Pizza for lunch? Not very imaginative, but alright. The clown that was not a clown strode towards the makeshift platform atop his favorite sanitary pedestal and deftly loaded his cigarette machine. Supper would be a kind of lumpy gravy, illegally seasoned and spotted. Of course, the pizza was eaten already, for he was a clown that was not a clown.
It all began innocently enough with a small scratching sound coming from the back of the airplane. At first we thought there was a bird, somehow trapped in the rear stowage compartment, but that idea was quickly dismissed using subterfuge and logic. The the sound of one of those old bicycle horns pierced the pseudo-silence. The pilot was surprised, but maintained a level heading. Non-mammalian crew had no idea what to expect, and so stood, weapons at the ready.
When the hatch popped, then hit the deck of the aircraft with a clang, a pastor handling snakes and sitting in a wheelbarrow placed McDonalds sandwich wrappers against his temples and screamed. The pilot kept his cool, but his navigator and devil prawn panicked, and hid in a cupboard for the rest of the mission.