Horror #5: The Bat!
All was not giggling and glee Sunday night in the Mystery House. I returned from driving my mom home to find the M.E. rather worked up–but also quite relieved that I’d missed all the drama. I’m glad I missed it, too.
It was a nice evening, and the M.E. and Dr. Evil decided to sit outside while they waited for me. Before long, the M.E. noticed a strange thumping sound, as if a bird was banging into one of the windows. He checked it out. No bird. The M.E. returned to his book.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound was coming from inside the house.
There was something inside which hadn’t been there when he opened the door to go out. Something fast enough and sneaky enough to slip through the door in a split second, when his attention was elsewhere. Since I wasn’t there to take photographs, you’ll have to make do with bad, quickly executed drawings. This is what had been bumping against the glass, and was flying in figure-eights around our family room:
Evidently, this was not a small bat. The M.E. says it was a big one, about like this:
Now, the M.E. knows exactly what would have happened if I had arrived home at the precise moment an enormous bat was zooming around our house. He knows how I feel about bats. He thinks they’re cute–I won’t even look at the ones that are safely sealed behind glass at the zoo.
He had to get rid of the bat, and he had to do it fast.
Dr. Evil, a fast and able hunter by nature, did not want to get rid of the bat. He wanted to catch it, and was jumping as high as he could in an attempt to reach the ceiling.
By this point, the bat had decided to explore other territories. As in the entire rest of our house. Imagine my screams, if I had seen this. Bat molecules everywhere! Actually, I screamed just hearing about it. I may scream again, writing about it.
The M.E. grabbed a big towel to catch it in, then realized that would likely harm the bat’s delicate bones. Perhaps a plastic bag? He got one and cut it open so he could hold it up like a sheet. This did not work. The bat’s radar was working very well. It flew straight at the sheet of plastic and veered off at the last instant, every time. To compound the insult (and get Dr. Evil even more riled up), the bat squealed and made creepy bat faces. At this point, the only thing missing from our usually cozy home was Bela Lugosi.
The clock was ticking. The M.E. knew he was in trouble–I’d be home soon.
Thinking fast, he ran to the garage for our fishing net. Echo location might not work on a fishing net. I could go out to the garage to take a picture of it for you, but since I’ve started with the lousy drawings I might as well keep on:
Chasing the bat through the house, the M.E. swiped the net through the air and caught it. Dr. Evil hopped for joy–the bat was finally down at his level!
And then it was gone.
Slipped out of the net. Zooming around the house again. Not good.
Imagine one of those action movie clocks here: the hands move doubletime through about thirty minutes of stuff, then slow down so that the last two minutes on the clock take forty-five minutes of screen time. Our hero was sweating it–surely I was almost home. Drastic action was called for. One more try with the net, and this time he couldn’t let the bat get away.
Chase bat. Catch bat in net. Grab bat through the net so it can’t escape. (I mean touching the bat–this would have been worth several horror-movie screams from me.) Avoid bat teeth and claws. Run outside with trapped bat and hysterical dog. Release bat. “Be free!”
Away it flew…only to return immediately and start zooming around our yard again, headed towards the house. Heedless of the neighbors’s sentiments that he’s probably flipped his lid at last, the M.E. stood in the backyard yelling at it. There was a whole speech, but a couple of lines will have to suffice:
“Will you go away! You’re the stupidest bat ever!”
Dr. Evil was peeved. He wanted the bat to come back.
Quickly, when the bat was far enough from the house, the M.E. slipped inside. Closed door quickly. Checked for bat. Put away net. Washed hands (I hope). Just in time…
At that moment, the garage door started going up. I was home.
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