Siren's Christmas Bastard Part III : The Return of Dustin

Every month or so, my dad and stepmother go to my dad's place out of state. Last month, they had the bright idea to take Dustin along.

My dad told me that all the way there, the entire nine hour drive, was like hell. He said Dustin farted every ten minutes or so, and that they had to drive the whole way with the windows partially down.
Dustin laughed about it.

My stepmother had bought Dustin a Red Rider (You'll shoot your eye out!) BB gun for Christmas, and they brought it along, as my dad's place is way out in the middle of the woods. Dustin couldn't hit a soda can from three inches away, but bragged incessantly about how he had killed "about five deer" with a bow and arrow when he went hunting with his dad. It wasn't five, exactly, I guess. It was just "somewhere in the neighborhood" of five. Maybe he just lost count after two. He killed five deer, give or take five. He must be damned good with a bow and arrow. Especially since this was the only time he'd ever used a bow and arrow. You know, when he was slaughtering mass amounts of deer. This is the same kid that was so loud, according to my dad, that no animal would have come within a six mile radius. A rabbit ran across the road when they were driving, and Dustin almost had a heart attack, yelling "A RABBIT! LOOK! A RABBIT! COOL!" I shudder to think how he'd have yelled had he actually ever seen a deer. My dad scoffed at him, and Dustin started crying, whimpering "I can't believe you don't believe me!" Dustin then broke his gun, and my dad went and bought him a new one (I assume to make him stop bawling), and he showed no signs of gratitude whatsoever.

He stayed in the extra bedroom, where my dad has a chest full of old stuff he's collected over the years. My dad warned Dustin that he wasn't to touch anything in the chest. Ha! He probably pawed through it as soon as he was left alone. Under Dustin's bed the next day, my dad found a broken "it's a girl!" cigar he'd gotten years ago from a friend whose daughter had just had a baby. There were little bits of cigar all over the room. My dad later confided that my stepmother had searched all Dustin's things before they left to make sure he hadn't stolen anything else. It's pretty sad when one's own grandmother suspects one of being a thief.

A thief is exactly what he is, though. A few months ago, Dustin was at some sort of barbecue with his mother, and someone's wallet came up missing. After being asked if he knew where it was about fifty times, Dustin finally gave it back. The wallet had 87 dollars in it. I guess he just thought he'd take it and no one would notice that he suddenly had 87 dollars. Apparently, Dustin takes after his father, whom I've never met. Last weekend, my dad had to go pick him up from his dad's house because --get this-- his dad and uncles had been put in jail for stealing some guy's four-wheeler. Dustin, of course, thinks his dad is Jesus.

Stay tuned until the next installment of Dustin, where you'll meet his charming little sister, Danielle.