Nobody in seventh grade likes Jonothon. Nobody likes a boy that stinks. I am Jonothon. I am twelve years old, and I am that kid in class who never washes and never changes his clothes. I wear the same skintight cottonshirt every day, and like a pair of thin tights like medieval people wear. The

Jonothon’s masters wish his brain to think only of obedince to them. Jonothon is to be slime-treated by his Masters, the spiders.Two high pillars of have been erected where Jonothon is to be given his treatment. He is clothed in nought but a short, thin skintight little cotton shirt. His head has been shaved of