The Emotional Support Bat

When you think you have a sun allergy, you can't go outside. You can't get a day job. You can't go out and see people. Come on, this is ridiculous. I pretty much can't do anything normal. Do you think I want this? That I chose to be this way? No!

I have tried everything. Sunblock, thick clothes, a freaking umbrella, the works. Then I tried opening the door, quickly sticking one leg out, and stepping right into the bright morning sun. What happened? I'll tell you what happened! All of my skin, even though I looked like a freakin mummy, felt like someone poured gas over it and set it ablaze. The reaction was instant. I jumped back inside just like when you touch a hot stove, while simultaneously shrieking out in pain. The second I was back in the darkness of my home, I felt fine. No pain, not even a little. What the heck was going on? Surely with that level of pain, I would sustain burns?

This situation did not come about quickly. It slowly crept into my life, one day at a time. I remember feeling a slight burning sensation one day. I had been standing in the sun for a few minutes, and it was a warm day, so I thought nothing of it. But during the following week, I noticed it more and more. 

I started incorporating sunblock into my daily routine. But once I got back indoors, the growing burns would immediately go away. I threw out the 30 SPF and went all the way up to 100. I researched, and bought expensive clothing that blocks UVB rays, only to learn later I could simply buy a special detergent to make the clothes I already had UVB proof. 

But none of that made a difference. Every day leaving the house became a feat of extreme determination. But no one could see my pain, I never got visible burns or hives or anything. I finally had to tell my work that I was sick. I had to fib and say I caught the Corona Virus. My job can’t exactly be done online, so I have no doubt I will get fired. What am I going to do? 

It has now been two weeks. Two weeks of being imprisoned in my own home. The first day I stayed home, I mail ordered some thick black fabric to put over the windows. I didn’t want to be hopping from shadow to shadow to go get food from the fridge. I then started ordering food to be delivered. I always made sure they dropped it off after dark, so I could open the door burn free.

Bored out of my mind, I have also been searching for online jobs I could do non stop. I found a handful, but my expectations are low. Everyone’s losing jobs right now. I’m not sure I can get one that will pay enough to support me on such short notice.

I don’t know how I would be surviving this without my little friend. He has kept me company through this whole farce. He’s been there for me and kept my spirits up as high as they could be, considering things. 

I met Squeakers three and a half weeks ago while on a walk. It was during the afternoon, it was still light out, so I was surprised to see him. He was just lying on the ground, barely even moving. I think he might have been sick. So being the animal lover I am, I scooped him up, and stuck him in my pocket. 

Back home, I did a google search for “pet bat”. The first thing that came up was “bats are not good pets.” “Well, that’s no help.” Then I tried “sick bat”. I clicked on the link “sick bat behavior”. It listed information including “If a bat is on the ground, struggling to fly, it is sick. Do not touch it, it could have rabies, which is transmissible to humans.” 

I gently pulled the little furry guy out of my pocket, and looked at him. He was curled into a ball, seemingly sleeping. “You aren’t going to hurt anyone, are you?” I gently stroked his back, and he pushed against my finger, then started to pur.

That night, I fell asleep with Squeakers in a little basket on the floor near my bed. I had tried offering him water, but he refused. I left a little bowl near him with some fruit. I had heard that some bats eat fruit and some eat bugs. “Sorry buddy, the bugs will have to wait.”

I must have dozed off because probably a few hours later, a strange sensation tugged me back to consciousness. It felt like there was something on my neck. Something warm and soft. I reached up with my hand, and felt it. “A beanie baby?” I jerked fully awake, and sat up in bed. The little guy slid off my neck, and plopped into my lap. “Squeakers, are you ok?” I gasped. I frantically reached for the light. Did I kill him? Crush him in my sleep?

When the light came on, I looked down, then sagged with relief. He was just sleeping again, his chest rising and falling with each breath. “Jeez, you scared me half to death! I don’t want to hurt you, stay in your basket from now on ok?” I stroked his fur again. “Hmm, you seem… chubbier than before. Did you eat your fruit?” I glanced down to the basket. Nope, still there. I shrugged, then placed the sleeping bat back into his basket, and tucked him in. 

As the months passed, my new friend and I developed a routine. He slept during the day while I went to work. He stopped sleeping in the basket over time. More and more I’d see him roosting by his feet in odd places. The curtains, the shower rod, even off of a painting I had in my dining room. But by far his favorite place to roost was my bed frame, right near my head. 

Squeakers was usually still asleep when I left for work, and only woke up after dark. Often I would only get very little quality time with him. When he was awake, he flapped around my house, leaving little white droppings everywhere. I had to buy a carpet shampooer. But hey, can’t be any worse than peoples’ unruly dogs and cats peeing and pooping in their house, right?

I decided since he was a wild bat, I would always leave a few windows open for him to go outside at night. Also, he never ate the fruit or even the crickets I bought at the local pet store. I decided since he seemed stronger each day, he could probably go find his own dinner. Or would that be breakfast, since my evening was his morning?

 He happily went out in the evenings, but was always back by the time I got up for work. Around this time I started noticing itchy bug bites on my neck. “Do you have fleas or something?” I asked Squeakers one evening. He just blinked at me with those big cute eyes of his.

As my sun allergy progressed, I began to rely more and more on my pet bat for emotional support. He became the only one I saw regularly. I even started talking to him. “Hey, do you think I could sign you up to become one of those emotional support animals?” He blinked once. “I guess not. You probably wouldn’t like the hours.” I doubted people would want me to show up at odd hours anyway.

By the time I had been cooped up in my house for over two weeks, I had become so close to Squeakers, I was even starting to look like him! When I brushed my teeth, I started to notice my canines becoming more… prominent. I’m not sure why, probably part of my sickness? Seems like a strange set of symptoms - sun allergy, then sharper teeth? Not to mention I was still having those darn bug bites. As I scratched my neck, I said “Buddy, we have got to do something about your fleas! I wonder if Amazon has flea meds. Would they even be safe for bats?” I shrugged. I’ll have to google it later.

That night, I tucked myself into bed. It had been a long day of boring house activities, no luck finding a job, and the lack of exercise had for some reason made me more sluggish and tired. “Goodnight Squeakers.” I said. Near my ear, perched on the bed frame, he let out one shrill shriek in response.

I opened my eyes. It was dark. But I could see. Was it a full moon? But no. My windows were still blacked by the sun blocking curtains. One window I had left uncovered for Squeakers, but that was in another room. I slowly rose from my bed. I could hear… little creatures. Buzzing around the room. I could even make out the shapes of bugs of the night. Must have come in through that window. I looked at my bed. My bat was nowhere to be found.

Then I smelled it. The most delicious smell, like hamburgers and fried food and some exotic spice I could not make out. Sniffing, I followed it out of the room. It led me through the open window. As I put my hands on the sill, I noticed my nails were longer than before. And curved at the end. Sharp. No matter, I just had to find out what was the source of that smell!

Climbing out of the window was no problem, as it was a one story house. I stepped my bare feet out into the grass. I could hear… everything. All the bugs, cars on distant streets, cats hunting in the night. Even breathing sounds. 

I kept walking towards that wonderful scent. Across my yard, over the fence, and down to the other side, into the neighbor’s yard. I faintly remember the man who lives here. Unmarried, middle aged. He lives alone.

An open window. I climb in. This is the bedroom. Darkness encircles me, but I can see. There he lays, his back to me. I see it slowly rise and fall. His breaths are so loud now, they vibrate my whole body. Three steps and I’m there. Looking down at him. This whole time, the scent has gotten stronger. It fills my nostrils and overwhelms my senses. My mouth waters, and I feel the sharp points of my teeth against my inner mouth. 

I don’t remember what I did. But I’m on top of him now, my mouth on his throat. He is awake, he is struggling underneath me. But he will not win. I easily pin him and continue to suck his blood. His screams are muffled by his own pillow as the weight of my body and the eagerness of my bite pushes him down into it. 

With time, he stops struggling. I sapped his strength, and it has filled my body with a sense of power I have never felt before. I remove my teeth from his throat, the river of blood has gone dry. 

A flapping noise as he flies through the window, and comes to perch upside-down on the bed frame like he always did at my house. Squeakers blinks. The sight of my friend brings me back to reality. I look down. Dead eyes stare back. Eyes I know. And I can make out the streaks of blood that must have leaked from his neck when I bit him. As horror washes over me, I look back to my pet. Staring me right in the eye, he bares his teeth in a wide, wicked grin.