Blog of a Bully Read online

  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.

  I thanked Hercules for his dedicated help. He also told me that Donald and Tim were the masterminds behind my bike seat incident. I told Hercules I was very impressed but that the game is on. I then asked if he would be able to get a hold of Chuckles, and he said he is spending the night at Donald’s during spring break and would get it then.

  I forgot all about spring break. I hate spring break. You will soon see why. The rest of my day was dedicated to more evil planning and backstabbing. Also, after school I tutored the two primitive cavemen.

  All will go well with your new project.

  Which project—my changing a toad into a prince or my chopping down the Donald tree?

  Sunday, March 20th, 2011

  10:43 a.m.

  Spring Break

  As I have said before, I hate spring break. Yes, it’s nice to have a break from school and to get away from all the drama found there, but I still hate spring break. Every spring break, Mom and Dad take off on a cruise and leave Jessica and me at Aunt Edna’s place. Mom and Dad always bring us back a souvenir, but it is not worth the pain of staying with Aunt Edna.

  Aunt Edna doesn’t have a computer, cable TV, video games, movies, or board games. What she does have is a ton of puzzles, but they’re not fun puzzles; they are scenic puzzles with big mountains, forests, and junk like that. So the week consists of relying completely on my and Jessica’s imaginations for entertainment. Each day is full of make-believe creatures that attack us when really it’s just a pile of rocks going nowhere. To make things worse, in the evening Aunt Edna’s old friends come over and play a card game called Canasta. Naturally, these other people are old and bitter and don’t like kids, so we are told to stay in our room for the rest of the night.

  This goes on for a week, and when we are ready to crack and give in to insanity, when we’re ready to take off our socks and grab markers to make sock puppets, when we finally start to enjoy the smell of moth balls, that’s when our parents show up and stop us from entering the Twilight Zone.

  Well, we made it through the week, and man, it is nice to be home. I almost forgot how to turn this computer on. My parents had a good week, unlike me. Jessica had a good time at Aunt Edna’s. She always packs her imaginary tea set. As for our souvenirs, Jessica got a hula outfit, complete with a coconut bra. I got fireworks. This made my week of pain worth every minute. My evil mind is thinking of evil things to do. Forgive me a cruel chuckle … Hmmmmmmmwwwaaa.

  Do not mistake temptation for opportunity.

  But aren’t they the same thing? Hmmmmmmmwwwaa

  Tuesday, March 22nd, 2011

  8:28 p.m.

  Chuckles

  Yesterday on the bus ride to school, Hercules handed me the legendary teddy bear Chuckles. Donald has now slept without the thing for a few nights, and he doesn’t look well. I doubt he has slept or showered, and it’s possible he hasn’t eaten a thing for a few days. I figure I should get this prank over with before Donald goes crazy, so it’s time to turn the legendary Chuckles into the infamous Chuckles.

  In the middle of school, I took a bathroom break and didn’t go to the bathroom. Instead, I took a nice walk outside. When no one was in view, I brought down the flag from the school flag pole, and a few seconds later I raised it again. Now everyone can solute not only the stars and stripes but also Chuckles. I went back inside and spread the word to check out the flag pole after school.

  At the end of school, ev
eryone went outside and got a good laugh, or should I say chuckle? But the icing on the cake came when Donald realized what was at the top of the pole and started screaming, “CHUCKLES, CHUCKLES!” Within seconds he was climbing the pole to get the bear. The principal was yelling at him to get down, but Donald didn’t stop climbing—or crying—until he had safely returned the bear to the ground. Everyone just laughed and laughed as the poor boy ran home clutching the bear in his arms.

  I can only imagine that right now he is home snuggling with his teddy, happy to have him home again. What a big baby.

  Only love lets us see normal things in an extraordinary way.

  Must be true. I don’t know what that bear sees in Donald.

  Friday, March 25th, 2011

  4:25 p.m.

  Another Victory

  All of my readers who are tired of reading long entries will be happy to see that this is a short entry. I haven’t seen Donald at all this week. After the incident, I can only assume that he’s on his vacation with that bear.

  Now for the news that I am most happy about: I am proud to announce that my pupils are passing all of their classes with Bs. That is so much better than the Ds they were getting before. My little cup of joy is overflowing. A single tear has come to my eye. My babies are all grown up and leaving my tutoring nest. They no longer need to hold mom’s hand to cross the street. Everybody, tonight we dine on cheese and crackers. Please celebrate with me!

  A secret admirer will soon send you a sign of affection.

  I will accept the sign and offer cheese and crackers in return.

  Monday, March 28th, 2011

  6:10 p.m.

  Sweet Revenge, Not for Me

  School was good. Buzz is becoming quite the gentlemen without my help. Today he noticed a teacher was struggling to get stuff out of her car, and without being told or asked, he ran to her rescue. Later on in the day, Buzz ran into the principal and asked him if it would be OK if Buzz and I organized a school car wash on a weekend to raise money for future school functions. I knew very well he was thinking about the school dance at the end of April. The principal was shocked and gave us permission along with full access to any supplies we need, like a hose and poster board for advertising.

  During lunch, Buzz was taking this whole thing serious. He went around with a clipboard asking kids if they could show up to help with the car wash. He wanted to know what day and time they would dedicate their efforts to helping the school. Angela said she could spend a whole day out there with us, but I have the feeling that her parents will find something else for her to do.

  When school ended, the freak show began. I went to get my bike and saw that it had been egged! I have never seen an egg job like this before. My bike was soaking with egg whites and yokes. Taking a closer look, I realized that it was even hit with hard-boiled eggs. But that wasn’t the worst of it. There were scrambled eggs, poached eggs, eggs Benedict, green eggs and ham, scrambled eggs with onions, and egg salad. Omelets had been thrown through the spokes, and to top things off, my favorite—a sunny-side-up egg—was waiting for me on my seat. So, not only was my bike egged, but someone had taken the time to cook the eggs with seasoning and everything. I didn’t know if I should be mad or if I should ask someone to pass the salt. I know one thing is for sure: I am not going to sit on that sunny-side-up egg.

  I walked my bike home. I don’t know what to think about all this. The culprit has such an amazing, unique style of pulling pranks that I don’t even want to fight back. I want to see what else he will do because it’s fascinating. But the person did egg my bike, and he shouldn’t get away with that. I have to do something. It’s a pride thing that all guys have in them from birth. Give me your suggestions; I am dying to hear them.

  You find beauty in ordinary things; do not lose this ability.

  I’m sorry, cookie, but you are wrong. There is nothing ordinary about a bike getting egged with cooked and seasoned food.

  April

  Friday, April 1st, 2011

  7:29 p.m.

  Tim + Mrs. Logan

  Tim, Tim, Tim, don’t you realize that if you have something you don’t want anyone to ever see, don’t carry it around in your backpack? I was able to swipe those playing cards of his. You know, the ones with his face on all the kings and Mrs. Logan’s face on all the queens. I jacked them. Then, during class I took another bathroom break. This time I brought a marker and tape. I went to four different bathrooms, and on each of the mirrors I taped a king and queen side by side. Then I drew a big heart, and underneath I wrote “Tim + Mrs. Logan.”

  Tim quickly became the talk of the school. Tim was teased by everyone. Even the janitor had a good laugh, and when the principal told the janitor to clean off the mirrors, the janitor claimed he couldn’t get it off, even though that wasn’t true. Tim was brought in for questioning, and then later it was announced that if anyone knew who put the cards on the mirrors, they should inform the office staff at once.

  As for your comments, I loved them, as usual. One person suggested putting stink bombs in Donald’s and Tim’s backpacks. Love it, but I don’t have any stink bombs … yet.

  Another person suggested I get some clear superglue and seal their lockers shut. That’s a good one, but I am too chicken to try that. I think the janitor would be out to get me after pulling that trick.

  Our number one winner this week is the person who told me to pour chocolate pudding in Donald’s and Tim’s gym shoes. What a great idea—and easy to do. It’s the perfect recipe if you are lacking some of that good old chocolate goodness in your life. And there is milk in chocolate pudding—hey, it does your body good.

  I’m not sure yet if I will use any of these suggestions, but you have definitely put my evil brain into action. With my brain and your comments, I feel we are unstoppable. Let us rule the world together. Hmmmmmmmwwwaaa. (I couldn’t resist.)

  A thrilling time is in your immediate future.

  I’m ready. Beam me a thrill Scotty.

  Sunday, April 3rd, 2011

  11:47 a.m.

  Car Wash

  Last time I wrote was Friday night. After typing my entry, I watched a little TV and then went to bed. Well, around two in the morning, I was woken up by Jacob, who was standing right above me, dripping cold water on my head. How did he get in the house? I got up, and we went outside, where Buzz was waiting for us. Buzz was excited about the car wash that we organized to have in another eight hours. I would have liked my sleep, but Buzz wanted customers. I told him it was two in the morning and we couldn’t get customers until they’d woken up.

  Come to find out, Buzz knows how to get many customers. Early in the morning Buzz, Jacob, and I went down the street, writing on cars with washable markers. We wrote things like, “I’m dirty, take me to the free school car wash at 10 a.m. P.S. Bring money for a donation.” I was worried this would bring in customers but that they would be angry. After all, writing things on cars is never a good idea if the owner doesn’t know about it. But we justified our actions by saying to ourselves that was for a good cause.

  During the car wash, we had many people come in with things written on their cars, but they were not as mad as we thought they might be. I was happy to see that these adults had more school spirit than what I would have guessed. Some of the car owners even stayed to help out the dozen or so students who were washing cars. There was only one person who was upset that we drew on his truck. He refused to donate a thing, which is fine, but he really wanted his truck to get a deluxe wash without forking over a dime. Oh well, can’t grow tomatoes without finding one worm.

  The car wash went well. It was a hot day, and we went a little crazy and sprayed each other. Just as predicted, Angela didn’t show up. I could only assume her French tutor refused to let her skip her elocution lessons. I don’t know—I made that up. Why would a French person teach elocution, and why would anyone from Texas sign up for elocution lessons?

  Around 3 p.m. we finished washing the last car. This w
as the longest car wash I have ever taken part in. I guess it would have been quicker if we weren’t goofing off half the time. Maybe we should have only written on half of the cars we did. Well, it was fun anyway. We packed up and headed home. Jacob came up with the plan of hitting up a fast-food joint for food.

  On our way there—do you remember that one guy with the truck that demanded a deluxe car wash? Well, he pulled up right in front of us. He insisted that we missed a spot on the bed of his truck and we needed to clean it. “Dude, get a life,” was the only thing I thought of to say, so I kept my mouth shut, and the three of us looked around the back for a dirty spot.

  We found it, all right; it was us. When we looked at the back, that’s when Donald and Tim popped up from the back of the truck holding buckets of mud. Before we could do a thing, we were covered. I could feel the slimy but coarse grains of dirt scraping my skin as it nailed me in the face. I had my eyes closed, but I could hear Jacob yelling. Yelling is probably the worst thing you could do if someone is dumping a bucket of mud on your face. There is a time and place for yelling, and this wasn’t it. His yelling was quickly followed by a muddy gurgling, spitting sound. Poor kid got the worst of it.

  The truck started up, and they took off in a flash. It was a drive-by mud dumping. Well, we couldn’t get food looking like that, and it sounded like Jacob was now full. We went back to my place and hosed each other down. I was somewhat upset at myself for not having amazing catlike reflexes. But Jacob was very mad. He couldn’t stop talking about what he is going to do to those two when we get back to school.

  Come to find out, the owner and driver of the truck is Tim’s dad. I wish parents would stay out of our little school wars. Parents only make things harder for us. I guess I’m only saying that because I know my folks would never help me dump mud on a few kids. Must be nice to have parents who help with evil plans. All my parents do is remind me to do my homework, brush my teeth, get out of bed, mow the lawn, take out the trash, and scrub my fingernails.

  Buzz wasn’t very upset. He actually looked like he’d had fun. I asked him what’s up, and he informed us that he’d counted the donations and we had made a little over four hundred dollars. He knew this would make the principal happy. If you’re a girl, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. If you are a desperate teen trying to date a man’s daughter, the way to the man’s heart is through his wallet. Buzz knew the car wash funds would win the old man over. The day is ours after all.