The C Word And The Would Be Commando

It was a big filthy rotten crab and it stopped Betty from having babies. Her doctor wished she wouldn’t speak of it so obtusely or facetiously but that was the long of it. She had no more seed to give, they were taken by a crab you can’t even eat. Her parents cried but she was pissed.

She constantly had revenge fantasies that involved her shrinking down with an M249 and a big knife to give those little tumors what for. Sadly, the cancer seemed to be gone. She was using the Fairbairn Dagger for a multitude of tasks around the house including opening cans, opening packages cutting out coupons and generally dicking around. As for the Squad Automatic Weapon she had hidden in her garage, it was much too expensive to leave unused.

She was considering forming a band of mercenaries out of cancer survivors as they all knew how to wear bandannas. Slowly, through the advent of the internet the plan was coming together. Her local support group was less than brimming with applicants.

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