“Bang bang bang!” I shout
as I pull my six-shooters out of my holster. I dart around the corner to my older brother’s bedroom to shoot any marauders that might have come in while I was gone. Jason
yells at me, “Get lost, kid!”
“Kid! Who are you calling a kid? I am Calbert, the toughest cowboy in the second grade,” I yell back at him. “Even my name means ‘cowboy,’ so there.”
Not to be slowed down by my big brother, I move into the kitchen. You never know what kind of outlaw may have stopped in for a bite. Especially if they had fresh baked chocolate chip cookies on their minds.
“Bang bang bang!” I shoot again, only to find my little brother staring back at me. Now he is the one that is the “kid” around here. Ethan is two years younger than I am and is very annoying.
Ethan just looks at me and starts saying, “Calbert, Calbert, Calbert, will you play with me?”
“If you will play cowboys,” I say,
“No way,” Ethan replies and then hops out of the kitchen.
I sure don’t know what my mom was thinking when she adopted Ethan along with Jason and me—wish we could give him back! Actually, I do kind of like him, but I’m not going tell him that!
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