What If I'm A Genius?

Eggs, Swine & Heartfelt Greasy Potatoes

This unrelated graven image of Goldilocks - does not prove anything

So I was sitting around pushing the pencil aimlessly across the creamy expanse of subtly textured lineless paper (in a black bound leatherette sketch-book), when a thought passed thru some crust in my mind and suddenly occurred to me: What if I'm a fucking genius? Then I realized the sheer impossibility of calculating such a relative phenomena - so I backed off a bit and started to consider what I might have for breakfast. Ah, the eggs and swine! The heartfelt greasy potatoes! In small doses I might eat them and still live. Breakfast, that reminds me, I have a story from Phineas and here it is.

Bordello Breakfast

by PHINEAS
Walking on thru to the other side of the tracks, I paused and caught a whiff of homeless Willie. Howdy, he cried out, can you loan me five bucks! Ain't got nothing now Willie, I'll catch you next time. Next time then, God bless you! (you asshole) Willie replied. With that I moved on toward my primary goal - Velma's "Carnal Cavern" or whorehouse, depending on the vernacular. That would be something, going to one on a Sunday morning but I was not that type. What I wanted was two perfectly poached eggs, two sausage links, two slices of bacon and hash browns. I'm not sure what it is, but Velma's beats everything - even if it just the smell of the breakfast there. Just being there at that time leaves me in a trance. Velma asks, well? I say the usual. A girl comes down to the doorway, looks at me and smiles, she wants me and my money - but I want an egg. Here comes the plate - that old cafeteria style half inch thick china. The food is calling me, saying yes yes.... all for you and every minute you are in heaven... I slow myself down not to miss any of the taste droplets coming off the platter - but it is difficult to reduce my voracity and I go on and on at it... like I haven't eaten in days.
     Having finally quenched my thirst and being absolutely sated, I paid my bill with a more than ample tip, got up and left. I crossed the tracks and spotted two freshly ripened maidens on the tennis courts. Did I say freshly ripened!?? Shame on me! Perhaps it has something to do with these breakfasts, and dinners sometimes and lunch every now and then...then a massage upstairs

Phineas has never been to a whorehouse, nor has he even (knowingly) seen one...