This is just an idea I was daydreaming the other day and noticed that Johnny actually doesn't seem to be a very good friend. From what I could see, he's basically running what is probably the most interesting clique into the ground with his relationship troubles and doesn't seem to care much about the clique. If I was Peanut, I'd probably resent him at least a little. Plus, Johnny seems to be leather pantsed and paired with Mary Sues a fair bit, so I thought it might be interesting to have him as the antagonist.
This is partly inspired by "Kid" by Simon Armitage. If you're into poetry(or even if you're not), have a look at it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bully.
I Remember Our Friendship Too Well
We were friends, remember?
Mates, buddies, blood brothers,
Always looking out for each other.
Well I was... I can't say whether
You gave a shit past looking good for the girls,
Or socking the snot-nosed whiners
Sniffing aroung Lola.
Lola- she loved you once, remember?
Back before the lipstick, legs-in-the-air and leather,
Back before we were rough or tough,
Back when you still appreciated the nice girls,
Still appreciated her...
Not so funny when you've been screwed over?
Your own fault for breeding a loveless lover,
For ripping and snarling and screwing the softness from her,
For telling the bikes how much you "loved" her,
Then telling her how great the bikes were,
And for parading skin mags all over
The shop walls, as if to scream at her,
"You're. Not. Good. Enough,"
Then she got her own back on you,
And rage infested you,
A green-eyed monster, tearing through you
Showing you each lie, each half truth,
(Even got you making up a few)
Not caring that it killed us to see you
So sad, mad, angry, blue,
Whacking the wall like it'd had her too,
Then whining and whimpering like a hypocrite:
"It's killing me, Larry,"
Pathetic.
The final straw was the broken nose.
My broken nose- the punishment for messing with your queen,
Before the innocent truth arose,
Then where was the "sorry"?
Or the "I didn't mean it"?
Typical John,
Every wrong deserve a beating-
Every one but yours.
No wonder she left you,
(Guess she had a brain)
And at least she accepted her share of the blame.
A big share- no wonder I caught her crying,
With no comfort but the airbrushed tarts.
No comfort but the sluts that transformed her,
From swan to ugly duckling,
The ones that you put up.
Not knowing, not caring,
That she still had a heart.
We grew years in minutes, me and her,
Turned out she's half-way decent,
(Even after you)
Listening as I whined like I listened for you,
Opening her soul like a sunflower in the light,
And listening back, recalling each fight,
Then smiling quietly as we compared war wounds,
From the Battle of Johnny Vincent.
I'm my own man now, John,
Older, wiser, a decorated officer,
Ruling my own head for once.
But it still kills me,
Seeing you on that side of the bars,
Yelling "We were friends, remember?"
Shouting what a good friend you were,
Telling my lieutenant how good you were to her,
Like a drunk in a pub, slurring the lie: "I'm not the least bit tipsy.
I'm not the least bit tipsy."
Sorry, John, but go to Hell.
I'm done looking up to you.
I'm done looking after you.
I see the truth now, all to well.
Do you remember things like that?
It sounds like you forgot the facts.
I have my own worries, I don't need yours.
I'm not your follower anymore.