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There was a bat that got stuck in the old theater building at my high school. My friends and I kept trying to chase it out, but it was impossible. Eventually we found it mummified, still clinging to one of the giant curtains. We kept him in a jar for a while.
Normally I like bats, since they eat tons of bugs and their poop is great plant fertilizer.
At my grandparents house I have been there for 3 different occasions when bats were in the house, and there have been 2 when I wasn't there. They live on a farm where you can go out and throw popcorn up and 75% of the time it won't come back down.
Bats are cool. They are usually so shy but they do carry rabies.
Recently, they were renovating a downtown building here and found a huge colony of bats. No one realized they were there. Some of them were sick and a few died but this non profit group managed to rescue a bunch and took them out to the country to let them start a new colony.
I have two bat stories. Both involve the death of a bat by my hand.
The first time a bat got into the house, me, a friend, and my mother closed it off in the living room, then proceeded to swing at it with tennis rackets and a broom (this was a good twelve years ago). I scored the first hit with a racket and took it outside. It died shortly thereafter. I felt bad.
Then in a different house (that was incapable of closing off any particular section of the downstairs), another bat invaded. This time my brother and I got the rackets out and set about the task of defeating the evil creature. I hit that bat so freaking hard that it splattered blood against the wall and was dead before it hit the ground. I felt REALLY bad about that. I just wanted to knock him down and take him outside.
By the third time a black winged creature found its way into our home, I decided to grab a pair of gloves and actually capture it rather than just swing rackets at it. I caught this raven from the fireplace and tucked it safely away outside without any damage to myself or the bird. I felt good about that.
I also have a Bacardi keychain with the Bacardi Bat on it. It's sweet.
"Mindless killing doesn't do a lot for me anymore." - Sampson
I'm planning on writing a vampire book called Vampires Under Congress Avenue Bridge. The Congress Ave. Bridge, as I'm sure everyone knows, is in Austin Texas and is famous for having thousands of bats living under it when they migrate up from Mexico.
The Cyclops having only one eye, needed to seek shelter from the harsh sun. The shadow cast by the spheres gave him temporary respite.
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