Flappin’ B…

Shortly after moving in, we settled into a nice routine. Being predictable was just Jeff.

We’d arrive home from work, he’d head upstairs to change. I’d fiddle around downstairs prepping dinner. I noticed that we’d forgotten to pull up the blinds a bit. We’d usually do that in the morning, so Talli could enjoy the view. I grabbed the twirl bar to open the slats, then firmly pulled the cord to raise ’em up.

It all happened so fast, I wasn’t even sure what was happening.  A bird flew out from behind the swaying fixture, and I ran to open the front door so it could find its way out.

It flew toward the door than changed its mind, zooming back so close to me that I backed-up against the center square. It circled and zoomed by me again, all the while I was calling for Jeff to come down and help. He was, however, involved in the “library and his daily constitution” as he was fond of calling it. I asked about that once, and it was just something his father had said, so he said it, too.

Anyway, the bird starts rapidly circling the center square I am now fully plastered to, hands over my head protecting my face like horrified figures on promotion posters for The Birds.  Jeff finally came down the stairs and said, “What?”

“Bird!” I advised as it headed directly for him.

He wiggled back out of its way, slapping his hands around frantically. “Damn bat!” he exclaimed.

“Bat? Bat! I thought it was a biiirrrrrd,” I cried out. Still plastered to the post and starting to cry, my voice rose to an ear piercing squeak. “Eek, aah,eek, aah, eek,” I squeaked as the newly identified creature resumed its furious lapping. Jeff started to giggle, which made me furious.

“Stop laughing and get it out of here,” I shouted.  But Jeff didn’t hear me, he was too busy waving his hands and laughing. I was not amused.

“Do something!” I yelled.

“What do you want me to do?!” he yelled back.

“I want you to get your (feline) (butt) down here and take care of this (freaking) problem like a (freaking) man!” I screamed.

Jeff was laughing so hard he lost his breath and sat down on the stairs.  Suddenly, the circling stopped.

“See,” he gasped, “it found its way out.”

He finished coming down the stairs, and was just a step away from me when the bat came around the corner and connected with a full force head butt.

“Ewww,” he exclaimed running for the back door and yanking it wide open.

The bat followed him, and was gone. I came around the other side of the pole/box, and Jeff and I met up in the kitchen.

“You scream like a girl,” I said, cracking a smile.

“You curse like a sailor,” he smiled back, resting his hip against the stove.

I leaned a little toward Jeff, going in for a hug when the black spiral burner a half-inch away from his right hand … fluttered.

I couldn’t speak so I pointed.

Jeff had a certain movement he did when he became flustered. It was sort of a shake, turn-around, flap his hands, thing followed by “Aahhh!

We both jumped away from the range. Jeff ran out the back door leaving me behind. This time the bat really did follow him out, so he turned around and ran back in, slamming the door behind him.

I was laughing so hard, I had to sit down,

I tried to say, started to say, “Serves you right for laughing at me.”

But all I got out was ‘serves’ and the ‘y’ sound, interrupted by Jeff ‘s jokingly over-dramatic scowling brow and a wagging finger.

“Don’t,” he said, reaching down to help me up from the floor.

I reached back and was soon wrapped up in bear hug, and a chuckle.

“You really didn’t know it was a bat?” he quizzed.

“It was flapping … and flying …” I shrugged, open handed.

He tilted his head a bit, and uttered this Jeff-ism:

“Just ‘cause it’s flappin’, doesn’t mean it’s a bird!”

He followed that with, “We should think about supper.” I nodded.

Jeff took the stainless steel salad bowl down from the cabinet. I went to the fridge, returning with an armful of taco salad ingredients.

Within a few minutes, we were settled into our seats. We did a little “pass this – past that” conversing, and were doing fine until our eyes met.

“I can’t believe you called me a…” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Don’t,” I interrupted, with an over-dramatic scowling brow and wagging finger.

And, we started laughing all over again.

Quote for the Week:

2016 03 29 justcuzitsflappin jakorte

Enjoy this Week’s Discovery Links:

In the Belfry: http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/bats-in-the-belfry.html

The Bat Wants Out: https://www.getbatsout.com/bat-in-my-house/

Swearing Is Good: https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/hide-and-seek/201205/hell-yes-the-7-best-reasons-swearing

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