Octoring
A smelly octagon where people fight like they’ve been waiting all their lives to punch each other.
I was in the octoring for three hours. My face is sore, my nose is broken, and I still don’t know who won.
The octoring is where I learned to hate my best friend. Now we punch each other for fun.
My brother said he’d beat me in the octoring. He did. He also broke my ribs.