The first thing that happens is traveling.
Scarecrow, a ghost, and a bat are traveling back to their hometown in Scarsrivers, Arizona. It's not what you think, the Scarecrow was using his frequent flyer miles to fly busines class to Sky Harbor, where he was going to get picked up by friends. The nice thing about traveling with a ghost is that you don't have to get him a seat. And the bat was check-in luggage; natch.
The bat got bored hanging around in the baggage compartment. After playing his his video games for a while, and reading all of his "Batman" comics, he decided to write a letter.
Dear Cousin Batz,I had fun hanging around with you over the summer, but its now October and I've got to fly home. My friend are waiting for me to lead their Halloween plans. It going to be a great party. I am so sorry that you could not come with me. Maybe next year, your Mom will let you go.
I am flipping through my summer scrapbook. We certainly had some good times. I appreciate that you invited me and my friends for all the adventure. I didn't realize your cave was also an undiscovered archeological wonder. I sure hope that Bob Xuma finds whatever he is looking for.
Sincerely,
Flappy
"I wonder how Bob is handling his first airplane trip," thought Flappy.
The airline stewart felt a strange urge to bury an obsedian hatchet in the skull of the small, noisy children and to dismember their big parents in their silly t-shirts and graceless Northeastern accents. He eyed the exact spot where he could grab the dad by the wrist and twist to have him on the ground with tears of pain streaming from his eyes. The stench of the man's "Old Spice" emboldened him to want to plant a foot in his chest and stomp. This feeling was very uncharacteristic for the stewart and he felt both embarassed and confused. In 12 years of working for the airline, he prided himself on having a very thick skin and not being rattled by, or judgemental of his passengers. Now, however, the adreneline had his heels bouncing like he was doing the pee pee dance. This was no good. Maybe he could repair to the galley for a drink to steady his nerves. Yes. A drink would be quite good. He thought of the nights in the arena when he would clam his nerves before a match with a flagon of cocoa mixed with the glands of a fatted fowl, and the delicious taste of the nectars of the gods after he had decapitated the last of his enemies on the fields of glory.
Bob Xuma was starting to overexcite his host and so he moved on to a sleeping passenger, who grunted restlessly. Bob was sorry to have riled the priest-accolyte of this flying temple bird, but the unnatural magic which propelled all of the congregants through the palace of the sun was really freaking him out.
"Would you like something to drink?" asked female flight attendant.
"No thanks," replied the Scarecrow. "I will, however, take some more straws..."
