The wifey said to me, "Hon,
Bats in the house just ain't no fun.
It's swooping through the living room
get off your butt and get the broom.
I'll open the doors, you knock it out."
"Oh, no," I screamed, "The Bear got out."
"The Bub's in hiding, you stupid fool,"
the wifey cried, "Get that bat, while he's flying through."
I whacked the bat behind the TV
(it was playing something by Spike Lee),
but he recovered, and with an"Eeee"
took to the air and continued his route
while Dad-doo waved the broom about.
Tiring of the game the bat flew off,
Mystifying Dad-doo, while Momma did shout.
"FIND THE DAMN BAT! 'CAUSE I AINT GOING TO BED!
TILL I KNOW THAT CREATURE IS GONE OR IS DEAD!"
(She didn't mean it, she was under a strain. It's hard to be calm with bats on the brain.)
We searched in the basement, we searched through the rooms. Peggy with a paper bag. Fred with a broom.
No bat to be found on floor 1 or floor 2.
He was hiding behind a curtain in the master bedroom.
"Call the fire dept or the New Hamster PD," frightened Fred said like Allen Woody.
"I'll get him myself," said the brave Peggy.
But a man is a man, even when he's a wuss. So, girding his loins and grimming his puss, Fred donned heavy gloves and grabbed the ol' bat...
...who "eeeeee"'d quite fiercely and struggled so that...
...Fred dropped him,
and Peg gave him a whack
with the broom, while Fred also attacked.
The bat said, "Enuff! You two ain't good hosts. I'm going to bat heaven!"
And gave up the ghost.
The bat in the bag, the cats in the house. Order restored, as much as you'd think.
Peggy sat down and said, "I want a big drink."