Shakey 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 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?"