Blog of a Bully Read Online Free Page B
Author: Stephen Zanzucchi
Tags: JUVENILE FICTION / Readers / Chapter Books
Not as many girls are hanging out with Donald and Hercules, and students have stopped trying to avoid me in the halls. Are my stories dying down because they are all talk but no show? Maybe I should do something to spice things up.
Well, as for your comments, or should I say comment . . . yes, I only got one. It was a silly one too. All it said was to get a tattoo.
Let me tell you my thoughts on tattoos. Some tattoos are very pretty. Others that I have seen (after all, I lived in California, so I have seen my fair share of them), they’re horrible. I can’t help but wonder what these individuals were thinking when they told a creepy-looking guy holding a needle gun, to ink some horrible looking design all over their body so the whole world can see their bad choices. I can only assume they weren’t thinking properly.
Let me explain something to those who are debating on whether to get a tattoo. TATTOOS ARE PERMANENT! I think that’s enough to indicate I don’t want one. I’ve had a number of fake tattoos that I thought were funny and cool, but after a week or so, I was happy to wash them off.
If the permanent thing is not enough to keep you far away from the tattoo shop and you just have to get your girlfriend’s name written permanently on your arm, then picture this: Pretend you are 98 years old, living in a nursing home. The nurse is giving you a sponge bath and notices that you have a tattoo. Well guess what? You are now old, so the nurse has to stretch and move your saggy skin to even come close to seeing what it used to look like. In other words, as you get older, so does the tattoo.
So to the one comment I got, I am not getting a tattoo to prove that I am a bully because they are silly. I will however put on a fake one.
It’s never too late to learn.
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, especially if that dog is a tattoo on a now really old person.
Monday, September 27th, 2010
6:42 p.m.
Spicy Monday
Yes, I spiced things up all right. I got to class and with a straw I saved from a nasty burger joint, I made spit wads and shot them at the students. For the most part, the students were pretty good at fearing me and keeping their mouths shut; it was Angela who finally told Mrs. Logan what I was doing. I didn’t even shoot her. Mrs. Logan walked right up to my desk, and as I shrank in my seat she began to ask in a lecturing voice, “Mr. Bradley, I know you’re not the one shooting spit wads at these students who are minding their own business trying to learn, right?”
“No, Ma’am,” I replied, sounding more like a Texan. “Good. Because if I ever caught you or anyone else blowing spit wads at these students, well I would have to chop their head off.”
Feeling low, along with being publicly humiliated, I would have to say I wasn’t in my right mind. For when she turned to walk away, yes, you guessed it, I nailed her in the butt with an extra slimy spit wad. I wanted it to stick.
Detention, along with in-school suspension, Saturday school again, and a conference between the principal and my parents.
When I got home, I was sent straight to my room without my after-school snack. Or dinner. Or dessert. I wasn’t surprised, but then Mom said something that did surprise me. She said, “Don’t think this gets you out of participating during Jessica’s birthday party this weekend. Now you will have to make the party extra special for the 15 little girls who will be attending. So while you are up there for the rest of the night, you should think about what you are going to do.”
I had completely forgotten about her birthday. I really don’t feel like celebrating this year, so we should skip it. Well, now what am I going to do?
Wherever you go, go with all your heart.
Looks like I’m going back to Saturday school.
October
Sunday, October 3rd, 2010
2:15 p.m.
What Are You Looking At?
Your suggestions have been fun to read this weekend. It’s nice to see that I
Well, as for your comments, or should I say comment . . . yes, I only got one. It was a silly one too. All it said was to get a tattoo.
Let me tell you my thoughts on tattoos. Some tattoos are very pretty. Others that I have seen (after all, I lived in California, so I have seen my fair share of them), they’re horrible. I can’t help but wonder what these individuals were thinking when they told a creepy-looking guy holding a needle gun, to ink some horrible looking design all over their body so the whole world can see their bad choices. I can only assume they weren’t thinking properly.
Let me explain something to those who are debating on whether to get a tattoo. TATTOOS ARE PERMANENT! I think that’s enough to indicate I don’t want one. I’ve had a number of fake tattoos that I thought were funny and cool, but after a week or so, I was happy to wash them off.
If the permanent thing is not enough to keep you far away from the tattoo shop and you just have to get your girlfriend’s name written permanently on your arm, then picture this: Pretend you are 98 years old, living in a nursing home. The nurse is giving you a sponge bath and notices that you have a tattoo. Well guess what? You are now old, so the nurse has to stretch and move your saggy skin to even come close to seeing what it used to look like. In other words, as you get older, so does the tattoo.
So to the one comment I got, I am not getting a tattoo to prove that I am a bully because they are silly. I will however put on a fake one.
It’s never too late to learn.
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, especially if that dog is a tattoo on a now really old person.
Monday, September 27th, 2010
6:42 p.m.
Spicy Monday
Yes, I spiced things up all right. I got to class and with a straw I saved from a nasty burger joint, I made spit wads and shot them at the students. For the most part, the students were pretty good at fearing me and keeping their mouths shut; it was Angela who finally told Mrs. Logan what I was doing. I didn’t even shoot her. Mrs. Logan walked right up to my desk, and as I shrank in my seat she began to ask in a lecturing voice, “Mr. Bradley, I know you’re not the one shooting spit wads at these students who are minding their own business trying to learn, right?”
“No, Ma’am,” I replied, sounding more like a Texan. “Good. Because if I ever caught you or anyone else blowing spit wads at these students, well I would have to chop their head off.”
Feeling low, along with being publicly humiliated, I would have to say I wasn’t in my right mind. For when she turned to walk away, yes, you guessed it, I nailed her in the butt with an extra slimy spit wad. I wanted it to stick.
Detention, along with in-school suspension, Saturday school again, and a conference between the principal and my parents.
When I got home, I was sent straight to my room without my after-school snack. Or dinner. Or dessert. I wasn’t surprised, but then Mom said something that did surprise me. She said, “Don’t think this gets you out of participating during Jessica’s birthday party this weekend. Now you will have to make the party extra special for the 15 little girls who will be attending. So while you are up there for the rest of the night, you should think about what you are going to do.”
I had completely forgotten about her birthday. I really don’t feel like celebrating this year, so we should skip it. Well, now what am I going to do?
Wherever you go, go with all your heart.
Looks like I’m going back to Saturday school.
October
Sunday, October 3rd, 2010
2:15 p.m.
What Are You Looking At?
Your suggestions have been fun to read this weekend. It’s nice to see that I
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