Mr.Bucket and the tale of the bat cricket.

So I’m talking to my girl on the phone when the drunk knocks on my door.


“There’s a bat in the house!”

“Then call animal control.”

“But there’s a bat in the house!”

“So?  What the hell do you want me to do about it?”

Here’s the deal – neighbor is a drunk, complications have delayed her eviction.  I’m currently doing my best to avoid her at all costs, because if anything can make me snap, it’s a drunk.

So about every half hour or so…  I hear screeching in the hallway.  Not really sure it’s a bat, but I let it go for a couple hours.  Then I say to hell with it.  I won’t be able to sleep cos of the noise, and as much as I am amused by the fact my drunken neighbor is hiding in her apartment in fear of the evil vampire bat, and that she’s generally irritated by it… I need to sleep.

So I load up my airsoft pistol so I can stun it if need be… a bit of cardboard, and a tupperware bowl.  Plan A – trap the thing in the bowl, and let it out.  Plan B – shoot it with my airsoft, hope it stuns it, then trap the thing in the bowl and let it out.  Plan C – take out half the wall and the bat with my 12 gauge.

So I sneak out into the hallway, close my door behind me, and…

“Is this a cricket I see before me?”

Sure, it’s a big cricket, maybe the size of a golfball.  Thinking that maybe the cricket got in when the bat did, I ignore the cricket hunched on the bathroom door and check every room, every nook, every cranny.

All I see is the cricket.

I put the bowl on one side, sweep it in with the cardboard, trap it, take it outside, and then stomp it into the deck until there’s nothing more than a big wet gooey green stain.

Just kidding, I let it go.

But still, the thought of my drunken nitwit neighbor cowering in a corner in her apartment because she thought a cricket was a BAT…. will bring joyful laughter for days to come.

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