Shakey went to a psychiatrist. "Doc," he said, "I ve got a trouble. Every time I get into bed, I think there`s somebody under it. I get under the bed; I think there`s somebody on top of it. Top, under, top, under, you got to help me, I`m going crazy!" "Just put yourself in my hands for two years," said the shrink. "Come to me three times a week, and I`ll cure your fears." "How much do you charge?" "A hundred dollars per visit." "I`ll sleep on it," said Shakey. Six months later the doctor met Shakey on the street. "Why didn`t you ever come to see me again?" asked the psychiatrist. "For a hundred buck`s a visit? A bartender cured me for ten dollars." "Is that so! How?" "He told me to cut the legs off the bed!" |