Panic

It wasn't your alarm that woke you up on Saturday morning, but an incoming call. Bleary-eyed, you rolled over and grabbed your mobile to silent it. Through the haze, you could see that it was Erica, your girlfriend. Why was she calling that early? Didn't she realize that you liked to sleep in on Saturdays?

That's when you noticed the time.

Ten thirty!

Sitting straight up, the babydoll nighty you had worn to sleep askew on your body, you quickly dialed her back.

"What the hell, David," Erica's voice was shrill, "You were supposed to pick me up thirty minutes ago!"

"I'm so sorry, baby," you responded, "I slept in. I don't even know what happened. I didn't even stay up late."

"Come on," she said, exasperated, "You mean you haven't even left yet?!"

"I'm coming right away," you said quickly, "Just give me a minute to change and I'll be right there."

You hang up the phone, toss it on your bed, and leap to action. Unceremoniously you toss aside your babydoll, step out of your panties, and run to the washroom of your small, one bedroom apartment. After relieving yourself, you splash some water on your face, brush your teeth, apply some lip gloss and perfume, then sprint back to your bedroom. A fresh pair of panties, a matching bra, jeans, t-shirt, socks, shoes, and you're ready to go. Sometimes the advantage of being a man really hits you, especially when you have to get ready in a hurry.

No time for breakfast, you grab your keys and dart to the front door. There was still time to pick up Erica and save face. Throwing it open, though, you take a step backward. Instead of an empty hallway, there is a man standing at the door, fist raised as if he was about to knock.

It was The Amazing Alex.

"Oh, David!" he said, a grin on his face, "Looks like I'm just in time!"