Today I chased a bat out of the garage. I don't know if it was one of those bats that gets all tangled up in your hair, or if it was the rabies-carrying type of bat, or if it was the kind of bat that transforms into a vampire and seduces your wife, sucks her blood and leads her into the eternal torment of the waking damned. All I know is that the bat was in the garage, and seemed to be in a supreme state of agitation.
Twice the bat swooped at my head, and twice I ducked. Its eyes, like pools of fire, blazed with menace, fear and madness. I did not panic. Calmly I told Alex that there was a bat in the garage and then proceeded to open the garage door. The bat was no dummy. It circled a few more times before flitting into the night, at last vanishing in undulating flight back to from whence it came.
I know not what its purpose was in our garage, whether it sought shelter or food or a warm place to nest. I do know that its presence touched me in ways I've yet to understand. It seems silly to slap a name on such a filth-ridden creature of mystery, but if I had to, I think I would call it DeVonn.
Fly on, oh creature of the night. Sup on moonlight and bugs and remain ever the leather-winged harbinger of pestilence and woe.