Lunacy
The lunatic peered over the asylum wall, and saw a man fishing from the bank of the river that ran close by. It was raining hard, which cooled the fevered brow of the lunatic and enabled him to think with great clearness. In consequence, he called down to the drenched fisherman:
“Caught anything?”
The man on the bank looked up, and shook his head glumly.
“How long you been there?” the lunatic next demanded.
“Three hours,” was the answer.
The lunatic grinned hospitably, and called down an invitation:
“Come inside!”