The Sisified Bully

Part 1

I want to tell you about a boy who lived in my neighbourhood when I was growing up. Brandon was the terror of our neighbourhood. Although he was 12, Brandon was a little small for his age. He looked several years younger. But despite his small stature, Brandon was a terror. Every kid in the neighbourhood was afraid of him. His dark green eyes and shoulder-length hair only added to his menacing presence. Brandon had beaten me up on several occasions, taken my lunch money, stolen my bike and hidden it somewhere, and generally, made my life miserable.

Girls, especially those younger than he was, suffered far worse tortures.
Brandon was infamous for lifting a girl's skirt up and flashing everyone a sight of the horrified girl's underwear. He would pull pigtails until the poor girl ran away in tears. He ripped the heads off of dolls and set teddy bears on fire.

He always wore heavy work boots and torn jeans. His long hair looked greasy and smelled bad. We called him "Stinky Brandon"-just not to his face. Brandon lived in a nearby house and his parents seemed very pleasant. No one really knows why he was so hateful and mean. Or why he was such a bully. That's what life was like for Brandon. He was the king of the neighbourhood. Doing whatever he wanted. And no one seemed able to do anything about him. That's what my life was like when I was 11.

Then I got an invitation to Brandon's 13th birthday party. It was so strange to receive an invitation from Brandon's mom. And what was stranger still was that all of the kids in the neighbourhood got one! We had never been invited to any of Brandon's birthday parties.
But here it was. A pink and white perfumed invitation with pretty pink script lettering. There was also a picture of a little girl blowing out candles of a fairy princess cake. "What a strange invitation for a boy's party," I remembered thinking.

Well, my mother told me I had to go, Strange or not. That was strange, but she insisted that it was very important that I go. She said she would even get the present. When I told her not get anything too nice, she told me not to worry. She promised she would get something nice and sweet.

So on the day of the party I prepared to go to the house down the street and wish the meanest kid in the whole wide world a happy birthday. I pulled my suit out my closet and picked one of my two clip-on ties. I hated my suit, but what else were you supposed to wear to a party? My mother then informed that because of some of the games we were going to be playing at the party, casual attire was a better choice. So I dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers and walked with my mother the two blocks to Brandon's house. I saw other kids with their moms. We were all dressed in play clothes and had that same expression on our face.
We couldn't believe we were about to step foot inside Brandon's house.
The walkway to the house was decorated with pink and white balloons. As we walked through the house we heard shouting coming from upstairs. It sounded like Brandon was fighting with his dad. Brandon's voice sounded strange.

His mother, a very nice lady, led us to the patio where a big table was set up. Everything was decorated in pink and white and looked really girly. I was a little puzzled. I couldn't believe Brandon would want such sissy stuff for his birthday. Brandon's mom told us to take our places.

My mom and the other ladies sat in lawn chairs near the table. There was the usual giggles and childish chatter from all of but you could have heard a pin drop when Brandon's mother walked onto the patio holding her son's hands. It took me a second to realize that it was indeed Brandon. Because at first, I thought his mother was leading a little girl onto the patio. A pretty little girl who was holding her hand tightly. When I looked into those teary green eyes, though, I knew exactly who it was. It was Brandon the Bully. The Terror. And he was dressed like a little girl. I couldn't believe it! Neither could anybody else!