Blog of a Bully

by Stephen Zanzucchi

  The look of death he gave me was well deserved, but I tried to make things light and said, “Look on the bright side, you now have a glazed roll instead of a plain one.” He then snapped his fingers, and two tall, dumb-looking boys appeared out of thin air and were at his command. He asked for my name in a calm voice, even though you could tell he was holding back his rage.

  “Bradley,” I said. He told his goons to remember me and never forget my name or face. I must say I wasn’t that worried, seeing that he was short and chubby. What was he going to do, sit on me? So I asked for his name. He looked shocked that I had no idea who he was.

  “I’m the one they call Buzz,” Buzz said.

  “Well, Buzz, sorry about your food. You can have mine. But I would think a guy as rotund as you wouldn’t have a problem going without a meal.”

  He looked at his men with a puzzled look on his face and asked them what rotund meant. It was obvious they had no idea. So, not wanting to cause a scene just yet, he thanked me for the compliment, grabbed my tray, and went on with his lunch.

  I can’t wait for him to look that one up in the dictionary. If he’s not mad now, he will be after he looks up rotund. It’s a funny word I stumbled upon while thumbing through the dictionary.

  I sat down next to Hercules, who was in shock, with his mouth wide open. That is when I found out the bad news. I just messed with the school bully, Buzz, and his two assistants, Tom and Doyle. I am in deep trouble. Hercules told me story after story having to do with Buzz terrorizing the kids at school. A student in our class nicknamed Cowardly Donald is so terrified of Buzz that every time Buzz even looks at him, Cowardly Donald wets himself.

  Come to find out, though, Buzz has a special love interest, and it just so happens that it’s my angel with the accent. Hercules told me all about (you’ll never guess her name) Angela.

  Even her name sounds like an angel. Apparently Buzz has a crush on her, but when Angela ignores him, he does mean things to her like sticking gum in her hair. I guess he doesn’t take rejection well.

  Well, something must be done. I could tell the principal. Or the janitor. Aren’t janitors supposed to be retired gang members with all the cool connections? I will check on that in the morning.

  Take the bull by the horns.

  Easier said than done, my friends.

  Friday, August 13th, 2010

  6:46 p.m.

  The Day I Died

  Readers, thank you for your condolences in my behalf. Your comments failed to give me any good advice except to enjoy life before the school bully kills me.

  Well, coincidently, today I thought I had actually died. Not died and gone to heaven, just flat out died. I woke up and did my normal stuff and got ready for school. I had to make my own breakfast because Mom and Dad were both in a hurry. They left without saying a single word to me. I hopped on the bus and sat in my regular seat next to Hercules. He didn’t move, or say a word the whole trip.

  That’s when I realized I must be dead. I decided to test the waters and say hi to Angela. She kept walking as if nothing happened. I guess that doesn’t prove anything. But everyone went on not noticing I was alive. It wasn’t until right after lunch that I decided to seriously experiment with my theory of being dead by releasing a little gas, or a toot.

  Well that little toot was mightier than expected. Everyone laughed and pointed at me. I guess I’m not dead. Now I wish I was. Why didn’t I just clap or tell a silly joke? Anything would have been better than doing what I did. Well, to my future kids and grandkids, to my readers and their kids, and to anyone else who may read this … Excuse me.

  One who falls becomes wiser.

  I will never assume I am dead again.

  Tuesday, August 17th, 2010

  6:47 p.m.

  Revenge

  Only one word could explain my horrible day: Buzz. I guess you could say that short, chubby kid got me back. I mean, he really got me good. I am in trouble at school, with my parents, and even with Buzz’s parents, who called my mom and dad to have a chat about me.

  What Buzz did was so simple, I never even saw it coming.

  I was walking down the hall, minding my own business, when Buzz came up to me and yelled, “Don’t ever call me a midget!” I was confused for a split second, and then Buzz hit me and split my lip.

  Before I knew it, I was in the principal’s office being lectured on why it is rude and disrespectful to call people names and how I shouldn’t assume a person is a midget because they are smaller than me. The whole time, Buzz was in a chair pretending to cry. I assume he’d finally looked up rotund. Probably took him a while to spell it right.

  I got detention and Saturday school and was grounded for a month. To top it all off, I have to mow Buzz’s front yard.

  This means war! I’m going to get even with him if it’s the last thing I do. I must say though, I am worried that it will be the last thing I do.

  The secret of getting ahead is getting started.

  Oh, it is on. This ship has sailed.

  Friday, August 20th, 2010

  5:56 p.m.

  Use Your Head, Not Your Mouth

  Well, I admit, I don’t have a plan. And to justify my prolonging of the attack, I have told myself that things should cool down before I strike. You know, strike while the iron is not so hot.

  But on another note, today in class a kid named Jacob was caught eating his test. Mrs. Logan completely humiliated him in front of the whole class and then gave him a new test. When Mrs. Logan’s back was turned, he began to eat the new one.

  Now, I consider myself to be a smart kid. Sure I am not the brightest in the class, but I actually use the knowledge I gain. That is what I feel separates me from everyone else. When I learn something new, I use it. Not everyone does that. Just look at doctors; they go through years and years of school so they can fix broken people. But if you go to a hospital, you will see numerous nurses and doctors smoking during their breaks. They know that smoking is not good for them, but they do it anyway.

  Poor Jacob acted surprised, like he had no idea he was not allowed to eat the new test. I wonder if he will tell the principal he has no idea why he is in the principal’s office.

  Getting up at dawn will not make the morning come sooner.

  Use your head, people.

  Sunday, August 22nd, 2010

  8:45 p.m.

  Can’t Think Straight

  This weekend I should have been very productive, devising a plan of attack. After all, what else is there to do during Saturday School? I sat there and thought, but every time I thought about Buzz, I couldn’t help but think about how rotten he treats Angela. Naturally, that led me to think about how she hardly says a word to me. That’s when I wondered how I was going to get her to notice how cool I am.

  Then I realized I am not that cool and need to do something fantastic. So, needless to say, nothing got accomplished; the day wasted away as I just sat there thinking during Saturday School.

  I also had to mow Buzz’s yard. That was a real treat. His parents made sly remarks to me like, “Put your back into it, you’re working like a midget.” I thought that was rude, because I know a number of midgets who can work circles around me. The whole time Buzz was watching from the window, making faces at me. Realizing how immature he was being, I made faces right back.

  Your comments have kept me entertained. This blog is by far the coolest thing I have ever done, but it won’t impress the girls. Your ideas on getting vengeance have been fun to read, but not realistic. For one, I am not an axe murderer. I’m not going to go to school with an axe to … you can use your own imagination because this blog is not rated R.

  If you can’t comment something nice, then don’t comment anything at all.

  I prefer subtle revenge. Something that slowly creeps up on him when he is occupied and then BAM or POW! Or whatever onomatopoeia you wish to insert should be fine.

  Surprisingly, there were a number of you who said not to fight and to try to be f
riends with him. I’m sure that is some healthy advice, but I’m not in this to make friends—I’m in it to win. This has turned into a big game, and I plan to walk away the winner. I just need to come up with a plan.

  Don’t allow yourself to dream away time. Be productive.

  Angela is so pretty. See what I mean, I can’t concentrate.

  September

  Wednesday, September 1st, 2010

  8:17 p.m.

  You’ll Go Bananas for This

  I finally developed—and carried out—a plan. It required a banana, the right moment, and guts. I came up with this wonderful plan on the bus ride to school. I was able to acquire a banana, and I knew when the right moment was. Getting the nerve to follow through was the hard part.

  The time came sooner than I was prepared for, and it was do-or-die time. Buzz deserved what he got; it was his turn to take the ride.

  I completely flaked out, but at the same time, I succeeded! Amazed? I amazed myself too. My plan, like his, was so simple, but it didn’t work. But, then again, it did.

  What happened was Buzz was harassing Angela at her locker again. Angela wasn’t happy with the unwanted creep, so she hid behind the door of her locker as if crawling into a shell, never to come out. So with one door separating Angela and Buzz, I felt this was the perfect time for my attack.

  I pulled the banana out of my backpack and walked over to the target. About ten feet from the locker is where it happened. Some jerk tripped me, but luck struck at the same time. I did a running stumble to gain my balance, but it was no use. I went flying into the locker and smashed the locker door in Buzz’s face.

  I bet you thought that was pretty lucky, right? Well, keep reading. This is the part that amazed me. Somewhere during my horrible ballet dance to the locker, I tossed the banana so I could have two hands to fall with. Somehow it managed to land in the same spot where Buzz fell, and he got banana all over the back of his pants! YEAH, BABY!

  That worked out so much better than my lousy plan. I had only planned to chuck the banana at him while I was camouflaged by a crowd of students. I had no idea what happened was going to happen. It sure looked like I had done it on purpose though.

  The principal came out of nowhere and was demanding to know what happened. Buzz was crying (real tears this time); had a bloody nose; and had a soggy, mushy bottom. Buzz insisted I hit him with a baseball bat, but sweet beautiful Angela explained that everything was just a big accident.

  The principal let Buzz go to the nurse and then proceeded to lecture me about picking on people my own size and told me to stop being such a bully. Well, Buzz isn’t my size and I’ve never been called a bully before. I kind of liked it. I’ve always just been Bradley the Brain.

  When the principal walked away, that’s when Angela started to let me have it. She was mad and said how sick she was of stupid boys always fighting and something along the lines of me needing to grow up and so on. I must say I zoned out a little during her speech because I was amazed she was talking to me again. I was also shocked how ungrateful she was being to her rescuer. But isn’t that how it always goes?

  Well, school went on and by the end of the day, rumor had it that I was the meanest bully in California until I was exiled to Texas.

  I realized that with all of my plans to get Buzz, I had become a bully and I liked this new side of me. I have never done anything like this before.

  Share your joy and success with others.

  That cookie is right. I will write Joe and Marcos and tell them all about my new life.

  Friday, September 3rd, 2010

  5:25 p.m.

  An Original Joke

  I have decided I don’t want to be a bully. At first, it sounded fun. It sounded like the dramatic change I was looking for at the beginning of the year, but now it doesn’t sound like a good idea. Your comments reflect my opinion on the matter. Now I need some good ideas on how to get the principal to notice I’m a geek and a half. So think about that one for me.

  I tried to have a good, productive day at school concerning Angela. I decided I would tell her one of my homemade jokes. I asked her in between classes if she wanted to hear a joke I made up. She gave me the stink eye and then finally said, “Hit me.”

  “What does Fred Flintstone say when asked how much ketchup he wants on his hotdog?”

  “A little-dabble-do.”

  She gave a quarter smile and walked off. How depressing. That was my best original joke. That’s when Hercules came up behind me and asked, “Who’s Fred Flintstone?” Yet another generation wasted on pointless cartoons. To all my readers, if you don’t know who Fred Flintstone is, then you need to get off my blog now and look up an episode or two of The Flintstones. It’s not that The Flintstones is the greatest cartoon ever, it’s just that you weren’t raised right. It’s not your fault; it’s your parents fault, and I guarantee if you ask them, they’ll know all about the Flintstones.

  Well, hopefully that joke broke some of the ice for Angela and me.

  Later, I realized I had forgotten to bring a lunch to school. I was tempted to ask Angela for money, but I wasn’t about to press my luck. So I asked Cowardly Donald. He was more than happy to lend me a couple bucks. I promised him I would repay him tomorrow morning.

  Cowardly Donald thanked me from the bottom of his heart for beating up Buzz. I tried to clear my bully name by telling him it was an accident, but he wouldn’t have it. I think he likes the idea that I could possibly be a bully.

  I got a reply from my old friends in California. They e-mailed me. I send each of them a stamped letter, but the most they could do is e-mail me. Cheap skates. Joe asked who I was, and Marcos asked if I stole his video game. I guess it is safe to say I no longer have friends in California. Looking back, I realize those friends were using me for answers on tests and as a partner for projects because I did all the work. And they loved my video games. I’m tired of having to buy friends. For once I would like someone to be my friend because he or she thinks I’m awesome. What am I doing wrong?

  You will have a prosperous life.

  Yeah, a friendless, prosperous life.

  Wednesday, September 8th, 2010

  7:07 p.m.

  No Fear

  When I got on the bus today, I noticed Hercules looked very intimidated by me. Was it the ten push-ups I did before going to bed last night? I don’t think so, because the other students were looking at me as if they expected me to snap at any moment. I did put on deodorant, right?

  When I ran into Angela, I found out what was up. She was shocked that I would do such a horrible thing to Cowardly Donald. I had no idea what she was talking about.

  Come to find out, Donald told everyone that I stole his lunch money and threatened his first-born child’s life. I was in complete shock. I told Angela that I could never do anything like that, but I don’t think she believed me.

  I had to talk to Donald right away. I had to know if there was some kind of miscommunication on his part, because I definitely did not threaten his life (I might now). Something was terribly wrong and it was making me look bad.

  I saw Cowardly Donald talking in the hall. Something was different about him. He was standing straight; he looked proud and happy as he was talking to a group of girls who were soaking up his every word and move. If he leaned against a locker, the girls leaned with him, and one even had her head on his shoulder. The story he made up about me has made him a star. I decided I couldn’t possibly destroy this for him. He was no longer a coward.

  I endured the dirty looks, the pointing, and the attention. The story became rather funny. One version of the story was that I threatened Donald with a gun and stole his money.

  Another was about Donald defending himself with martial arts like Bruce Lee until I sucker punched him in the back. But my all-time favorite version is that Donald sacrificed his wallet in exchange for me not harming a baby. When girls in my classes asked me how I could hurt an innocent baby, I would simply say, I was checking the baby fo
r a bomb, and it was fully loaded.

  At the end of the day, I caught up with Donald and asked him what was going on. He explained that if I can go from geek to bully in one lucky accident, then he could go from being a coward to the bravest kid in school just as easily.

  Then Hercules appeared from behind a bush yelling, “I knew it! I knew it!” He knew I wasn’t a bully and this was one of Donald’s horrible plans. The sad thing is Hercules wanted in. He wanted the girls to notice him as well. He too was tired of Buzz picking on him, so he and Donald agreed to make me the biggest bully Texas had ever seen. That way they would both get the fame of being bully survivors and Buzz would get knocked out of the picture.

  They never asked me what I wanted, but I was happy to see that I could make their lives better, and I now have friends.

  Everyone is the architect of his/her own destiny.

  I am ready for my destiny makeover.

  To the weak-hearted reader, turn around; this is going to get ugly.

  Saturday, September 11th, 2010

  5:10 p.m.

  Skating the Night Away

  I watched Rocky III this morning. What a wonderful way to start a Saturday. That Mr. T is one heck of an actor. But what do I know? When I was cast in a puppet show in the third grade as the rat in the Pied Piper, I pretended to be sick and dying just to get out of the play. All I had to do was squeak several times, and I couldn’t even do that. So what do I know about acting?

  I figure if I am going to keep my bully reputation alive, I need to act and appear like a bully. Think like a bully. Be a bully. So I dusted off my old skateboard that I got in the fifth grade and never used. In the movies it seems like all the good bullies have some kind of transportation, and my bike is currently out of commission.

  I practiced all afternoon, with Jessica there at my side, laughing every time I fell. Well, guess what? Every time I got on that stupid board, I fell. I don’t know if it’s the board’s fault or mine. Jessica was sure having fun. Every time I fell on my you know what, I could see Mr. T being asked the question, “What do you think will be the outcome of the game?” He would look at the camera and say with the deepest desire to hurt someone, “Pain.”