Now what?

"Are you sure you have enough protection? I have a football helmet if you want it..."

"Son," the massive barrel-chested Animal Control guy drawled at us. "I've stared down angry bears. I've trapped rabid coyotes. I think I can handle a little bat..."

"IT'S NOT A BAT!"

Snorting derisively, Mr. Animal Control stomped upstairs, toolbox in hand.

"I hope he has some Holy Water in there," Kristy whispered, worry lines spreading across her face.

"He seems like he knows what he's doing..."

We waited. For what seemed like hours. God, I hated the waiting.

"Do you think he found it?"

Yup. He found it.

And then...silence.

 "THAT..." he wheezed, blood gushing down the side of his head. "...is NOT. A. FUCKING. BAT!!!"

And as we listened to the sound of our ex-knight in shining olive green armor peeling out of our driveway like a...well...like a bat out of Hell, we just stared at each other.

Great.

NOW what the Hell are we supposed to do?