(A Precision Guided Humor Assignment)
Not too long from now, Frank J. & Sarah K. will be entangled in the chafing shackles of matrimonial bliss. After all the hectic planning of the ceremony is behind them, they’ll once again be free to spend their time doing what they do best:
Fighting terrorism.
I imagine that the events I’m about to describe in the extended entry will take place within weeks of their wedding day…

SARAH: frank! it’s six o’clock! time for you to breast-feed sydney!
FRANK: I’m kinda busy microwaving a burrito right now. Can’t YOU do it tonight? I mean… you ARE more voluminous in the milk carton department.
SARAH: ew! don’t be disgusting! my breasts are a sacred gift from God, and are only to be used for feeding human babies and winning t-shirt babe contests.
FRANK: Fine. Just wait until my burrito’s done.
SARAH: i. said. now! [pulls out .44 magnum Colt Anaconda and empties 6 shots into the microwave, causing a shower of glass, electrical sparks, and a strange, blue glow]
FRANK: Nice grouping, but there were only 10 seconds left.
SARAH: i’m just thinking about sydney’s needs. poor thing’s starving! [looks sappily at Sydney] aren’t you, sweetie? [reloads]
SYDNEY: squeak! squeak!
FRANK: Well, I guess I can pick the glass out of my burrito later… by the way, Sarah, you seem to have destroyed the shielding around the microwave’s radiation source with all your fancy shootin’, and I think I’ve been exposed to a massive dose of gamma radiation, and may even now be radioactive myself… Oh well, time to feed the monkey-cat.
SYDNEY: squeak! squeak!
FRANK: Ok, Sydney, chow time…
SYDNEY: sque-mmrmf… slurp, slurp, slurp…purrrrrrr… slurp, slurp, slurp…purrrrrrr…
FRANK: Hmmmm… Sydney appears to be taking on a blue glow, just like the microwave… I hope my radioactive breast milk isn’t harming her… no, that’s ridiculous… cats have built-in lead shielding, don’t they?
[The blue glow intensifies, then explodes in a blinding flash, sending Frank flying across the room. He recovers, looks at the top of the couch, and sees that stupid monkey-cat Sydney has been transformed into:

cue theme music
Breast-fed mutant ninja kitten!
Breast-fed mutant ninja kitten!
Breast-fed mutant ninja kitten!
Hero hurling hairballs… KITTEN POWER!
FRANK: Uh… hey, Sydney… ya know, I was just kidding about that whole throwing you in a bog thing…
RING, RING
FRANK: Hello?
JOE FOO’: Hey Frank, it’s your brother Joe Foo’ the Marine, callling from Iraq. I’ve got a problem and I’m hoping you can help me out. These terrorists are getting really annoying over here. Why just the other day, one of them ran up to me and emptied an AK-47 into my chest from point blank range. Good thing I was wearing one of your Nuke the Moon T-shirts, so all the bullets were deflected. But I can’t help thinking about all the good folks here who don’t HAVE Nuke the Moon T-shirts. Do you have any OTHER secret weapons you can send over?
FRANK: I… think I can help… what’s your mailing address again?
JOE FOO’: Just write “Frank J’s Brother Joe Foo’ c/o the Marine Corps” on it somewhere…. Hey, I gotta run… another Asshat for Allah is opening up on my T-shirt, so I should really go snap his neck… Hurry up with that secret weapon!”
[click]
FRANK: Hmmm… ninja kitten… cardboard box… duct tape… some assembly required…
grab
SQUEAK!
fold
tape
SARAH: frank? whatcha doin’?
FRANK: Supporting the troops.
SARAH: well, i can see that, ya goofy-goof! what i mean is, aren’t you going to make some air holes in that box?
FRANK: Silly girl! Everyone knows cats make their own oxygen.
SARAH: air. holes.
FRANK: Fine. poke, poke, poke There! Satisfied, Bossy?
SARAH: i am not a cow! waaaaaaaaah!
FRANK: I meant SNUGGLE BUNNY! Look… I’m REALLY sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy you flowers… or a new car… or a new car made out of flowers…
SARAH: i wish we were having sex so that i could threaten to withhold it as punishment!
FRANK: Sarah, Sarah, Sarah… we don’t need to have sex… just holding you is punishment enough.
SARAH: awwwww… that’s so sweet… now go mail that package to your brother, and on your way back from the Post Office, you can buy me something to appease my wrath…
[Several weeks later, the following letter arrives from Joe…]
Dear Frank,
Just wanted to thank you for that care package you sent. The tootsie rolls were a little dry and not as chocolatey as I remember them, but that Ninja Kitten came in really handy. I have a few pictures from one of Sydney’s recent covert missions:

Sydney has infiltrated a terrorist hideout. Terrorists drink a LOT of bottled water.

A terrorist (apparently feeling overconfident because it was “just a kitten”) attempts to use a mere 3-point palm exploding heart technique. However, his kung-fu is weak, and he brings shame upon the house of his master for being a fool.

Sydney summons all her mysterious radioactive ninja powers and…

I swear, all I did was blink, and by the time I opened my eyes again, there was nothing left of that terrorist but a scrap of denim and something that might have been a knee at one time.
That Ninja Kitten is GOOD.
Whatcha been feeding her?
Well, I gotta run. I have to take Sydney to the awards ceremony so she can receive her Congressional Medal of Honor.
Give my love to Sarah.
Your Bro,
Joe Foo’
P.S. How’s Sarah enjoying that full-auto Glock you bought for her?
P.P.S. SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!