My Psychiatrist

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had a haunting fear that someone was under my bed at night.   Sooooo, I went to a shrink. 

I told him “I’ve got a problem. Every time I go to bed I think there’s somebody under it. I’m scared. I think I’m going crazy.”                   The psychiatrist steepled his fingers just put yourself in my hands for one year.  Come talk to me three times a week, and we should be able to get rid of those fears.
How much do you charge?” I asked.
Eighty dollars per visit,” replied the doctor.
I’ll sleep on it,” I said.

Six months later, the doctor saw me on the street.

Why didn’t you come to see me about those fears you were having?” he asked.
Well, eighty bucks a visit, three times a week, for a year, is
$12,480.00. A bartender cured me for ten bucks.  I was so happy to have saved all that money that I went and bought me a new pickup truck.”
Is that so?” He offered – with a bit of an attitude – “and how, may I ask, did a bartender cure you?”
He told me to cut the legs off the bed.  Ain’t nobody under there now.”

It pays to get a second opinion. . . . .
 

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