One day a woman came into his office. She smoked too much, and she wanted him to help her quit.

"I know that smoking is no good for me," she said as she puffed on her cigarette. "It\'s bad for my heart. It fills my lungs with gunk. And my husband won\'t kiss me because my breath stinks. But I can\'t quit!"

She finished her cigarette, smushed it out in an ashtray, then immediately lit another one.

"Have a seat," said Dr. Pickle.

She sat down on the couch.

"Look into my eyes," said Dr. Pickle.

The woman stared into his deep, penetrating eyes.

Dr. Pickle held up a gold chain. At the end of the chain was a green stone that was almost transparent but not quite. It looked like a pickle.

Hence, his name.

"Watch the pickle," he said, as he gently moved the chain.

The pickle went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

The woman\'s eyes went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

"Put down your cigarette," Dr. Pickle said in a strong but gentle voice.

The woman set her cigarette in the ashtray as she continued to stare at the pickle.

"You are getting sleepy," said Dr. Pickle. "Your eyelids are getting heavy."

The woman blinked her eyes.

"When I count to three," said Dr. Pickle, "you will fall into a deep, deep sleep. One . . . two . . . three."

The woman\'s eyes closed.

Dr. Pickle put down the pickle. "Can you hear me?" he asked.

"Yes," said the woman, in a low voice from deep inside her.

"You will do what I say," said Dr. Pickle.

"I - will - do - what - you - say," the woman repeated.

"I am going to count to five," said Dr. Pickle. "And then you will wake up. And, as usual, you will want to smoke a cigarette."

"I - will - want - to - smoke - a - cigarette," the woman repeated.

"But when you put the cigarette in your mouth," said Dr. Pickle, "it will feel just like a worm. A wiggling, slimy worm."

"A - yucky - icky - worm," repeated the woman.

"Good," said Dr. Pickle. "Now just one more
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thing." He rubbed his beard and smiled. "Whenever your husband says the word \'potato,\' you will slap him across the face."

"When - Fred - says - \'potato\' -I - will - slap -his - face."

"Good," said Dr. Pickle. He counted to five.

The woman woke up.

"So do you think you can help me?" she asked in her normal voice, as she reached for her cigarette.

Dr. Pickle shrugged.

She put her cigarette in her mouth, then screamed as she pulled it out.

She looked at the cigarette, puzzled. "Hm?" she said. She placed it back in her mouth, then spit it out onto the floor.

"I\'m sorry," she said, a little confused. She picked up the cigarette and put it in the ashtray.

"That\'s all right," said Dr. Pickle.

She took out a new cigarette from her pack, but as soon as she put that in her mouth, she spit it out too.

"I\'m sorry," she said again. "I don\'t know what\'s come over me."

She walked out of his office shaking her head. She dropped her pack of cigarettes in the trash.

She never smoked again.

It was an interesting thing about the word "potato." Whenever Fred said it, she slapped him. And he\'d ask her why she slapped him, but she never remembered slapping him, so they\'d get in a big fight, each calling the other crazy. Then they\'d kiss and make up, which was nice because her breath didn\'t stink.

They never figured out it had anything to do with saying "potato." How could they?

But deep down they both must have realized it somehow, because while they used to eat lots of potatoes, they gradually ate fewer and fewer, until they finally stopped eating them altogether.

Dr. Pickle was a good doctor, but he kept playing those kinds of jokes on people. There was a woman who quacked like a duck whenever she saw a freight train with more than twenty cars. There was a man who took off his shoe anytime someone said "parking meter."

Eventually Dr. Pickle was caught and he was no longer allowed to practice psychiatry. So he had to find another job.

He became a counselor at an elementary school.