The Battle

by Jiyon Chatterjee, age 10
The Battle Jiyon Chatterjee lives in New York City and goes to Horace Mann School. He has always loved writing adventure stories that are also humorous. One of his favorite books is ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,’ mainly because of its humor. Two of Jiyon’s favorite authors are Roddy Doyle and Jules Verne. Jiyon hopes to become a great author someday. His passions other than writing are tennis and music.

“I pulled and thrashed and tried my best to heave him off me. He was an evil piece of work. I socked him directly in his stomach, and he looked green, as if he was about to hurl. He donned patterns of wicked grins.”

I pulled and thrashed and tried my best to heave him off me. He was an evil piece of work. I socked him directly in his stomach, and he looked green, as if he was about to hurl. He donned patterns of wicked grins. Then, for a moment, he goggled at me, looking sheepish as if he might let me toss him across the room. But he stuck to me as firmly as a tree’s roots were planted into the ground. I swore.

“You, come right here!” my teacher screeched at her usual high pitch.

“Coming!” I gasped for air.

My arch-nemesis just would not let go without ending the fight.

“Stay and fight, you coward!” my sworn enemy screamed.

A voice in my head spurred me on, and I continued the war. I bit him, I punched him, and I swore that if I ever got him off me, I would murder him. “Ouch! Curses!” I had stubbed my puffy toe. I was getting beaten up and making a huge fool of myself in front of my whole class. My face burned red from embarrassment as my classmates sniggered and giggled. My head was stuck under his arm!

“Would one of you be kind enough to help him?” my twin sister said, with a pang of annoyance in her voice.

My best friend volunteered. Ha! I thought, you’re no match for two kids! But I had underestimated the power of my evil foe. One was defeating two of us! The teacher called up another one of my classmates to join the battle! But my crooked fiend was invincible. My twin just kept on calling up one student at a time to try and help me overcome my opponent. But nothing stood in his way. He was indestructible! At last, all of my classmates joined the fight!

We strategized. One person would try and pull him off me from his thick left shoulder, the other would try from the other shoulder. Everyone else would try pulling him off the top. The name of our battle plan? B.U.A.S.O!. Everyone got to their stations. We counted: 1, 2, 3, GO! They all tugged and pulled. Beads of sweat trickled down my neck. But our adversary retaliated with his own wicked plan: hang on tight and don’t let the stupid kids take over! Oh, yeah, and strangle the innocent victim (me) while you’re at it!

The irritating thing was that the teacher did absolutely nothing to help us. She just sat there, and occasionally took a sip of cool pink lemonade. After a few futile attempts to yank the enemy off me, the headmistress walked into the classroom to carry out her weekly ‘class supervision.’ My guess is that she scribbled something like, ‘class 567 is acting like a band of uncivilized monkeys’. Which is really offensive to monkeys!

At that moment, my friend grabbed a pair of scissors and tried to pierce the rival’s invulnerable and hairy skin. I spun around, with the enemy on me, trying not to get cut by the scissor. Then, disaster struck. I whipped around, smashed into the headmistress and knocked her over! She screeched in frustration, her puny spectacles dangling of her long, bony nose with steam escaping her ears. Her face was red as a tomato.

“YOU!” she yelled in a fury.

She blindly lunged at me, and in her rage, seized my arm (with the enemy still hanging onto me) and dragged me to her eerie office (dun dun dun!)!

Many strange artifacts hung here and there in her domain. A clock hung upside-down on a peg, and broomsticks lay still on the floor. She slumped onto a chair and donned an amused grin.

“Need help with that rival of yours, don’t you?” my principal said.

“Yes, miss!” I squeaked.

“Well, he can just stay on top of you and tackle you for eternity, I don’t care! That will be your punishment for knocking me over!” I swear that I heard my foe cackle with glee.

My enemy had blue spots all over his body from all the punches I had thrown at him. When I trudged out of the room, I accidently pushed a china pot over. It tumbled off the desk and shattered on the floor.

“AGAIN!?” my principal screamed.

This time, she charged at me and tried to pull me. Fortunately, she missed, and got the enemy instead. He landed on the floor, his stringy and woolly hair in a mess. I was free!

After a long lecture (with an occasional yell) the school bell finally rang. Students trampled each other, eager to get out of the prison. “FREEDOM!” they all yelled in unison.

When I got home, my mother asked the usual question, “What did you do at school today?”

I answered, “Today, I beat up my arch-enemy with B.U.A.S.O!” I puffed out my chest and flexed my muscles like Superman.

“What’s that?” my mom asked, while doing the dishes.

“It’s a battle strategy!”

“And who was your arch-enemy?” my mother asked, now very interested in the matter.

“My polka dotted sweater! B.U.A.S.O. stood for Beat Up A Sweater Operation!”

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