There was this time that we got a bat in our house. It wasn't so bad until it wanted to make its home in my room. At the age of 15, a squeamish teenager, it wanted to make a home in MY room. I wasn't really all that squeamish; I just really hated it when disease bearing things flew at me.

It was like they were teasing me. I missed you this time but next time we're going to fly right into your hair and give you lice and some other disease. Then I'd start imagining it so I'd pull the covers over my head. I had such an imagination then that pulling the covers over my head would make it worse, because I couldn't see where it landed next. It would swoop over my head so close that I swore I could smell the dust and disease on it. A shiver would travel up my spine. I could hear the beating of the wings so distinctly that I'd know exactly when the thing would stop and land somewhere. So, from the wings I generally knew where it was. It particularly liked to stay close to me where –gee- I REALLY did notwant it to be.

It kind of serves me right. I choose the words 'kind of', because we all have the rights to our opinions and beliefs. We can think and believe whatever we want to as long as we don't bother others about it. My brother, Dan, had gone out Friday night, the first appearance of the bat. After he came in he noticed my light on and assumed I was awake, because I almost never left my light on. When he knocked on my door with no response, as he puts it, "this really big bird-type-thing" flew at him. The hall lights were off out there, so he couldn't see it.

When he told us on Saturday, he had two different stories. The one about it being a mysterious bird thing and the one where he saw it and it was some type of bird or bat. Knowing him, I didn't believe him. I had said that I didn't believe him far too honestly and he got pissed off, so I told him I have the right to believe what I want.

Then he would say something along the lines of, "Well, I believe you're stupid!"

I was thinking, 'Oh god! Don't start another one of these stupid fights…' and I retorted back out, "Believe what you want, doesn't mean you're right."

He looked at me like 'Dang you win this one!', and I grinned back at him under the cup of cinnamon-apple tea I was drinking.

Well, that Saturday night, I would just be settling down and doing my large amount of homework. (I was taking an intensified Japanese course that summer at the University of Colorado at Boulder.) I sighed of relief, since I had finally gotten a weekend and tomorrow would be a fun day at the Renaissance Festival for the first time in years.

I could also get away from Amelia, my step-sister. Not that she was so horrible, but the plain old sibling rivalry. It was already worse than usual since we were seeing so much of each other, being in the same Japanese class over summer. With bus rides we were almost spending our whole day in each other's company. Then it got worse when she injured her knee, making her ten times crankier and me ten times less patient. So, as you know, that sigh of relief was truly wonderful!

Suddenly… flap, flap, flap, FLAP, FLAP, FLAP! It scared the living crud out of me. I'm one of these people who doesn't really react to things. When something scary happens, I keep it in till I can think straight enough to know what to do. It circled around my room and came back at me. I screamed for the first time in years and over some stupid little bat. I didn't scream loud because I knew it wasn't going to hurt me. The type of bats that bit humans didn't live in this area of the world. It was just a squeak really. Then it was gone from my head to make another circle. It was loud enough screams that my brother in the next room could hear.

"It's a baaaaiiiiiaaaiiiiaaatt! It's a freaking baat!" I finally spat out.

I could hear Dan laughing at me like, 'Ha! It serves you right for not believing me!'

I didn't care; I just wanted it to stop. I got a hold of myself and told Dan to open my door and he did. He did it taking his sweet, sweet time and the whole time it flew over my head. He opened the door and the bat shot out of the room.

Lucky for me, it would somehow find its way back into my room. I had stuffed any possible opening with towels except for my heating vent and my closet (since it was impossible). About three in the morning it comes back flying around.

I let out a small scream as it comes round and it makes a post right on the ceiling at the end of my bed. Oh my god, it finally stopped! I looked out from under my pillow and slowly sat up looking at it curiously. At this point of view it was rather cute! It's little head with beady eyes and ears. A grey furry thing with its wings wrapped around itself. This encounter with the bat was a lot less chaotic.

I made a squeak noise through my teeth, knowing that the bat responded squeaking noises. It cocked its head sideways and went back in normal position. I squeaked again and he cocked his head again the other way this time. This was all very entertaining, but I was extremely tired at this point and it wasn't bothering me. So I got under the covers and went to sleep. As soon as I turned off the light the bat flew around a bunch then sat itself at the end of my bed again. When I woke up, it was gone.

That day I told my parents about it and my step-dad told me, "If the bat goes flying around your room again tonight, then wake me up and I'll take care of it."

Surely enough, after a day of the Renaissance Festival and with Japanese class the next day too, I was tired and went to sleep early. And surely enough, the bat came back around 3 in the morning waking me up. FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FWOOSH! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FWOOSH!

You could believe I was frustrated now. I covered myself with my sheets as I slowly reached out turning on the light and letting my eyes adjust a bit. It kept flying around and flying around. I kept my fingers crossed in hope of it landing so I could go get my step-dad. FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FWOOOSH! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! And it finally lands. It lands RIGHT ON MY DOOR! The hinges of the middle of my door! So now I can't get out and tell my step-dad and go back to sleep. I sit up and stare at it with tired eyes.

Lifting my hands up in motion I say, "C'mon… Move! C'mon! …You can't stay there!"

The bat doesn't move an inch and I sit there shaking in frustration and adrenaline. I look around my messy room thinking of something I could throw near it to scare it so it will finally move. 'Hmm… A sock! They can be washed. It's not like I'm going to throw it at the bat.'

I pick it up and aim for right next to the bat. I throw and SCORE! Well it was more than a score I HIT THE BAT! As soon as I hit the bat is falls unconscious to the floor!

I stare at it wide eyed, "Did I kill it!?"

Nope! It gets up and it's angry now! It flies at me this time and I duck under the covers again. FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FWOOSH! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! It lands on my bed right next to me. The disease bearing thing is on my BED!? It walks with its little pudgy bat feet slowly toward the only place where it could get under! All I can think is, 'Oh my god! Oh my god!' over and over! Till finally, when things click and through the sheet I shove it off my bed and it flies around and around and around. It stops. I look up for a second and that thing is right on the ceiling at the end of my bed again. So I start to slide out grabbing my covers with me for protection. I stand up and it starts flying around again and again! I grabbed my pillow and covered my head running for the door and slipping out. It was dead silent out there and you could still hear the bat flapping around. I took a deep breath and walked over to my parent's room pounding on their door.

My step-dad finally gets up and walks out, "Where is it!?"

"My room," I point desperately.

"I'll handle this," he walks in closing the door behind him leaving my mom and me to wait outside.

So how did this bat get in our house in the first place? We have a few different ideas of that. Our neighborhood has many animals around and we had gotten a hole in our roof with the help of a woodpecker. The hole also ironically was right over my room. The bats probably got in our attic and when we covered the hole it didn't have anything to eat and would have to venture into the rest of our house. Why my room? I asked that so many times and we'll never know.

"What is he doing in there!?" My mom said as we hear a few crashes from my room, we look at each other.

While all I'm thinking is, 'My room!'

My step-dad curses at it a few times and (as he told me he) grabbed my tennis racket hanging on my closet door and played some 'batting' with it. Swipe one! MISS! Swipe two! And the bat goes flying! He grabbed a shoe box I had laying around and grasped the bat with a plastic bag before it could regain consciousness, and quickly shoving it in the box.

I'd like to say we let the bat free, outside. Sadly, that's not what happened. My step-dad came stomping out of my room showing the box with a little laugh of victory and stomped downstairs throwing it in the trash. In the trash to die. With all the problems it caused me and how tired I was, I didn't care. It was sweet victory, and sweet revenge! And above all, sweet sleep. I went to my room and about a half an hour later my adrenaline slowed and I slept to drag myself out of bed the next morning for class. It was a weekend of bad sleep with the bats, and thankfully, over. Something I'll never forget.