The Bat Assasin

It’s was dark and wet.  The sun gave up supremacy over the skies hours ago.  The rain was relentless, descending from the heavens in bucket loads. A cold wind was howling around the corners of the house, looking for an opening, tormenting the window shutters.  He listens to the wailing of the wind.  Hanging upside down, he watches his victims intently with small, beady eyes.  He adjust his wings, not making a sound.  The anticipation is almost too much to bear.  But he has to wait.  He takes a quiet breath.  Finally they settle in the dimly lit lounge.  Snuggling under a blanket with the light of the television dancing on their faces.  He cracks an evil smile.   It was time…

He swoops down in one swift motion, almost touching their heads.  And he breaks into a loud, devilish laugh as he makes a full circle and return for another terrorising attack, barely clearing their heads again.  They burst out in hysterical, panic-stricken screams.  And he is satisfied, for their shrieking screams remains the most beautiful music to his ears…

This image is NOT Photoshopped.

This image is NOT Photoshopped.


I’m NOT Batman.  I hate the critters.  And who can blame me?  Have you seen one up close? They are ugly.  They are nasty.  They do not belong on earth.  Bats are to birds as ogres are to humans.  Revolting creatures, mistakenly freed from hell.  Little flying demons.

If I hate them, then I’m not sure what to call the emotion my wife has for them.  Abhorrence and loathing seems like such inadequate words.  The anxiety she feels for them is worse than her fear of death, the boogeyman or gaining weight.  She believes that every bat alive, is wickedly programmed to torment her.  And when they do, when she sees one in the house, she doesn’t just scream.  No dear friends, what she does has no verb in the English language.  And sadly she passed that unique talent onto Princess.  Now I have two woman in the house who goes ballistic when Mr Bat decides to drop in for a visit.

And that is where I come in.

My job, as captain of this ship is to kill the demon.  A priest exorcising his little flying ass.  Getting rid of the poltergeist.  (I did mention that I also hate them didn’t I?)  As the certified Bat assassin, my weapon of choice is a tennis racket.  It’s all about the surface area, increasing the risk of impact.  I will climb onto our staircase, mid-level and wait for the fucker to circle me.  Then I swing.  I normally miss the first few times, as my heart is racing full of adrenalin.  I duck and dive and shriek a little.  Cursing loudly, forgoing all of the lessons I’m trying to teach my kids about NOT dropping random f-bombs.

I use every inch of momentum I have when that little bastard is within the impact zone of the racket.  Missing it, results in a slight off balance recovery.  But when I hit him… OMG.  The Bat turns into a missile aiming straight for the ground.  He doesn’t stand a chance.  Sometimes I hit them so hard, they actually get stuck in the criss-cross wire of the racket.  Like some giant, freakish insect, tangled in a spider’s web.  Those are my proudest moments.

I have killed a few, but don’t worry the word genocide doesn’t apply to less than ten victims.  I don’t necessarily do it in a very manly way as I’m not fearless or stupid.  But I do get my mammal, even if success implies ten different hilarious attempts.  I’m the comic relief that diffuses the panic expression of my wife.

You see, it’s not because I want to, but it comes with the territory.  There is no way on earth I am going to catch that thing alive!  For that would imply that I might have to touch it, and we all know your penis  falls off when you do.  So by killing it, I reduce the risk of having it jump up and fly into my hair.

Assassinating bats makes me the man of the house.  It gives me the right to shout “Jippie-k-jay mother fucker!”  I get full hero credit from the wife and Princess.  I see the relief and adoration in their eyes and that makes me wave my fist in the air like Rocky on top of the stairs of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.  Every man wants to feel like a hero and I’ll take every small victory, thank you very much.

However, the worst thing about killing a bat, is getting rid of the body.  *Shivers*

16 thoughts on “The Bat Assasin

  1. My first experience in bat catching occurred when I was a teenager & lived in a very old house while working at a summer resort. Like you, I was disgusted by these funny little beings & we used to draw straws to see who got the tennis racket.

    After learning a little more about them & discovering that they are actually an essential part of our ecosystem, I looked at them in a different perspective & now adopt a catch & release technique. In most cases, they are getting into your house to seek shelter. Contrary to what the movies suggest, they are quite harmless.

    Ugly yes, but not the evil creatures we believe they are.

    You might want to consider a bat house in your yard somewhere to deter them from finding their way into your home.

    This, of course, would allow you to keep your heroic title at the same time as teaching Princess that all creatures serve a valuable purpose:-)


      • LOL! Who said anything about touching them? GROSS!

        Throw on a pair of gloves & grab a bucket & a thin piece of cardboard. If they are hanging from the ceiling. place the bucket over them. Then take the cardboard & slide it between the bucket & the ceiling. There will be screams (most likely coming from you) but fear not, as long as you hold the cardboard on the bucket, that nasty little critter isn’t going anywhere.

        Once outside, just stick the bucket on it’s side in a garden somewhere. At this point, run like hell! KIDDING!!!

        Door frames can be a little more challenging but as long as you are quick with the cardboard, it usually works. Have an open door just in case:0)

        Keep in mind that they sleep during the day which is usually when we find them hanging nonchalantly somewhere. If they fly suddenly, it is because you scared the bejibbers out of them. They don’t see well during the day which explains the crazy flight pattern.

        Good luck BATMAN!!!


      • Indeed:) And the moral of the story is not only did the family suffer from less mosquito bites but the daddy learned that he really was a superhero after all.


I won't bite, I promise...

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