I was picked on every morning when I rode the bus to school by this group of older kids whose first names were all either David or Danny. They'd call me fat and expound upon that theme relentlessly, and sometimes this one guy would peek his head out from the seat in front of me and say "Howdy, doody!" which, admittedly, is very funny. But when I was little, going to school in the morning was awful. I told my parents about being bullied, and in response, my dad came onto the schoolbus with me in the morning to yell at the jerks to knock it off. When he left, the Dannys and Davids ripped into me like they were coyotes and I was fresh toy poodle meat. "I'm gonna call my daaaaddy!" went an impression of me. You know, as I write this, maybe it wasn't embarrassing as much as it was traumatic. Oops!