Dr. Penis Puncher, M.D.

By Eric Filipkowski, September 16, 2020

Now that my lawsuit is over, I can finally tell you my story: In the fall of 2017, I was experiencing numbness ‘down there’ and so my GP told me to see a specialist. I looked up urologists in my area and one name in particular caught my eye: “Dr. Penis Puncher, M.D.”

“Is that some kind of a joke?” I thought. What the hell kind of urologist is named “Dr. Penis Puncher? Is that his legal name? What kind of marketing scheme would that be? Who’s looking through urologists to examine their penis and thinks, “Hey, I’ll give that one a shot!”

But then it dawned on me that I had just spent three hours thinking about a urologist when I had never thought about a urologist before in my whole life for even a second. Genius! I had to give this guy a call.

When I got to my appointment, he seemed normal enough. “Dr. Penis Puncher, eh?” I chuckled. He was short and balding with a slight build and glasses. He explained that his mother had severe, undiagnosed mental illness and that was his actual legal name, given at birth.

He had always resisted the calling to be a urologist but his mother had to have had some unique foresight in that delusional mind of hers because he was just so perfectly suited for this career. We shared a laugh about life and all its crazy twists and he had me lay back while he examined me.

What happened next brings tears to my eyes, even three years later. I experienced a pain unlike any I had ever known. The mothers I have spoken to about it say it’s probably the nearest a biological male can come to the feeling of childbirth.

Worst of all is that it was so intesnse and also so ‘present,’ if that makes sense. I’ve gotten hit in the junk before and it makes you fuzzy or foggy, as part of the body’s self defense. There was no such escape here. On the contrary, I was hyper-focused not only on the pain but every single thing around me.

That’s how I saw that he punched me. In the penis. It was incredibly fast. Almost inhuman. It was like watching a nail gun. There’s maybe just a blur and then all of a sudden, there’s a nail there. Or a missile. I doubled over and he just smiled.

“You have calcium deposits. Perfectly normal. I’ll write you a prescription.” As I gasped for air, I tried to yell for help, after all, this man had just assaulted me. “There, there, just breathe, you want a lollipop, you little bitch?” He let that hang in the air for a second and then broke. “Nah, just kidding. You’ll be fine.”

To my relief, a nurse came in to the room. I looked to her with desperate eyes, as I choked on the words,”He–he—” She looked upon my face with a kind expression. “He what? Diagnosed your problem expertly?” She handed him some forms, smiled at me and walked away.

So back to now. This is what I have pieced together from my 34 month ordeal: Dr. Penis Puncher is protected by people in the highest levels of government because regardless of his methods, he has almost an otherworldly knowledge of urology.

Frequently, whenever a case is considered a ‘lost cause,’ they will refer the suffering party to Dr. Penis Puncher for a miracle cure. He’s done this with so many high-ranking officials that nobody can touch him. From what I can surmise, this is almost his ‘super power.’

In that split-second he punches you in the groin, he is able to tell your whole penis-related medical history instantly. And I have to admit, he diagnosed my problem right off the bat more accurately than any of the second opinions had gotten, subsequently.

I would also chock his success, at least partially, to garden-variety homophobia. The punch is quick and once the shock wears off, there’s no permanent damage and for those with a fragile sense of their masculinity, this is probably easier to bear than having another man fumble around with your junk for a few minutes.

So my lawsuit was thrown out. I endured death threats and my life was destroyed both personally and professionally but I don’t regret a thing, because at least my painful calcium deposits have cleared up.