Today, I found a bat on the ground and put it into a coffee cup and took it to the zoology building because it's back legs seemed broken. He was otherwise extremely cute (I have a soft spot for bats) and was licking up the traces of coffee still in the cup. He also took a drag of my cig. ;)
The guy I took it to had the NY Times on his desk, open to an article about how many bats are becoming "inappropriately aroused", or coming out of hibernation before they should, then dying of either starvation, because there aren't any insects out to eat this time of year, or of a fungal infection or pneumonia. Eek!
I asked him what I should do for him, and he told me to stick him in my fridge for one day, then move him into the freezer. Why? To kill him! Helloo!!! Like, I keep Hot Pockets in there...
This dude was not into saving the weak, waxing poetic on killing off those with disabilities and the elderly. Luckily, a much cooler girl came by and said she knew someone who might be able to take in Lord Batley, III as I had named him. Hope he's doing all right, or at least not hanging out with Dr. Death... Poor Batley!
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