The little green men that had me trapped in an apartment that was maybe 200 square feet were now starting to look nervous. They had come up with some grand plan in place, and it had blown up spectacularly right around the same time one of their coworkers managed to shoot himself in the head.
It might have had something to do with the fact that he tried to shoot me first, but I didn't have a laser gun in my hand, so there was no way I made that shot. It was all on him.
I would make a comparison between the dead alien's feet and clown feet, but I didn't think it was appropriate. You must respect the dead and all that crap.