He looked like a true Eastern Pennsylvania man: tough, rugged, no bullshit. A member of what would turn out to be the last generation of American workers who could make a decent life for themselves and their families with honest, tough, blue-collar work. He woke up at 5AM every morning and set out for another long day of assembling and repairing heavy mining machinery. At around 5PM, he would open the front gate to his modest suburban home and his day would begin.

He rarely made the 10 paces from the gate to the door without getting attacked. She would hear him coming and make for the door, sprinting out and jumping into his waiting arms. "DADDY!" His middle child. She was such a sweet little thing, barely six years old. She seemed a little quiet, but mostly because unlike most six year olds, she never complained about anything. Little Pammy was always so content, so happy. She was just as happy walking with him to the hardware store on boring errands as she was when he took her to the zoo or to the movies or something fun. Unlike her sister, Michelle, who at five was a shrieky, high-maintenance terror. It was on one such errand, a trip to the pharmacy to pick up some prescription cold medicine for Pam's brother that she ran and picked a jumbo box of crayons off one of the shelves and held them up to her father.

"Daddy can I get this?" The girl never asked for anything, so he was happy she had spoken up. That night he laid a sheet of poster paper on their living room floor and they spent the evening drawing together. Pam would think up an animal and they would both draw it. The old man's hands weren't made for drawing, however... he knew it wasn't PC, but he kept thinking to himself that his animals all looked inbred and totally retarded. Pam's on the other hand were pretty good.

They were rudely interrupted when little Michelle jumped on Pam from behind and tried to wrestle the crayon away from her big sister.

"Shelly NO!" Pam recoiled. The old man separated his daughters and set his youngest a few feet away. He gave her a crayon so she could join in. She had never shown any interest in drawing. She only really wanted to steal the attention that her sister was getting. That's why the old man was so surprised when little Shelly began drawing perfect, life-like, beautiful animals next to Pam's pretty good ones and his little furry retards.

It would not be the last time she overshadowed her big sister. In fact, nothing made her happier than upstaging Pam. She was a better athlete, and when Pam quit playing sports at age nine is was largely because she hated being the older, slower, less skilled sister of little Michelle Beesly, crowd-favorite and superstar. She was also a better artist, a better musician, and best of all, she was prettier than Pam. As they reached high-school, Michelle's favorite activity became stealing away any boy who had the nerve to show interest in her big sister. She was the one, after all, with the straighter hair, the more toned figure, the more exotic looking face. She would use her arsenal of seduction to catch the eye of anyone who showed the slightest interest in Pam, only to discard them shortly afterwards and move onto the next candidate.

So it was only natural that when Pam finally caught the eye of a really popular boy, the too-cool-for-school football star with the easy smile, Michelle immediately set about stealing his affections. She caught him walking up their front drive one day, stopping by to invite Pam out of ice cream. From her bedroom window, Pam saw her approach him and nestle up to him seductively. By the time she ran downstairs in horror and burst out the door it was over. She heard his voice, almost a yell.

"Hell no. I'm here to see your sister. Don't ever do that again." An instant later she was nearly run over by her furiously pouting sister as she stomped back into the house and made for her room.

"Hey Pammy."

She batter her eyes at him and smiled a huge, toothy grin.

"Hi Roy."