A moth goes into a podiatrist office and the podiatrist asks, “What's the

problem?”. And the moths says “’What's the problem?’ Where I begin man
he goes I go to work for Gregorio Illonivich and all day long I work honestly
doc I don't even know what I'm doing anymore I don't even know if
Gregorio Illonivich knows he only knows that he has power over me and
that seems to bring him happiness but I don't know I wake up in a malaise
and I walk here and there the food I have says oh yeah the moth goes yes
he goes at night I sometimes wake up and I turn to some old lady in my
bed that's on my arm a lady that I once loved doc. I don't know where to
turn to my youngest Alexandria Shh she fell in that and then the cold of last
year the cold took her down as it did many of us and my other boy and this
is the hardest pill to swallow doc my effort boy Greg ro invent a little I no
longer love him as much that pains me to say when I look in his eyes all I
see is the same cowardice that I that I catch when I take a glimpse of my
own face in the mirror if only the cowardice and stronger then perhaps
perhaps I could bring myself to reach over to that cocked and loaded gun
that lays on the bedside room and in this hellish facade one side was this
do you live in the valley where do you live please sorry he says doc
sometimes I feel like a spider even though I'm a moth just barely hanging
on to my web with it everlasting fire underneath me I'm not feeling good
and so the mosque the doctor says moth man you're troubled but you
should be seeing a psychiatrist why on earth did you come here and then
the MA said cuz the light was on
So, a moth walks into a podiatrist’s office. The podiatrist asks “What seems to be the problem?” The
Moth responds:

“Oh, Doctor Gregory Illonivich, I’ve aged so very much. I wake up in bed every morning-weak and
out of breath- and I roll over to see this old lady that I don’t know any more sleeping next to me. I
used to have such love for her, my Natasha, but I don’t anymore. My heart is a hollow shell in my
chest.

“My daughter, Sonya, was supposed to be married, but her fiance died in the war. Now, she just
walks around the house, too young to be the widow that she is. Even worse, my son, Alexi…I don’t
love him anymore. Not since he was dishonorably discharged for deserting last Spring.

“I look at him and I think that I see the same cowardice that I hate in myself. A cowardice that I wish I
could shake off just a little bit, just enough that I can take that loaded pistol out of my night stand
drawer and bite down on the barrel.”

Dr. Gregory Illonivich, horrified by what he’s heard, thinks about it for a second. “Moth,” he says,
“You don’t need a podiatrist. You need a psychiatrist!” The Moth nods his head.

“Yes, I know.”

“Well, then why did you come here?”

“Oh, the light was on.”