The Intruder

This story is disgusting and embarassing in many ways, and I really shouldn't be posting it for the entire world to see. But then, these kinds of stories are the most fun, so why keep it to myself? It would just be selfish.

Anyway, the other night, I got home late. It was dark, and my pets were waiting for me. In order to get into my apartment, I have to go down a flight of stairs. Usually my dog is right by the door, prepared to spring himself at me to express his joy. On this night, however, he wasn't. Quickly I went down and opened the door... and the noise hit me. Clark was hissing, Lewis was yapping his little head off. Heart pounding, I rushed into the living room, thinking someone had to be breaking in.

And someone had.

A bat.

Yes, you read that right. A freaking bat was in my apartment. It was darting around the ceiling in a frenzy. Clark was leaping up into the air in a wild attempt to kill. Lewis was running in circles, as if that would accomplish something. I screamed and recoiled against the wall. For a minute I had absolutely no idea what to do. So of course the first solution that came to mind was... call a guy. I know. Pathetic. But the guy in my life who has handled these things in the past couldn't save me from the oh-so-deadly flying rodent. I hung up the phone, still panicking.

That's when I saw the couch pillows. I got an idea. I edged around the chaos, pressed to that wall like it was some kind of safe zone, and reached the couch. For a moment I continued shrieking like a little girl. Then I picked up my pretty flowered pillow, squeezed my eyes shut, and mustered the courage to chuck the thing at the bat.

Like an airplane hit by a meteor, the tiny creature crashed to the ground. While it was dazed and immobile, I grappled for something to throw over it. And all I could think of was... pants. So, logically, I unbuttoned and yanked my jeans off. The bat uttered a loud protest as I made its denim prison. I proceeded - still screaming, by the way - to scoop the squirming bundle up, thunder back up the stairs, and toss it outside. I slammed the door and tried not to hyperventilate. "You did it. You are a strong, independent woman," I kept chanting, some kind of weird mantra.

Lewis and Clark needed comforting, of course, and I needed to disinfect the ceiling, so I didn't let myself think about how the bat actually got in. I had to be strong.

But I still didn't go back for the pants until morning.