Phobia
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A man went to a psychiatrist for his phobia.
"Doc," he said, "I've got 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 gotta 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 the man.
Six months later the doctor met the man 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!"
