"I think you'd better see the doctor."
I sat down to wait and took the little bottle of pills from my pocket. "From the Galaxy to you, through Dr. Doogle, Spacio-Psycho," it said on the label. "The last word in tranquilizers. Conservative Zen methods only, appointments any hour, first consultation free, no obligation, call personal transmitter DDK 51212-6790, Earth. Active ingredients oxylatohydrobenzoic-phe-ophenophino, sugar, coloring to 100%."
The inner office door opened and Dr. Doogle smiled fatly at me from behind his expensive desk.
"Do come in," he called, "and tell me all about it."
"It's happened again," I said, going into his office.
"Well, why not, if you feel that way? Nurse, bring me Mr. Hing-humph's case history."
"Mr. Har-ry K. Jo-nes' film is in the transcriber, Doctor," said the receptionist. "Mr. Jones, the physicist."
"Ah, yes, of course. Please sit down, Mr. Jones. Now what exactly is the trouble? Hold nothing back, tell me all, reveal your intimate thoughts."
"The main entrance just served me the breakfast that your diet forbids," I said, sitting down.