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?"
"A hundred dollars per visit."
"I'll sleep on it," said Shakey.
Six months later the doctor met Shakey on the street. "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."
A husband and his wife were having a big argument at breakfast. "You aren't so good in bed either!" he shouted and stormed off to work. By midmorning, he decided he'd better make amends and phoned home. After many rings, his wife picked up the phone. "What took you so long to answer?"
A lonely woman, aged 70, decided that it was time to get married. She put an ad in the local paper that read:
HUSBAND WANTED! MUST BE IN MY AGE GROUP (70's), MUST NOT BEAT ME, MUST NOT RUN AROUND ON ME, AND MUST STILL BE GOOD IN BED! ALL APPLICANTS PLEASE APPLY IN PERSON.
On the second day she heard the doorbell. Much to her dismay, she opened the door to see a gray-haired gentleman with no arms or legs sitting in a wheelchair. The old woman said, "You're not really asking me to consider you, are you? Just look at you ... you have no legs!" The old man smiled, "Therefore I cannot run around on you!"
She snorted. "You don't have any hands either!" Again the old man smiled, "Nor can I beat you!"
She raised an eyebrow and gazed intently. "Are you still good in bed?" With that, the old gentleman leaned back, beamed a big broad smile and said, "I rang the doorbell, didn't I?"