I am not a big fan of winged creatures, and I’m not much for the scurrying variety either. If a mad scientist ever combined the two into one hideous creation, say, some bizarre kind of a flying mouse—oh, wait, that’s right, nature already has. It’s called a bat and despite my bat wing upper arms, I feel no affinity whatsoever with that creepy creature of the night.
I would have been quite happy limiting my lifetime bat exposure to the occasional bowl of Count Chocula, but Fate apparently had other plans for me. A few weeks ago I was staying with my daughter, who was eight months pregnant, to help with her toddler while her husband was out of town. The very first evening I arrived, I volunteered to do the laundry. I stopped just short of the door leading to the basement laundry room to give my daughter an impromptu shoulder rub in the hallway.
When she slowly drawled out, “M-o-o-o-m,” I thought it was in appreciation of my superb massage skills. But less than a half-beat later, she cried, “What is that?”
I looked down at the black, spindly “fingers” inching out from under the door to the basement stairs. We both stood paralyzed for a second as the fingers became wings and then the wings spread to reveal a furry head.
Before we could even scream in terror, the flying mouse was swooping from one end of the kitchen to the other. It’s possible we set a land speed record fleeing to the safety of the guest room. With that door slammed securely behind us, the standard sit-com plot of “pandemonium ensues” became our reality, complete with panicked screaming, loud cursing, and the spouting of wild solutions–including jumping out the window, calling an Uber and heading to a hotel. (We pretty much dismissed that idea out of hand since my granddaughter was asleep upstairs in her crib and it didn’t seem right leaving her to fend for herself.)
As neither of us had a nuclear arms dealer on speed dial, my daughter called her husband who, despite having provided the likely point of entry for the bat by leaving the garage door open, failed to acknowledge the urgency of our situation. He refused, for example, to notify the National Guard on our behalf, and instead instructed us in the official bat eviction protocol (which he later admitted he was making up on the spot). We were to turn off the all the inside lights, turn on the outside lights, open the doors and make noise, he explained.
“But, we’ll have to leave the guest room to do that!” I squealed, exposing the obvious flaw in his smarty pants plan.
“Just remember that the bat is more afraid of you than you are of it,” he replied.
“Not possible!” I screamed, as he was hanging up to return to the awards dinner he was attending.
My daughter put down her phone and transformed into a fierce bat warrior before my eyes. She, who was afraid of mushrooms as a child, put her hand firmly on the door knob and announced we were going into battle. I attribute this sudden streak of courage in the face of flying rodents to the extra estrogen coursing through her veins. As a hormonally-starved, post-menopausal woman, I could hardly be expected to show the same level of bravery, which I believe accounts for my cowering behind her pregnant belly as she swung open the guest room door.
We spied our unwelcome guest circling the living room, so I dashed to open the front door as my daughter ran to handle the back. We then quickly repaired to the safety of the guest room, cracking the door open just wide enough to monitor the situation. After several mad passes around the dining room, the beast finally flew toward the open back door, but—and seriously, what are the odds here?—just as it was about to exit, a random gust of wind slammed the door shut. Curses!
Riding an estrogen and adrenaline high, my daughter bolted from the guest room, ran out the front door and around the house to prop open the back door. As she was coming back around, she said she felt something swoosh by overhead. Back at home base, we both waited with bated breath, hoping the absence of flapping sounds meant the visitor truly had gone.
We spent the next twenty minutes as bat-busters, cautiously opening closet doors and poking behind every piece of furniture with a broom to make sure no winged mammals were hiding anywhere. Then we jammed two beach towels in the space under the door to the basement to make sure nothing else could get through. When we were finally satisfied that we were alone, we headed to bed, physically and emotionally drained.
“Hey, Mom,” my daughter called to me as she went up the stairs. “What about doing the laundry?
“I’m not opening the door to your basement again in my lifetime,” I said. “Tomorrow, we’ll find you a nice pick-up and delivery laundry service, my treat. And I won’t so much as bat an eye at the cost.”
Hah! I would have totally flipped out!! In fact, I would have gone “batty!”
I just about did, Lynne! After her initial panic, my daughter really took charge and rose to the occasion. I was next to useless!
I love how you make it humorous! Bats are batty and scare me to death. When I was 10 we came home from visiting my grandmother and as soon as we opened the door and turned on the light something swooshed through the living room. My step-father told my mom and me to wait outside and he would ‘take care of it’. We could see his silhouette through the curtains and knew he was seriously on the hunt. A little while later he came out holding two sofa pillows together. Then he knelt down on the sidewalk and pressed them down and stomped on them. When he lifted them up the bat was sufficiently dead. But, he stomped it one more time before he took the body to the trash. What was left was ‘bat blood’ on the walk which made me a celebrity with the neighborhood kids for at least a week. I should have sold tickets!
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Bat blood, excellent for your childhood rep! They are just so yucky. I had another encounter years ago and it was traumatic, but at least that one was OUTside! Thanks, Barb!
Yikes! Skillfully told, scarily told, and funnily told, Lee. Reminds me of a bat visit I had about ten years ago that ended with the winged creature ignoring the advice of a well-known pop song to go OUT rather than come in through the bathroom window.
Why do these critters think we want to host them in our homes? Do we fly around light posts, eating their bugs or hang upside down from trees? NO! Well, not that time junior year in college doesn’t count. ;-)Thank you so much for your kind words, Dave.
This is hysterical! I can just picture you guys “bravely” pursuing the bat!
It was so hideously gross, Karen! But I feel bad that I really did hide behind my poor pregnant daughter. Well, hey, it was HER husband who left the door open!
Well done, girls!!!! I just have to say you just kicked two fine gentlemen out of your house. There is just one way to know: if that night was a full moon, you said bye to Luke Evans. Otherwise, you kicked Christian Bale out of your place. Now you will never know the kind of date you missed !!!!!
Oh, my dear Colombian son, I broke up with Batman after George Clooney. I have no interest in the ones that followed…although, if you want to send Andy Garcia over in a cape, I’ll open the door wide! But don’t don’t tell your dad!! 🙂 Gracias por tu mensaje! XO
Lee what a funny and scary story and told in only the way you can, with amazing humor.
OMG, your daughter is a rock star for venturing outside of that room…and you too Lee for following her..lol!!!
I am petrified of bats..ughhh!! I don’t know what I would have done, probably ran out of the house my to only realize I would have to go back and rescue my child..lol!!
Thank you so much for stopping by and reading my tale of terror! I am a little embarrassed that I let my pregnant daughter lead the way, but, shoot, I taught her to use toilet paper, so she’d better not act too superior about it! 🙂 It was nightmarish, Georgette!
This hilarious story reminds me of the night Patrick and I evicted a bat from our home. I thought there was a bird flying in the house, but Patrick pointed out it was dark and birds don’t fly at night. Once I knew it was a bat, I cowered in the corner of the kitchen while Patrick chased it through the house with a broom. He found it flying around the ceiling fan in James’s room and managed to slap it down, converting it into one mad bat! He captured it in a pillow case when it took a breather hanging on our living room wall, and released it back outside. I was so proud of how we worked as a team to handle the flying rodent crisis. Sort of like how you and your daughter worked together. 😉
See, I kept yelling, “We need a broom!” I really had no idea what to do with it nor did I want to be the one to go find one, but I remembered my mom told me a bat story once and broom figured prominently. Thank you for cowering in the corner as I was!
See, this is why for safety’s sake I always sleep with a flamethrower under my pillow. Fun piece, Lee!
Wow, that’s gotta be a little shocking for the tooth fairy, Dave! Thanks for stopping by!
Omg we have such a problem with bats at my in-laws’ place in New Mexico, but thankfully, we’ve never had to deal with one getting into the house!
OMG, it was a nightmare! I was next to useless, 🙂 but my daughter rose to the occasion!
Strangely, I’m not afraid of bats, but would’t want one flying around my house! That would be scary. Hilariously-told as ever, Lee.
It was just horrifying, Laurie. And my daughter will never let me forget that I cowered behind her!
I don’t think anyone who hasn’t been there can fully understand how truly TERRIFYING this is! I was babysitting with a friend (thank God there were two of us!) when we were both 13, and I’ll never forget the moment we discovered a bat flying around the high ceilings of the octagonal living room of the old house in which we found ourselves – SO glad the kids were already in bed! – we eventually had to call her 18-year-old sister to come “rescue” us from the bat, which she did with some deft swings of her tennis racket.
It was nightmarish! I was next to useless, unless you count adding to the panic and chaos!