A swine mystery.

WHEN PIGS FLY!
The friendly skies appear to have gone hog wild after a three hundred-pound pig was reported flying on a cross-country flight, in the passenger compartment, of a major U. S. Airline.
The FAA investigated the incident and media coverage mentioned it mildly in comparison to a highjacking or terrorist attack.
I GOT NEWS FOR YA…I was on that flight and it was anything but relaxing.
It all started in the ticket line. Two women wearing black trenchcoats stood before me. One of them appeared to be concealing a rather large object under her garments. I noticed a protruding squiggly tail.
When reaching the ticket agent they calmly stated, “Two adults and one child.”
The agent asked, “How much does the child weigh?”
They replied, “Thirteen pounds.”
“Thirteen pounds,” I thought to myself, “That kid sat on someone’s suitcase and flattened it. It must weigh a ton!”
I was intrigued…I had to find out what was going on…so I followed them. I felt mixed emotions as they arrived at my boarding area and I realized we would be flying together. Once again I stood in line behind them.
This time the agent asked to see the child. The woman opened her coat slightly. The agent looked in and appeared surprised.
“Madame,” he softly whispered, “That is a pig!”
Suddenly the other women pretended to be blind.
The first woman motioned to her and said, “It’s a seeing-eye pig.”
“Very well,” said the agent, “Follow me.”
I watched as he led them through the boarding door and down a walkway to the plane. When he came back he was alone.
My curiosity peaked! I had to find out what was happening! When my time to board arrived I moved slowly in a state of keen observation. I saw the two women as I went through the first-class section. They were siting quietly with their faces buried in magazines. Beside them sat a figure wearing a black trenchcoat, black hat, and dark glasses. He looked like Truman Capote but I knew it was...“The Pig.”
“This is an outrage,” I thought to myself as I found my seat, “A hog is flying first-class and I’m stuck way back here!”
As we reached cruising altitude I asked a flight attendant, “What was that noise I heard?”
She replied, “Por Favor…no engish.”
I summoned an English-speaking attendant.
“During take-off I heard a squealing sound. Could you tell me what it was?” I asked.
“No cause for alarm, Sir,” she replied, “Probably just a rusty worn-out landing gear thing, or something.”
I shook my head and pretended to buy her story.
“They’re covering it up,” I thought to myself, “They would rather I believe there’s a major mechanical malfunction than admit to the pig passenger.”
I started to walk toward first-class.
“Where are you going?” asked the attendant who previously couldn’t speak English.
“To the bathroom.”
“That one is out of order,” she said, “The pipes are clogged.”
“What pipes…we’re at thirty thousand feet?”
“Please return to your seat, Sir. We are about to serve dinner.”
I went to my seat and waited for the meal. When it arrived I asked, “What kind of slop are you serving in first-class?”
“What do you mean. Sir?” she answered defensively.
“I’ll bet that pig is eating better than we are?”
She called Security.
“You need to calm down, Sir,” said the renta cop, “Or we will have to remove you from the aircraft.”
When things quieted down I told everyone near me of the situation.
“What if it goes to the bathroom?” asked an elderly woman, “We’re in a confined area.”
For the remainder of the trip we sat motionless waiting for the pig to drop a bomb.
The flight was uneventful until we landed. As we hit the ground the three hundred- pound porker came flying down the aisle. It appeared to have gone berserk and was running everywhere. People screamed, the pig squealed, and the attendants welcomed us to Seattle.
As I debarked I pushed and shoved my way to the front, however by the time I reached first-class the pig and the women were gone. I searched for telltale signs, but all prints and DNA appeared to have been wiped clean. As I went through the portable walkway I noticed a side door ajar. I looked through it and down a set of stairs to the flightline below.
Lurking in the shadows I saw silhouettes of the two women standing beside a grotesque hideous squatting creature.
I swiftly shut the door and departed the facilities.
As I previously stated the incident was reported, investigated, and basically forgotten. But one thing is for sure. When someone asks me to do the impossible…never again will I answer, “When pigs fly!”