a new name for Undieman

After leaving you hanging with this post, I had to scramble to recall the details of the incident I’m about to recollect for you.

Okay, so my dad is weird,  We figured that one out already.  He marches to the beat of his own drum, you might say (yes, possibly in his underwear) so don’t even think you know the tune he’s drumming or what his drum’s even made of because nobody knows.  No-body.  I’m not sure if this incident had anything to do with his weirdness or if it was just “dumb luck”.

Like I said, his very own drummer, uhkay?

This happened when my boys were not quite teenagers yet and I’m not really sure why we were all there at bedtime, but for some reason we were.

Dad had already got in bed, but he was watching TV in there.  Maybe the boys were being loud or something.  I honestly can’t remember.  What I DO remember is that he suddenly started hollering, “Hey!  HEY!  SOMEBODY COME IN HERE!”

I dunno who went in first, but I remember calling through the door to ask what was wrong.  Didn’t wanna risk another viewing of Undieman, ya know?  So I hollered through the door.

He said, “There’s something in here!”  Well, yeah, if I’d had time to think about it, I would have probably rolled on the floor laughing at the ludicrousness of him saying that now, some 20 years after this incident, but I didn’t have time.  Now, however, it makes me crack up.

So my eldest son, who was probably around 12 or 13 at the time, opened the door as I peered into the room from behind him.  All I could see was Dad in the blue flicker of TV light, with the covers pulled up under his nose staring wide-eyed at the ceiling in the corner of the room.

“What is that thing?”, he said, and pointed to where he was looking so intently.

We both leaned in, staying behind the door because frankly, Dad was freaking us out a little.  What we saw was hard to make out, but at first it appeared to just be a big black blob up in the corner of the room.   Yes indeed, scary enough if you’ve watched as many spooky movies as I have, but as our eyes adjusted to the low light, we could make out the skin-like wings of a bat!

By this time, my husband had come on the scene from wherever he had been.  Perhaps he was trying to keep his distance from the bedroom?  I guess maybe the possibility of seeing your father-in-law in his skivvies was more than he wanted to deal with at the time, but he went on in to see if it was indeed a bat and what could be done to get the thing out of the house!

In case you’re wondering, no, this wasn’t the same house that had Undieman running for his life.  It was actually a house that had been my grandparents’ for as long as I could remember.  It was built in the 1940’s so it was a fairly old house, although very solid and not at all ramshackle or run-down like you might imagine a bat would like to hang around in.  Maybe this was a progressive, rebel bat who was looking for a more modern scene?

what all the cool bats wear when they go out clubbin’

Anyhow, so Hubby proceeds to try shooing the bat out, which leads my mother to scream bloody murder lest the thing escape the bedroom and be set loose to fly all over the house.  I think she figured she didn’t have to sleep in the bedroom in case we had to just shut the thing up in there and wait for an exterminator.  The hubby soon learns that This Bat will not be shoo’ed.  He simply flaps and squawks at Hubby’s pathetic attempts to make him leave.  Once or twice, The Bat flew from one corner to another, which didn’t get him any closer to being outside and was apparently a little unnerving to both men judging from the occasional yelps that came from inside the room.

In a few minutes, Hubby sticks his head out the door and instructs the boys to find something to catch the bat in.  My mind went completely blank as it raced to try even fathoming what my parents might have lying around that would double as a bat catcher.  Before I could start a list of possibilities, our eldest comes to the door with a couple of lacrosse sticks from the set Mom had bought the boys to play with.  PERFECT!

With a bit of effort, Hubby soon had The Bat scooped into the nets and holding the sticks together in the most ridiculous fashion he hurried out the front door that Mom was holding open. She slammed it shut almost before my poor hubby made it outside, as if The Bat had come through the front door in the first place.

And so that, my friends, is the story of that time a bat got in Dad’s bedroom and he got a new name, although not really a superhero name like Undieman.

Can you guess what it was?

memories & the keeping thereof…

So I’ve been thinking since I retold the stinky little story… I enjoy telling funny stories like that and since most of the ones I tell are true, I might oughta try to “keep” them somewhere.  Y’know, for posterity in case I ever have some grandkids and they ever wanna know what kinda crazy stuff happened to their gramma.

*shrugs*   I dunno, but I’m gonna try to do that occasionally.  I used to have tons of those stories on my blog back when I had my own domain name, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, I never even thought to save a single one of them!

*sigh*

Anyhow, I am creating a new category just for these tales.  Give me time to sort them out in my head and put them together cohesively enough to put up here… that’s the plan, Stan.

Peace out.