Excellent composition by balloon in seventh grade.

At noon today, my brother came to my house to play. I suddenly remembered that my mother bought a toy gun a few days ago. I suggested playing "shooting balloons with guns" with my brother, and my brother agreed.

I found some balloons, blew them with my brother, and then stuck them on the wall with double-sided tape. Soon, all the preparations were done.

My brother and I agreed on the rules of the game: five bullets each, and whoever breaks the balloon wins. The loser needs to do ten push-ups as punishment.

After I loaded the toy gun, the game began. I thought to myself: I often practice shooting balloons at home. I'm so good, my brother is sure to lose. I proudly fired a shot and missed. I fired another shot, but I still missed. I thought to myself: I must be careful not to let my brother win. I shot the rest of the bullets again, but fortunately I hit all three. I'm relieved.

Next, my brother hit me, the first shot hit me, and the second shot hit me. I was so nervous that I thought, it's over. My brother is so powerful. It seems that I can do ten push-ups. He only needs two more pitches to win. But I don't know why, but my brother missed the next two shots. I gloat and am extremely happy. I thought to myself: even if my brother hits this time, it will be a draw. My hanging heart finally let go. My brother is going to start the last shot. The bullet he fired just touched the balloon and didn't break it.

I am very happy when I watch my brother do push-ups.