Jeff had an unfortunate compulsion to masturbate in inappropriate settings.

Bus terminals. The cereal aisle. At the bank.

He had been to psychiatrists. However, doctors’ waiting rooms were a common place for the compulsion to strike him, so usually he was forcibly removed before the appointment even started.

It was sometimes triggered by stress. Or lack of sleep. Or too much caffeine. Sometimes with no apparent provocation. There he would be, minding his own business, waiting in line at the DMV perhaps, and then suddenly (to his horror) he’d look down and see his dick in his hand.

If he concentrated enough he could prevent it, but that kind of concentration was hard to sustain for any extended period of time.

And so on this day, while sitting at his elderly grandmother’s kitchen table, Jeff was concentrating. He concentrated as she chatted about her weekly bridge game and her recent colonoscopy. But when she left to powder her nose, he slipped.

Fortunately, the only evidence was in the toaster.