A narrator pushes back against a psychiatrist's diagnosis of crazy, insisting on a kind of genius the adults around them couldn't see. They grew up convinced they thought differently than everyone else, like Bell and Edison, and spent years waiting to be proven right.
It's another one that was very important to me. I really felt this was telling the story of my life. No more ifs or ands or buts, oh no. My analyst told me that I was right out of my head. He said I'd need treatment, but not that that easily led me to be sick. I was the type that was most inclined, when out of his sight, to be out of my mind. And he thought I was nuts. No more ifs or ands or buts, oh no. They say as a child I appeared a little bit wild with all of my crazy ideas. But I knew what was happening. And then I knew I was a genius. What's so strange when you know that you're a wizard at 3? I knew that this was meant to be. But I'd heard little children were supposed to sleep tight. That's why I drank a bit of vodka one night. My parents got frantic, didn't know what to do. But I saw some crazy scenes before I came to. Now do you think I was crazy? I may have been only 3, but I I was swinging. They all laughed at A. Graham Bell. They all laughed at Edison and also at Einstein. So why should I feel sorry if they just couldn't understand the idiomatic logic that went on in my head? I had a brain, it was insane. So I just let them laugh at me when I refused to ride on all those double-decker buses. All because there was no driver on the town. Driver on the town? My analyst told me that I was right out of my head, but I said, "Dear doctor, I think that it's you instead, 'cause I've got a thing that's unique and new, and proves that I'll have the last laugh on you, 'cause instead of one head, well, I've got two, and you know two heads are better than one."
