I Am a Sissy Boy

ACH!? Reflexively I swat at whatever just grazed my neck, then smack it with my pillow. I don’t bother to look at the clock but while I’m up I might as well make a visit to the restroom. Praise Jesus that I shut the bedroom door behind me, because when I open it again there is a black shadow flapping around the room. Bats creep the pants off me, and if this one had attacked me while I was peeing the outcome would have surely been disastrous.

I figured it was a cicada or something. Nasty as those monster bugs are, at least they aren’t a bat. Even bats are kind of cool, when they are behind glass or at least a good distance away. In your room in the middle of the night… that’s a different story. Little beady-eyed, winged demon mouse.

Like a ninny, and because I don’t know what else to do, I leave the door open and high tail it downstairs. Somebody left the light on in the living room and my wandering tormentor follows me. I figure it’s better to wake DK and Van Hizzle asking for help than it would be to wake up everyone by running through the house screaming. I still don’t know what time it is, but I feel bad flipping on their light and saying, “Hey, you guys have anything that’d be good for bat killing?” DK says “tennis racket!” then rolls over and promptly falls back asleep. Van Hizzle gives me a couple towels; I apologize for the trouble and slip back into the kitchen.

Batty McSatan is in the living room crawling around in his freakish bat way on one of the window screens. For a second I think I can maybe catch him off guard and whack him with a towel, but after a step towards the doorway he flips out and starts circling the room again. I’d forgotten about that whole sonar thing – so much for the element of surprise. I stand in the kitchen a couple minutes waiting for something helpful to enter my mind, when suddenly Batty veers towards the doorway and comes winging into the kitchen. I start running for the living room, and take a swing at him as he goes past my head. Naturally I miss, but I keep running and go straight to my room. Van Hizzle’s towels come in handy for blocking the cracks at the top and bottom of the door (I don’t know why this would ever be necessary but it seems like a good idea).

I wake up Junior to let him know there’s a bat wandering the house, since he’ll probably be first out of bed in the morning. It’s a little after 4 when I fall shaking into my bed. What have I learned this morning? I am a pathetic excuse for a farm boy. I’m scared of a bat, which means I’d be scard of birds if birds were furry and had creepy finger-wings and fangs. Any self respecting farm kid would have waited in the bedroom doorway for that measly bat, smacked it out of the air with his bare hands, and stomped it into a rodent scented pulp. I, however, am a pampered little sissy boy, and unless the rental office responds quickly to the repair request I will make tomorrow… I may never sleep soundly again.

Stupid window with its half of a screen and a big space at the top. Stupid hole closet with shoddily finished paneling and plenty of bat-friendly gaps. Good thing my first class isn’t until 2 in the afternoon, I think to myself as I watch 4:30 go past with the heart rate of a toddler who’s been attacked by a panther.

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