Log 8

6 hours to landing! If I weren’t in zero gravity, I’d have it on good authority that the bricks in my diaper now outweigh my body 2 to 1. But, like I said, we’re in zero gravity and technically there’s no such thing as weight here…

Best not to think about it.

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Don’t think about it, don’t think about it…

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It’s eyeing me now with its creepy eyeless eyes… I bet it's got something nasty on its mind… I’m talking about the pilot, by the way.

Tell you what, let me try and talk to it. That’d be the first real conversation I’ve had in over two days (Commander’s gibberish doesn’t count as proper confab).

Robot: Mission specialist in visual range…

Cool! It can see me!

Robot: Initiating friendly protocol…

I like friendly. I can handle friendly. Hey, what the [data removed]! Stop petting me! Learn to [data removed] pet without smacking my [data removed] head!

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Back in my seat. Better stay clear of that [data removed] thing for the rest of the mission.

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3 hours to landing and about 15 seconds to my suit being ripped open by my racing heart. You know how they say you’ve got butterflies in your chest when you’re excited and happy? Well, right now I’ve got a whole swarm of giant mutant killer bees inside my chest. Or even pterosaurs. Must be the impending death that’s doing it to me.

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He was a brave dog, easily the bravest of his time! Should read good on my memorial plaque, don’t you think?

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Prepare for Lunar Orbit Injection (LOI). All personnel proceed to your stations.

You heard Mission Control - here comes the crashing time!

Arrivederci, cruel world!