Bully McMully, wherever you are, it was your loss. You missed out on playing Worm Circus and Drug Dealers with one of the coolest people I know. If by “coolest” you mean a person who writes a rad blog, if not the raddest, and draws a mean turd.
Bully McMully is dead.
That’s not his name. His name has been changed to protect the living–mainly me. His name was something that didn’t rhyme, but we changed it so that it did. We thought it was clever, the “we” being me, my brother J and my two cousins K1 and K2.
Bully McMully had a strong presence in our lives in the late 1970s. If I was anything like Angie Z, I could tell you a blow-by-blow account of our dealings with Bully McMully and provide photographic evidence, but my memory is just a giant sinkhole of bits and pieces of things I likely made up or saw on after-school specials, and should not be trusted. It took a lot of therapy to realize I had not grown up in a little house on a prairie. The only way I know for certain that Bully McMully existed is…
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