Living the Cliché

At my second church the other day, I threw some paper in the wastebasket in the kitchen and heard something move when I did so. I figured it was simply settling papers, but when I looked into the basket, something rustled again. I looked closer at what at first seemed to be a wet, wadded-up brown paper towel in a styrofoam cup. It was not. It was a small bat which had apparently been drinking from the cup.

I know bats eat lots of bugs (contra Calvin, who claims bats are bugs: cf. "Bats: The Big Bug Scourge of the Skies," in professional-styled clear plastic binder). I appreciate anything that reduces mosquitos. But bats are also God's own rabies vector so I do not want them in our church building. The bat was wrapped up in its residence, a black plastic bag, and disposed of. Later I learned the people who clean the church found another bat, although this one was already dead. They also said they heard at least one more in the space above the fellowship hall ceiling.

Since I know you're going to ask, yes, this church does have a church bell in a tower just beneath the steeple. Thus has been proven true what many have long claimed: I have bats in my belfry.