"Psychic counselling!" joke
Santa went to a psychiatrist. "Doc," he said, "I've got trouble. Every time I get into bed, I get this weird feeling that there's somebody under it. I get under the bed, to check it out, but then I think there's somebody on top of it. I go back and forth, all night long, on top, under, on top, under... You gotta help me, Doc, 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?"
"A hundred dollars per visit."
"I'll sleep on it," said Santa.
Six months later the doctor met Santa on the street.
"Why didn't you ever come to see me again?" asked the psychiatrist.
"For a hundred bucks a visit? A bartender cured me for ten dollars."
"Is that so! How did he do that?"
"He told me to cut the legs off the bed!"
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