Batty

Tomorrow I get to drive for three hours and thirteen minutes (according to mapquest) to see my good friend Marly! And on Sunday I get to drive for one hour and fifty-five minutes to see a bunch of my good friends in Davenport! How lovely, indeed. And then on Monday, I get to drive back...

I sent an email out to a bunch of people about the terrifying experience I had the other night. And I've decided to include it in this blog, because I think it belongs here. But most of you have already read this, so if this sounds familiar, there is no need to read further. Because redundancy is just pointless.

And now it's time for the subject of this blog...the part of the blog where I come out, and tell a silly story...
So, I was reading in my bed Wednesday night, about 11:45-midnightish, when I hear a strange noise in the hall. It sounded like a cicada or a june bug or something. So, immediately, I'm slightly uptight. The dog seems threatened, and is backing into my room. My cat, Joshua, is making his way down the hall and into my room, toward the closet. My first thought is that he's caught a june bug or whatever in his mouth, and is taking it into "his" closet to play with. But what I see in his mouth looks like some sort of velvety leaf--obviously no bug. My second glance prompts a scream of mortal terror, "A BAAAAAT!!!!!! AAAAAAAHHHH!!!!" which startles Joshua and the bat flies out of his mouth...in my general direction! Practically hysterical at this point, I have just enough presence of mind left to throw the blanket over my head and continue screaming indiscriminately. Of course, bedroom doors fly open in all directions (well, two, anyway), and my parents and my youngest brother, Peter (he's 15), convince me that the bat is under the bed so that I will come out from under the blanket and leave the room. My dad and my brother go in with a broom and a plastic bag, and close the door, while my mother and I barricade ourselves in the master bedroom. I have never been so terrified in my recent memory. It was the kind of fear where you shake uncontrollably, and cry, but no tears come out because you're laughing nervously at the same time. Hysterics.

Here comes the most sinister part: the men can't find the bat. They've searched my bedroom, and they're certain it's not in there anymore. But I didn't see it leave, so I'm not convinced. I refuse to sleep in there, and no one argues with me. I make myself a cup of tea and set up camp in my parents' room for the night.

My other brother, Steven (17), comes home probably about 1:30 or so. Everone else is asleep, but the cat is guarding his closet, from whence strange noises are emanating. More than a little unnerved himself, he slams the closet door shut, chases the cat out of his room, and goes to bed.

And that's where the bat is now, hanging around in Steven's closet, waiting--like the rest of us--for my dad to come home.

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Epilogue: The bat has been neutralized, the screens have been repaired, and all other conceivable bat portals have been eliminated. And now it takes an extra two hours to get all your luggage through the customs lines.