Batastrophe


Here it is, the update.

The bats.

Well, poor ten has been a total spitfire this whole time.  Do you remember that I told you she woke in the middle of the night and killed a bat, then crawled back in bed like it was nothing?

She’s a fierce little lady.

Don’t mess with her.

But since she has an autoimmune condition, her rabies shots did not take.  As in, she’ll have to redo them.  And there have been many tears.

The roof is about to be peeled off my house just like Oliver’s skin was peeled from him.  And underneath it the bats will swarm.  Have you ever seen thousands of angry bats?  I hope not.  I’m sure I’ll post a picture as soon as it’s time.  As soon as it happens.

Thousands of uprooted, homeless, terrified bats breaking into my house.  They’ll swarm the screens, and try to break in windows, and crawl in the pieced of the roof.  They’ll scream their displeasure at me.  Then, slowly, they’ll give up and start to flutter away.

But some won’t take no for an answer.

And they’ll loiter in my trees, battering at my windows, my doors, my home.  They’ll break in like little bat burglars.

 

I’ve declared war on thousands of bats.  Put on your helmet, grab your binoculars and hope you don’t get hit by the fallout.

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