You know how in the Winter-time you have snowball fights with your friends? Well, what do you do in the summer? My brother and I had a cheese-ball fight! My dad and my brother live in Montana, and I had never met them before, so when I was eleven they came to Colorado to visit me. We met at Gunther Toody’s Diner for a brunch. When I met them, I was a little surprised at my brother’s appearance. My brother was thirteen at the time, stood six-foot four, and had sandy blond hair with a red mohawk down the side of his head. He always wore a football jersey and jeans. His personality was really cool, and he made everything funny. A day or two after they arrived, we were so full of fun we could barely sit still! Over those past couple days we had gone to Ocean Journey in Denver and seen a 4D Spongebob movie, gone swimming, and gone to a park. At the park, my brother slipped in the mud and fell into a puddle, completely soaking his pants! Well. anyway, a few days after they arrived my dad, his wife, my mom, and her boyfriend decided to go out for a night and leave the kids (AKA my thirteen year old brother and I) at home. Little did they know, that would be their fatal mistake... MWAHAHA!

So, anyway, we were getting ready to watch a movie. I got up to grab the bag of cheese-balls I had found hidden in the cupboard a few days earlier and when i re-entered the living room, my brother had STOLEN MY SPOT! I mean, COME ON! I was up for like two seconds! This robbery was not going to be OK with me, my friend. So I sat on him. He started trying to push me off, but I acted indifferent and started eating cheese-balls. He kept shoving me and trying to push me off. He poked me (HARD) in the stomach just as I had popped in my personal record of 5 cheese-balls into my mouth. Chunks of, uh, whatever cheese-balls are made of came flying out of my mouth and onto his shirt. His reaction to the gooey orange mess on his shirt made me laugh even harder. He suddenly got a weird look on his face like I had killed his dog or something. He put on an (extremely giggle-inducing) stern face, stood up, and walked to the coffee table. He picked up a cheese-ball, grinned, and threw it toward me, hard. The cheese-ball-projectile came flying toward its target: my forehead.

I lunged for the bag and loaded my arms with cheese-balls as if preparing for the snowball fight of the century. I threw several at once, all hitting him in different places. I was laughing so hard I don’t know how I could breathe, let alone throw anything. I was attacked with cheese-balls while my brother screamed, “This means WAR!!” My brother lunged for the bag (the bag that I was still holding, by the way) and tried to take it from me. Little did either of us know that there was a small tear at the top of the bag. Both of us pulled in opposite directions and fell back as there was a giant cheese explosion. BOOM! cheese-balls flew into the air and rained down upon us.

After watching the “orange rain” and hearing the “taptaptaptap” of the cheese-balls fall, we both grabbed the cheese-balls off of the ground and began throwing them. It was like an awesome ninja war or something, it was so cool! We dove behind couches as we threw the cheese-balls and we ran to different rooms and planned sneak attacks and we even made forts with some blankets we found and the chairs from the kitchen.

I remember sneaking out from the bathroom and into the hallway, arms loaded with cheese balls, as I stalked my brother toward the kitchen. I stepped as quietly as a little house cat, barely breathing, planning to sneak up and dump the load down the back of his sweat-pants. I took one step, full of suspense, then another. Step. Step. Step. CRRRUNCH! I looked down in horror and lifted my foot to glance at the smashed cheese ball under it. But, that was all I had time for before I looked up and saw my brother barreling toward me with the tackle stance he uses in football. It was as if the world turned to slow motion that instant. My brother sped toward me, running like a charging bull. I could’ve noticed his arms and legs working back and forth to propel him down the hallway. I could have noticed the evil look in his eyes too, but all that I saw that moment was the off-centered red stripe running through his hair. That stripe was like a pair of headlights, making me feel like a small deer in the middle of the highway, waiting for my doom. The world sped up again as I realized what was going to happen.

I shreeked and turned to run, but he caught me by the back belt loop of my jeans and lifted me into the air (by the belt loop!) After a few minutes of struggling in the air, I was dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. I scrambled forward and grabbed the cheese-balls I had dropped. I blindly threw them at him and one flew straight into his mouth! After that, it turned into a game of throwing cheese-balls into the other person’s mouth. Then, when we got bored (and kind of stuffed) we settled down a little bit, sat in the midst of Cheese-Ball Mountain and laughed some more. Then, suddenly, “DING-DONG!”

We both looked at each other with fear in our eyes as we rose to let our parents in.