A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Sexual Orientation

by Kage Alan

  "You behave yourself around your grandmother tonight,” He ordered after taking me aside while Grandma followed Aunt Virginia up the sidewalk to the front door. “There's no reason you need to be acting like a scallop."

  "Scamp.” I was too tired to put up with this. “The word is scamp."

  "Keep it up, Arnold."

  I followed him into the house. He promised to show Grandma and me around the place the next day, since she wanted to get to bed before her face fell off. That was kind of a twist on something I heard she always said in the morning.

  Whenever she first got up, Grandma complained she had to go put her face on so she looks presentable. Uncle Chester must have noticed that the excitement of the party and exposure to the California environment were causing her makeup to come unglued. I wondered what she looked like without makeup. Did she have natural beauty, or was it the lack of it that made her “put on a face” each and every day?

  The inside of the house was spacious and open, but there weren't as many rooms as I would have expected. There was a large living room upon entering, with a dining area and kitchen off to the left. No walls separated the areas, which I guessed made things convenient for parties and other social functions. In some ways, I guess it was simplicity and utility all in one.

  The master bedroom was off the kitchen, and the guestroom was off the living room with a guest bathroom between them. Each bedroom had a bathroom with a bathtub, too, which was a nice addition to the room. It reminded me of a hotel, for some reason, except that the lamps and pictures weren't nailed down.

  "Wow!” I commented on seeing the king-sized bed in the guestroom as I set my suitcase down.

  "Why are you putting that in here?” Grandma asked me, uncertainty written all over her face, or what was left of it.

  "What do you mean?” Why wouldn't I bring my suitcase in the room with us? There was plenty of room for all three of them.

  "Leave it out in the living room where you're sleeping.” She actually looked annoyed now. Worse yet, I had the feeling she really believed I was going to be sleeping out there.

  "I'm not sleeping out there.” I looked out into the living room. The only thing besides a couple of chairs that didn't recline was a couch that seated two at the most. “This is a king-sized bed ... a king-sized,” I emphasized, “and that couch out there wouldn't sleep a court jester comfortably. Now, you can put up an electric fence down the middle of the bed that delivers a fatal shock upon an attempted transgression, but we're going to have to share."

  I really wasn't in the mood to argue about this. I didn't care if she thought it was weird or sick that a grandmother and her grandson share a king-sized bed or not. I was tired, and all I wanted to do was sleep. We could argue about it in the morning.

  "All right."

  I couldn't believe it. This was a first. Maybe she was too tired to put up much of a fight, but she had actually given in. I mean, this was progress!

  "Would you please at least take your suitcase in the other room so we can walk in here without it being too cramped?"

  "Absolutely.” I was only too eager to perform this minor concession, even though I didn't think we would be that cramped. Still, I was getting something I wanted, so I didn't mind doing something she wanted.

  This was how things were supposed to work. There was no law or rule saying that two people couldn't logically figure something out that benefited both. Both of us needed a good night's sleep, and I would get that. What would she be getting out of this, though? Nothing.

  I picked the suitcase up and carried it into the living room. This wasn't like her, not at all. It seemed a bit odd to me that she would give in so easily when it didn't benefit her in any way.

  Ker-chunk. Click.

  "Grandma?” There was no reply. I turned around and saw that the door was closed. In fact, I think she'd locked it, too. If she was going to get changed, why didn't she just use the bathroom?

  Maybe because she had no intention of sharing the room with me in the first place.

  "Grandma?” I knocked twice on the door. Again, no reply. Maybe that was because she had no intention of replying just as she had no intention of letting me sleep in the king-sized bed. Bitch locked me out!

  I raised both fists in utter frustration and mocked pounding on the door. A small noise distracted me, and I turned around to find Aunt Virginia staring at me, standing there with both of my fists still raised in a rather unusual display of the brutality I was feeling. Her eyes grew wider than I think I've ever seen on a human being before, and she dropped a pillow and some sheets on the floor as she turned and hightailed it back to her bedroom.

  "Well, shit,” I mumbled and went over to pick up what she had dropped. I barely had a chance to speak to the woman all night, and then she catches me in the middle of a quiet temper tantrum. This was once again not how I had envisioned things happening on my vacation.

  The couch wasn't exactly what I had envisioned, either. To someone who stood six feet tall, their couch seemed more like a loveseat than something to be used to sleep on. I checked to see if it folded out into a bed. It didn't. Swell.

  I shook my head, got changed in the bathroom, brushed my teeth and lay down. The most I could do was either lie with my feet hanging off the end or curl up in a fetal position. To make matters worse, the cushions on the back of the couch were so puffy it made turning over without falling off the damn thing nearly impossible.

  "Oh, well.” I closed my eyes and prayed for sleep to take me quickly.

  Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock...

  "Nooo...” One eye opened and scanned the room for that obnoxious noise. I finally saw the enemy, and it was closer than I had initially imagined. At the far end of the couch, near my feet and against the wall, was a fully functional grandfather clock. Now, I'd seen grandfather clocks that were quiet and inconspicuous, but of course, my aunt and uncle would have to choose the one most likely to sound like a Charles Bronson movie in progress. If I dreamt about a time bomb going off and woke up screaming in the middle of the night, at least I would know why.

  Why not just open the thing up and stop it? It should be a simple enough procedure. But then I'd have to explain my actions in the morning, and I didn't even want to think about what Uncle Chester would say to me then.

  What's the matter? Little girly ears can't take a little clock? I suppose you're one of those kids who can't take the Snap! Crackle! Pop! of Rice Krispies in the morning, either. Wanna wear some earplugs at breakfast in case the toaster is too loud?

  "Ohhhh...” I moaned at the thought. The annoyance of the clock could never compare to the annoyance of that man berating me and treating me like he did. Was he that way with everybody my age? My cousins were older than I was, but I wondered if he treated them the same way, especially because they were gay. How would he treat Jordan? Hell, I wondered how he would treat me if he thought I was gay.

  Now there was an entertaining thought. Tomor-row morning I could always just announce at the breakfast table that I'd had my first kiss last night at the party and decided I couldn't lie to myself anymore, or anybody else, for that matter. That would certainly get me on a plane for home a whole lot sooner than I'd expected.

  I shuddered as a mental picture of Jordan leaning forward to kiss me flashed through my mind. Why had he done that? Who else had he done that with this evening? My cousins? Some part of me wondered who he was in bed with tonight. Again, one of my cousins? What the hell did people like them do in bed, anyway?

  It wasn't any of my business. What really made me sick was that, even though he was gay, he was probably having more sex than I ever would. It seemed everybody was. I really needed to get to sleep before I started feeling sorry for myself again.

  Ding-ding-ding-ding, ding-ding-ding-ding!

  "You have got to be fucking kidding?” I hissed. What the hell time was it, anyway? Since it was obvious I wasn't going to get much sleep, I sat up and turned on a light. It was two-thirty in the
morning. Great, it was set to go off on the half-hour as well as the hour. I could hardly wait to hear what that sounded like. Well, I'd find out in thirty minutes.

  I turned the light off, put the pillow over my head and tried desperately to go to sleep without committing a homicide or act of vandalism to my aunt and uncle's property.

  * * * *

  The bright California sun beat unmercifully down upon my bronzed skin, but it didn't burn me. It couldn't even touch me through the suntan lotion five young blond women in string bikinis were gently massaging into my legs, arms, back and neck. Their own skin was tanned to the peak of perfection, which only matched the beauty of their faces and figures. They were perfect, the most perfect women I'd ever laid eyes on.

  All five women giggled in some shared moment of happiness at being with and pleasing me. I knew what they were hoping for, and I knew they didn't think they would all get it, but they would. I would let each and every one of them have a piece of me right there on the beach with the sound of the ocean crashing upon the shore as our music and our moans the lyrics of our passion.

  These were California women, the liveliest, prettiest and horniest of all women in the world ... except French women, but they didn't shave under their arms, so they didn't count.

  One of them rolled me over on my beach towel and started rubbing lotion into my chest, which was miraculously far more muscular than I had ever seen it before. This was a me I could get used to. I was now a hardbody!

  Well, that was the term I'd heard used for some-one built like I appeared to be, though only one area of my body was actually hard. Hell, I was feeling a little emotionally erect...

  I felt a sudden pleasant tugging on my swim-ming trunks as someone tried to slip them off my body and get to the rich, fertile area under them. Oh, and how I wanted to fertilize! I was ready to plant seeds all along the coast as far as the women would have me. I would be a virgin no more.

  They had to be really careful with the suit, however. That certain area ready to fertilize wasn't exactly the most flexible at the moment, especially in the state of anticipation I was in.

  Slowly, savoring the moment, I sat up to see which one of the women had finally grown bold enough to view my—

  Jordan! I grabbed my trunks and yanked them back up as far as they would go, almost giving myself a wedgie, but the women in bikinis I had wanted so lustily to deflower me held my arms down and then went for the legs. I couldn't move!

  I looked back at Jordan in complete horror. He ever so gently began moving his hands up my legs, massaging them as he went. I tried frantically to get one of the girls to help me. They were mouthing words, but their voices didn't sound natural and what they said made no sense considering what was going on.

  "I have an idea, Chester,” one of them said. “Why don't we just be spontaneous and have Cheerios instead of corn flakes this morning?"

  She spoke in my Aunt Virginia's voice.

  "Well...” Another looked at me and sounded exactly like Uncle Chester. “...I don't think we should go so far out two days in a row, but why not?"

  What did this very strange conversation have to do with what was going on?

  I felt another tug on my swimsuit. Jordan was licking his lips and appeared more determined than ever to get the damn thing off me. I struggled to get a grip on the suit, but I couldn't move my hands because they were still being held down by the beach babes. No matter how hard I fought, they wouldn't let go, and Jordan was getting too damn close for comfort.

  He finally had a solid grip on my trunks and gave them one hard yank as I tried to push my oppressors off me...

  * * * *

  Thud!

  I opened my eyes and felt a dull ache along the entire right side of my body. The couch—I was no longer on the couch. Correction, I had launched myself off the couch. The struggle in my dream had also been acted out to some degree in real life. Actually, maybe this wasn't such a bad place to lie down for a while, especially since I had absolutely no desire to get up and I was too tired to care how comfortable I was.

  Coming to California might have been my vacation, but it also symbolically meant giving up a great many things that made me comfortable in life—a bedroom, a bed, people who had a grasp of reality and, to some degree, heterosexuals. And what was with that dream? I had to be feeling stressed out for my subconscious to play games with me like that. Stressed out about what, though? My sexuality? That certainly wasn't worth stressing about. Hell, it was more like comic relief.

  "Oh, good.” Uncle Chester's voice interrupted the noise of the still-functioning grandfather clock. It was funny how I hadn't noticed it in a while. Now, if I could only drown him out. “Glad to see you rolled out of bed, Aaron. Heck of a landing, though. Just don't ever try out for the Olympics, unless it's the Special Olympics."

  Well, wasn't he just witty?

  "Virginia, why don't you get another cereal bowl down, and the young man can join us for breakfast before doing the dishes."

  At least I understood why I'd heard their voices in my dream; it wouldn't take years of expensive therapy to figure that one out. Everything else might, but not that.

  I sighed and began to untangle myself from the sheets. What time was it, anyway? I couldn't recall the last time I'd heard the clock go off, but it didn't seem like that much time had passed since I'd put my head down to sleep. A glance up at the damn thing informed me it was five minutes to seven.

  This had to be some kind of sick joke! Nobody got up this early, nobody except ... well, old people. It followed that only old people would think that having Cheerios instead of corn flakes for breakfast qualified as spontaneity. Maybe, if they were going to go all out, they'd try a bit of sugar or some fruit—after all, one is what one eats—with their flakes or Os, but I'd be willing to bet that didn't happen too often in this household.

  I stumbled into the bathroom to brush my teeth while Aunt Virginia took two more bowls out of a cabinet and Uncle Chester knocked on Grandma's door. At least I wouldn't have to be miserable alone, though I'm sure Grandma had had a much better night's sleep than I did.

  I sat down at the table and poured myself some cereal and milk. Grandma still hadn't appeared, so Uncle Chester went and pounded on her door again.

  "Come on, Hotdog! The day is wasting!” he shouted. “Virginia and I have been up for forty-five minutes already. I've shaved, and we both showered, and breakfast is getting old. If you aren't out soon, it'll be time for lunch."

  Oh, I was really enjoying this. I tended to be, for lack of a better word, a real bitch in the morning when I got up. I didn't care if it was for work or school or even if I slept in; I didn't want to see another living human being, let alone talk to one, for at least a solid half-hour. And happy? I didn't want see a happy person, either. That made everything so much worse for them in the end when I got a hold of them. Guaranteed, they weren't going to be happy when I finished with them.

  My mother was the same way, so I can say I got it from her. However, she had to get it from someone, too, and that someone just happened to be my grandmother.

  Speaking of whom, we could all hear the beast stirring and making her way over suitcases to the door she had so unceremoniously shut me out with last night. Uncle Chester looked over at me and grinned from ear to ear. He had no idea what was about to happen.

  "Jesus Christ, Chester!” The door flew open, and there stood Grandma, makeup in worse shape than she'd gone to bed with, eyes dark and still almost completely shut, nostrils flaring and hair looking as though she'd stuck her finger in a light socket before coming out. Now I understood why she made sure to put her face on before joining the rest of humanity in the morning.

  Uncle Chester gasped, and Aunt Virginia dropped her spoon.

  "It's going on seven in the morning.” Grandma dipped her words in anger and shot them out of her mouth like darts from a blowgun we used to imagine the naked women using in National Geographic. “Am I at work? No. Am I late for an appointment? No
. Am I slightly hung over and in need of some rest? Yes!"

  "Uh...” It was all Uncle Chester could say. I think he was still overwhelmed at the sight of his sister this early in the morning. Aunt Virginia was certainly horrified.

  I, on the other hand, was only a little shocked and a great deal amused. The only thing going through my mind was “Go, Grandma!"

  Uncle Chester must have seen the half-cockeyed grin on my face and decided to try and turn the tables.

  "Well, I'm sorry there, Hotdog.” He spoke soothingly and apologetically. I was immediately suspicious of his sudden change of attitude. “If you want to blame someone, you should be looking at that young man over there.” He pointed at me, and I froze. “He's the one who said it was rude of you to miss breakfast, and for me to shout because you were a little hard of hearing."

  "You've gotta be kidding me,” I mumbled.

  A few years ago, as the entire family sat down to eat Thanksgiving dinner, Grandma got everybody's attention and announced that we were going to say grace. As she started to do so, I shouted out the word “Grace” and made for the drumstick.

  Nobody was really amused except for my father and me. My mother accused me later of trying to make too light of things in life, that not everybody was going to laugh and that not everything had to be funny. I never understood why that had to be true, when Murphy's Law had been screwing with my life for years.

  Now it was Uncle Chester's Law, and I was the one who wasn't amused. I think I was starting to understand how frustrated Mable felt when I pulled all those pranks on her.

  Grandma's head whipped around, an impressive close second to Linda Blair's complete head spin in The Exorcist, and glared at me. It looked as though she wanted to rip my head completely off my body with her bare hands but couldn't quite decide if that would hurt enough to get across her dis-pleasure at being woken up so early. Instead, she stomped back into the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her. I just thanked God she didn't have a loaded gun in her suitcase. The only thing generally ever loaded around Grandma was Grandma, unless there were relatives visiting or she was visiting them.