BB Gun Fight

Brandon and I had made an exquisite raccoon trap out of plywood. It used a mousetrap as a trigger and slammed tight when anything crawled after the enticing tuna fish we had laid as bait. One day while checking our trap, we encountered a squalid gang of notorious neighborhood bad guys poking around our trap. They armed with BB guns and we with slingshots. Two of us, four of them. They were a villainous group. Lazy, outspoken, obnoxious bullies who we had little contact with because they were two streets over and not immediate neighbors. But, we knew them well enough to know they were foes not friends. I don't recall exactly how it got started, but I guess it was something like this. "Hey, get away from our trap." "Oh, its a trap is it?" The conversation escalated. "You guys stay away or I'll shoot you with my wrist rocket." When one of the boys gave our trap a little kick, it was like the shot heard around the world. I took aim and let a rock fly which pelted the pudgy 10 year old in the fleshy part of his lower back and I watched him squirm at the sting. They returned fire with a volley of BBs from their pump up guns that sent Brandon and I ducking for cover as twigs snapped around us. Brandon and I split up onto opposite sides of the canyon above our enemies and lobbed pebbles in from above, a good military move. After a few minutes of this relentless barage the bullies scurried down the trail in retreat. Brandon and I though it was a final retreat, but we were wrong and we made a crucial mistake. We chased our enemy.
100 or so yards down the trail, the enemy launched a counter attack and caught us by surprise. One gunner on my flank and the other dead ahead near the creek. I was pinned down. I was shocked to see them pumping their guns with 10 pumps for maximum velocity. I was taking heavy fire and the BBs were hitting the rocks I was hiding behind with enough force to shatter dusty fragments in my face. This was serious. I tried to return fire but couldn't find any rocks small enough for my slingshot among the boulders. Just then I felt a terrible sting in my side. There was blood soaking up the fruit of the lomb cotton T-shirt on my left side under the armpit. The gunner on my flank had moved into a clear shooting position and was now making contact. The sting of the BB felt like a wasps sting, but was dulled by the adrenaline rushing through my skinny body.
There was only one thing to do. Brandon had been captured and was being held at gunpoint. I waited for the pudgy one near the creek to fire and begin to reload. Like a lion seeking out the weak or elderly among the heard I fixed my eyes on the fat one who was now frantically pumping up his gun for another shot. I charged with the speed of a tiger, my 14 inch waist and bony arms in a blur of ferocity. Tackling him into the cold water and pinning him down, he squirmed and fought as I wrested the gun from his hands. He started to bawl and the shooting stopped. Everyone saw the blood on my side and began to fear their mothers intuition. "Your the ones that started this hell." he blubbered. We had a short argument about who started it, and then meandered off as if The Lord of the Flys had a different ending. I still have a scar in my side.