The Bat

Mom let it in by accident. She opened the backdoor to take out the garbage and in it came, a black flapping blur. I was sitting at the kitchen table doing my homework. When I saw it I screamed. Mom, startled, turned back and saw the black flapping blur. She screamed too. Dad rushed into the kitchen asking what was wrong. He immediately said, Where’s the broom? Mom, speechless, just shook her head. Dad rushed out of the kitchen, came back in with a baseball bat. Get out of the way, Jessica, he said to me. I got out of the way. He started swinging at the black flapping blur. Softly at first, but the more he missed, the angrier he became, before he started swinging harder. George, be careful, Mom said, but Dad didn’t seem to hear. He kept swinging, and swinging, and swinging. At one point the bat swooped down onto the counter. Dad brought the baseball bat down hard. It was old and splintered everywhere. He breathed, I got it, and I screamed, and he looked up to see what I saw: blood dribbling down Mom’s face, a piece of the bat lodged in her left eye.