I know more about you than even you think, Mason. Probably so, but I don't know *jack*...

Doc Hawkins: I know more about you than even you think, Mason. Jack Mason: Probably so, but I don't know *jack* about you. Doc Hawkins: Then ask me something. Ask me anything you want. Jack Mason: All right... How did you get that fucked-up scar up your eye? Doc Hawkins: I refer to this as my birthmark. On my eighth birthday, my father brought me a fat little bulldog. I named him Prince Henry Stout. He was strong. He chased my pet turkey, he chased squirrels up the tree, he chased everything. I raised him, I trained him, I groomed him, I fed him, I took care of him. I loved that dog; more anything in the world, I loved that dog. Then my father gave me a handful of cherry bombs and M-80s. He said: "You're gonna train this dog to be a protector". So, every Saturday afternoon, I got behind a little dummy that my dad built. I tossed cherry bombs and M-80s at the dog - BOOM, BOOM! The dog was scared at first, but after awhile he got angry and charged the dummy. [He mimes PHS rushing and attacking] Doc Hawkins: He ripped it apart. The head was off, the shirt was gone... So, thirteen years old, birthday time. My father got me a twelve-gauge shotgun. "We're going hunting!" I was so excited. We went out to this clearing in the woods where my dad laid his gun down, then took my gun and laid it down. He said: "Son, today you're gonna learn to control your emotions. You're gonna do things that some men are unwilling and *unable* to do. Follow me". My dad and I passed through this grove of trees, to where he'd built a corral. There was Prince Henry Stout chained in the middle of the corral. My dad took out a pocketful of cherry bombs and put them in my hand. He said: "Get in the corral. Here's a Bic; I want you to light those cherry bombs and throw them at the Prince. You're gonna face manhood. You're gonna fight that dog to the death. Either he's gonna kill you, or you're gonna kill him... NOW!" [He mimes lighting the cherry bombs, their explosions, and PHS growling] Doc Hawkins: He was on me, like flies on shit. I had one chance - I got my arm up in between his teeth and my neck. Then we were down in the mud, rolling over and over. That dog was baying and snarling and biting, while I was crying and screaming. I grabbed him and stood up, then fell on him with all my weight. I heard his neck break. He was dead, not biting, not even breathing. I was covered with blood. I stood up, wiped the blood off, and licked it. Then my dad said: "Welcome to manhood!" That's why this is a birth mark. [He indicates where PHS bit him] Jack Mason: ...Do your patients know this story? Doc Hawkins: No. But *you* do.