When I got back to Provo after meeting baby Clara for the first time, my phone rang and my dear friend Joshy called me.
Him: "Megan, I have a bat in my apartment.
Me: "Huh. So do I. It says Louisville Slugger on it."
Him: "No for real. A real bat with wings and fur and stuff and it's hanging from our cupboard wall in our kitchen."
Me: "Yeah right. I come over, and you throw something at my head, and you and Daniel Laugh at me."
Him: "No seriously, I promise, there's a bat here! Come over!"
Me: "Okay, but if there's not a bat and this is a joke, I am so not your friend ever again."
So I go over there. Lo and behold, there is a bat in their kitchen. I'm crouching behind Josh and Daniel asks me if I want a picture with it. Not a chance in heck. I also nonchalantly mention that should the bat make the slightest move toward me, I'm breaking the honor code so fast by shutting myself in their bedroom. It was a bat. I feel no remorse.
As luck would have it, the bat starts being shifty and shifts itself right in my direction. So, Josh and I run like "a bat out of...." well you get the idea. We race to the bathroom and slam the door behind me, all the while, I'm screaming like a little girl. The situation could have been worse; the bathroom could have been typical boy bathroom. But it was okay. It was super clean. Don't worry, we were only there for a few more minutes, with a few more close calls from the bat. Eventually the bat left out the front door, and I stuck around a few minutes more, because I was afraid the bat was lying in wait outside the door.
And that is my story of the bat.