Family - creative writing by a sibling (aged 13)

I will never forget this journey

I will never forget this journey. Why? Because I am going to die soon, so I do not have enough time to forget it. You see, we are on the ship ‘Star Nebula’, and we are being attacked by Bongos, the vilest, smelliest and, generally, the most repellent things to plague the Universe. They are so smelly, that they take pride in it. The stronger a Bongo’s smell, the more respected they are. You can’t really call a Bongo humanoid, more like a blob with arms and legs. They are green in colour, with rubbery skin. They are about eight feet tall.
Me and my crew, Jean (a human) and Bob (a robot who sees the world through rose tinted glasses, not literally). We were going on holidays to the man made planet of Carador, the very sunny planet, when we got attacked by the Bongos. There was no reason for that, they just like to harm people.
And now they have opened fire upon us from their blob of a ship. Jean comes running into my room and screams, “Sam, we are being attacked by a weird blob.” The power is cut out, the computer estimates three minutes till the ship is destroyed,” says Jean fretfully. “Come on,” I reply, “let me get some pants on first, I’m not going out in front of Bob in naught but my underwear.” “No time,” snaps Jean, and throws me forcefully into the control room. I take a look at the computer, and then gasp. “What is it?” asks Jean. I explain to her that the Bongos are trying to blow open our landing hatch and will then board our ship. “We don’t stand a chance,” she gasps.
Bob the robot suddenly switches himself on. “They are probably just trying to find knew friends,” says the robot happily. “I’ll go get us some tea and we’ll all have a nice chat at the dinner table.”
“What’s this smell,” I gasp. “They are here.” The door slides open, revealing the most repellent thing I’ve ever seen. A putrid stench fills the room (not so putrid for Bongos, as this Bongo is only a cadet and does not have a strong smell by Bongo standards). At that exact moment, Bob the robot enters from the kitchen holding a tray of tea. He notices the big ugly Bongo pointing a huge gun at him. “Hello, I’m Bob, what is your name?” says Bob pleasantly. “Errr?” replies the Bongo. Poor guy, I thought, he wasn’t trained for this. “Come and have some tea,” said Bob. The Bongo got confused and decided to shoot the robot with his laser. The tea tray shatters into a million pieces, the tea spraying everywhere.
Bongos, being allergic to all things pleasant (for example tea), die on contact with them. This is exactly what this one did, being only a recruit and not knowing any evasive action against pleasant stuff. Bob slumped in the corner, with no visible damage, but I know that his chances of surviving a laser blast are slim, his circuits being damaged by the gun.
The rest of the Bongos see the slimy carcass of their comrade, scream, “They are armed!” and speed away into their blob ship. I turn around and see Jean crying at Bob’s side. “He was a good robot,” I sigh. “Why, thank you sir!” replies the robot. “You’re alive?” I wail. “Then please clean up this mess.”