Dave might make it

His feet kicked sideways, tangling with the chair legs as he lurched upright. *"She’s got the power to make my dumb ass dance!"* he warbled, hips swiveling in a grotesque Charleston. Patrons backed away, filming. Dave’s cheeks burned hotter than espresso steam. He tried clamping his jaw shut—but his tongue vibrated against his teeth like a kazoo, punctuating lyrics about Jessica’s "cosmic clit" and "gravity-defying tits." Tears pricked his eyes. *Control yourself, Cox!* screamed his psychology doctorate. His body replied with jazz hands.

Suddenly, silence. The kazoo died mid-hum. The Charleston froze mid-kick. Dave slumped against the wall, gasping. Only the tent in his khakis remained, throbbing like a second heartbeat. His phone buzzed—not a text, but Becky’s shrill ringtone slicing through the café’s stunned quiet. He fumbled it open, pressing it to his ear like a lifeline. "Dave?" Becky’s voice trembled. "Are you... coming? Dr. Virginia’s waiting. Jessica’s already here and... things are..." A wet *thwack* echoed through the receiver—someone groaning, something slapping flesh rhythmically. "...complicated."

Dave’s throat tightened. "Food poisoning," he rasped, forcing the lie through clenched teeth. "Can’t make—" But his mouth twisted into a wide, unnatural grin. "—it’s *fine*, Becky darling!" he chirped, voice dripping with saccharine cheer. "Wouldn’t miss Jessica’s glorious therapy session for the *world*! Tell her Dave’s sprinting over, bursting with *enthusiasm*!" He heard his own words—bright, earnest, utterly alien—and wanted to vomit. His legs jerked forward, marching him toward the door like a wind-up toy. *Her bullshit was real*. The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water. All those times she’d whispered about "manifesting his obedience" while he took out the trash... Christ.

He planted his feet hard against the café’s sticky floor, muscles straining. "No!" he growled, sweat beading on his forehead. The unseen **** didn’t pause. It lifted him clean off the ground, suspending him horizontally three feet in the air. Patrons gasped as he floated past, legs cycling uselessly like an overturned beetle. "Put me DOWN!" Dave shrieked, flailing as the door swung open by itself. Outside, his rusted Honda Civic idled at the curb, passenger door gaping. He sailed through the doorway, hovered briefly over the sidewalk, then dropped unceremoniously onto the passenger seat. The door slammed shut with a hollow *thump*.

Before he could scramble for the driver’s side, the car lurched forward. The steering wheel spun wildly on its own. Dave lunged for it—and froze. His right hand jerked downward against his will, unzipping his khakis with brutal efficiency. His left hand clamped onto the wheel, fingers splayed like a terrified starfish. "Oh god, no," he choked, as his right hand dove inside his pants. Involuntary strokes began, rough and relentless. The stereo crackled to life: *"Promptness is the hallmark of a disciplined mind!"* blared a nasal male voice over jaunty elevator music. *"Consider the courteous colleague—always punctual, always prepared!"* Dave’s hips bucked against the seatbelt’s cruel bite. "Stop—stop the car! Stop *me*!" he wailed, knuckles white on the wheel.

Outside, parked cars blurred into streaks of color. His Civic fishtailed around a corner at seventy miles an hour, tires shrieking like banshees—yet the coffee in his spilled cup holder remained perfectly level, untouched by centrifugal ****. Hydrostatic pressure, Dave’s academic mind uselessly noted. *"Deference to authority,"* the stereo lectured cheerfully, *"demonstrates emotional maturity! Tardiness? Pure barbarism!"* Dave’s hand worked faster, a piston fueled by magic. He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth grinding. Neon signs smeared past the windows: a pawn shop, a bail bondsman, Dr. Virginia’s discreet brass plaque—wait, already? Impossible. They’d crossed town in under ninety seconds. The Civic screeched to a halt perpendicular across two handicapped spots, engine cutting dead. His frantic hand stilled. Silence. Panting, Dave stared at the clinic door.