A Bully Does His Research

Illustration by Maximilian Bode

Well, well, well, if it isn’t Little Tommy. Gimme your lunch money, dweeb! Hand it over! What? Are you scared to give me your money? Are you worried about your family’s financial situation now that your parents are separated? Well, boo-hoo-hoo! You probably think it’s your fault, don’t you? And even though Mommy told you that it had nothing to do with you, that you didn’t make Daddy fall in love with his hygienist and run away to that ashram in Oregon, it still feels unsettling. You lie awake telling yourself, “If I had just loved them more, if I had just gotten better grades or was nicer to Grandma when she was in the hospital after her stroke, they would still be together.” And now you have to give me the money your mother gives you because she can’t pack a bag lunch since her insomnia and recent dependence on Ambien make her too groggy in the morning. Well, cry me a river!

Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Sellowitz, the science teacher, catching me in the act of stealing Little Tommy’s lunch money. Well, Smell-owitz, smell this: I’m not Claude Monet! Yeah, that’s right. I know you’re threatened by me, but unconsciously associating me with Monet’s not gonna help. Yeah, I know you wanted to go to RISD since you were my age, but you couldn’t get in, and now you’re stuck teaching sixth-grade science. Well, boo-hoo-hoo! You probably thought you were the future of impressionistic painting, doing your high-school thesis on a postmodern take on Monet’s “Water Lilies,” with real lilies mounted in a 3-D diorama inside a tank of water. Well, guess what? It wasn’t good enough for RISD, and it’s certainly not good enough for your stepfather, Aaron Segura, the beloved art critic who called the lilies diorama “hackneyed and juvenile.” Sorry, teach!

Well, well, well, if it isn’t Principal O’Malley, here to suspend me for stealing Little Tommy’s lunch money and talking back to Mr. Sellowitz. I bet it feels good punishing me, right, O’Malley? Lording your little power over an adolescent bully? Makes you feel big and strong, doesn’t it? Especially since I have such a nice head of hair and you started experiencing rapid male pattern baldness when you were only sixteen years old. Well, boo-hoo-hoo! You tried everything, didn’t you? First the natural remedies because you were too embarrassed to tell your doctor that you were going bald and couldn’t afford a prescription for anything that would actually work. So you tried eating sardines and massaging your scalp with mayonnaise every day for a year in the faint hope that it would help. And then, by the time you could afford Propecia, it was too late because your hair had already receded and Propecia has little success of actually re-growing hairs from dead follicles, especially in the temple-lobe region, where you were most severely affected. Suck it!

Well, well, well, if it isn’t my father, here to pick me up from school after I was suspended for stealing Little Tommy’s lunch money, talking back to Mr. Sellowitz, and showing Principal O’Malley that his need for power is rooted in unresolved trauma relating to his early male pattern baldness. Thanks for the ride home, Pops! Is it nice to pick me up in the middle of the day, or does it highlight the fact that Mom’s the one with the real job? Does it re-confirm, in some unconscious or even conscious way, that you’ve lost all sense of pride and masculinity? Did it initially seem interesting to have Mom keep her job at the law firm while you stayed home to raise us kids? Did you brag to your friends that you were proud to be “eschewing gender norms”? Well, boo-hoo-hoo! I bet you felt a burning desire to go out into the world and get even the most menial job just to feel like a person again once you realized the novel you thought you’d write with your new free time wasn’t ever going to materialize and you’d be stuck walking around the house in dirty sweatpants, looking at the clock, and pathetically waiting for the woman you used to love to bring home the bacon. Psych!

Well, well, well, if it isn’t the town bully, grounded in his bedroom, looking in the mirror and questioning his behavior after stealing Little Tommy’s lunch money, talking back to Mr. Sellowitz, revealing Principal O’Malley’s inner demons, and emasculating his father. So, has it really come to this? A clichéd moment of self-reflection from the hardened aggressor? Well, boo-hoo-hoo! You probably think that endlessly harassing people with your well-detailed and overly analytical personal affronts will make you feel better? You probably think you can keep everyone at a safe emotional distance if you attack them with your incisive and discerning perceptions? You probably think that if no one can get close to you, and if you remain hardened against the world, you’ll never get hurt? That if no one likes you, you could remain in that safe little bubble? Bite me!