Blog of a Bully by Stephen Zanzucchi

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