Well, as the single digit temps descended over Iowa, the bat problem is striking again. And again, it is the terrorists' favorite target, the Hoyt Sherman Place. This old mansion seems to be a clearinghouse of nooks and crannies for bats to hide out. And every now and then, they take a few flights in front of the motion detectors, which means I get called to go see what the hell is going on. As usual, I call up my supervisor and make him go there with me. The place is too creepy at night to not have someone there to hold your hand.
This time, we get there, I turn off the alarm system, and no sooner than I hit the lights in the lobby area, the winged terrorist comes flying at us, unleashing the possibility of a rabies-laden attack upon the Mookist general, and his compadre. It's time to go to work eliminating these terrorist sumbitches. Last night,, we were armed with the most primitive of weaponry, the dreaded orange cones (think traffic cones). We finally convinced this monstrous and EFFING HUGE bat to roost in his normal terrorist-trained upside down position at the top of a door across the room. I wheeled around to the left with my cone and my GI Joe-like ninja skills avoiding the bats detection, while my supervisor Casey held the middle ground to the entry vestibule in check. A quick toss, and BAT DOWN, BAT DOWN!!! We placed the cone over him, and I moved to go write up the alarm response sheet at a nearby desk. The bat was sliding underneath the cone towards the door he had previously hung from, trying to escape underneath the locked door that I did not possess a key for. WE stopped him as he was 3/4 of the way through in his backstroke maneuver to freedom. The next step was to fully retrieve the little rat faced bastard from underneath the door. Ever cautious of possible rabies infections from bites or scratches, we searched for something to get a grip on the terrorist and bring him back into the light and under our guard. (The next moment gets a bit gruesome, so weak stomached people stop reading here, and go to your happy place.)
Casey did NOT hand me his pocketknife, and I did NOT use it to stab the winged terrorist in a pinning hold to drag him out. Right after we did NOT do those things, I hear Casey yell out some unsavory words, and mentioned something about another bat. Apparently our NOT piercing the first terrorists skin did NOT release pheromones and a rescue signal to his terrorist partner, who then began to dive bomb us all over the lobby. We placed a nicely weighted bucket over Bat #1, grabbed our cones, and proceeded to go after the 2nd insurgent. After a few strafing runs, the 2nd bat went up the stairwell to the main theater entry hall, strafed us a couple more times, then went up another level, where we lost him in the dark.
We were both disappointed in that result. 1- We enjoy the bat calls, as they are one of the most exciting, and scary moments on the job. 2- We don't necessarily want to be called back if another bat sets off the alarm system, which takes time away from our other duties. And 3- Losing a live terrorist only serves to degradate our reputation as elite rentacops turned combat commandos.
Surely we will be back again, as these winged marauders will start trouble again, trying to dissuade us of our nightly missions, and cause us to give up and go home, allowing the terrorists to claim victory over rentacops and more notably, the Mookist forces. WE will never EVER give in to these terrorists if it takes our entire lifetime to rid our alarm response accounts of these rabies-harboring little (and sometimes not so little) rat-faced bastards. WE intend to NOT kill them all, because killing them would be considered illegal, depending on the species anyways, and I'm no bat-ologist (yes this is a technical term meaning studier of bats), so I can't tell which ones are fair game or not. All I'm saying is if they just happen to have sudden cardiac arrest at the exact moment they tangle with us, well, that's either God or Darwin speaking.