My brother Tom

So my brother Tom came back from outer space, as the songs goes alright, and although he possessed the same characteristic sense of humour which inflamed every single party he has hosted, he was not the same. You see, he had a facehugger attached to his face. It is quite simple: for a reason the android aboard his ship failed to explain, the creature was not able to deliver its egg, ergo has not died to free my brother from its clench. It is still alive, and still provides my brother with the necessary amount of oxygen. Yet, it is incapable of keeping my brother unconscious for it has lost some of its strength, so he needs not be lying down all day. Eitherway, he is sitting most of the time as to he is a Martha-like bureaucrat. Doctor was able to insert an SGD chip in his larynx for him to "speak" since, well, there is an alien proboscis down his throat. Oh, he misses the occassional sip of illegal Coca-Cola, yet he is grateful to be alive. His biggest concern I might add is having intercourse to procreate inasmuch as his wife had expressed her desire to have a little girl before he went on his trek. So, said he, how does one expect me to make the beast with two backs when I have a lemur-tailed crab piece of shit for a smile? Get over it, says I, uglier men have been with nicer women. Besides, why would you worry much when there are a ton techniques you can use to fertilise her? All you want is a hump. My brother is in the process of getting infrared/thermal sensors for him to see. It is a real hard procedure: first, he has got to have his skull serrated so doctors can install such sensors and then link them to the optical nerve. This should not usually be as hard, requiring very aggressive surgery. However, he has got a fucking mollusc on his face. I suggested he name it so he deal with the anguish of pretending to have a normal life better, but he laughed so hard that I was able to hear the puffed sound of it. Needless to say, he is fed via a tube which injects a protein-rich fluid into his bloodstream every 80 minutes. He claims he can taste the meaty texture of the liquid since he has nothing better to picture regarding the trauma of not being able to have food in his mouth. About work, he says he is quite grateful Loremar invented the Handyke IMPC so there is no rubbish he will not do at work. He told me, Lorelyn, the only thing which makes this all-uncomfortable odyssey bearable is that I am able to imagine people's nauseated expressions for they have seen their bad dreams become feasible. Sure, people must get a slap once in a while, I utter.