Ah, the Telluride House has many surprises. Most of the surprises consist of unguarded pets that are, unbeknownst to us, dwelling in uncomfortably close proximity.
Rule #1 of Moving in 101; Locate and get rid of the vermin.
First; Have an observant asian spontaneously find bat in a small niche in the ceiling. Then the fun begins!
Second; I, as an inner city child with no experience with bats and a passionate concern of rabies, secure the door and wait in a fetal position, hoping that something is done swiftly.
Third; Recruit a ragtag crew of brave, curious, or bored students who a) care that the House doesn’t devolved into a habitat for wild animals b) care that the life of the bat is preserved and it is handled as humanely as possible or c) cared for a distraction from work (which was my motivation for joining)
Fourth: stand in the hall with numerous bags – they may range from garbage bags to travel bags. go ahead and pick your poison. Make lots of noise and jump up and down in a heartfilled attempt to capture the panicked bat.
Fifth: After several poorly planned, failed attempts, use intellect to solve the problem. This involves confining the bat’s flying space, thereby increasing the chances of a) capturing the bat or b) having the bat attack your face and from then on, leading a traumatically scarred life.
Sixth; Put forth a semblance of all the courage neccesary to capture the bat until the must crucial point, at which time you all screech and dive headfirst for safety as the flapping bat becomes more aggressive.
Seventh; Eventually this ragtag group must take a stand. Trap the bat in some unsuspecting soul’s room. Sacrifice one member of the group to go in after the bat to sooth the hapless victim and possibly get ahold of the bat.
Eighth; Time for moral support. Plan to enter the crossfire through another entrance. Before entering the battle once more, have one member give the “Pep Talk”. This important rally may be along these lines of:
Leader; Come on guys! We can do it! Just act as human walls and make alot of noise once we enter the front. Think blitzkrieg!!!
Followers: *eyes each other shiftly* Why the fuck are we doing this again?
Ninth; Put all doubts aside and assume the role of a human shield who is willing to sacrifice yourself for the good of the others. Strike with force, speed, and irrationality by screaming illogically and helplessly waving bags at the clearly rattled bat.
Tenth; Being a group of intellectuals, it is safe to assume that one of the members will finally pose a sensible resolution; “Sit and wait for the bat to land…then pounce with stealth and ninja-like aptitude.”
Eleventh: Realize that the proposed plan is too advanced for even the academic minds that make up the crew and revert back to screaming and shouting and senselessly bagging a bunch of air instead of said bat.
Twelth: Hope that the superior beings that govern this universe smile at the attempts of your tenacious crew and openly embrace the miracle that comes in the form of a Welsh kid who, out of pure luck, manages to imprison the vermin in his garbage bag of justice.
Thirteenth: Partly out of mirth and partly of of excitement, chuck the vermin (bag and all) out of the nearest second story window. Simply emptying the bag and freeing the bat outside of the house is, ofcourse, taking too much risky and playing with the lives of fellow taspers.
Fourtheenth* (optional): Send half of the group to check if the bat has landed safely. Upon finding the bat at the base of the house, ask yourself “Are any bones broken?” or ”Can it still fly?” These should be glaring clues as to whether “Mission: Rid Telluride House and preserve life at all costs” was a success.
Following the above 13 points is a sure-fire way to effectively remove all flying-rodent pests from any location.
