Cooking Jonothon s brain
Sniff. Shirt stinks. Stinks. Stinks. So smelly. So smelly. Stinks make me gurgle. Stinks make my brain spasm a little. Hands try to rip it from my body. No. No. As soon as my fingers grip the damp cotton I see a xenomorph through a small window in the cell door. His little hands grasp a knob on the wall, his little hands turn it slightly. The metal ring around my neck begins to throb a little. Suddenly I cannot think properly. My brain feels like it is being mushed a little. Little...