BAT HERDING
The cloudless night sky, pebble-dashed with a veritable cornucopia of bright twinkling silent stars would take my breath away. It was a truly awsome sight and I’d spend hours sat up on the garden roof of my parents place in Lesina, Southern Italy, every summer simply star gazing, figuring out the constellations, deliberating on my position in the universe and other such weighty issues. OK, occasionally I’d glance over to the house opposite to see if the fit woman who lived there was doing her calisthenics in the buff after her nightime shower, but for the most part my brain was filled with the breathtaking wonder and clarity of the jewelled sky above.

And there was something else to keep me interested, while my parents entertained Mario and Luigi and Mr Rossi downstairs...

The bats.

The house was a street along from the old church tower. At dusk an army of big fuck-off bats, like winged badgers (well, ok, maybe not THAT big), would swoop and arch through the air, catching insects and generally astounding the absolute bollocks out of me. I was and always will be facinated by bats. Bruce Wayne? Fucking pussy! Nothing scary at all about your average Southern European bat. I’d often stand perfectly still, arms outstretched, and feel the little buggers as they hurtled past, displacing the hot Italian air but never actually hitting me. It was pretty damn incredible.

Then one night I hit on an idea. I’d been relegated to the roof garden after an unfortunate incident involving a phallic-shaped condiment bottle and my old Auntie Maria, so I was camped out on the roof while my parents and the extended family did the whole Sopranos thing downstairs. The bats – facinating little furry buggers that they are – were just waking up as the gloom decended on this sleepy little fishing village. And I, in my ultimate nine-year-old wisdom, was going to catch a few of the fuckers and keep them as pets.

I rigged up a series of sheets on the washing line to divert the little fuckers towards me, opened the roof garden door wide, turned off the light and waited, stood perfectly still with another sheet in my hands, resembling a statue of a matador (only wearing a really rather dashing stormtrooper t-shirt, shorts, and my best Primark flip flops). Didn’t take long for a load of bats to fly my way – there were literally thousands of the fuckers in the sky; probably more flying rodents knocking about over Lesina than Nazi bombers over London during the blitz. It was hard to make out – the thing about your average common or garden bat is that they’re black, and the thing about your avearge common or garden night is- you get the idea.

But I could hear them, chirping away, I could sense them. I was BATMAN!!! In the most heroic way possible I legged it forward flapping the sheet, whooping like a twat on acid, while squeezing my eyes tightly shut, running quickly towards the open doorway; essentially bat herding.

It happened in a second. Bugger. Nothing. No bats trapped inside the small shed-like structure built ontop of the roof garden that led down to the rest of the house. Deflated, I dropped the sheet.
Shitty arse wipe...

Then...

“AAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!! FUCKING BATS!!! AAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!! PROTECT YOUR MOTHER!!! OPEN THE FUCKING WINDOWS!!! COVER YOUR FUCKING FACE!!! EEEIIIIIEEEEE!!!”

It was my dad. I had a strange sense, an inkling you could call it, that he was a just a little bit angry... (My dad very rarely swore unless he was a little bit peeved).

I heard a shitload of crashing and banging about, I heard my ancient Auntie wail like a fucking banshee, I heard my sister burst into tears. There was a really fucking loud CRASH as the kitchen table appeard to be knocked over, pots and pans rattling.

“I SAID OPEN THE FUCKING WINDOWS!!!” My dad again. “DON’T LET THEM NEAR YOU!!! YOU MIGHT GET RABIES!!!”

Eventually it went quiet... Then: THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD!!! My dad storming up the stairs.

He found me sitting innocently on the sun lounger, doing a bit of star gazing. My dad appeared to have scratches over his face: “Keep this fucking door closed!” he said between laboured breaths. He could see the look of guilt and terror on my face. My dad also knew I was a devious little shit, so he went on: “Did this have anything to do with you?”

I thought for a moment, I could still hear wailing and crying seeping up from downstairs, the sounds of a major clean up operation in progress. I said: “No, dad. Absolutely not.”

“You sure - swear on your life?”

“Absolutely."

Happy days - I reckon if I ever tell my dad about my bat herding exploits now, over twenty years later, he'd still belt me. Apparently my Auntie Maria nearly died from the shock of having a toothy flying rodent the size of a large grapefruit mauling at her face.

No sense of adventure, my family...
( SpankyHanky, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 11:14, 12 replies)

Excellent !!!
Hahahahahaha!!!
(Lizard King, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 11:20, closed)

Unless you get paid to this....
....you're wasted in whatever job you have.

Brilliant tale. *clicks*
( The Pollitt chooses to listen to Enya on, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 11:26, closed)

Kind of you to say
just found out I'm out the office all week, was gonna save this one til then but won't be on here now for a while after today.

Bats are fucking AWSOME!!! Woooo bats!!!
( SpankyHanky, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 11:30, closed)

This is fucking amazing!
Gonna have to give this a try one day - click!
(Spazzy, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 11:28, closed)

Fab!
Have a click.
Bats are great, I once spent the night in this ruined church during a lightning storm just watching the hundreds of bats flitting around.

i28.tinypic.com/214bbde.jpg

What, no more Spanky for a week!
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 11:57, closed)

Now that place looks scary as fuck!!!
Rather you than me - pretty, but scary in a Blair Witch kinda way.

Yep - off to sodding Luxemborg (better check how to spell the fucker before I go), to sell crap to a bunch of them forrin people... Fucking work... Well, I hope they have pay-per-view porn in the hotel room. And then I'm off to this here house in Lesina for a couple of weeks with my girlfriend - might get a chance to do some tandem bat hurding... no, wait... she doesn't have the mentality of a small child... shit...
( SpankyHanky, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 12:01, closed)

hee hee
Wonders what adventures you will have to relate when you get back ;)
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 16:36, closed)

Wow!
You've got to tell me where that church is, it's fucking Beautiful!
(Sir Clitherington Smythe offers him yourself., Fri 24 Jul 2009, 14:22, closed)

Wharram Percy
In Yorkshire, its all that remains of a deserted medieval village.
I think its English Heritage owned but is free to get in.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wharram_Percy
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 16:43, closed)

*cilckety-click*
Another classic, matey - there's part of me that's convinced that your whole life to this point has just been a series of comic events perfectly tailored for QOTW, and that therefore one day the tales will dry up.

Thank fuck that day hasn't arrived yet, sir.
( TheMagicDwarf is back like ballroom dancing, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 12:17, closed)

This just made me laugh till I cried.
Which, given that I have been bloody miserable since Tuesday when I was dumped by a man I still quite love, is a huge achievement.

Clicky.
(Clarabelle is reverting to type on, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 14:41, closed)

Bat's brilliant
Have a *click*, Batman.
( chart cat has an itch, Wed 29 Jul 2009, 9:18, closed)