Same Bat Time

The next few minutes are, in my mind, not unlike a silent film. The ones that are just a little too fast. Where the characters run around and change directions, and move so fast you can't tell what they are doing.

Me and my broom and my iPhone were a lot like one of those films. But I was anything but silent. 

I ran in every direction as the bat flew, again, in every direction. I was running into things, up and down the stairs, blindly around the room, attempting to get away from the bat, who was flying by sonar, of course, and not take my eyes off of it. And all the while I was screaming. One long, high-pitched Oooooooohhhhhmyyyyyyyyyyyggaaaaaaaawwwwwdditsflyyyyyyyyyyyiiiingriiiiiiiiiightaaaaaaattttmeeeee!

Charlotte is telling me to put a pair of underwear on my head.  I am baffled at first but she explains that a pair of panties would keep my hair from flying in all directions.  God only knows I'd be found dead on the scene if the blind bat flew into my Big Hair and got tangled there. I was sure I was having a stroke as it was.

I refrain from stopping to find a pair of panties to jam on my head (I don't have a free hand, anyway) but I tell Charlotte that I'd heard that if you encounter a flying bat, you are supposed to whistle. The whistle somehow scrambles their radar and they drop to the ground. If I could do that, I swear I'd beat the little bastard to death with the broom so fast his little ugly head would swim.

I try it.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to whistle under these circumstances?  I had a better chance of singing every verse of the Battle Hymn of the Republic.

Charlotte is thinking fast though. (It must be very compelling to hear your sister screeching as if being murdered while a filthy flying rodent chases her around your house.) She has asked her husband, who is listening to the drama unfold from the driver's seat, to call some people. His brother, who lives a few blocks away, and Karl, who has done all the renovations on this house.

He gets Karl on the phone. He's on his way. Charlotte warns me that Karl will want to stay and have a beer with me and Kate when the job is done.

I tell her I don't care if he wants ten beers, so long as he gets rid of the bat.

Seriously. At this point, I'd part with a kidney if he wanted one.

But knowing that Karl was on his way in the Bat Mobile, I am calmer. Trinket is hiding under the bed and won't come out. Keeping an eye on the bat, who is climbing on things now, instead of flying, I get my glass, a glass for Kate, and the pitcher and head outside to wait in relative peace.

Kate calls and is nearby but lost. I walk out to the street to great her.

And not suddenly, this all seems hilarious.