It was 5th grade English class, the day I decided that I was a lot tougher than I really was. My adverssary's name was Jeremy Kraft. He was the biggest kid in class, and also the most mentally challenged.
He had just stood up and given the most embarassing public display of stupidity that my 10 year old self had yet witnessed. When called upon to read his answers to the class, he was unable to read his own handwriting.
In all of my maturity at the time, I found this to be one of the most hilarious things that I had ever seen.
Naturally, he wasn't too impressed with the amount of laughter I was contributing to the situation, and he decided that he wanted to fight after school.
Now we come to the point that a normal 75 pound 5th grader would back down and apologize to the 180 pound kid that had every right to be upset. But not me, I was special.
Up to this point in my life, I had been a huge fan of the World Wrestling Federation, and there was no amount of reasoning with me that could convince me it was fake. In my world, people beat up people twice thier size on a daily basis. Why should this turn out any different? So I did what any reasonable 10 year old with an irrational belief in fantasy would do. I accepted the challenge.
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The rest of the school day passed without issue. I calmly awaited the bell, and when it finally came, I had not broken a sweat. We left the school and met up in the parking lot. Of course, we were smart enough not to fight there because we knew that the teachers would break it up if we chose there to start, so we were off to the fight arena, which was 5 blocks away from the school, and well secluded from any adult intervention.
It was an interesting walk there, with him telling me about the beating he was about to administer, and me laughing at him and making disparaging remarks about his intelligence and his weight. This was definitely not the smartest plan of action on my part, but I was confident in my ability to slay the giant, and nothing but time would make me change my mind. It didn't help matters that our little group of witnesses was laughing and encouraging me the whole time. Reason didn't have a chance to set in.
It was time, the walk was over and it was time to show the ogre who was boss. we squared off and looked each other in the eyes. Rage displayed in his and cocky overconfidence displayed in mine. a few circle turns and I was ready for the kill. He lunged at me, which I easily side stepped, and using the best logic that my W.W.F. inspired fantasy could provide me, I jumped on his back to put him in the sleeper hold. Now if you've ever seen wrestling, this was a surefire way to take him out. In reality, it was a way for him to jump in to the air and land on top of me. That was the moment the fight was really over, all of the wind was knocked out of me, and I was done.
I just wish someone would have told him that. He decided that he should add a little more punishment and started elbowing me in the head repeatedly. After 4 or 5 blows and a bloody nose, he had worked out his rage and let me go. It was finally over, and with it went my blind faith in the legitamacy of professional wrestling.
Since that day I have been trying to reclaim my honor through the destruction of enemies in various videogames. I have not yet had the honor of playing the Modern Warfare games, but I'm sure that killing some Russians will give me a pure shot of testicular fortitude.
Win, lose, or draw, thanks qubit for holding this contest.
(whether or not you just now entered it because it took you this long to compose it, or it really did occur.) 
