“The red ones, though, they reminded me of hard candy. The sort I bought for a nickel a piece at the Gold Nugget. Every weekend my older brother and I headed there for the small arcade tucked in the back. While he pushed quarter after quarter into the machines, I spent my nickels on candy. So the red ones tasted of childhood,” begins the story I’ve deemed the first in the Nietzsche stories. I started writing the Nietzsche stories sometime in college. Or before college. “God is Dead” was the first tale and told the story of two guys sitting in the Cafe on 42nd Street discussing fidelity. The narrator, whose name is never revealed (and to this day remains only as N.U.—Narrator Unknown),…