Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel...

Happy 4th of July, my little firecrackers! Yeah, it's a little late, but everyone was off barbecuing and drinking yesterday, so you get your greetings today. I spent my fourth with Sid, Andie and Mothra. They were having a party and I love a party, especially when it's a party that entails parade-watching, baby-holding and trash-talking with fellow liberals. It was a good time. I arrived the night before to help get party stuff ready and to hang with my buds. So, we gave little Mothra his bath, wrestled him into his jimjams (no easy task, the kid is HUGE.) and put him to bed. Then Andie and I commenced drinking mojitos and making party food. So, we're saucing and cooking and talking until late into the night. Sid is cleaning up around the house. I go into the other room to ask him something and we hear Andie start SCREAMING. We come tearing into the room and...there's a bat in the house. Yeah, you hear me. A BAT. Like the animal that Dracula turns into. Like the thing that gave Cujo rabies. So, since Sid is the man of the house and all traces of feminism go out the fucking window whenever there's a flying rodent about, he wrangles the thing out the door with a bucket and a clipboard. Don't ask. Crisis averted! OR SO WE THOUGHT. DUNNNNN!

Later that night...

Party preparations made, we all go to bed. Mothra wakes us up at around a quarter to six. Clearly, he's evil. I stumble out of bed to see if Andie needs any help. Andie mumbles something about going to help Sid because there's another bat in the house. WHAT?! Andie and I have a whisper-screamed conversation about the insanity of this particular development while Mothra chews his fist beatifically. So, I go downstairs to help a very confused-looking and rumpled Sid.

Me: What do you want me to do? Help? Bat? Why am I awake?
Sid: I hear that. Look, I'll trap the little fucker, you just open doors and let us out.
Me: I think I can do that.

So, we caaautiously open the bathroom door, expecting the bat to fly up at us and rip our faces off. Nothing happens. We listen carefully for the usual batty twitters. Nothing. We look around the bathroom dumbly for like, 5 minutes.

Me: Ok, not to be rude, but do you think maybe Andie...dreamed the whole thing?
Sid: OH, I'LL KILL HER.

Well, wife-murdering turned out to be unnecessary as the thing had cleverly hidden itself under the bathtub and was playing dead. I went back to sleep. The Fourth of July went on as planned. Stupid bats.