The Great War of Second Grade

Omar and I stood face to face, each holding our weapons of choice, and our respective armies behind us. I clutched my bow tightly in one hand and stroked the foam tipped arrow with the other. I watched him put his hand on the double barrel Nerf gun that slung across his waist. This was the calm before the storm, the standoff before the duel. If we were outside a bushel of tumbleweeds would have passed in front of us to set the tone of battle. Anything could shatter the fragile peace that hung between the two of us. A member of my army, which was also known as the spitting cobras, decided to strike a member of Omar’s Army, which was also known as the wolf’s claw, with his glow in the dark lightsabre. And so the Great War of Second Grade began.

Omar tackled my right hand man, Aamir, got on top of him and fired his double barrel Nerf gun point blank on his chest, causing Aamir to weep in defeat. I took out an arrow from the quill, slung back the string, and let the arrow whizz through the air where it met its mark; the nose of Omar’s best friend, Osama. He instantly doubled over, clenched his nose and cried for mommy. I quickly fired off my final two arrows and made two more babies wail. But before I could savor my 100% head shot accuracy, I felt my feet loose the ground, and my head hit the soft blue rug. Osama had tripped me, sat upon my chest, and now began to raise his plastic Samurai sword. As the sword began to accelerate towards me, I shut my eyes to brace for the blow. A second later I felt his weight lift off my body. I opened my eyes to see Osama in the same position I was in with Aamir sitting on top of him. I nodded a thank you to Aamir, and struggled to regain my footing, but once I did I knew the time had arrived.

Omar and I were on opposite sides of the “Big Blue Room,” but once our eyes met, the room shrunk, and the ultimate showdown of ultimate destiny had begun. I dropped my bow, unsheathed my Pirate sword, and sprinted towards him. He threw down his double barrel Nerf gun, pulled his Power Ranger dagger out of his sock, and stood waiting for me. We were just about find out the answer to the age old question: what happens when and unstoppable force meets and immovable object. The answer would have been epic, if our older brothers had not intervened.

Ahsan, my brother, tackled me before I reached my target, and Ahmed, Omar’s brother, slapped the dagger out of Omar’s hand and pushed him to the ground. Our brothers, both of whom were two years older than us, cackled at their superiority over us, and congratulated each other for averting a catastrophe.
Without a single word being exchanged between me and Omar we knew what to do. Omar and I called upon the spitting cobras, and the wolf’s claw to join forces and attack our older brothers. Me, Omar, and our collective posse came together to defeat a common enemy, and in doing so forged a friendship in the fires of battle.