Here's what I don't get about therapy. You pay a guy to help
you with your problems, but all he does is sit there and listen to you drone on
and on. Waste of money, right? I might as well be talking to that fichus right
there.
Who even came up with the name fichus? It sounds like a Roman's dog. "Here, Fichus! Go fetch the discus!" Or it could be a swear word for a giant. You know - "Fee fi fo... aw, fichus, what happened to my golden harp?" And everyone already knows the answer to that question. Jack stole it! Or was that the goose with the Golden Eggs?
What's the deal with questions, anyway? I mean, there's always that high-pitched ending to the sentence. You know? It's like they're breathing in helium. And forget about those people who are tone deaf! You know: the ones who can't modulate their voice tone at all. They sound like they're asking questions all day. Like therapists. What's the deal with therapy, anyway?
