Driving Me Batty Episode 2 :The Bat Came Back

Remember Bartok?

Bartok the bat?

Guess what.

Bartok is still a prick.

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Throwback Thursday to the first time I met the fuzzy little asshole

If you don’t remember Bartok, I suggest you go read about the first time I met this asshole.

Picture this scene:

It’s the evening after a long day’s work. My adorable puppy is in his crate, sleeping. I am cuddled in my bed, also sleeping. After a few short, OH SO SHORT, hours it is 3 am.

THEN.

Blearily, I awake. I don’t know why I’m awake at first, but then I hear it- a light swiping sound.

It could just be Dougal moving around in his crate, I think to myself.

“Please be Dougal shifting around in his crate and not a bat,” I asked the universe.

“LOLZ” said the universe.

I reluctantly turned on my bedside lamp and there he was: Bartok.

As I locked eyes on the little bastard, he swooped down in front of me:

“It’s Bartok, bitch! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas!” said Bartok as he made a revolution around my room and into the kitchen before returning to my room.

“Ooooooh, you have a dog now!” he said.

“I am too f@#*ing tired for this,” I said as I took a sheet off the bed and ducked out of my room, closing the door behind me and effectively trapping Bartok inside.

“Awww, you’re letting me have your room? SO GENEROUS! Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight roomie!” said Bartok

Dougal, who was awake looked at me from his crate and whined.

“When you’re up, I’m allowed out!” he whimpered.

Being a soft touch, I let him out of the crate and e-mailed my property manger before I curled up as best I could on my far-too-short-for-humans-of-my-height sofa and tried to get a few hours of sleep.

“Play time!” said Dougal as he jumped up on the couch and on me.

“Bed time,” I corrected him

“Bite time!” he said, playfully nipping at my fingers

“Bed time!” I growled, rolling over as best I could.

After several more attempts at jumping on me, Dougal decided it was bed time and huffed out a sigh before padding back to his open crate in the kitchen.

The next day, while I was at work, pest control and my property manger came to get rid of Bartok. I had trapped him in my bedroom and had told them so, so they went to retrieve him.

He wasn’t there.

He wasn’t anywhere there.

Bartok had disappeared.

They told me he had probably gotten in through a small gap between my window and the window screen and had likely left the same way.

I didn’t care. I was just happy he was gone.

They had closed my window and I kept it closed.

No more Bartok.

Evening came.

No Bartok.

I went to bed, pleased this episode was resolved so much more quickly than the last time Bartok had visited.

I awoke at 4am.

“Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey girl, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey!” said Bartok

“F@#k,” I said.

“LANGUAGE!” said Bartok as he swanned into my kitchen.

I got up and shut the door to my bedroom, allowing Bartok free run of the rest of my apartment so long as I could just go back to bed.

So Bartok had never left. He had, instead, somehow escape through the gap under my bedroom door and napped somewhere unknown.

Fine.

I had a plan.

I’d wait, I thought. Wait until Bartok was sleeping and sneak up on him the way I did the first time he was here.

In the morning, I searched the apartment for Bartok but didn’t see him sleeping anywhere.

Annoyed and sure that he hadn’t gone, I grumbled to myself as I opened the bathroom door.

There was Bartok, on the floor next to the toilet.

Upon seeing me, he fluttered up.

“MORNING HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGS,” he said

“ERHNEGWEEWH!” I blurted as I scrambled out the bathroom. I quickly shut the door, trapping him again, and stuffed an old coat along the bottom of the door to keep him trapped.

As I got ready for work and pet Dougal, I heard a sudden noise.

A scream.

A human scream.

I heard it again. Concerned, Dougal and I padded to the apartment door and knocked on my neighbour’s door.

“Amanda? Are you O.K?” I asked

“I’m sorry I screamed,” she replied shakily

“I just woke up, a bat landed on my head! AHHHH!” she screamed again as Bartok swooped at her.

“NEW FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEND,” he said as Amanda yelped again.

Bartok had somehow gotten through a hole in my bathroom to Amanda’s bathroom and into her apartment.

Another e-mail to the Property Manager and I was off to work.

Pest Control came again.

They looked in Amanda’s bathroom and saw Bartok sleeping in the vent like a weirdo.

“Just tape it up,” they said, apparently not feeling like doing their f@$king job as they immediately left.

Another e-mail to the Property Manager who e-mailed the Pest Control guy, who came back today to find that the bat was no longer visible in my neighbour’s vent and was not anywhere to be seen in my apartment.

Sherlock Holmes once said that once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbably, must be the truth.

Facts:

Bartok was not removed from my neighbour’s apartment.

Bartok was not removed from my apartment.

Possible Conclusions: 

Bartok is a hallucination brought on by stress (Unless my neighbour shares the hallucination, nope)

Bartok is the reincarnation of Houdini. (Can’t rule it out but not likely)

Bartok is magic. (see above)

BARTOK IS STILL IN THIS F@$KING HOUSE SOMEHWERE<—almost certainly

So, I guess what I’m saying is that I have a new roommate and will probably never sleep again.

This…

This is fine.

*sobs*

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Posted on April 1, 2016, in Random Life Stuff and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. I Loove Bartok the bat!
    So funny.

    Like

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