Food Fight

“Sir.” the young soldier’s voice sounded clear to the General over the radio. “They’ve agreed to it.”


The General, a stern man in his fifties nodded and replied a firm, “Good. We shall see them at the battlefield tomorrow, first thing when the sun rises.”


As dawn broke through the sleepy morning clouds, the two factions stood facing each other in the battlefield. With their guns slung on their shoulders, a representative from each of the faction slowly walked to the “No Man’s Land” and sat opposite each other on a stool.


Next to them were buckets made out of steel. What contained inside of them, only the Generals of both the factions knew.


Both the Generals eyed each other and sized each other up as the representatives from both the factions did the same.


The faction representatives removed their shirt and warmed up. They stretched their necks and hands and even the legs. It seemed like they were geared up for an Olympic race.


A whistle was blown, and the lid of the bucket was removed to reveal freshly made sandwiches.


Each of the representative took deep breaths, awaiting the final signal to start the war. The whistle was blown again and the representatives dug into their respective buckets and tried to out do each other in terms of who could eat more than the other.


An hour later, it was a draw and as both sides heaved a sigh of relief, both the Generals from both the factions met. As they both shook hands, one of them said, “The hell with wars over lands and religion. I’m enjoying our little food fight here. See you in the battlefield first thing tomorrow brother!” With that, the both of them smiled and made their ways to their respective camps.


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