Blog of a Bully

by Stephen Zanzucchi

  It sounds like my readers are wealthy. I’m desperate; I will take minimum wage at this point.

  February

  Friday, February 4th, 2011

  10:15 p.m.

  Poems

  What day is it? Oh, yeah, a normal day in my crazy life. I went to school and saw that Donald was hanging out with Timid Tim, my evil little enemy. They look like they are best friends now. Why hasn’t Hercules told me about this? I mean, I sit by Hercules on the bus—why didn’t he tell me that Donald is now in cahoots with Timid Tim? Should I be worried? I will let it pass for now. But now I feel I can’t trust Hercules, so I will start riding my bike to school.

  Buzz met with me during lunch to give me his poem, or should I say a notebook full of love? I just wanted a simple list to make a poem out of, like Roses are red, violets are blue, will you go to the dance with me? I’ll go with you. But no, he gives me this notebook that is completely full, front and back of every page, of how he feels about Angela. We have a lot to work with. So I told him we should hang out after school to make a poem.

  I told him there are tons of different poems, so he should figure out a format he would like to impress Angela with. I don’t know why I thought he could pull off such a simple task as finding a poem format. When I road my bike over to his place later in the day, he still had nothing for me, just a bunch of unorganized feelings.

  We decided to make a basic starter poem for our first contact: an acrostic poem. I explained that all you do is write out her name going down the page; then, to the side of each letter in her name you write something about her that starts with that letter. I gave smile as an example.

  Silly

  Manly

  Irresistible

  Ladies love it

  Effervescent

  He looked puzzled on the last word, but he got the idea, and I didn’t have time to explain. We got right to work, and when we were done, this is what we’d come up with:

  Angel

  Naturally beautiful

  Genetically perfect

  Elegant

  Lovably cute

  Always smiling

  If Angela is not impressed with this acrostic poem Buzz made for her, then she is too picky and needs to take a chill pill.

  Buzz thanked me for the help, and I told him to decorate the paper so it looks pretty and not made by a caveman. Tomorrow we will stuff the poem through the slit of her locker.

  When I went outside, I found that my bike had two flat tires; on top of that, the seat was missing. Now, whoever pulled off this prank is a genius. I’m not even mad. Sure, it is upsetting to see I have flat tires, but they were not slashed. The seat missing is a work of art. It makes it so that even if Buzz had a pump, it would be agonizing to ride home without the ability to sit down. It’s the perfect prank, and I think I know who did it. I’m sure you can guess who as well. Sad to say, I told Buzz I will not be a bully anymore so I can’t go after the culprit, or is there more than one now?

  Do good, even to a stranger.

  I would love to do some good to his strange face!

  Monday, February 7th, 2011

  6:42 p.m.

  Sneaky

  Today Buzz and I arrived early to school and stuffed Angela’s poem in her locker. We were so proud of our work that we gave each other high fives. In the middle of our celebration, we were interrupted with a beautiful voice asking what we are doing in front of her locker. We turned to see Angela standing there staring at us. Buzz, with his quick goat thinking, which is something I lack, said that we had just made a peace treaty and that we would never fight again, so we were celebrating and just so happened to be in front of her locker. We stepped to the side, and she fidgeted with the locker combination. When she stopped, looked at us, and said, “Do you mind, guys?” We realized we were just standing there gawking at her. We smiled and bolted out of the hallway. It never crossed our minds that she might go to school early with her dad. I really hoped she didn’t find the poem right away because if she did, it would be obvious it was from one of us.

  We peeked around the corner and saw that she was indeed reading the poem. I was worried, but then Buzz and I saw that she had a big smile on her face. So whether she knows or not doesn’t matter, because she looked happy. My creepy grandpa’s plan worked for Buzz. I guess that old man really did have some game in the 50s. What a sweet victory.

  Later on in the day, I found my bike seat in my locker. How did they break into my locker? I will have to search the Internet to find out how to break into a school locker without being caught. Again, I am impressed with the prankster.

  I almost had a good day at school, but it was wrecked when I heard Jacob (the kid caught eating his test twice) talking about how Donald slashed the tires on my bike, keyed it, and stole the handlebars, leaving me stranded fifty miles away from my house. I also spent the night in jail after a cop picked me up for running away from home.

  So that is the game Donald wants to play? Well, I guess it is a game he will win, because I refuse to get caught in his trap.

  Knowledge is power.

  I agree. If only I could think of something to do that doesn’t involve violence. Everything I think of ends with Donald stuck in a wheelchair and sucking Jell-O through a straw for the rest of his life.

  Sunday, February 13th, 2011

  10:12 p.m.

  Top Secret

  I figured out how to break into a school locker. It is easier than I thought it would be. I would tell you how, but then you would want to try it just to see if it works. And when you got in trouble, you would rat me out and say you read it on my blog. The FBI, the CIA, Army Rangers, Special Forces, and the US Coast Guard would break down my door and fight over who got to take me in, because there would be a million-dollar price on my head. So that is why I refuse to tell you how to break into a locker.

  I told Buzz about my new skill of opening lockers, and he was very impressed. We both figured that we could do something cool with Angela’s locker on Valentine’s Day. I am glad to see Buzz has someone to spend money on for Valentine’s Day. As for me, I have nothing. It’s probably for the best. I need to get my grades up.

  We made some good plans over the weekend. We bought some chocolates, flowers, rose petals, a stuffed animal, and one heart-shaped balloon. Next was the noncommercial part that comes from the heart, and I don’t mean the heart-shaped balloon. Buzz needs to make a card. We spent hours decorating a construction paper card with different colors, glitter, and confetti. When we were done, the card looked like a three year old made it. Jessica could have done a better job. So, we ate lunch on it, and then we trashed it.

  We went back to making a poem. I suggested that this time we should do one of my personal favorites: a haiku poem. I explained that a haiku has three lines. The first line has five syllables, the second has seven syllables, and the third has five syllables. The words do not need to rhyme. The example I gave him was one I made about Jessica when I hated her guts.

  I hate Jessica.

  Jessica is a big brat.

  She smells like dog poop.

  Buzz didn’t really like my example, and I can’t say I blame him. I was very mad when I wrote that haiku. Buzz and I put our heads together, and this is the one we came up with for Angela. I titled it “Angela.”

  She makes my world pause.

  With her beautiful bright smile.

  She warms my cold heart.

  I am personally astonished by the amount of high-quality poetry we produce as a team.

  So by the end of the weekend, we had an amazing plan, and hopefully Angela will be blown away with her secret admirer.

  The world may be your oyster, but it doesn’t mean you’ll get its pearl.

  No, but I am dumb enough to help others get the pearl.

  Monday, February 14th, 2011

  5:43 p.m.

  Valentine’s Day

  We went to school very early. We didn’t see the principal’s car, so we figured we were good to
go. We walked through the halls until we finally came to Angela’s locker. I quickly worked my magic and after a few minutes … I had no success.

  I was about to try my alternative method for opening the locker, but right then the principal turned the corner. He asked what we were doing, and we told him that we were waiting to give these items to a special girl. He laughed and said something along the lines of, “You guys are too young to be in love.” We explained that it’s Valentine’s Day and it’s the only day out of the year you can make a fool of yourself by telling someone how you feel about him or her. The principal laughed and wished us luck.

  When he was out of sight, I hurried to try my second method. Now, I will tell you the second way to open these lockers, because if you are stupid like me and actually try this, then you deserve whatever happens to you. I stepped back about twenty feet, pointed my head at the locker and charged the locker, making sounds like a Japanese soldier. WHHAAAAAA … BANG! I smashed right into the metal locker, and as I bounced backward, I saw that it had worked. The goofy instructions on the Internet that I read—and questioned—had actually worked.

  We stuffed everything into her locker, but then we realized the balloon was too big. We could have let it hang out of the locker, but then someone else might pop it. So we squeezed it in and slammed the locker shut. POP! Dang. Our five-dollar balloon popped. I am not a superstitious man, but I took that as a bad sign, like things were already starting to fall apart. Buzz looked a little sad too. I told Buzz that was just one item of the many we got for her. She would still be happy.

  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 parents 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.

  March

  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 separat
e 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.