Blog of a Bully by Stephen Zanzucchi Read Free Book Online Page A

scary, but Donald sure jumped a few times. We wanted to pull a prank on Jessica, but we couldn’t think of a good one that wasn’t too mean. So we let that one pass, but in the morning I woke myself by smashing shaving cream in my face. I had an itchy nose. Yes, one of the pranks we were going to pull on Jessica, Donald pulled on me instead. He sprayed shaving cream in my hand and with a feather, he tickled my nose. This was done at four in the morning; Donald must be a light sleeper.
     
    You guys have given me some good ideas. One person said I should write an apology letter and read it to the school over the loud speaker. Another person said I should do more positive things with my time, like have a school car wash. But the winner of the week is the person who told me to make cookies for the whole school. That is doable, but what made the comment a winner is that the individual explained I should make the cookies with a few extra dashes of love. Brilliant—I love it. I’ll spread the baked love at school.
    Much more grows in the garden than that which is planted there.
    I hope it’s a garden of love, because I need some flour made of love for my cookies. After all, flour made of love doesn’t grow on trees.
     

Saturday, December 25th, 2010
    9:19 p.m.
    Christmas
     
    Christmastime, what a wonderful nightmare. Trips to the store to look at last-minute toys, followed by dragging a screaming Jessica out of a store because some dumb toy. And if we go in another store, she will find another toy to cry about as if she is trying to scream her Christmas list all the way to the North Pole.
    Next we get our pictures taken with the big, fat Santa man who just had his picture taken with the hundreds of kids before us. I really hope the management do an extensive background check on the guys they get to dress up as Santa. Just like the toilets in a gas station, the staff should offer a seat cover for Santa’s knee or at least spray sanitizer on it. My mom likes to get Jessica all dolled up for these photos as if Jessica is auditioning for a beauty contest. But for how much my mom pays for these pics, she should do everything to get her money’s worth, including demanding an extra candy cane. Jessica is only good for one shot before she starts to cry. You would think if Jessica thought this was the real guy bringing her toys every year, she would worship the guy. But no, she sits on his knee and cries in his face. That’s my sister; no logic.
    The night before Christmas, we are allowed to open one present and I always pick the biggest one. This year I got a bike, and it’s a pretty sweet ride. Jessica got the stupid pony she earlier cried in the store for. There’s that squeaky wheel thing again, and she still thinks that Santa at the mall got the pony for her. I never really pay attention to what my parents get, but they sounded happy with whatever they got this year.
    After all my family is in bed, I like to guess what my other presents are. This year I was shocked to see that Jessica got me a present. I felt bad because I stiffed her this year. My curiosity got to me, and I opened it. A foam dart gun. SWEET!
    Right then I heard a door open. I loaded my new foam dart gun and hid behind the Christmas tree. It was my dad coming out of his room with some freshly wrapped gifts. When he was close enough, I leaped out from behind the tree, yelled, “Santa!” and shot him. Priceless! You see, some people think Christmas is about the presents, but as for me, I feel it is about the love and the memories. Fifty years from now, I will not remember what I got this Christmas, but I will remember how I jumped out from behind the tree and shot Santa.
     
    I really got my old man good; he even thought so, and he was having a good laugh about the prank as well. When we were both done laughing, he became Dad again and told me I should get to sleep or Santa wouldn’t visit us. Silly old man, Santa is for kids. He went back to bed, and I