Free A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Sexual Orientation by Kage Alan Page A

hairdo a few feet away from me. They had been desperately trying to get the attention of one of the waiters, and he was finally coming over with a tray of glasses and bottle of champagne. I joined them to get one, too. Much to my surprise, the heavier one wasn't a man at all but another woman. I realized this when I looked at her from the front and heard her speak, though she did have an accent.
    "Oy, waiter person!” She hurried the waiter over to us. “We've been standing here for ten minutes.” Her words were slurred and angry, and she waved her empty glass in his face. “Do you know how dehydrated a person can get in that amount of time?"
    "Think Karen Carpenter,” the blonde threw at him.
    "Oh, sweetie.” The dark-haired one looked at her. “Do you remember when I did that PR thing for her? Do you remember what that was, darling?"
    "Her funeral,” the other said matter-of-factly.
    "God, what a depressing time that was.” She hung her head low. “We lost a bloody fortune on those gorgeous little thimble things with her ashes in them. I don't know why people wouldn't buy them."
    "It worked for Mount St. Helens,” the blonde added crassly.
    "Exactly! Only there was a whole lot more ash there. By the time we got her here, there was barely enough to bother with. Anyway, cheers, sweetie!” The heavier one lifted her glass and then remembered it was empty.
    "Would you like me to fill that for you, madam?” The waiter lifted the bottle up, ready to pour some into their glasses.
    "Moiselle,” the blonde chastised him. “Made moiselle !"
    "Just give us the bottle and leave.” The heavier one grabbed the bottle and poured some for herself and then her friend. The waiter, not knowing what else to do, left in search of another bottle to carry around.
    I was about to turn and leave as well when the woman turned and looked at me.
    "You look a bit dry there yourself. Here.” She thrust the bottle into my hand. “Oh, look!” The blonde turned towards the food table. “Are those Japanese finger foods?"
    The two women stumbled off toward the buffet tables, and I took the opportunity to head in the opposite direction toward the blessed absence of humanity. It probably wouldn't do my stomach much good to drink without filling it first, but I couldn't see it necessarily hurting, either.
    It turned out the yard was a bit larger than I had first thought. All I wanted to do was find the farthest corner and sit down, but the closer I got to the side of the house the more surprised I was to see that the yard was opening up again. Far away from everyone else's sight was a kind of side yard with a few tables and chairs, regular lawn furniture, really. I doubt it was meant to be used for the party, but it certainly looked inviting enough to me.
    I fell lazily into a lounger, kicked my feet up and took a long swig from the bottle. This was heaven!
    "Get that out of your mouth!" a voice rang out. “You're not old enough to be drinking!"
    The entire contents sprayed simultaneously out through my mouth and nose. I was going to kick the living shit out of whoever just scared me like that! The burning in my nose was almost worse than what I'd felt in my groin before it had gone numb in the car.
    Somebody laughed and handed me a couple of napkins. By God, they weren't going to be laughing when I got a hold of the son of a...
    As quickly as my still-convulsing body would let me, I stood up and turned around to face the object of my aggressions.
    "I'm sorry.” I felt a hand dab at my face with a fresh napkin. “That really wasn't very nice of me, but I couldn't resist."
    I finally managed to see through the deep hue my body had turned and get a clear view of the face before me. Incredible! It was as if I was looking at myself in a mirror, only a little older and a whole lot better-looking.
    He was in his early twenties, and had light blond hair, clear blue eyes and picture-perfect Don Johnson Miami Vice -style hair. I'd tried for years