Homefront Drama

Four or Five years ago, my mom let my teenage sister's boyfriend move in.

When he showed up to our house with a fat lip, the story was that his dad tried to beat the gay out of him.

Having a teenage romance under the roof isn't very conducive to -you know- the whole parenting thing, but my mom figured that by letting this soft spoken kid move in,

he might turn his grades around.

The kitchen gets messy, mom keeps re-stating the rules about sharing blankets, and the kid's dad pawns his electric guitar.

Then, not long into his stay, he goes camping with some girl who my sister hates,

and they end up making-out or whatever it is that teenagers do to cheat on each other.

See, my sister was so adamant to have this kid move in, that she spent long, long hours grinding the folks down to convince them it was best for this kid. She slowly won mom over until finally the step dad had no say.

The problem was, to get my mom to let the kid move in, my sister had to hustle this line about how it has nothing to do with her wanting her boyfriend to live at the house, it's that this kid has no safe place to stay.

So when my sister decided she wanted the kid kicked out for cheating on her, my mom was all like "But he has no safe place to stay."

HA!

For months, my sister bounced between getting back together with him, and ratting him out like some jealous step-sister.

I noticed that I was losing shit all the time - cigarettes and cash; here, a hollowed out book; there - until christmas rolled around and we realized this kid was a fucking thief. He stole our fucking christmas money.

And mom wanted to give the kid a super-family christmas, so she bought the kid an electric guitar. (His family wouldn't let him come over on holidays because he allegedly stole $1200 from his grandma)

My mom, not wanting to shatter the image of a perfect christmas, infuriated my other sister by turning a blind eye. There was further outrage after Mom affirmed that we had violated this kid's civil rights by searching his belongings and seizing this impressively, massive bag of grass which coincidentally weighed-out to a dollar amount somewhat similar to that of the stolen fucking christmas money.

So after my other sister paraded around the chirstmas tree with a huge bag of weed, mom created a penalty best described as a mild inquisition. He admitted to owning the bag of weed that was in his backpack and cost as much as the stolen christmas money, but he denied steeling the christmas money.

Case closed.

(Kid gets his weed back)

My other sister punches my sister in the face.

It was an epic christmas.

And this is what that fucking kid got me from the dollar store.

This kid's ascent into his twenties was fit for a thief. The type of thief who would get busted trying to steal the TV from the cabana of his dad's apartment complex.

Luckily, when you're white, you might be able to trick a judge into believing that you are more parts Junkie than parts thief and then Poof! The hardships of being raped in prison are suddenly turned into the mere inconvenience of getting your girlfriend to piss into condoms so you can pass your bi-weekly drug tests.

Seemingly out of the fucking blue, my sister started visiting this kid while he was in county. Completely omitting from her past the stolen christmas money, a $300 burn from her stolen debit card, a screen shot of a forged $5K check which the kid had to delete from his myspace comments, chuckles over seeing him holding a cardboard sign on a downtown street corner, rumors of some really down low shit he did to get heroin, (etc. etc.) she goes out and signs a one bedroom lease that's twice her monthly income and she lets the kid move in.

So now I'm sifting through his myspace pics, and -oh look - here's one of his skid row cronies who just might be strong enough to carry my Flat Screen to the bus stop.