Bat in the chimney.

This is the story of a 30 year old male, fighting for survival in his own home. A battle of wills between two occupants of the domicile. The Bat, and The Man. Bat vs Man. No Batman.

It was a brisk spring day in Michigan. When "The Man" and his wife were sitting in their living room, watching some eloquent programing on the moving picture box. A scratching noise was heard emanating from the general vicinity of the fire place. This fire place is a coal burning fire place, which hasn't been used in over 60 years. It has a cast iron covering, which doesn't allow anything in or out. The chimney on top of the house has a wire mesh covering, which has apparently been removed or damaged in some way. I blame squirrels. Or I mean, "The Man" blames squirrels for the removal of the mesh covering.

So, after hearing the scratching and noises from the fire place, I decide to go have a look-see. I slowly removed the cast iron covering (weighs about 50 lbs) to discover a Bat hanging in my chimney. I promptly placed the cover back in it's place, and did what any man would do in this situation... I looked online to see what I should do.

Apparently it's illegal to kill a bat. Apparently removal from your home is only supposed to be handled by a licensed professional. As you can imagine, I simply couldn't care less about these apparent road blocks to my bat-free home. Therefore, I moved quickly to the kitchen to get the most appropriate tool for bat-removal I could think of. A pair of Bar-B-Q tongs.

Armed with my tongs, and sporting a pair of black leather gloves (no O.J.) I sealed off the other rooms in the house, and opened the front door so I could place the bat outside. My wife took the dog and cat into the den, and shut the door. Next, I made my way back to the fireplace. I noticed a can of FeBreze aerosol spray on the mantel and thought it would be a great way to dope the bat, making it easier for me to excercise him. I was wrong. The FeBreze had no apparent effect on the monster bat, which was at least 6" long from head to toe. However, he now smelt like a lovely summer day. I decided it was time to physically manhandle this gigantic rodent into submission with my trusty tongs. I soon found out my tongs were too short to reach the rodent from outside of the fireplace... I would have to go in, and I was not so pleased about this new found information.

As the protector of my domicile, I had no choice but to sacrifice my own life if necessary, to save the lives of those I love. I made my move, swiftly, and fiercely. As I squeezed down on my tongs, the monster bat began clicking and screeching. I'm convinced he also began to grow, much like the Hulk when provoked. As I made my way from the fireplace to the front door, the Hulk-Bat pried himself free from the grasp of my tongs. There was no shredding of purple pants, but I'm positive there would have been, if he'd been wearing them. Hulk-Bat took flight from the end of my tongs, and began soaring throughout the two open rooms in the house. The dining room, and the sitting room. As Hulk-Bat soared, I did what any grown man protecting his home from a humongo-bat would do, I ducked and screamed like a schoolgirl.

Gathering my composure while bent over and running away from Hulk-Bat, I decided I had no options other than to fight. As I stood up to confront this flying monster I noticed it's vast wingspan of at least 14". Shocked by it's enormous stature, I wasn't sure if I had the fortitude needed to survive this battle to the death. I drew strength from my Sunday School memories of David defeating Goliath as Israel stood by in fear. With great trepidation, I attacked! I furiously swung my tongs while moving toward this Dementor when it dive-bombed me into the cubby of my stairwell door and our den. I had no place to go, and certain death loomed above. What was I to do? I was clearly out of options, so I did the only thing I could. I made a break for the opposite side of the dining room.

Successful in my journey to the other end of the room, I had no time for celebration. The wraith was moving in for the kill, and I had to move fast. I released an obligatory "Oh Crap" for the 100th time in this ordeal, and hit the floor. My cat-like reflexes have saved me many times in life, however, none more important than now. I must admit, if I had obtained the object of the Dementor's desire, I would have surely given it to him. Alas, I had no such jewel in my clutches.

As a final attempt at the patronus, I swung my tongs and was able to divert Voldemort back towards the sitting room, and the open door to his freedom. As it circled the room for what seemed to be a lifetime, I readied my tongs for the final attack. One of us would surely die this night... As I moved toward the bat, he flew out the front door. Apparently he knew he was no match for me and my tongs, as I was growing stronger by the second.

I slammed the door shut, tossed my tongs in to the sink, and resumed my leisurely evening as if nothing had happened.

Who's house? My house... and I shall not relinquish it to any threat, foreign or domestic.