treasures that only the son of Zeus could name.
Why do you lie about the ground like garbage?

I am a citizen of the world, and I get more than you, can you do; as well . . . 

I should chop your head off for that one, but you would dull my fine weapon. 

Go toture a poet, general.

Well then eat me! I am not concerned! You are as useful as a blister.
I approach you here today, under the tunic of Apollo - for I have need of your vision; this concerns the lives of my men in the Persian campaign.


(excitedly, in rapture)
O Alexander the Great, the people are rioting again, and the cesspools flow over; Let us flee to Corinth . . . 
-where love is free and the ouzos elixir for the son of Zeus!
Alexander!! Wah-hoo-wee, Alexander!

Ed jumps up into the air and does a split in the air.

Ed Sanders speaks time. We must go!
Farewell O Diogenes, until we meet again; you with nothing, me with something - I am off!
Yet not to Corinth. I shall consult the Pythia in Ammon.
Perhaps someday, you Diogenes will ask the Oracles as I have done.

Yeah, right. Oracles cater to the ill. 
By all means, go - before you miss your riddle!

ALEXANDER takes off to the Port of Athens where his Armada awaits. DIOGENES while tanning, gets an idea for later that evening.

~Scene Three~

Alexander sets sails for the shores of Africa. Seven ships leave port. One life boat tied to the back of the last ship carrys the CHORUS. 
DIOGENES has enacted to stowaway aboard one of the ships and intends to disguise himself as one of the fifty head of ram destined for sacrificial slaughter.

O Poseidon, protect these mighty vessels born from the dark forests of Macedonia, Land of Phillip, land of Alexander - 
Passionate warriors who recite the odes of fallen Troy in their minds.
Pursuing the victory yet to come.
What fun. In the East - he sees the light
of Lydia, and beyond, the house of Ra - Alexander sail on, to Siwah.

ALEXANDER is standing at the hull of the ship, looking out across the sea. GHOST OF XENOPHON approaches.

Xenophon, you have returned to watch me
chase yet another oracle?
What lust compels me to listen to riddles?

(voice sounds ghostly)
I am Xenophone, the Ghost.

(whispering louder)
I know, yes, you know me well . . . 
Your name, as mine returns numbered,
and you know as well the
response from Delphi;
They spoke of my center name?




Your center name, yes. And.


(lets out a sigh)
Alex . . . . . And . . . . . . . . derrrr.

I shall name the world . . . And!
Many will assimilate and accept my name.
We will name Siwah: And!
and Persia: And!
and all points will be . . . And!!

Right. You are the Alex -ander. 

Horns sound. Helicopter flies overs.

One will show both; the other - you
will see,
One ram will stray - dont you do the same!
Persia withers, soon your arrival will
prevail, in spite of forgiveness,
Relish and catch up the blood with animals. It is all in the blood and fire, Alexander - 
Until next time . . . 

Xenophons Ghost disappears, more.

Catchya later man.
(to his crew)
Land Ho! Land Ho! Prepare for 
Africa! Wear your scarfs
and tie your laces!
I want someone to signal to the last ship to navigate ahead of us,
If there be reefs Id spare 50 head of ram and Charlton Heston before endangering any of my men!

Did you say Lamb Ho?

No. I said I want music upon our arrival!
Lets make this thing look good on papyri!

Alexander the Great! Son of Ammon, lead us on!


Plug your ears men! Tie me to the ships mast, I want to hear! I want to hear them! I want to hear the scream of the Sirens!

Who is this sputum?
Who dares to upstage me?!
Take him away - diembowel him and cast
his body to the sea,
Where Poseidon will devour and shit him back out as barnacles!

(CREW attacks KIT CARSON and follows Alexanders orders to the letter.)

Your demands are so great! Alexander!
The Great! Son of Ammon! Lead us to Eternity, in the wake of the blood!

Stop shouting you pathetic slaves!
Everyones been shouting since this damn
thing started!
Stop! Shouting! I mean it! Enough!

I will be in my quarters, pondering my thoughts with pennies, to which ones I should consult the Pythian Priestess of Ammon.
Carry on my good crew, carry on.

In the background, THE ALEXANDER QUARTET with lyres and lutes, play a musing swing diddy as the Armada sails toward port and continues to Africa.

Ships may come and ships may go, as
long as the sea does roll - 
Each sailor lad, likewise his dad, he
loves that flowing bowl.
A lass a-shore he does a-dore, one
that is plump and round, but when his money is gone, its the same old song . . Get up, jack John, sit down!

Come a-long, come a-long, my jolly brave tars,
Theres lots of grog in the jar,
Well plough the briny ocean, with those jolly roving tars!

(hearing music)
Alexanders ship is playing music for arrival. Soon we kill ram for Ammon.

DIOGENES is changing into his ram costume in the boat as they head for the shore.

After awhile, Alexanders fleet drops anchor and leads an expedition into the interior of Siwah. The CHORUS is seen herding 50 head of ram while Diogenes takes off on foot.

O Fuck! One of Alexanders chosen rams have set off . . . off, off!
Now, there will only be 49 blessings?!
Alexander will shit on his horse?!
O What has happened?
He wll use one of us for toilet paper!

Chorus wanders off, urinating under Apollos early glare, on bushes and rocks. DIOGENES runs a good 120 miles in about 37 minutes, arriving at the Oracle. Meanwhile, Alexanders Men encounter THE HALF-PEOPLE enroute to the Oracle.

ALEXANDER stops procession and dismounts.

Is this a spectre before my eyes, is this a test?!

The two HALF-PEOPLE slave over anvils with hammers, forging bells.

O Alexander, why do you see these unseen faces? Cannot you wait until we get there? We see nothing but the desert!

LOOK! They are right there, in front of you; There - The Half-People!

The Chorus cannot see us, O Alexander the Great. We are the two . . . you are the three - these . . are the Bells of Ammon!

ah-Ha! I see. I see, said Teiresias. Tell me you ghostly crooks, how much is the toll this time?

Three rams for the small ones, ten ram for the big.

Since we have no choice but to buy your bells, how about three rams for the small bells, and half the Chorus for two of the big bell? 

Alllllllllllllllllllllllllright. We suppose. We cant allllllllllllllways come together on certain things now, can we?

What the hell was that?

The Half-People smack their anvils and sparks fly everywhere, and bells start to ring.

Alexander orders his guards to slice open the necks of three ram and disembowel half the Chorus dragging their bodies and guts across the rocks to show the Half-People how much they despised the Chorus.

O Ammon, we are grateful, grateful for your big beautiful bountiful bells. We shall ring them;
We shall ring them and ring them - we will
ring them in Siwah, and we will
ring them in Babylon!

Just then the HALF-PEOPLE disappear into thin air and the bells stop ringing and burst into little pieces. Then a leopard appears and begins to stalk the Chorus.
O Alexander, young prima donna and
foolish simp,
You have spilt the guts of most the Chorus,
the whim of your sally
How will you explain this to the Stage Director?

(screaming at the top of his lungs!)
Cease this endless droaning! Youve smelt of urine and I cannot stand this piss anymore!
GUARDS! Take the rest of the Chorus out to sea, disembowel them and cut their tongues out for Hermes! And then cast their bodies into the fathoms where Poseidon can devour them and shit them back out as barnacles and then when you see Hermes and Poseidon hangin out, I want you to kill them too and spoon feed their stool to Zeus and Hera; that oughtta do it! And then kill them too . . . .

Lightning strikes are seen blazing high above in the mountains in the skies followed by thunder and smoke and steam and pigeon cooing, and eventually crickets.

As Alexander has his little moment, a vast swarm of TSETSE FLIES suddenly attacks Alexanders soldier and their entire livestock. Alexander, fearing for his life, takes off skipping down a dirt path past a sign reading: Frontage Road - This Way .

back at the Oracle of Ammon, Diogenes has already arrived and is conversing with the Pythian Priestess; she is blind.
O Pythian sister, we have complicated every simple gift from the gods.

(voice distorts, dream-like)
Diogenes, the saints and ruller can kill just about anything, with blood
For Zeus;
Yet they cannot kill the snake-king.

Here comes Alexander -
O Shortend, dumb-idiot.
Sister . . . I think I have a plan?

I know the scent of dead animals very well, and I smell urine.

Quick, give me your clothes. Ill dress up like you and give Short-shitter his beloved visions.

Yes. Take my clothes, Diogenes. I am an old woman. I will wander out into the desert, naked, open prey.

Thank you Pythia.
We are more curious about the meaning of dreams than about things we see when we
are awake;
If you want to hear a young ruler get the ruse - stick around, I once pulled this off back at the Capitol.

O Diogenes, I was once as young and silly as you, but now: 
I am really really old. And even though you are old, and the sand, tells me, orange - on the shelf, wait, now - waining . . . ugh-tehh - seems . . Ive, if: Say, when did you see that helicopter?
The Pythia falls dead suddenly from being 728 years old. Diogenes changes from his Ram costume into the Pythias clothes and ditches the old sooth-sayer near an ant hole, and hides.

ALEXANDER THE GREAT finally makes it to the Oracle of Ammon. He is joyous. A wolf howls. An eagle glides over head. Alexander draws his sword.
A helicopter flies over.

(voice distorted, warrior-like)
Does the helicopter know what is in the pit?
Or wilt thou go ask the propellar?
Can Fun be put in a silverfish?
Are they after me bum?

DIOGENES calls out from inside the Oracle, altering his voice to sound like the priestess.

Is that the voice of Alexander I hear?
Is that the sound of a desperate King?

I am the son of Zeus, King Alexander,
Trailblazer for the gods! Free agent!
Mighty will blood flow in their honor.
My questions never cease, and I hear voices and footsteps follow me, and when I have to go I cant.

I can only explain you, young man, by assuming that your father was drunk the night he begot you.

I have travelled far from the port of Athens, I have foolishly sacrificed 3 rams for a mirage, and now my army is lain wasted from those damn teeny fleas - if I wasnt so great and manly I too would be left for the jackals.
Now, I am here.
At the rocks of Ammon, ammon, ammon.
To insult the sacred wisdom of the Pythia, voice of fate, speaker of real.

To be saved from folly you need either kind friends or fierce enemies - Ram blood aside, it is not your fault.

ALEXANDER kneels before the PYTHIA.
My road before me is long and bizarre.
What is happening, what mirror what hallucinations; Treatis me and convince.

We are not as hardy, free or accomplished as animals. that is why Zeus wants blood. Aman keeps and feeds a lion. thelion owns a man.

I am afraid these illusions I see will affect my performance in honor of the city-state; they laugh at me, but I am not laughed at.

To be saved from folly you need either kind friends or, shit, I already said that; 
O Alexander, Reason or halter!

I saw fire as we sailed earlier. I saw the Half
People, and the bells . . what could this mean?

A choirmaster pitches the note higher than he knows the chorister can manage.
So do I.

The road of excess leads to the house of wits, prunes are rich ugly old fruits courted by elephants. He who desires but acts not breeds . . . 

People who talk well but do nothing are like musical instruments . . . . 
(helicopter flies over)
. . . the sound is all they have to offer.

A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.

If, as they say I am only an ignorant man uh, woman - trying to be uh,
Philosopher-er, then that may be what a philosopher is.

My head spins in this cavern, one thought fills immensity, O Pythia!?
The eyes of fire, the nostrils of air, the mouth of water, the beard of earth!

Alexander! Get a grip. Calm down and state your political agenda. Be careful that your pomade doesnt cause the rest of you to stink!

What is my fate? O Pythia, in the name of Almighty Dog!
What is my fate?

It is a mystery you will worry about,
Your missions in Persia will carry well,
Look for you butter in the maize, Gold is the color of your teeth, en-blush is the color of your eyes, A lecher becomes a fig tree on the cliff - Yahtzee!!!!

I will not steal a victory. The end and perfection of our victories is to avoid the vices and infirmities of those whom we subdue.

There is no society without Law.
No civilization without a city.
The only real commonwealth is the whole world!

ALEXANDER sits there for a long time scratching his head. DIOGENES expels gas, and quickly slips out the back door of the Oracle, hops in a helicopter waiting for him, and flies off.

In the distance you can hear the ALEXANDER QUARTET and the CHORUS.

Come all you young fellows, so young and so fine,
And seek not your fortune in a dark dreary mine.
It will form as a habit and seep in you soul,
Till the stream of your blood runs as black as the coal.

Where its dark as a dungeon and damp as the dew,
Where the rain never falls and the sun never shines; Its dark as a dungeon way down in the mines;
Its many a man I have seen in my day,
Who lived just to labour his whole life away,
Like a fiend on dope and a drunkard his wine, A man will have lust for the lure of the mines.

I hope when Im dead and the ages all shall roll, My body will backen and turn into coal,
Then Ill look from the door of my heavenly home,
And pity the miner a-digging my bones.