Blacula: The Black Avenger

So.
Evidence of a critter crashing in the house was found some days ago, but when rats or chipmunks were initially discarded, other people came over. It turns out, probably a bat came in the house and had a sleep over. Histoplasmosis came to my hypochondriac mind as fast as I got hold of my sneakers to leave, but Elenita, the wonderful woman that works here, made no questions and started looking for the bat. No worries about spores whatsoever, she went through and through, cleaning from windows to floors, opening closets, looking into chimneys, she was on a mission.

Thing is, when I started looking for the critter, it's not that I was worried about some bloodsucking Dracula waiting behind the door... Aside the notion of a rat with wings that disgusts me to the core (there is something really uncontrollable about that) I know bats are wonderful creatures. Yet as I moved bedside tables, I got scared about the shadows my hands made against the floor, thinking they were wings. How is it that the mind has the power to play those tricks on you, are beyond the rational me.

After all the cleansing, we found nothing inside yet, though some people are coming to take care of this fellow who, if I had a better camera you would be able to see this:

He's just minding his own business being a bat. Literally, hanging out, oblivious to his poo making spores or passing rabies on. He doesn't mind about the tales being spun around him, he doesn't give a hoot about all the symbolism humans have attributed him: of death and rebirth for starters. What would he think if he knew about the mythology of the people in Oaxaca that claim, he was jealous of the bird's feathers, so he was punished to become a creature of the dark and the underworld? He would crack up, I'm sure.