I’ve never really believed in therapy. It just seems so insincere to me. They say they want to help you, but then they have no problem cutting you off when your fifty minutes are up. So I’ve avoided therapists like the plague. Actually, I’ve avoided the plague more, since I’ve never actually had the plague. It’s really just a figure of speech.
Anyhow for the longest time, I’ve had this problem with pears. When I eat them, I feel all these aches and pains all over my body. At first, I thought it was just some kind of food allergy, but then I went to a hypnotherapist and found out the real story:
Apparently, when I was younger, my mother used to put a dozen pears into a burlap sack and then beat me with them until I was covered with pear juice. Why she did this, I’m not sure. But now just the smell of pears makes me feel pain. So that explained the pear problem. But I had no idea why bananas give me stomach aches. Until I visited that hynotherapist again:
No, I wasn’t beaten by a banana when I was a child. That would be hard to believe. Actually, my father used to punch me in the stomach while he was wearing a banana costume. See, he was one of the original Fruit of the Loom guys. And I guess sometimes he’d get drunk and put on the old costume. Then he’d tell me to punch him in the stomach as hard as I could. And I would. But then it would be his turn. And since I didn’t have a foam costume on to protect me, I’d usually end up collapsed on the floor with my father laughing at me. Just that bloated head of his poking out of that dirty, worn out banana costume, laughing, laughing. . . laughing . . . Yeah, those were some great times. I could really go for a banana right now.
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