Fright Night

Chapter 1 - A Horrid Black Smudge

I've learned to take Susanne seriously when she wakes up in a panic in the middle of the night.

"Neh, come back to bed" was not the best response when she said her water broke when pregnant with Charlie. I may have even said "are you sure? Shake it off," before rolling back to sleep.

So, when she nudged me last night at 1:30 am to tell me there was something in the bedroom flying around, my eyes popped open immediately like a horror film killer that you thought was dead . I mean, you shot him 17 times! He's got to be dead! Right?

There it was, a small black smudge in the darkness flying erratically from wall to wall – making a V shape back and forth. It was horrid.

We thrust the comforter over our heads.

"What is it?" Susanne asked. "A bird?"

I pulled the comforter down just slightly – to the bridge of my nose. And then back under the covers, fear-stricken.

"It's a bleeping bat! It's a bleeping bat!" Only I didn't say bleeping.

"Bleep!" I said.

"Bleep!" I said again.

"Bleep! Bleep! Bleep!"

"What are we going to do?" Susanne asked.

It was getting steamy and warm under the heavy comforter.

Once I was done bleeping, I thought of our options. I tried to picture myself battling the bat with a broom or a tennis racket. Neither of which was handy. I was not faring well in the vision in my head. There was nothing around that I could use anyway. A clock radio? A brown sock?

"We have to get out of here," I said.

"OK," she said in a determined whisper, but what do we do about him?"

We looked down at Ben, our 2 year old, wedged tightly between us with big, curious eyes staring up at us, sucking away on his binky, not making a peep.

Chaper 2 - It's a Bat Alright

"Ooh, the under the covers game. I love that," Ben probably thought. "It's a bit late though, no? Ah, what the hell, I'm in. Dad, hit me with a little peek-a-boo action. Mom, how about a little 'Where's Ben?'"

We put our plan into action. We melted low to the floor and slowly scooted along the carpet like a three-headed ghost with the comforter still over our heads.

We traveled as blind as the bat that circled our heads, navigating our way around laundry baskets and plastic toy vegetables. The comforter lifted just slightly and I squealed.

"My back is exposed!"

"Keep moving!" Susanne barked.

Susanne tore down the baby gate at the top of the attic stairs like it was made of tissue paper and we slid down the stairs to safety, slamming the door behind us.

"Bleep!"

A quick visit to Charlie's room for some blood. 85. We give him a few squirts of apple juice to hold him over.

I searched the Yellow Pages for emergency pest control and found one that could come, but not until 3 am. So we waited. And waited. At 3:45 am I had the frazzled bat man on the phone.

"Dude, I'm soooooo lost. I've been driving in circles for the past 40 minutes. If I ever get there, I am so gonna take out my frustration on that bat."

I was exhausted and pissed that he was so late, but his bat trash talk won me over.

He finally arrived at 4 am, dust pan in hand, and I took him up to the door that leads up to the attic.

He opened the door very slowly and took one step in.

"I sure hope he's not hard to fin…" I said as the black smudge flapped its horrible wings and darted from one room in the attic to the other.

The bat man jumped back and slammed the door, clearly nervous.

"OK, I'm going in," he said, clenching his dust pan. "You coming up?"

"Neh, I'm cool here, thanks."

He went into the room the bat had flown into and closed the door behind him. "Oh yeah, it's a bat alright," he yelled down. "Fully grown."

I listened at the foot of the stairs as he sprayed spurts of poison from an aerosol can. He kept spraying and spraying. Meanwhile the doorknob kept twisting as he held on, I suppose, for a quick getaway. I kept staring at the closed door that kept jerking, the knob that kept twisting, more spraying. Was he OK?

He opened the door and closed it behind him, coughing hard. His eyes were terribly bloodshot. He walked down the stairs toward me, not saying a word. His red eyes met mine as he leaned close to me and sunk his sharp teeth into my neck.

Sorry. Poetic license. Actually, he did lunge at me, but it was to give me a bill for $265. Just as painful.

He left at 5 am. Just about time for me to get ready for work. Up all night and we can't blame diabetes this time.

Since our little incident, I've been doing a little bat research on the Internet. I learned that we could have all been bitten by this potentially rabid bat while we slept. Furthermore, it's possible that it could have done this without us even knowing.

How adorable is that?