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. When 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?” the man asked.
“A hundred dollars per visit,” the doctor replied.
“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 bucks a visit?” the man said. “A bartender cured me for $10.”
“Is that so! How?” the doctor asked.
“He told me to cut the legs off the bed!”