August 28, 200520 yr Bob went to a psychiatrist. "Doc," he said, "I've got trouble. Every time I get into bed, I think there's somebody under it. I'm going crazy." "Just put yourself in my hands for one year," 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 Bob. Six months later, the doctor met Bob on the street. "Why didn't you ever come to see me again?" asked the psychiatrist. "For a hundred bucks a visit? A bartender cured me for $10." "Is that so? How?" "He told me to cut the legs off the bed!"
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