Dracula in the Dominican

It was a warm autumn evening as a group of friends gathered around a table of fajitas. Laugher escaped between bites of guacamole and drifted through the open window. No one suspected what lurked in the shadows beyond.

Suddenly, a flash of black swooped through the window and across the room above their heads.

It caught Robyn’s eye, who stopped her story mid-sentence to question, “Was that a-”

She was cut short by the screech of the only male in the house, who by then had spied the formidable creature himself.

“BAAAAAAT!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Within seconds the ladies had frantically abandoned their seats for the shelter of the table, screaming in hysteria as they crouched below it. All the ladies except for me. Overcome with laughter at the spectacle of the girls taking refuge and Tim shrieking as the bat fluttered around, I sat paralyzed.

Tim momentarily gathered his wits and chased the black beast into a bedroom, guarding the door with a broom. He lunged forward, taking swings, but with each swat he jumped backward with a yell as the bat swooped  back at him.

With the others rendered useless in hiding and Tim clearly lacking confidence for bat combat, I knew it was up to me to save the day. I marched across the room demanding the broom.

Unfortunately, I was drunk with laughter.

I leaped across the room after the bat in slow-mo fashion, swinging pathetically at the air, virtually incapable of using any of my muscles or energy for anything besides giggling. This sent everyone else further into hysterical laughter at my lame attempts. Tim grabbed the broom back, drove the winged enemy out of the house, and shut the window definitively. Dracula defeated.

Strange things happen in foreign countries. Bats interrupt dinner parties. Grown women hide under tables. Grown men shriek like 8 year-old girls. Everyone gets drunk on laughter. I guess the ends justify the means.

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