Ever since I was a child, I’ve always been terrified of something lurking under my bed at night. The thought of a mysterious presence in the dark filled me with dread, so I decided to seek help. I went to a psychiatrist and poured my heart out.

The psychiatrist, with a reassuring smile, said, “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.

Alright,” I replied, “but how much do you charge?”
“$80 per visit,” he answered.

I thought for a moment and said, “I’ll sleep on it, and if needed I will come back to you.”

Six months later, I unexpectedly bumped into the psychiatrist on the street. He asked, “Why didn’t you come to see me about those fears you were having?”
I replied, “Well, $80 a visit three times a week for a year is an awful lot of money! A bartender cured me for $10. I was so happy to have saved all that money that I went and bought a new SUV.”
With a bit of attitude, he asked, “And how, may I ask, did a bartender cure you?”
I grinned and said, “He told me to cut the legs off the bed—ain’t nobody under there now!”

This joke perfectly captures the essence of facing our fears with a twist of humor—a reminder that sometimes the solutions we find can be as absurd as they are effective.