As a young girl with long hair, I was told that if a bat got tangled in your hair, it would get tangled, bite the hell out of you and inevitably give you rabies.
Now y'all have surely seen the episode of The Office where Michael hits Meredith with his car, cracks her pelvis and it's at the hospital that it's discovered that she contracted rabies from an unrelated issue when Dwight trapped her head in a bag with a bat, right? This fear is totally founded and logical. So what if I have short hair now, bats are still very futile vermin.
Picture this, we're at my moms house catching up and whatnot and she tells us there's a bat upstairs and it's hanging from my sisters bedroom doorframe asleep. Naturally, my hooligans want to see this flying terror in its upside down, sleeping state. I fucking don't.
My sister instructs them to be silent and they trot upstairs to take in the vision of this nocturnal mother fucker in all it's glory. I do not. I'm not above letting my kids see Mommie has a little bit of sense and a healthy amount of fear.
It takes roughly thirty minutes of me obsessing over this little bastard before I decide I need to see this shit in real life. I sneak up the stairs all on my tip toes....cause you know that's the most quiet way to go about not waking a bat. I look to the right and sure as shit, that sumbitch is hanging from the doorway. And my hand to Oprah, Tom Cruise, Tim Tebow and God---the fucker IMMEDIATELY TURNED ITS HEAD TOWARDS ME AND OPENED ITS MALICE FILLED EYES!
Mind you, it's still hanging but that hate machine is awake. I HAUL ASS down the hallway, turn the corner and gently knock on the bathroom door in an immediate plea to get someone to catch this rabid bitch before I meet my end. I wanna swim with dolphins, kiss Hines Ward and strive for world peace while vacationing in Australia and New Zealand----none of which can be accomplished if I die at the will of a bat.
It is MID-FUCKING-KNOCK that this homicidal bitch flies around the corner and straight at my mother fucking face. AT MY FACE.
I know everyone thinks I'm exaggerating but I shit you not fella's, STRAIGHT FOR MY FUCKING FACE.
I do what any reasonable girl would do when a bat on bath salts decides to go HAM on me, I screamed bloody murder people---bloody effin murder---and hit the g'dayum floor.
BOOM-Mimi down! Mimi down! I didn't stop there! Still screaming *and crying* real fucking tears, I army crawl (in a sundress) down the hallway, tuck myself in the tornado position against the bookcase.
Shame was lost on me. I hear my sister Lillie coming up the stairs and I manage to look up and yell,"NO! GO DOWNSTAIRS,IT'S ALIVE!"
Apparently, this greedy bat bitch has now heard my plea for help and we make fucking eye contact and he swoops again. I almost threw up, I went from the fetal position with my hands covering my head to down flat, praying Oprah,Gayle and Nancy Grace would show up and save the day!
Alas, the bat was caught in a net and set free to terrorize someone else. Now, not only do my trio regularly like to tell my tale of horror BUT they also know that Mommie will scream like a little bitch if a bat apocolypse should ever occur. Nice.
