Dr. Zimmerman shook his head in frustration.
Since hanging out his shingle, he had had hundreds of patients. Not a single one ever came back a second time.
It was a damned shame. A poor choice of specialty. Prostate exams...
He had been a football player in his younger days. With hands the size of Smithfield hams, he could snag almost any pass. But when a knee injury buried his NFL dreams, medical school beckoned.
Crap, he thought.
You don’t need a weatherman to see which way the wind blows...or that the world has no need for a Meaty Urologist.