Authors: Stephen Zanzucchi
Tags: #JUVENILE FICTION / Readers / Chapter Books
Blog of a Bully (6 page)
When they were out of sight, we toppled over like a tower of blocks. Donald immediately started making comments like, “That was the only thing you thought of to say?” Hercules began making fun of how my voice sounded. In his opinion, it was not very deep. I told him that I was still a growing kid and to shut up and enjoy the candy.
After splitting our bounty and celebrating our amazing feat of courage, I said good night and headed home, excited to tell you the news. That’s when I saw Angela on the other side of the street with a bag full of candy. She was dressed in an angel costume. What is with this girl and celestial beings? I guess if you have the name Angela, you have to dress up as an angel. That’s logical, and no one was complaining about her being too old. Oh well, I’d give her candy if she came to my door. So, what can I say? Today has been amazing.
I really don’t want this day to end, but there is school tomorrow. There should be a law granting kids at least the day after Halloween off to enjoy their candy. But since we have to go back to school, we smuggle it in and eat it during class. You see, the teachers think we are tying our shoes for the millionth time, but really we are stuffing our mouths with more candy. Don’t ask where or what we use to smuggle in the candy, just know we have it and are going to eat it.
Everything has its beauty, but not everyone sees it.
Just like the Tootsie Roll shoved between my toes, you don’t see it and that’s the beauty of it.
Thursday, November 4th, 2010
6:49 p.m.
There’s a Rat Amongst Us
Well, I know now why bullies get bad grades. They don’t have the time to do these silly projects and papers, so when they force someone else to do these assignments for them, they still get bad grades on them. In short, I got an F on that paper I asked Timid Tim to write for me. What a stinker. I guess I learned my lesson.
The new word going around school is that I was the one who stole Buzz’s candy last night. I asked Donald and Hercules if they ratted me out, but they both swore on their lives that they had nothing to do with it. I guess they have just as much to lose as me, although they have yet to be mentioned in the rumors I have heard.
If they didn’t tell anyone, than who did? Who could have possibly known? That is not what is important. The important thing is that Buzz is going to kill me when he finds out. I must stop this rumor before it gets to him.
I gathered the troops and told them to make up any story they wanted just to prove that I wasn’t there and had nothing to do with the candy. I started a story saying that I was stuck babysitting all night while my parents went to a costume party.
Donald started a story about how I was rushed to the emergency room for trying to swallow a plastic sword like performers do at a circus.
Hercules spread a story about how Buzz dressed up as a ghost pirate and stole my candy and did it with a demented smile on his face.
At the end of the school day, as I was walking to the bus, I waved to Buzz as he was getting on his own bus to go home. He hesitantly waved back, probably wondering, “Why is this idiot waving to me?” Then he boarded and was out of my sight. At this point, all I can assume is that my plan worked. Impressed? I sure am. I never thought that would work.
Your ability to juggle many tasks will take you far.
As long as it takes me far away from the wrath of Buzz, then I’m happy.
Tuesday, November 9th, 2010
4:30 p.m.
Family
Oh, today has been just fantastic! Yes, that was sarcasm. Some of my family came into town over the weekend, and more are coming. My mom likes to have a big Thanksgiving bash, so she invites everyone on her side of the family to come over. As for my Dad’s side of the family, they get a little jealous and invite themselves to our Thanksgiving. Don’t get me wrong, I like my extended family, but it’s not like they stay a day and leave. Thanksgiving is in two weeks, and they are already piling in.
My room was the first to go. I now have to sleep on the couch. Jessica is being moved in with Mom and Dad so they can continue to baby her. Also, my extended family likes to help out my parents with little things like driving me to school despite the fact that I now ride the bus. It is so embarrassing to pull up to school in an old light brown Cadillac with your grandpa at the wheel dressed in his underwear. Whoever invented paper bags should win the Nobel Peace Prize because I am wearing one over my head today.
I don’t know how often I will be able to type with these freaks living in my room. I had to sneak in while one was in the shower just to write this.
The family that prays together stays together.
That’s it! There will be no prayers in this house until these people get out.
Monday, November 15th, 2010
4:33 p.m.
Too Much Info
Today was just plain creepy for me. While driving me to school, my Grandpa asked if I liked any of the girls at school. I really didn’t want to get in a conversation like that with the old man, so I pretended I didn’t understand what he said and tried talking about the weather. Didn’t work; that guy had a one-track mind. So finally I gave in and told him a little about Angela.
He asked what I have done to get the girl to notice me, and I said that frankly, I hadn’t done a thing. That’s when he let me have it. I need to get off my games, get off my computer, and get the girl. My grandpa told me all about the 1950s and how when he was my age, he had the girls begging to even hold his hand. He use to shove poems and love notes (addressed from a “secret admirer”) in the girls’ lockers and then later meet them for ice cream. He went on and on about how lazy I was and how amazing he was and how this generation doesn’t know a thing about girls.
When I finally exited the vehicle, I could see that the crazy old man was still talking about the good old days even though there was no one in the car. I like that guy, but now I believe my parents when they say he has lost it. Why did they let him drive me to school?
But something deep inside told me that he was right. I haven’t done a thing to impress Angela. What should I do? I would love to hear your comments. Sorry I haven’t responded to other comments; I’ve been busy. So let me know what you think I should do.
You will spend old age in comfort and material wealth.
Hey, whatever keeps me from intruding on my future posterity to the point that they have to sleep on the couch sounds good to me.
Friday, November 19th, 2010
4:31 p.m.
Your Comments
Your comments have yet again amazed me. I was surprised how many of you agreed with my grandpa about this being a generation lost in electronics. I can’t help it if electronics are the way of today. I think it is sad how many adults refuse to learn about these electronics. So, we are just as amazed as you are, but in the opposite way.
Back to your suggestions. Someone put “Don’t ask her.” Thanks. One person suggested I throw Angela a line like “Call the fire department because you set my eyes on fire.” That cracked me up because I pictured a guy with flaming eyes. I mean, there wouldn’t be anything funny about it if someone’s eyes really did catch on fire. Is that even possible? Never mind—that is a weird comment to say to someone.
Moving on. My next favorite is a little boring, but I got a good laugh at it. The reader said to bring the girl home and make her a nice chuck steak. I like the idea of dinner at my place, but where would I hide the family so they won’t embarrass me? But the reason why I laughed so hard at this was I pretended that when we were eating the chuck steak, Angela started crying because we were eating a cow named Chuck. That is why you don’t name your animals: They eventually die, and having names for them makes the deaths harder.
But the award of the week goes to the person who wrote, “Go up to Angela and say “Babe, your hot. Let’s get something to eat after school.’” Can you just picture me going up to Angela and saying that? It’s not me. I couldn’t do that. I can’t do a thing. I prefer to just sit in my room and never do a thing about my feelings for Angela. She will die an old librarian never knowing how I felt about her because I am too chicken to step up to the plate and take a sling. Besides, I’m only 13; it’s not like I plan on marring this girl. So I will start off very small.
I have made a goal to ask her out after our Christmas break. I have about two months to get the guts to do something like that. Wish me luck in two months.
A friend asks only for your time, not your money.
I hope she’s not an expensive date, because I’m broke.
Thursday, November 25th, 2010
1:17 p.m.
Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving. Thank goodness it’s over. Now the family can leave . . . after they’re done sleeping off the turkey. We all woke up early this morning to help mom with the cooking so we could eat by noon. A favorite tradition of mine is to dirty dance with the turkey before it gets stuffed. Jessica likes to do the actual stuffing of the turkey.
After that, it’s always a struggle to get ready for the day because family members dominate the bathrooms. So I am stuck with a turkey-smelling shirt until they let me in to shower and change.
I love to see the different foods family members make. Mashed potatoes, coleslaw, frog eye salad, house salad, cranberry sauce, cranberry juice, cranberry dressing, gravy, Jell-O, Jell-O with fruit, green Jell-O with carrot peals, creamed corn, sweet potatoes, and not to mention the turkey with homemade stuffing. The different smells in the house are mouth watering. It is a true struggle to make it to noon without dipping my finger in something just for a little taste. But when you think the day is perfect and couldn’t get better, they break out pie. My favorite by far is the homemade pumpkin pie. It’s to die for. It’s some crazy recipe that has passed down through the generations. It really goes beyond opening a can and dumping in the filling. Then, when I’m ready to let my mom know this is the best day of my life, she leaves me speechless by smothering the top of the pie with scoops of whipped cream on top of the pie. Breathtaking.
Another tradition of ours is to go around the table and say what we are thankful for. I really don’t listen to the adults because they usually say things like, “I’m thankful for our kids.” Mushy stuff. This year, when it was Jessica’s turn, she shocked me by saying, “I’m thankful for Bradley.” What the heck? That came out of nowhere. And yet I felt a little closer to her for saying that.
The pig fest went on, and we stuffed ourselves silly. Jessica managed to toss a spoon full of mashed potatoes with gravy at me, ruining my shirt. The family laughed and said it was an accident and she would never do that on purpose. Hogwash. She was in her right mind and knew what she was doing. So later I managed to accidently bump her face in her pie, getting whipped cream all over her face. Accidental revenge is sweet. Of course they all said I did that on purpose and was sent to my room. About time—now I can finally type in peace.
I ate today’s fortune cookie for you. I am so full I couldn’t stand the site of this fortune cookie, but I have to keep my readers happy, so this one is for you.
He who laughs at himself never runs out of things to laugh at.
Now I know I will truly die happy.
Friday, December 3rd, 2010
8:52 p.m.
Back in School
This week has been a royal pain for me. Am I still a bully? Yes, more now than before. The stories that I thought had ended have started again, but with new thrills.
Now there are war stories about when I served in Vietnam. I really wish these kids would do the math and realize I wasn’t even alive during Vietnam. But I must say, these stories are kind of cool.
One story was about a time when I was captured by Charley (the enemy’s nickname) and I was forced to clean dirty toilets with my tongue because Charley refused to give me a toothbrush. After all, a toothbrush in my hands is a deadly weapon. So to show Charley how happy I was to be part of the team, I made the team flapjacks. But little did they know these pancakes were special. They were made with all sorts of alcoholic drinks. Before long, they were all laughing, fighting, dancing, crying, and singing. They didn’t even notice I slipped out with all the other prisoners.
Hercules was the one who told me that story. I had to ask him and Donald why they decided to make me a war hero. Now for the scary part: They didn’t come up with these stories. Someone else was making up these ridiculous stories. I had no idea who.
I did some investigating. I decided to follow the trail: I asked Donald who he heard the story from, then I asked that kid and so on and so on . . . you get the idea. Finally, I traced the trail to Buzz. It took me all week to get that far. I felt like I was interrogating kid after kid. Some kids were so frightened that I was talking to them that they started crying and tried to give me their lunch money along with information.
Toward the end of the week, I was feared again but this time it was worse. And sad to say, I was starting to feel like a bully.
A closed mouth gathers no feet.
I didn’t say a thing, and I am more popular now than before.
