"on genius"

"I suspect that he is a genius of the first order."

"Him? The one with the funny glasses?"

"That's the one."

"He looks a bit like a character from a children's cartoon show, doesn't he?"

"Have you ever talked to him? He comes to the cafes quite often. Mostly on Tuesdays, during lunch."

"Doesn't he have a job?"

"Oh, he's got all sorts of jobs. He writes, of course, and shines shoes and helps the elderly and teaches part-time at the prison."

"I don't see how someone with those glasses can be a genius."

"I didn't say he was a genius. I said I thought he might be one. He came into the cafe once and somehow we started talking. He always keeps these torn bits of paper in his pockets, filled with writing, and he takes them out whenever he has a chance to sit down. He's quite fond of Salinger, he told me."

"People who find Salinger wonderful are mental."

"I'm fond of J.D. myself. And geniuses are all a bit mental."

"You mean to tell me you're a genius?"

"Did I say that? I meant genius aren't normal, are they?"

"So what else? He likes Salinger, like half the angst-ridden teenagers in the world."

"He drew me a comic character in five minutes. But it wasn't just that. Immediately afterward, he told me the whole history of the alien. Like what planet he came from, what he's doing here on Earth, what villains he must battle. It was amazing."

"Right."

"He also doesn't like poetry. Except for Braftwenzak."

"Never heard of him."

"That's because he doesn't exist."