The C is looking at its feet where the broken hopes and dreams of Western Monster hunter fans lie...

yes i studied hiragana and katakana recently and i remember that stroke you have to do on the end of the letter i think it is called  hane am i right?

It missed it's chiropractor appointment?

It was October of 1941, World War II was raging across the European nations. America had just entered the war.

C, the sergeant of a squad, was ordered to take out a bunker, commanded by the natorious Lieutenant Herr S. This was not easy. All C had was Private A, Corporal P, and that weird looking guy, Janitor M. Well, it wasn't long before their orders had to be taken care of. They set up quietly, the moon was shadowed in the sky, it was cold for October, C wrapped his officer's coat around him tightly. He could see the bunker there, now, S crossing this way and that, and his alert troops, unfaltering, unfailing. He scowled to himself. He didn't like the look of things. And that's when all hell broke loose. Janitor M had drank too much, and mistook a landmine for a toilet. Why? Nobody ever got to find out, because before they could ask, BOOM. And M was gone. Herr S was alerted, the troops began firing. P was shot quickly, he cried out to C, told him to tell his wife that he loved her, a single tear going down his eye, and then, nothing. C screamed like a wild BEAST! He HOWLED to the moon that betrayed his vision. And, without any hesitation, he took out a grenade from his vest, ripped off the pin with his teeth, and he charged those kraut bastards like there was no tomorrow. He could hear Private A shout out to him from behind to come back, but he was too far gone. He had seen too many good letters die. How would we have an alphabet now, he thought.

I just want you to know that those German letters through everything they had at him, from umlouts to that double 's' sound that looks like a B, they shot it all. But C made it to that bunker, and he lobbed that grenade as he howled for his friends, and as he did a single bullet from S's luger struck him across his top curve, permenantly paralyzing it forever, but that grenade went in there, and after all the dust was cleared, there was Sergeant C of the American forces standing there, not complaining of his wound, but, instead, attending to his other troops. He became a hero, attached to the head title for a multi-national gaming company, but he always kept that honorable droop in his C. He never forgot that war.

He never forgot.