Itās 1970. RUDI is in the front hallway outside his fatherās study, in his family home in AsunciĆ³n, Paraguay. He is trying to light a cigarette. Itās difficult because his hands are shaking. RUDI stops trying to light the cigarette for a moment and controls himself. Then he lights his cigarette. He takes a drag. He speaks to the audience.
RUDI: I used to smoke, in Paraguay. Itās a disgusting habit, I know. Iām returning to old habits here.
Beat.
I grew up here, in Paraguay. Fucking Paraguay.
Beat.
At the airport, the customs official had Band-Aids on his hands that were crusted over with dirt and pus. I kept looking at them as he went through my suitcase. Also, he was smoking and the ash kept falling onto my clothes.
Beat.
Iāve been away too long; Iāve been in Germany too long, if these things disgust me.
Beat.
(referring to the cigarette) Thank God forā¦ I bought these at the airport and I just fucking love them.
Beat.
When I lived here, in Paraguay, I smoked packs and packs of cigarettes. TheyāI donāt knowāhelped me, somehow. Now I only smoke to mark significant events in my life.
Beat.
Births.
Beat.
Deaths.
Beat.
Paradigm shifts.
Beat.
When I get laid, I smoke.
Beat.
Prodigal returns. To countries of origin. Paraguay. Although, I wasnāt actually born here. Iām not Latin American; well, look at me.
Beat.
No. I was born in a little hospital, in Berlin. In 1945. Right as my father was losing the war.
RUDI takes a drag of his cigarette. He regards the audience.
Thatās right. My father lost the war, so he mustā¦ beā¦ aā¦
Beat.
Cigarette?
Beat.
I can give you a moment to take that in. Iāve spent my whole life trying to take it in, so, please.
RUDI turns away, smokes.
(singing) āDeutschland, Deutschland, Ć¼ber alles, Ćber alles in der Welt.ā (turning back to the audience) Do you want to meet him? Heāsā¦ here, heās in here, ...