The great novelist had gone mad, but now there seemed to be some hope for his recovery. For six months, he had been sitting at his typewriter, pounding out a novel. Finally, he pronounced it completed and brought the manuscript to his psychiatrist.
The psychiatrist eagerly began reading it aloud:
"General Jackson leaped upon his faithful horse and yelled, 'Giddyap, giddyap, giddyap, giddyap...'"
The doctor thumbed through the rest of the manuscript in disbelief. "There's nothing here but 500 pages of 'giddyaps'!" he exclaimed.
"Stubborn horse," explained the writer.