Dr. Ass wrote a prescription: one golden retriever, three friends who lie to you kindly, and no mirrors for six months.
Not hard. Not maliciously. But with a precise, almost artistic side-kick to the gluteus maximus that made patients yelp—and then confess.
“Bend over. This is for your own good.” cherokee dr ass
The legend’s name was Dr. Samuel "Cherokee" Assworthy—though no one had called him Assworthy since the Clinton administration. To the locals, he was simply .
They say Dr. Ass still practices behind the Cherokee Stop-N-Go. The medical board has given up trying to stop him—every inspector they send leaves with a sore behind and a sudden, embarrassing clarity about their own childhood trauma. Not maliciously
“Every night at 3:33 AM,” Cross said, “my left hand writes a name on the bathroom mirror in my own saliva. The next day, that person dies.”
“No,” he said. “You’re just lonely. You’re not a curse. You’re a symptom. The curse is whatever made you believe you had to be one.” This is for your own good
Dr. Ass knelt down. He picked up a shard that still had a mouth on it.