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suburban kingdom
Jun. 25th, 2003 10:42 amWoke up this morning to the sound of shrieks and shouted obscenities, which, though par for the course in my house when a Mets game is on, is not so common in the early morning hours. I was lying in bed trying to decide whether it was worth it to get up a few minutes early to go investigate, when I looked out the bedroom door and through my bleary, glasses-less eyes, saw this FAT GRAY BLOB fly past my doorway.
Fly! Past! My doorway!
The cat who was sleeping next to me on my bed jumped to attention and stared transfixed at the doorway, so I knew it hadn't been a figment of my imagination. I stared in horror for a few seconds and didn't see it again, so I threw on my glasses, ran into the hallway, the cat hot on my heels, and hollered "What the HELL?" Before I could get the "HELL" out of my mouth, I heard my mother shriek and my father holler "IT'S A BAT! THERE'S A BAT IN THE HOUSE! A BAT! SHUT ALL THE BEDROOM DOORS!!"
And then it FLEW RIGHT AT MY HEAD and I screamed like a little girl and ran around haphazardly slamming the doors shut upstairs. A bat!! Gray and webbed wings and all disoriented and scary!! So scary!!!!
The cats, of course, were of great assistance -- Scout ran and hid in my parents' bedroom right before I shut the door, and Molly sat and watched from the stairs with detached amusement. The amusement is understandable, since the sight of my father and me racing downstairs, then upstairs, then downstairs again, in our pajamas (me: yellow gingham capri/sleeveless shirt pajama set; my father: ratty pajama pants and white Hanes T-shirt from the late seventies), waving brooms around recklessly, screaming "THERE! NO! THERE!" and "IT'S IN THE FAMILY ROOM AGAIN!! GO!! TO YOUR LEFT!!! NO, YOUR *OTHER* LEFT!" like maniacs must have been pretty funny.
Because we wanted the bat to go outside, we had all doors to the outside world open, so the neighbors got a pretty nice show. I know this is true because eventually Molly moved from her spot on the stairs to sit on the walkway about ten feet from the front door, which I can only assume was a better vantage point from which to take in the action. Her expression was nothing more than her usual stony disdain, but I swear she was laughing on the inside.
Anyway, after a solid five minutes of Brooms vs. Bat, we thought outside the box and grabbed a fishing net from the garage and my father used that to finally capture the critter and place him outside. We savored a few minutes of victory before one of us looked up at the ceiling and realized -- yum! -- that there was blood splattered everywhere. Nice. It appears that my father let the cats in without really paying attention, and one of them (Scout, we think, since she's brought other live animals [one time, a bird] into the house, while Molly just tends to eviscerate them by the front or back door) brought it inside wounded and then let it go. I can only assume it played dead for a bit, and then came alive when no one was looking and began its reign of terror.
Because dudes, it was terror. I mean, it probably weighed six ounces and was more scared than we were, but when you see it flying straight at your head, flapping its wings, making weird noises, I swear, I challenge anyone not to squeal in absolute horror. SO SCARY!!!
And I say that all that running terrified around with a broom totally burned enough calories to justify the half-piece of coffee cake I had when I came in to work this morning. Right?
Fly! Past! My doorway!
The cat who was sleeping next to me on my bed jumped to attention and stared transfixed at the doorway, so I knew it hadn't been a figment of my imagination. I stared in horror for a few seconds and didn't see it again, so I threw on my glasses, ran into the hallway, the cat hot on my heels, and hollered "What the HELL?" Before I could get the "HELL" out of my mouth, I heard my mother shriek and my father holler "IT'S A BAT! THERE'S A BAT IN THE HOUSE! A BAT! SHUT ALL THE BEDROOM DOORS!!"
And then it FLEW RIGHT AT MY HEAD and I screamed like a little girl and ran around haphazardly slamming the doors shut upstairs. A bat!! Gray and webbed wings and all disoriented and scary!! So scary!!!!
The cats, of course, were of great assistance -- Scout ran and hid in my parents' bedroom right before I shut the door, and Molly sat and watched from the stairs with detached amusement. The amusement is understandable, since the sight of my father and me racing downstairs, then upstairs, then downstairs again, in our pajamas (me: yellow gingham capri/sleeveless shirt pajama set; my father: ratty pajama pants and white Hanes T-shirt from the late seventies), waving brooms around recklessly, screaming "THERE! NO! THERE!" and "IT'S IN THE FAMILY ROOM AGAIN!! GO!! TO YOUR LEFT!!! NO, YOUR *OTHER* LEFT!" like maniacs must have been pretty funny.
Because we wanted the bat to go outside, we had all doors to the outside world open, so the neighbors got a pretty nice show. I know this is true because eventually Molly moved from her spot on the stairs to sit on the walkway about ten feet from the front door, which I can only assume was a better vantage point from which to take in the action. Her expression was nothing more than her usual stony disdain, but I swear she was laughing on the inside.
Anyway, after a solid five minutes of Brooms vs. Bat, we thought outside the box and grabbed a fishing net from the garage and my father used that to finally capture the critter and place him outside. We savored a few minutes of victory before one of us looked up at the ceiling and realized -- yum! -- that there was blood splattered everywhere. Nice. It appears that my father let the cats in without really paying attention, and one of them (Scout, we think, since she's brought other live animals [one time, a bird] into the house, while Molly just tends to eviscerate them by the front or back door) brought it inside wounded and then let it go. I can only assume it played dead for a bit, and then came alive when no one was looking and began its reign of terror.
Because dudes, it was terror. I mean, it probably weighed six ounces and was more scared than we were, but when you see it flying straight at your head, flapping its wings, making weird noises, I swear, I challenge anyone not to squeal in absolute horror. SO SCARY!!!
And I say that all that running terrified around with a broom totally burned enough calories to justify the half-piece of coffee cake I had when I came in to work this morning. Right?
