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A man went to a psychiatrist


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.

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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?”

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“A hundred dollars per visit.”

“I’ll sleep on it,” said the man.

Six months later the doctor met the man on the street.

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“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?”

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“He told me to cut the legs off the bed!”

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