Two, Four, Six, Eight. . .

LIKE most of my fellow members in AA, I had tried just about everything to effect a cure for that unquenchable thirst including will power, pills, and all sorts of well-meaning advice given to me by loving friends and relatives. I finally hit upon--of all things--hypnotism! The hypnotist arrived at my home one evening confident he could help me, but no one told him that I had remained bedridden for the previous week, pleading a sprained ankle which was the best excuse I could think of to stay close to my bedroom where my cache of rye was hidden in the linen closet. He began at once to exercise the power of suggestion: "The taste of alcohol is very repulsive to you." he said. "You hate liquor. You will never touch it again. . .two, four, six, eight. . ."