It's a weeknight, but the place is still crowded. It must get really packed on weekends. The booths and tables are full, so we sit at the bar. I'm so happy that I spin on my stool a couple of times, till Lois puts a restraining hand on my arm. The bartender seems amused, though. "What can I get ya, pal?"

"Strawberry daiquiri?" He looks blank. Uh oh. I remember how limited the alcohol consumption was in the comics. Some wines with fancy meals, and the real sophisticates drank 'cocktails', which all looked like martinis. There seems to be a full compliment of bottles behind the bar. Yes, they had no problem with drawing the proper backgrounds. But most of the bottles were still pretty full. "Vodka and tonic?" He can do that.

I sip it when it comes. Another discovery. The comic book kingdom has kick ass alcohol. It's as strong, if not stronger, than anything I've tasted. Another plus. Lois, not too surprisingly, has a white wine spritzer.

Shall we be honest here? With me, the taste of the drink is a secondary consideration. As far as flavor goes, I'd rather have a soda pop. If I'm drinking alcohol at all, I'm drinking for the effect. I don't start drinking unless I intend to get drunk. Period, end of story. I classify myself as a social drinker, because when I drink, boy, do I get social. You've heard of alcohol lowering inhibitions? Allow me to raise my hand and testify.

Oh, I don't get to the point where you need to call the authorities. I just get looser. I like myself a little bit better, or at least I'm less concerned with others not liking me. Oh, and I get musical. Yeah, that's right. I'm one of those drunks who likes to sing if there's music around. I'm the terror of the local kareoke nights, though I have trained myself to give up the microphone before it's forcibly removed. As long as I'm still semi sober, that is. Lawrence and Alex have carted me home a time or two, three sheets and a pillowcase to the wind.

After I finish the first drink, I ask the bartender if he can mix something to order. He says that he'll try. I direct him in pouring vodka, peach schnapps, grapefruit juice, and cranberry juice over ice, and stirring. I take a deep, satisfying drink, and he watches, curious. "What is that?"

"Sex on the Beach." He knocks over a dish of maraschino cherries, Lois chokes on a mouthful of drink, and several patrons drop items ranging from change to glasses. "What?" I look around innocently, but the little devil on my left shoulder is having a hard time holding on, because he's laughing so hard.

"Sex?"

"On the Beach." I nod.

He gets a notebook out of his pocket, clicks a pen, and starts writing. "Vodka, peach schnapps, grapefruit juice..."

"Excuse me," A slender young man in a mist green turtleneck, his arm looped around the thick neck of a guy wearing a windbreaker, calls. "We'd like two Sex on the Beach, please." He giggles. There is a murmur, and several other patrons start pulling out purses and wallets. The bartender gives his assistant some cash and tells him to run next door to the grocery and get some grapefruit and cranberry juice, pronto.

As he quickly mixes the drinks, Lois hisses, "Scribe, you're bad! Where did you come up with that?"

"Hey, it's not my fault. A friend once dared me to memorize a list of rude drinks. It was fun, and it became a hobby of mine."

"You know more of these?" The bartender asked eagerly.

"Oo, tons."

"That one's on the house, and every one you teach me, I'll make you one for free." he offers.

I quickly polish off the drink I have. "Okay. How about a Slow, Comfortable Screw?" The little waitress, a pocket-sized creature who looked a bit like Tinkerbelle, had been leaning between Lois and I to place a drink order on the counter, and almost fell into my lap. I caught her and put her back on her feet. "Hey, Teenyweeny, you okay?"

"Uh huh. You are bad." But she was smiling when she said it.

"And you're losing tips," said Lois sourly. Tinkerbelle arched an eyebrow at her, smiled at me again, and sashayed off.

I think I'm beginning to see why people are having such a, by my standards, exaggerated reaction to me. They haven't seen or heard anything like this before. It's sort of like someone who thought Doris Day was hot stuff being confronted with Madonna. Me, outrageous? Now there was a concept. The very idea that I, an approaching middle age, middle class, mostly mainstream virgin, could scandalize the populace is... interesting. Exactly how far would I have to go before someone turned the fire hoses on me?

As I drank the sloe gin and orange juice drink the bartender had mixed for me (and was now reproducing for curious customers), Lois said, "I need to run to the powder room. Will you be all right here by yourself?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, mom. I promise to scream like a banshee if some dirty old man puts his hands on my pristine body." Lois was giving a hard stare to an elegant woman with salt and pepper hair, dressed in a severe business suit, who'd just sat on my other side. The woman had bumped me, and I turned my head to hear her apology, missing what Lois was saying, as the band started up again. I looked back, "Sorry?"

"Not just dirty old men, Scribe."

My eyebrows couldn't quite make it to my hairline, since we'd scraped back what passed for bangs. Damn, Lois is even more paranoid than my mom. She thinks the entire population wants to molest me, not just the guys "Please. As if. I'm a grown woman."

She took her purse, muttering. "You're making me wonder, kiddo. No more for you tonight."

I narrowed my eyes, watching her swish off through the crowds. Oh, really? We'd forgotten about my little quid pro quo deal with the barkeep, hadn't we? One more would get me nicely buzzed, but not actually sloshed. "Oh, Sam..."

"Call me Toddy, Princess."

"Whatever you say, oh Dispenser of Intoxicating Libations. Brandy, Triple Sec, light rum. Shake it up good."

He worked quickly. "And this is?"

"Gimme first." I took the drink and chugged it. Okay, I shouldn't have done that. Truth be told, despite my show of independence, I didn't really want Lois to catch me with another drink. Last thing I needed was a snippy roommate. I gave a brief shudder as the alcohol raced into my bloodstream. Was comic book alcohol faster acting, or what? I sighed and licked my lips happily. Then I noticed that most of the other patrons at the bar were looking at me expectantly. "Oh, sorry. Between the Sheets." I swear, there were squeals and blushes. Damn, these people were easily entertained. "That's it for tonight, Toddy."

"But you'll come back and teach me some more, won't you?"

"Don't see why not. I took educational courses in college, that teacher's training ought to be put to some use."

The business suited woman looked interested. "You're a teacher? Are you... strict?"

"I'm not a teacher. I'm more of a repository of interesting, but totally useless trivia."

"I think you'd be an excellent instructor. Would you be interested...?"

"Scribe." I felt Lois' hand on my shoulder. "I got us a table."

"Hold on, Lois. I think I'm about to get a job offer."

The other woman sort of shrunk under my friend's stare. "It's not the type of work you'd be interested in. Trust me."

As I followed her, I grumbled. "Well, darn. I'm grateful to be dogsbody at the Planet, but that might have been a chance for a professional career."

"It was professional, all right. Forget it."

"All right." We were crossing the dance floor. They were playing some sort of bouncy sixties concoction, somewhat like 'Help Me, Rhonda'. Blame it on the alcohol. I started bouncing instead of walking. At the appropriate moments, I'd pause and shimmy a little. Lois got farther ahead. Some big guy in jeans and a black leather jacket got in front of me and ponied back and forth, grinning, blocking my way. Oh, cripes, I think I was being flirted with. I giggled and ponied, too. Then I did the swim, which apparently was a new one to him, because I managed to overhead stroke my way around him.

Just as I got past him I heard, "Scribe!"

"Present!" I hurried over to the table and sat.

"What were you doing?"

"Just then? The swim. I had to. The music has a good beat, and you can dance to it. I give it an 85." I giggled. "Always wanted to Rate a Record."

She looked at me closely. "How drunk are you?"

"Drunk enough. I haven't quite reached the don't give a flying you know what at a rolling donut level yet. That would take three or four more. I'm at the damn, I'm feeling mellow stage."

"You are a lot more relaxed than you have been."

"Yeah. Ain't I cute? That's what Lawrence and Alex always say, anyway."

"Maybe you'd better stick to juice or soda the rest of the night."

"Yes mom." I didn't care. I was nicely buzzed, and it was enough. We listened to the band, and watched the couples dance. The music was all right--lots of stuff that was vaguely familiar, nothing that was completely recognizable. Sometimes I found that I knew snatches of words to songs. The need to sing was growing, making me twitch in my seat, even if most of it was sugary pop stuff.

Lois excused herself to go to the powder room again. Girl must have a bladder like a peanut. Or maybe the girdle was the problem? As she got up, she looked at me sharply. "Am I going to come back and find someone draped over you?"

Precisely what the hell is that supposed to mean? "Not unless there's an earthquake, and someone gets tossed on my lap." She almost smiled before leaving. It was easier for her to get across the dance floor, because it was emptying at that moment.

The lead singer on the band dais moved a mike stand front and center. "All right, people! Time for us to rest our lungs and you be the star! You can go solo, or we'll back you up, if we know it or can fake it. Who's first?" There was a lot of tittering, but no movement toward the stage.

*No you don't, Scribe* "Come on, folks. Don't be shy." *Uh uh. You don't know any of their songs. Most of the ones you know would probably induce coronaries around here. Of course, I wouldn't have to sing Nine Inch Nails...* "Please, people. We're dying up here. *And it's not like I have an image to live up to. "People! I dare you!" *Fuck it.*

"Mememememe!"

I'm up on the dais before the angel on my right shoulder has time to squeak. "And y'all don't know this one, so just hang back and hang on. I'll make it as painless as possible."

I started 'Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth', by Meatloaf. Damn, I wished I had the music, with that hypnotic beat. "It was a hot summer night, and the beach was burnin'..." I'm gonna work this one. I don't know these people. I'm not going to be around them for them to tease me. "I can see a shootin' star fallin' through your tremblin' hands."

I close my eyes, fingers spreading like I'm feeling the music. "While you were licking' your lips and lipstick shinin' I was dyin' just to get one taste..." Eyes still closed, I reach out in a gesture that could be invitation, could be pleading. "The night is young and no one's gonna know where you been. Then you took the words right out of my mouth. Oh, it must've been while you were kissin' me. You took the words right out of my mouth. And I swear it's true I was just about to say I love you..."

I'm really caught in it now. I think I'm scrambling verses, interchanging lines. The beauty of it is, they don't know. I can't be condemned for not giving a phonographic reproduction of the song. I'm being taken solely for my interpretation.

"Body is shakin' like a wave on the water... Lying together in a silver lining..." I think the line about the jeans almost bursting might get me arrested in some places in this dimension, but it just draws a surprised gasp here. I finally risk opening my eyes, since no one is throwing ice. I come to the last part, just the two line chorus, repeated over and over again, varying in intensity and tone. "Took the words right out of my mouth. *clapclapclap.* Whoa, they're into it! "Aw, must've been while you were kissin' me." Several times. Now the whole crowd is clapping in the right place, bless 'em. Some of them are singing the words with me. I am having a very good time.

Till I notice Lois, standing on the edge of the crowd. She doesn't look pleased. Oh, well, the song was coming to an end anyway. I finished with an abrupt stomp, making cutting motions with my hands.

I get applause. I'm not kidding you. I think there was a little table pounding and stamping, too. So I take a bow, then get down off the dais, sit down at the table, and become very interested in my glass of diluted orange juice.

The Faerie waitress puts a slip of paper down on the table near my hand. "Wow, that was... wow."

"You should hear me when I know what I'm doing." I pick up the paper, glancing at it to see what our tab is. It isn't a bill, it's a phone number. "Uh..."

She's twirling one strand of blonde hair around her finger coyly. "I get off at two."

The slip of paper is plucked out of my fingers, and flipped back on the table. Lois says frostily. "She'll have been asleep for several hours by then." She glares at me. I bare my teeth in a sheepish grin. "You have your first day of work tomorrow. Come on."