IrishRob
05-11-09, 01:05 PM
Will be leaving the site soon, but before I go I thought I should share this with you. Blatantly ripped off an old techcomedy forum (Author = 'Coyote'):
Pipistrellus
Monday, December 31st, 2007
We had a bat in our house.
Having lived in remote country settings, mountains, and occasionally the swamp throughout my upbringing, this didn’t really bother me all that much and you wouldn’t think that this would be even remotely news worthy.
It happens, and I know that bats are tiny, harmless little things. They flap around, you chase’em out with a blanket on a broom and go then back to watching television.
End of story.
Of course, this approach was PRIOR to getting married and having two children. NOW a bat flapping around the living room was no longer a fleeting moment of amusement, but a nightmarish attack on our household by a thirty pound flying demon that was trying to suck the blood out of everyone while spreading rabies like a tiny little crop duster.
And it was my job to get rid of it.
Summoned from the depths of my bedroom where I sat playing videogames in the comfort of my underpants, I moved towards the sounds of distress and tried to get a handle on the situation. Ignoring my screaming children as they huddled together on the couch in fear, abandoned by their mother who hid behind the reclining chair and tried to disable the bat’s sonar with piercing shrieks of her own I deciphered their incoherent shouts and pointings and sighed.
"I’ll just chase it out with a blanket." I said with a roll of my eyes as I opened the living room window.
"Not with MY blankets you won’t!" Mrs. Coyote was able to fit in during the brief pauses in her girlish screams. It seems that using blankets was no longer an option because "bats have germs". The same applied to using her "good" broom, and anything else that she might have to some day touch again, leaving me with a bit of a dilemma.
How was I going to remove a bat if I wasn’t allowed to use anything that you’d normally use to remove a bat because if I did I would be "sleeping on the couch forever, I’m not kidding Mister"?
Now I had seen once seen on television (some science show, or something..I think) that you could put bats into almost instant hibernation with a regular old CO2 "non-foam" fire extinguisher. Although the foam kind would have definitely been funnier because, you know…
Foam.
Some poor bat flapping around erratically in a science lab as it tries frantically to make its escape and FOOOOOOSH - instant hilarity ensues as it becomes a cannoli with wings. But I don’t have a non-foaming fire extinguisher, so my brain begins to race and spin in desperation.
Got it.
A moment of sheer brilliance washes over me. While I might not have a CO2 FIRE EXTINGUISHER available to me, I do happen to have something that is MORE than capable of firing a cloud of CO2 gas into the air.
That’s right, my PAINTBALL GUN uses compressed CO2! And I happen to know for a fact that if you hold down the trigger while jamming back the safety return catch (like the booklets tell you not to) you can turn a common paintball gun into a weapon that not only fires rock hard pellets of paint, but one that will fire CLOUDS OF CO2!!
I quickly rush to the storage room and begin rummaging through my things. Sure, I haven’t played in over two years, and okay - the paintballs are probably settled, gelled, and half frozen because we have no heat back here, but hey…
I don’t NEED the paintballs. Just the gun (Aha!Found it!) and my FULL CO2 TANK OF BAT SLEEPING JUSTICE!
Screwing the canister into the butt of my trusty fire arm, I carefully remove the feed hopper and throw away the paintballs to make certain that no one gets accidentally shot. Above all else when aiming a firearm at a two ounce rodent with wings, you want to think of safety.
Swelling with pride and self satisfaction I trot cockily back out to the living room where my wife and kids are still huddled in screaming terror and proudly display my weapon.
Daddy is here.
"DON’T SHOOT IT YOU RETARD!" My loving wife screams at me as if I’ve suddenly lost my mind.
Feh. THAT happened years ago.
"M’am, I’m going to need you to calm down." I tell her coolly in my best cowboy voice as I explain that the gun isn’t loaded and that by using science, technology and my MIND, I was going to gently and kindly force the bat into instant hibernation where I would then peacefully release it outdoors without ever bringing it to harm.
She looked skeptical but with 9 grams of pure Satan flapping around her noggin she couldn’t exactly say "no", so the hunt was on.
Hefting the weapon to my shoulder I took aim and began the almost impossible task of tracking the bat’s flight pattern. Holding my breath I anticipated it’s path, gave it a generous lead so that it would fly perfectly into the cloud of frozen gas and pulled the trigger.
I ripped the bat’s head clean off.
Seems that in my rush to be a hero I had forgotten to check the gun’s chamber for a loaded round. So instead of a gentle rush of gas making Mister Flying Rodent sleepy, he got what was the equivalent of a bat cannon to the face.
The effect was immediate.
The bat was decapitated instantly, its tiny little bat head plastered to the wall right next to my shrieking wife who stared in abject horror at the red and pink gelled monstrosity that had suddenly appeared only inches from her face still gaping in a sonic death scream.
The bat’s BODY hit the ground still flapping and began squirting impossible amounts of bat blood EVERYWHERE as it twitched and thumped and used every last ounce of body language to convey the horrific amounts of pain and agony that it was in so that I couldn’t use the "It didn’t feel anything" animal defense on my children.
My children, upon seeing the bat blown to bits by their father quickly turned their screams of fear into screams of sorrow as they cried out in perfect unison;
"DADDY KILLED HERMAN!"
Herman. They had named the bat.
Girls.
So now it wasn’t the body of some nameless disease infested monster bat flapping around as it shot rivers of bat blood into the air, it was HERMAN - the smiling Disney Bat that brought love and joy to children everywhere. Right before Daddy blew off his head in front of a live studio audience full of orphans and nuns.
So the kids are crying, the wife is FREAKING OUT as she stares into fleshy remains of a still twitching bat head, and I’m standing there in my underwear holding a smoking paintball gun something out of a Steven King novel…
and only ONE thought going through my mind…
"How F***ING AMAZING was that SHOT?!?!"
I MEAN COME ON! I just blew off a BAT’S FREAKING HEAD with a PAINTBALL GUN! How many guys could have made that shot if they TRIED? I grinned despite my ears ringing with the terrified and anguish filled screams of my family, and my chest swelled with pride.
…..which to my WIFE, looked a lot like the swellings of a guy who did it on purpose.
Which she screamed, loudly.
Which caused my CHILDREN to scream, loudly.
Which did nothing to help me look innocent.
She’s screaming accusations, the kids are sobbing and I’m standing over the body of our beloved family pet that I just so callously murdered smiling like a loon at the sheer awesomeness of a headshot.
Snapping back to the grim and bloody moment of reality that I found myself in, I motioned with the gun for the kids to leave the room as I scooped up Herman’s frail little body and hucked it out the window we had left open in hopes that he’d fly out. Turning to the wife I locked eyes with her and expressed my innocence and remorse of the moment by asking;
"How F***ING AMAZING was that SHOT?!?!?"
The couch has never been more comfy.
I wonder how much it costs to stuff and mount a bat head?
-Coyote
Pipistrellus
Monday, December 31st, 2007
We had a bat in our house.
Having lived in remote country settings, mountains, and occasionally the swamp throughout my upbringing, this didn’t really bother me all that much and you wouldn’t think that this would be even remotely news worthy.
It happens, and I know that bats are tiny, harmless little things. They flap around, you chase’em out with a blanket on a broom and go then back to watching television.
End of story.
Of course, this approach was PRIOR to getting married and having two children. NOW a bat flapping around the living room was no longer a fleeting moment of amusement, but a nightmarish attack on our household by a thirty pound flying demon that was trying to suck the blood out of everyone while spreading rabies like a tiny little crop duster.
And it was my job to get rid of it.
Summoned from the depths of my bedroom where I sat playing videogames in the comfort of my underpants, I moved towards the sounds of distress and tried to get a handle on the situation. Ignoring my screaming children as they huddled together on the couch in fear, abandoned by their mother who hid behind the reclining chair and tried to disable the bat’s sonar with piercing shrieks of her own I deciphered their incoherent shouts and pointings and sighed.
"I’ll just chase it out with a blanket." I said with a roll of my eyes as I opened the living room window.
"Not with MY blankets you won’t!" Mrs. Coyote was able to fit in during the brief pauses in her girlish screams. It seems that using blankets was no longer an option because "bats have germs". The same applied to using her "good" broom, and anything else that she might have to some day touch again, leaving me with a bit of a dilemma.
How was I going to remove a bat if I wasn’t allowed to use anything that you’d normally use to remove a bat because if I did I would be "sleeping on the couch forever, I’m not kidding Mister"?
Now I had seen once seen on television (some science show, or something..I think) that you could put bats into almost instant hibernation with a regular old CO2 "non-foam" fire extinguisher. Although the foam kind would have definitely been funnier because, you know…
Foam.
Some poor bat flapping around erratically in a science lab as it tries frantically to make its escape and FOOOOOOSH - instant hilarity ensues as it becomes a cannoli with wings. But I don’t have a non-foaming fire extinguisher, so my brain begins to race and spin in desperation.
Got it.
A moment of sheer brilliance washes over me. While I might not have a CO2 FIRE EXTINGUISHER available to me, I do happen to have something that is MORE than capable of firing a cloud of CO2 gas into the air.
That’s right, my PAINTBALL GUN uses compressed CO2! And I happen to know for a fact that if you hold down the trigger while jamming back the safety return catch (like the booklets tell you not to) you can turn a common paintball gun into a weapon that not only fires rock hard pellets of paint, but one that will fire CLOUDS OF CO2!!
I quickly rush to the storage room and begin rummaging through my things. Sure, I haven’t played in over two years, and okay - the paintballs are probably settled, gelled, and half frozen because we have no heat back here, but hey…
I don’t NEED the paintballs. Just the gun (Aha!Found it!) and my FULL CO2 TANK OF BAT SLEEPING JUSTICE!
Screwing the canister into the butt of my trusty fire arm, I carefully remove the feed hopper and throw away the paintballs to make certain that no one gets accidentally shot. Above all else when aiming a firearm at a two ounce rodent with wings, you want to think of safety.
Swelling with pride and self satisfaction I trot cockily back out to the living room where my wife and kids are still huddled in screaming terror and proudly display my weapon.
Daddy is here.
"DON’T SHOOT IT YOU RETARD!" My loving wife screams at me as if I’ve suddenly lost my mind.
Feh. THAT happened years ago.
"M’am, I’m going to need you to calm down." I tell her coolly in my best cowboy voice as I explain that the gun isn’t loaded and that by using science, technology and my MIND, I was going to gently and kindly force the bat into instant hibernation where I would then peacefully release it outdoors without ever bringing it to harm.
She looked skeptical but with 9 grams of pure Satan flapping around her noggin she couldn’t exactly say "no", so the hunt was on.
Hefting the weapon to my shoulder I took aim and began the almost impossible task of tracking the bat’s flight pattern. Holding my breath I anticipated it’s path, gave it a generous lead so that it would fly perfectly into the cloud of frozen gas and pulled the trigger.
I ripped the bat’s head clean off.
Seems that in my rush to be a hero I had forgotten to check the gun’s chamber for a loaded round. So instead of a gentle rush of gas making Mister Flying Rodent sleepy, he got what was the equivalent of a bat cannon to the face.
The effect was immediate.
The bat was decapitated instantly, its tiny little bat head plastered to the wall right next to my shrieking wife who stared in abject horror at the red and pink gelled monstrosity that had suddenly appeared only inches from her face still gaping in a sonic death scream.
The bat’s BODY hit the ground still flapping and began squirting impossible amounts of bat blood EVERYWHERE as it twitched and thumped and used every last ounce of body language to convey the horrific amounts of pain and agony that it was in so that I couldn’t use the "It didn’t feel anything" animal defense on my children.
My children, upon seeing the bat blown to bits by their father quickly turned their screams of fear into screams of sorrow as they cried out in perfect unison;
"DADDY KILLED HERMAN!"
Herman. They had named the bat.
Girls.
So now it wasn’t the body of some nameless disease infested monster bat flapping around as it shot rivers of bat blood into the air, it was HERMAN - the smiling Disney Bat that brought love and joy to children everywhere. Right before Daddy blew off his head in front of a live studio audience full of orphans and nuns.
So the kids are crying, the wife is FREAKING OUT as she stares into fleshy remains of a still twitching bat head, and I’m standing there in my underwear holding a smoking paintball gun something out of a Steven King novel…
and only ONE thought going through my mind…
"How F***ING AMAZING was that SHOT?!?!"
I MEAN COME ON! I just blew off a BAT’S FREAKING HEAD with a PAINTBALL GUN! How many guys could have made that shot if they TRIED? I grinned despite my ears ringing with the terrified and anguish filled screams of my family, and my chest swelled with pride.
…..which to my WIFE, looked a lot like the swellings of a guy who did it on purpose.
Which she screamed, loudly.
Which caused my CHILDREN to scream, loudly.
Which did nothing to help me look innocent.
She’s screaming accusations, the kids are sobbing and I’m standing over the body of our beloved family pet that I just so callously murdered smiling like a loon at the sheer awesomeness of a headshot.
Snapping back to the grim and bloody moment of reality that I found myself in, I motioned with the gun for the kids to leave the room as I scooped up Herman’s frail little body and hucked it out the window we had left open in hopes that he’d fly out. Turning to the wife I locked eyes with her and expressed my innocence and remorse of the moment by asking;
"How F***ING AMAZING was that SHOT?!?!?"
The couch has never been more comfy.
I wonder how much it costs to stuff and mount a bat head?
-Coyote