Bats Outta Hell

Restless nights come on like some fucking bats out of hell with vampiric nostrils flaring and fangs glistening while demanding to rob you of your sleep. They come on the first week of returning to work and with an early class full of bright eyed Asians eager to read English, beckoning to be taught. These bats implore you to rise from a partial slumber and consume Cheerios soaked in almond milk. After you are awake and unwilling to return to your bed, they gnaw at the wires hidden in your walls to dismantle your connection to the web. They laugh at your predicament and giggle while you type your overdue blog entry in Word, adding additional steps to a streamlined process. They haven’t made an appearance in several weeks, these soaring mammals of the night. But, alas, tonight, Wednesday moving into Thursday, the bats have flown into my evening and they will not let them be.

The first and most well known of them is named Christopher Leering. He is the silent type, yet he stares at you, fully aware of all you need to accomplish once the sun rises, determined to make you antsy with his beady, red eyes. You can’t really tell if they are menacing or not, they are simply focused upon you and will not turn away. A strange self consciousness begins to develop the longer these bloodshot pupils have time to feast upon your insecurities while sweating in plaid pajamas in an arid and overheated apartment. The longer Christopher looks at you, the more doubt creeps into your mind. You begin to wonder if anyone likes you at all in this world? What have you done to piss off so many people? What have they done to you to make you so pissed at them? Will things ever be normal again? Christopher Leering refuses to provide any answers to these questions. He stares for hours with an obtuse expression on his face. A bead of sweat forms on your brow and you continue typing, preferring to look at anything but the eyes of that thing.

Another diseased creature has flown in from the rafters. His name is Bela Lughostoflapasti. This is another winged beast who lets himself known as soon as he enters the room. He flashes photographs in the back of your mind and plays recordings over and over again until you wish to wretch. Bela never decides to replay home movies of positive memories. No, no! He brings along all of the sour footage. Scenes you wish had been edited out of your life and left on the cutting room floor for some intern (or a younger sibling) to have swept away into a dustbin and thrown into an incinerator never be seen again. Even if that had happened Lughostoflapasti would sweep in with gigantic wings flapping in fury to remove those pieces of distorted film and display them in vivid Stereoscope on the ceiling of your bedroom. If you turn away and face the pillow, a projector appears there, too. The window, with the orange streetlight glowing, suddenly turns white and shows you in awful situations doing awful things. Or Bela simply brings you back to a time you wish you could forget. Sometimes, you shudder and can’t believe you are awake. On some instances you fight back tears, only to see them become rapids on your pillowcase. Bela finds you and turns your sleepless eyes against you. He is a crafty bat indeed!

One of the kinder mammals in the apartment has seemed to have returned the internet to a functioning state. The modem is on and there are no ominously blinking lights. Alas, it works. Hopefully, the bats will return to wherever they came from. Tomorrow, oops, today is sure to be a long day.