I was going to write about Vermont drivers and how some of them are the bane of my existence. But then I remembered that two entries ago I already bitched about road conditions and driving and I didn’t want to beat a dead horse. (Yet. I’ll bitch again, fret not.)<\/p>\n
Then I was going to write about politics and how I feel like both John McCain and Barack Obama are asking me out on a date and I can’t decide which one I want to go to the sock hop with because, in their own ways, they’re each so dreamy. But then I realized we have time and can talk about that later. (Yes we can!) (That was a hint.)<\/p>\n
What I think I’ll talk about is the fact that – and I’m sure Emily’s about to roll her eyes so hard that she’s in danger of falling over backwards – well…<\/p>\n
I killed a bat yesterday.<\/p>\n
I think.<\/p>\n
I feel really bad about this.<\/p>\n
Here it is. You be the judge. May heaven have mercy on my sinful soul.<\/p>\n
Yesterday was snowy. Cold and snowy. It was windy and temps were probably in the high twneties to low thirties, but I’m reasonably sure it never got above freezing. I was walking to my TA class and cutting through one of the older campus buildings<\/a>. I opened the front door, walked through the vestibule and was immediately buzzed by a small bird. He was Maverick and I was the tower, if you will. (and you will.) After a few more steps, my brain chimed in to tell me that that small “bird” didn’t really flap its wings like a bird at all.<\/p>\n I did a 180 and found it crawling around on the floor. Picture the boot-camp scene from any war movie. You know how they crawl under those wires? That’s how this thing was crawling. It used its legs and its leathery wing\/arms. It was a bat.<\/p>\n I wasn’t really scared of it or grossed out by it but I didn’t want to get too close to it because of a.)rabies and b.)vampirism and I was reasonably sure it shouldn’t be inside. So I opened the front door wherepon the bat looked at the Great Out There and then looked at me and said to me, I shit you not, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Ok, maybe he didn’t actually say<\/em> it, but I’m sure he was thinking it.<\/p>\n Anyway, as I was standing there like mother nature’s doorman, some other dude walked up, and gave me a standard what-the-hell-are-you-doing look. I ‘splained and we both agreed that the bat should be outside. So we stood there, like idiots, forming and leg wall and trying to intimidate a bat in to going outside. Which, eventually, it did. Most likely to humor us, now that I think about it.<\/p>\n Feeling like I had saved the University from a dreaded vermin infestation, I went on my merry way. At the time, it didn’t occur to me that it was well below freezing outside.<\/p>\n By the time it did occur to me, I was reasonably sure that I should have kept right on walking and let the bat stay in the warm interior – threats to sanitation and eternal sould be damned. It was cold<\/span> out yesterday, especially if you’re four inches long and weigh as much as a damp paper towel. But I consoled myself with the knowledge that the bat was long gone, it was a creature of nature and presumably knew how to take care of itself and, besides, there’s no way I’d ever know what really happened to it.<\/p>\n Oh, hahahahaha.<\/p>\n I was wrong.<\/p>\n That evening, I was walking back though the same building on the way to another class when I passed through the same vestibule as before. As I stepped on to the porch I looked to my left. There on the floor in the corner, curled in to a surprisingly small ball, was a bat. I have to assume it was the<\/span> bat. I didn’t get too close (remember the dual threats: rabies and vampirism), but I am fairly sure it wasn’t breathing.<\/p>\n I encouraged a bat to freeze to death.<\/p>\n Emily was as appropriately sympathetic as one can be when confronted by a thirty year old man who’s torn up about possibly being one of several factors in the demise of a member of the, let’s face it, vermin family. And I appreciated that.<\/p>\n All I can think of is this: Thank god I’ve never been hunting. I think I would enjoy everything about hunting up until the point where I shot and killed a deer. If I ever did that, I’m sure I’d feel so guilty that I’d probably find a confessional, move in a sleeping bag and a hot plate and never leave.<\/p>\n So I’m sorry Mr. Bat. Sorry I fucked up your life.<\/p>\n Thanks for not giving me rabies.<\/p>\n Or making me a vampire.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I was going to write about Vermont drivers and how some of them are the bane of my existence. But then I remembered that two entries ago I already bitched about road conditions and driving and I didn’t want to … Continue reading