No welcome sign for this flying visitor
I AM not afraid! I am not afraid! I am not afraid!
Yes, I am afraid!
No matter how many times I told myself that I wasn’t afraid, I couldn’t convince my mind that this Halloween beast wasn’t going to have me as a holiday treat.
It started last Monday evening when I was going to make pasta salad.
As I dug a pot out from the cabinet, I heard scratching sounds in the kitchen ceiling. I instantly thought I knew what it was. “A ‘winter’ mouse,” I said to myself. “Those darn little critters are starting to move in already.”
As I got the critter-getter equipment out, I could still hear the scurrying sounds in the ceiling. At one point, I wondered if this visitor could be a chipmunk or squirrel because it did sounds a little “noises” than the usual Micky Mouse but I was not too concerned. The poison should do a rodent of any size in and, well, maybe I was worried about the decaying odor but it was something I could contend with.
After preparing for my little visitor’s demise, I put the pot of water on the stove for the pasta, reached over to turn on burner and right at that moment, it happened!
A big dark-brown speeding bullet with huge fangs ZOOMED between me and the stove. I knew it was dark-brown because that was the color I saw. I knew it was zooming because the wind from it nearly knocked me to the floor. I knew it had huge fangs because it was licking its lips as it stared at me with a devilish grin on its evil little face.
IT WAS A BAT!
At that instant I screamed like a girl and gave in to the wind gush that had initially nearly dropped me to my knees. Goose bumps were rising all over my body. I belly crawled to the living room and grabbed a blanket to shield myself from this spawn of the devil. I grabbed my cell phone to call my heroic boyfriend who lives in Marietta just a few hours drive from my home.
“Hello,” he said.
“AAAAHHHHHHH!” I screamed into his ear.
“What is wrong?” he asked with great concern.
“There’s a bat in the house!” I screamed back.
Silence. That’s what I heard. Nothing but silence on the phone and the flap, flap, flap of the bat wings that were circling through the house.
“AAAHHHHHHHH!” I screamed again, just so my hero would be concerned once again for my welfare.
“Why are you screaming like a girl?” he asked.
“Because I am a girl!” I screamed again.
“Kay, my 93-year-old grandmother wasn’t afraid of bats!” he declared.
“Well, your 52-year-old girlfriend is!” I exclaimed.
“You need to calm down,” he said. “Grandma would just clobber them and throw them outside.”
“I am calm. You shoulda heard me 30 seconds ago! Now that was out of control.” I said in a trebling voice.
“OK. Here’s what you do,” he said. “Get a broom.”
“A broom!” I yelled. “Get a broom! Are you kidding me? I’m on the floor under a blanket. I am not getting up. That thing wants to kill me!”
“It won’t kill you,” he said. “It might get in your hair.”
“AAHHHHHHHHH!” I bellowed once again. “In my hair! I don’t want it to get in my hair!”
“Put on a hat.” he said.
Suddenly, I realized I wasn’t going to get anywhere unless I did get up off the floor and take control of the situation. I told Edgar goodbye and to always remember that I loved him…no matter what happened. I took charge and devised my plan of attack.
With shaking hands and wobbling knees, I crawled to the door and flung it open. I cautiously moved onto the porch and grabbed a grandkid-sized broom. Then I went back into the house and grabbed a hoodie. I put the hoodie on and tied it tightly around my face until only my eyes were showing. I grabbed a pair of winter gloves and donned those too. You can’t be too careful when you are being attacked by a bat which is on a mission to make you a late evening snack.
Then, brave person that I am, I screamed like a girl when ol’ Gomez the Bat swooped me once again.
Next, I scrambled back outside to grab a fishing net from the shed. Believing I was well armed at that time, I bravely returned to the house looking like something from a comedy of errors and sat down and waited for Gomez to reappear.
And, just like a man, Gomez never showed his horrifying face again.
The little sucker either went home to be with the family or found a nice place to hide so he could sneak up on me as I slept.
That thought alone sent me into action once again. Turning every single light on in the house, I began the search. I gingerly peeked behind each curtain. I moved furniture. I glanced behind doors. I looked high. I looked low. No Gomez!
After several hours of waiting and searching, I tied the hood a little tighter around my face, kept the gloves on, climbed into bed with my fishnet and broom and settled down for a long night of no sleep.
(I’m happy to report that Gomez didn’t show up on Tuesday. I do believe I found his entry point. It has been stuffed with steel wool and caulking along with a tiny sign that reads: No admittance!)
Sedgmer may be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org