The Story Behind Pink

Mrs Edward took control of matters when it was clear that Andrew was having issues around his testosterone. The boy did not react or chase women. That was one sin she had tolerated in his early teen years. In his late teens, when most guys wanted a Mustang or Camero, Andrew showed no interest in getting his license.

The boy just wrenched on his pink Caddie instead. His form of commuting was walking or mass transit. The boy had no drive to take a lady out properly.

Yet, she noticed and worried immensely at how his reaction showed up in the neighborhood during the winter months. The boy loved to play in snow. No one could ever take that from him. Plus he loved being a good Samaritan. Everyone applauded that in him. Even his father.

But. But.

But!

There was a very very horrible pattern that nearly missed Mrs Edward’s careful keen eye. Maybe it was because she was too focused on all her many other children, but she was glad she had caught it before it ruined what was left of her son’s reputation.

Hubby had been out of town that week, and Mrs Edward took full advantage of this fact to administer the best corrective measures she could when she noticed the pattern.

The Pattern.

Andrew had a thing for helping women who had troubles with their cars in the snow. Like if he had some kind of spider sense. He rushed to help. At first, the family wrote it off as his passion to help his fellow man. He did have that. He helped everyone.

However, the eagerness in which he dropped everything and rushed out to help a woman who was stuck in the snow was different. Too keen. Too preceptive. Too eager. Too wrong!

Mrs Edward watched closely and saw her son rush out, like he always did, forgetting to close his coat because he had heard a woman stuck in the snow. How he knew it was a woman was beyond anyone’s guess. He just knew. He only acted that frantically if it was a woman stuck. Never if it was a guy.

As Andrew darted out, she saw that he was aroused. Like a man in heat. He was getting something sexual out of a damsel in distress.

This trigged all manners of alarms in Mrs Edward’s heart and mind. Her son was a sexual deviant? A predator?

Oh heck to the freak no!!!!!

She watched as he went out and rescued the woman who was having a lot of issues in the snow. The way he looked at her, his face showed a lot of understanding and compassion. The girl was too eager on the gas pedal. She was young, naive, stupid.

The girl was also pretty. She could have enlisted the help of any other guy in the neighborhood. Yet, she opted to get stuck close to Andrew’s place to get him out there. This was too much

Mrs Edward was fuming. She had to fix this. But it was too cold to go out and snatch her son from his deviancy.

She watched helplessly as Andrew got the woman free… then followed her as she got stuck a few houses later… oblivious to the fact the girl had done so on purpose.

He helped her again. This time, another guy came out to help. She saw her son trying to wave him away with little success. The boy not only was doing deviant things, he wanted to purposefully have this all to himself??

The car, once freed, managed to leave just fine. What made things far worse was the smirk of satisfaction on Andrew’s face. The precious son of hers was glowing with satisfaction for sinning?

Really?

As he made his way back to the house, all the moments that Andrew had ever helped a woman stuck played back across her imagination’s wall. There was a distinct pattern. The prettier the woman, the more sexy her attire, the more his smirk beamed. The more effort he put to rescuing the lady. If the woman was dressed casually, or was old, or was mean to him, he often opted to get behind the wheel and very skillfully extract the vehicle.

This, from a boy who had no driver’s license.

When he helped guys who were too macho about their predicament, he simply walked away. If the guys were open to help, he drove the vehicle out with just as much skills. If the guys were approachable but not open to letting him drive, he helped out by pushing but did very little coaching.

Mrs Edward was now beyond angry. Her son was not going to grow up to be a deviant. She was not going to tolerate it. And his dad was not there to protect him like he had when he was a little boy.

She was going to rid him of his sinful ways once and for all.

That night

After everyone was in bed and asleep, Mrs Edward went to Andrew’s room to address her concerns. To her surprise, he was up and writing. She took the notebook before he could secure it. To her shock, the boy fought her hard for the notebook. It had taken a few hard swings at his face to get him to stop.

It was rather strange how he froze and stood motionlessly. As if a statue. Much like he had done as a boy the first time she had tried to purge his shame out of him.

She looked through the notebook. Her blood totally froze. She could scarcely hold her gasping in check. The words burned her retina. Mrs. Edward nearly blacked out in total fury. This was not her son. This was not possible. This was not happening.