A bat was in my house Thursday night. It was in my mother's room, and she came running in, terrified. She called my father over (savior,alwaysoursaviorthoughwehaveforsakeneachother), even though he has always been terrified of any type of rodent, flying or otherwise. He came over and it was on the floor, having taken a hit from my cats; he lunged at it with a badminton racket. My mother, being the coward that she is, sent me to hand him a dustpan and plastic bag.
He stabbed at it with a broom as it made high-pitched clicking noises until the noises stopped.
Sometimes I wonder what it feels like to fly, and I felt bad that the bat had to die.
I hope it had rabies so we justly put it out of its misery instead of murdering something that just wanted to go home.
ijustwanttogohome,pleasemylovetakemehome,takemeawayfromhere,totheplacewhereeverythingisallright...