A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Sexual Orientation Read Online Free Page B

Let me just say that it told me way more than I ever wanted to know about my mother. There seemed to be a section missing, though, one about sex between two guys. Since Dad didn't mention it to me, I guessed sex was just supposed to be the male/female thing—or had I discovered something the authors hadn't?
    Dad got through that night pretty much unscathed, though I don't know if he expected to encounter problems or questions he couldn't handle. Thinking back to the grading system they had back then in school, I would have given him an O for outstanding .
    Naturally, I did have a question for my father, and it related to that white stuff the book called “sperm.” I'd yet to see anything like that come out of me, and I wondered what it looked like so I would know in the future when it did. Despite his assurances that I would know when the time came, I demanded a description. I guess I can be sadistic that way.
    Then too, so can he. I avoided Oreo cookies and tapioca pudding for months after that.
    * * * *
    Two really cool things did eventually happen to me that summer. First, I got a car, or rather, a battle tank. My first car was an old maroon ‘78 Chevy Malibu. Suffice to state that this thing would have given Stephen King's Christine nightmares, to say nothing of what it must have contributed to the pollution hanging over the suburbs of Detroit. Mom and Dad didn't need to buy me a beeper to know where I was. All they had to do was look outside with a pair of binoculars and scan the distance for the smoke signals I was sending them compliments of the oil I was burning.
    From the moment the damn thing died, I vowed I would never get such an old, ugly car again. No way! I wanted style, something I could show off, something I could drive without other motorists cursing me because they couldn't breathe driving behind me.
    Mom, Dad, and I drove around for a couple of weeks and looked at cars, but they thought I was being too picky or too much of a smartass. Maybe I did set my sights a little high, but I felt they were setting theirs a little low. I wanted something that would take people's breath away. They wanted something affordable that wouldn't take our combined savings away.
    The battle was joined for two weeks. At the end of that time, my input was deemed no longer necessary. There was a car for sale in a Bob Evans Restaurant parking lot that my parents looked over and thought was worth checking into. My part in this adventure was to write down all vital information about the vehicle, including the name and number of the person selling it and also where we saw it. I didn't especially care for the car but decided to take another route other than verbal to display my feelings on the matter.
    It was embarked on shortly after we got home when Mom called the seller up.
    "Hello, I'm calling regarding the car you have for sale up at Robert Evans’ parking lot. No, Robert Evans. Oh, wait a second. My son wrote the infor-mation down. It should read ‘Bob Evans.’ Yes, I'm sorry. He's a little strange that way. Yes, I know. Children. What? Oh, no, he just turned nineteen, not nine. It surprises us, too.
    "Now, I do have the information written down, and I would just like to make sure it's accurate. Would that be okay? Great. So, you have an eighteen-seventy-seven ... It's nineteen-seventy-seven? He was trying to write quickly, and it probably just looked like an eight to me instead of a nine. Okay, a nineteen-seventy-seven queer brown dookie-mobile?’ Yes, I agree the description does sound a bit unusual. It's dark brown? And a Turismo? I'm writing this down. Now, does it have heat and air? Heat, no air. Wait a moment, my son has a question. You want to know how you're supposed to breathe in a car with no air? I am not asking that! Sorry, it wasn't relevant. I do see there are some extras here. There's a ‘working radio?’ Good. ‘Cassette deck?’ Excellent. And the ‘two rotting corpses in the trunk?'
    "You know what?