Posts Tagged ‘this only happens to me’

bats in the belfry.

August 3, 2010

So I have been seriously slacking in updating over here… and for that, I apologize.  I wish I could say that it’s because I’ve been SO busy doing something SO important, but that would be a lie.  I’ve mostly just been providing my couch with some great company and the ass dent that its been missing, while snuggling up with a bunch of really good books.

Yesterday I had the day off (for no real reason in particular) and I was looking forward to another lazy day.  I slept in and the house was quiet as I made my way downstairs to let the dog out in the morning.  I opened the front door and something big and black made a screeching noise, like something out of the Alien movies, and flew at me.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

A BAT? In my fucking house.  I immediately broke into hysterical screams and ran around like a banshee as the thing was circling overhead.  The 70 pound dog was hiding behind me (thanks for the help, buddy) and the cats were equally as useless grooming themselves in the corner.

It finally landed on the couch (um, ew), and I grabbed a broom to give it a little knock to hopefully guide that fucker safely out the door.  He didn’t budge.  His little slimy membraneous body just sat there.  I swear he rolled his beady eyes at me as he made that awful hissing sound.

On to plan B.  I grabbed a box (an empty case of beer, obviously) and tossed it over the little bastard, then paced around wondering how to now get the BOX outside.  A few minutes later, I heard his bat noise coming from the OTHER side of the room.  What the hell?  He had somehow managed to shimmy his way out from under the box!  Apparently I was messing with the David fucking Copperfield of the bat world.

I knew I was going to need reinforcements.  (OF COURSE this happens while I am home alone).  I called my roommate, she couldn’t make it home.  So I then proceeded to call just about every man I know in a 30 mile radius.  Surely someone would come to my rescue.

Roughly 40 minutes later (while I was hiding out upstairs in my room), Kyle arrived.  He dropped phrases like “bat rabies” and “disease” and tried to calm me down.  Um, thanks?   We somehow managed to get the box back on top Mr. Copperfield and slid him out towards the door.  We got him out on the porch and remove the box.  He just sits there. 

FLY AWAY, BAT.

He doesn’t move. 

Great, is he hurt?  Now, not only do I get to have a bat in my house but a guilty conscience as well.  Kyle throws the box over him again and sneaks up on him with a shovel.  Part of me was hoping he’d just slam the shovel down hard on the box and put us all out of our misery.  (Sorry, PETA).  But instead, he slid the shovel under the box and picked it up.  He walked the box across the street, dropped it, and walked away.

Watching from the window, a few minutes later I saw a black blob get up and fly away.

See ya later, sucker.

…And all I wanted to do was sit on my couch.  But now there’s bat germs all over it.

Yuck.

Q