Blog of a Bully (10 page)
Authors: Stephen Zanzucchi
Tags: #JUVENILE FICTION / Readers / Chapter Books
The day went on, and students were crowding the hallways with balloons with cards. I wish people would go somewhere else to talk about all the people who like them, how they are the most popular students, and how they will become Miss America or Mrs. Universe one day. Talk about it after school. There are some students like me who actually go to school to learn and want to learn in peace.
As I looked around, it was obvious I was the only one who wanted to learn in peace. Everyone else was gloating over what they got from their sweethearts on Valentine’s Day. I got nothing; nothing but a huge headache from breaking into a locker. Then I realized, I wasn’t alone after all. Jacob hadn’t gotten anything either, and he looked even sadder than I did. I sat by him, and we talked all through the classes we had together. He seems to be a pretty funny kid when he is not getting in trouble for eating copies of a test. I told him we should hang out more often, and he agreed. So, I made a friend on Valentine’s Day.
I went home and made Jessica a valentine. I figured she deserved one from me. I felt better about myself for giving instead of expecting things.
One who admires you greatly is hidden before your eyes.
Has Jessica been tampering with my cookies? This is getting to be ridiculous.
Friday, February 18th, 2011
9:17 p.m.
Down the Toilet It Goes
What a horrible day. School went well; I hung out with Jacob in the classes we had together. It was when I got home that everything came crashing down. Buzz came over and showed me a letter that Angela wrote to him. It said:
Dear Buzz,
Thank you so much for the sweet things you have written and given me. My dad informed me that it was you who gave me the poem and chocolates on Valentine’s Day. I regret to inform you that my par
ents will not allow me to date or even be friends with anyone of your caliber. Please realize this is not my wish and that I am sorry, but I must do as I’m told and respect my parents’ wishes. Sorry.
Love,
Angela
P.S. Sorry the balloon popped; it looks like it was once beautiful. I hope Bradley’s head is OK.
I was shocked and full of rage. All of our hard work was flushed down the toilet. What country is this? Why does Angela’s old man think he can tell his daughter who she can hang out with? Why is Angela doing what he says?
I looked over at Buzz, and he had a smile on his face. What’s his problem? Can he not read? Does he not realize what had just happened? He then pointed out the end of the letter:
Love,
Angela
“She said she loves me to,” he said. I tried to explain that she most likely added “Love” in her farewell expression due to the type of letter it was in response to. If she were responding to a letter from a friend, she would have written “Your friend, Angela.”
My words didn’t change Buzz’s mind on the matter. He was bitten by the love bug. I realized he came over here not to bear bad news but to explain how excited he was. Why would I want to ruin the moment for him? I pointed out that she is not allowed to date or hang out with him. He explained that he expected this from day one. He knew her parents would never let their daughter go out with the school bully. So he told me that this was part of the help I agreed to. I am to shape and mold him into a model citizen. I am to change his looks and his habits, help him manage his time wisely and perform services for the school, and change his attitude. I am to make Buzz the Bully into Mr. Wonderful.
I told him I needed to think about what to do and sent him home. So what do I do? I am stuck. I am up the river without a paddle. I am flying an airplane with no wings. I am changing a dirty diaper without wipes. Please, I am begging my readers to help.
He who perseveres goes far.
Sounds good and all, but first I need to persevere.
Monday, February 28th, 2011
5:14 p.m.
Fashion Makeover
Your comments have been helpful. One person told me to go to Goodwill and get Buzz some cheap clothes. Another person told me to go through Buzz’s closet and trash anything that is trashy. That makes sense. So I will do both of those suggestions. Yes, I am finally doing what you tell me to do.
Now for the funny responses that were designed only to help me in my time of dire need. Our third place winner is the person who said to give Buzz a buttermilk bath. Man, that had me rolling. I also couldn’t tell how serious you were. Awesome.
Our second place winner is the person who wrote: “Birds of a feather flock together. Make Angela a bully so she will fall for Buzz.” (Sounds like a fortune cookie.) I guess if you can’t change them, join them right? That is an interesting idea that I almost considered.
Our number one winner is the person whose simple suggestion would solve all my problems but which I know I will NEVER, I repeat, NEVER DO: “Drop Buzz off a bridge.” I laughed and laughed even though it’s not funny. It sounded so simple, like you do this all the time . . . do you? If so, you should turn yourself in.
Buzz and I went to Goodwill to find some nice clothes. After looking, we realized that nice clothes that don’t smell do not exist in this store. So we left and went to a normal store. Sure, the clothes looked great, but we couldn’t afford a twenty-dollar shirt. But we could afford clothes pins. So we went back to Goodwill wearing clothes pins over our noses. We bought some good polo shirts that really made him look snazzy. Later, we got our hands on some nice-smelling cologne for men. I figured we want to make Buzz into one of those guys who, when they walk by, you can’t help but wonder what that amazing smell is. You know what I’m talking about.
Buzz is spending the night at my place so we can get an early start on his buttermilk bath . . . I’m joking. I couldn’t resist. But I’m doing something kind of like the same idea. I’m making this bully into a new person.
A fresh start will put you on your way.
On my way to what? This is Buzz’s big day, not mine.
Thursday, March 3rd, 2011
5:57 p.m.
Hello, Ladies
Man, when I was done with Buzz this morning, he looked like a small, plump version of James Dean wearing a polo shirt. We went to school, and heads turned, mouths dropped, double takes were taken twice, and the principal said, “Looking good, Buzz.” The principal is the main person we need to convince. But there’s nothing wrong with other girls looking at Buzz, is there? The bell rang, so we went our separate ways.
Just our luck, Angela wasn’t at school today. That’s a little disappointing, but I’m getting used to disappointment. During lunch I couldn’t help but notice that Buzz wasn’t the only one who’d gotten a makeover: Donald did too. He was wearing a dog collar with spikes, big leather wrist bands, baggy pants, and skater shoes, and his hair was full of gel and spiky. Timid Tim was walking proudly by Donald’s side.
I had to say something, so I asked, “Hey Tim, when you were done dressing Donald, did you yell, “It’s alive!’?” Tim gave Donald a look practically demanding to know if Donald had told someone. I laughed. How did I ever come to know Tim so well? Oh yeah. He’s an evil shrimp, and all evil shrimps are the same. They are evil and like to hang with other, slightly more evil shrimps, making a shrimp cocktail. Donald started in, making fun of what I had done with Buzz, calling him a preppy boy and snobbish. I figured that since we had started name calling again, I would call Donald my new favorite word. I told Tim I was sorry he was stuck with an arachibutyrophobiac as a friend. Arachibutyrophobia is the fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof
of your mouth. I don’t think Donald has this fear, but it was sure fun to say. Tim and Donald both looked puzzled. Finally they both got up, and Tim said I had better watch my back because they were coming for me and my little, fat dog too. Then they walked off.
I then made it my goal to tick them off as much as possible. I love to get under their skin and blow bubbles . . . That is a weird statement that I can’t back up.
During my next class, I asked to go to the bathroom. So I went to the bathroom. As a matter of fact, I went to many bathrooms, and with a marker I wrote on the stalls funny things about Tim and Donald having to do with food.
On one of the stalls, I wrote, “Donald peels bananas with his toes and never showers.” I thought that one was OK, so in another bathroom I wrote on a stall, “Timid Tim likes anchovies on his peanut-butter-but-no-jelly sandwich.” Still, I felt I had to write something worse. So in another bathroom I wrote, “Donald likes to lick spilt soda off the ground in movie theatres.” That one made me gag a little. At the end of school, I noticed some students making jokes about Donald and Tim, and this made my evil heart feel warm.
All the efforts you are making will ultimately pay off
That’s what I’m talking about. It’s about time something pays off for me.
Sunday, March 6th, 2011
6:34 p.m.
Torture Me . . . I Mean, Tutor Me
So I succeeded in dressing and grooming the monkey (Buzz), but I wasn’t sure he could pass his classes. So this weekend I had Buzz and Jacob come over for a little tutoring. The only subject they really needed help in was math. For all of the other subjects, if they just start paying attention in class, they should do fine.
I never really thought prealgebra was hard until I had to actually teach it. My two pupils wanted to know everything. Why do we use
x
in place of an unknown number? Why don’t we use
z
or a question mark? Why do we need to even know how to do this if we will never use it in the real world?
I finally made some progress after telling those two knuckleheads a million times to stop talking and pay attention. I constantly had to give Jacob candy so he wouldn’t eat his notes. If he ever told the teacher, “My dog ate my homework,” I would believe him even though he doesn’t have a dog.
The rest of my weekend was filled with a bunch of worrying about what Donald and Tim could possibly do to me, if anything. Would they put a bunch of fly paper on my chair at school? Would they dump a can of chili in my locker? Or worse, would they paint my bike hot pink for the school to laugh at? I think I should have taken their threat against me a little more serious than I did.
You will have a good, fast car.
With my luck, it will be hot pink with a unicorn horn as a hood ornament
Wednesday, March 9th, 2011
7:49 p.m.
Love Letter from the Heart
School started off on a sour note. It was as if I were forced to eat a moldy egg sandwich with a side of sucky tuna. The effects were stomach turning, and the aftertaste was bitter. Angela came up to me in class, holding a wadded piece of paper in her hands.
“Did you write this,” she demanded to know. “If so, then this little thing you are trying to do with Buzz is not funny, and you may just hurt someone with your stupid jokes.”
She then tossed the paper in my face and walked off. I opened the paper and read the worst love note I have ever read in my life.
Hay Angela,
I love you, but your dad stinks as a father. Why dont you get a new dad? Everyone is doing it. We need to be together for the rest of my life. dont you want that to? I no you do. So baby, lets get together and forget about you’re old man.
Love,
Buzz and Bradley
My brain was discombobulated, shocked, twisted, and ready to explode! Obviously this note was written by neither Buzz or me. The damage this document is meant to cause is atrocious. The rest of the day was strictly dedicated to my evil planning. This means war, and I am out to win.
He who throws dirt is losing ground.
Oh, the inner monkey inside of me wants to throw more than just dirt.
Thursday, March 10th, 2011
10:12 p.m.
Hercules to the Rescue
Today I rode the bus to school for one reason, and one reason only: to interrogate Hercules. On the short ride to school, I demanded to know what Donald has in store for me, or Angela, or Buzz, or all of us. Hercules claimed to know nothing. After a few minutes, I realized he was being honest. He knows nothing. Why should he? If I were Donald, I wouldn’t tell Hercules a thing either. So I pried for different information. I wanted to know what dirty little secret Donald has or even if Tim has a secret.
Yes indeed, they both have dirty little secrets. Donald has a teddy bear he named Chuckles that he has yet to sleep a night without. This puzzled me because Donald spent the night at my house, and I don’t remember a teddy bear. Hercules asked if Donald slept in a sleeping bag, and I said yes. Hercules then asked if I noticed at any point in the night if Donald was tucked inside his sleeping bag, curled up in a ball-like position; yes, I definitely remember that. Hercules then informed me that Donald had his teddy even though I never saw it; it was in the bag. Sneaky Chuckles.
I asked about Tim’s dirty little secret, and I got more than what I bargained for. Tim has a set of playing cards that he created himself. He xeroxed his yearbook photo and put his face on every king face card. That alone is bad enough, but get this: All of the queen face cards have a xeroxed yearbook photo of someone else. Take a guess; you will never get it right. Give up? Mrs. Logan! Crazy, isn’t it? The other great part about this is he carries those cards in his backpack.
