It's Enough To Drive You Batty

At first, I thought it was a good plan.  Block the trembling and bulging and shaking door with my body and 'it' won't get out.  Amid all the cacophony, I couldn't even hear myself think.  Jane had a different plan.  She came barreling through the brown, vinyl accordion door, taking with it the door frame and running over two 11-year-old scared-out-of-their-wits boys.  She left a trail of high-pitched, hair-curling screams as she zoomed up the basement stairs.  We leapt to our feet, ready for a different high-pitched wail.  That coming from an angry and distressed vampire bat.  No sound of anything.  Only my Dad coming through the carnage with a smile on his face.  'Well guys, we're all safe.  The bat flew out the window.'  He scanned the destroyed door, pieces of door frame and scattered hardware on the floor.  He looked at us.  Another smile.  'What happened to you guys?'  My Viking helmet was sideways (I felt like Fran Tarkenton took a sack) and Kim J. (the other hit-and-run victim) looked like his forehead had a growing knot on it.  In his hand was a partial hockey stick.

Let's back the story up a bit.  About ten minutes prior to this, my Mom came zooming up from our laundry room.  Her high-pitched, hair-curling screams (sound familiar?) could've awakened the comatose.  That's where Kim J. and myself come in.  Comatose.  Bored out of our minds.  Nothing to do.  The shrieks shook us out of this funk.  All right, maybe some action.  My Dad, who was mowing the lawn (not the powered- by- gas kind) came flying in as if somebody was dying.  Or had died.  Kim J. and Alto thought that that would be cool.  'A bat.  Big and yucky.  Flying at me.  In the laundry room', Mom said , catching her breath.  Cool.  A bat.  Maybe a vampire bat.  We looked at each other.  But it's broad daylight.  Ok, it could happen.

'Did you open the windows down there?', Dad asked.  'No, I didn't open the windows down there.  I didn't have time to think of that, Lenny.'  Her scowl told us, as males, to shut up and act like males.  My sister Jane (you remember her, right?) heard this and came over to the group.  'What's all the hubbub, bub?'  Clever she is.

Jane followed Dad down the stairs, with the two other males taking up the rear.  Just in case a stake or two were needed.  Down we went into the basement that led to the laundry room.  Nary a sound.  Jane grabbed a nearby tennis racket and I grabbed my Viking helmet.  You know, bats landing in hair.  Laying eggs.  Vampire eggs.  Though my hair was barely one inch long, I still took precautions.  Kim J. looked a little uneasy.  I gave him a hockey stick and baseball cap.  We advanced toward the doorway (you remember that, too?) to the laundry room.  'Stay out of the laundry room', said Dad, looking at the dorks in sports gear.  'Close this door.  And keep it closed.  We want to keep it in the laundry room.'  Smart move, Dad.  I bet Jane wouldn't have thought of that.  She gave us this weird look.  Kinda like: a couple of losers.

So we stood guard on the outside of the door.  My Viking helmet.  Strapped firmly.  Hockey stick.  Ready.  Vampire bat.  On the other side of this door.  Probably waiting.  To suck blood.  To lay eggs.  It must be huge.  Suddenly, we hear a blood-curdling shriek, then some muffled sounds.  Our eyes were now as big as saucers, flying saucers.  And the references to blood everywhere.  Our blood.  And then it happened.  The start of this story.

I really had thought a vampire bat was this huge thing and was trying to knock the door down.  Really.  Jane didn't buy it.  Mom didn't buy it.  Dad didn't buy it.  Heck, Kim J. didn't buy it.  Hey, we'll all probably laugh about this tomorrow.  No one was laughing.  Of course, after we cleaned up the mess, Kim J. and myself laughed till our sides hurt.  We'll be ready next time, though.  Just scream really loud.  And Dad will take care of it.