Bat (Notevember 2022, #3)

“One Blood of Christ, please.” The little creature nudged a bunch of grapes toward me and looked up expectantly.

I had noticed some signs, lately, of bats in the belfry. Still, this talking individual was unexpected. It’s not that I wholly rejected the notion of visions sent from above, or winged messengers. But they did tend to be of a divine nature.

Then again, one might argue that nature is divine. And animals spoke to Saint Francis – so why not to me? Though perhaps that was my ego speaking.

“So, how about it, Father?” The squeaking voice brought me out of my pondering.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Blood of Christ. I would like a dose, please. I’ve brought the raw materials in trade. I’m not asking for handouts or anything.”

I didn’t know quite how to respond. This was, I was sure, unprecedented. So I asked the first thing that came to mind: “Are you Catholic?”

“Nope.” The bat shook his little head fervently. “I had an uncle who was a catoholic, though. Didn’t end well for him.”

“No, I said… Wait, what?”

“My uncle, rest his soul, he was a catoholic. And I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but clearly, he had a problem.”

On the one hand, I wanted to correct the misunderstanding. On the other hand, I just had to ask. “What happened to him?”

“Same thing that happens to every small creature that gets too close to a cat. You know what they say: ‘soft mittens hide claws’.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. My condolences.”

“Thank you, father. And yes, unfortunate it may be, but the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, right?”

“That he does.”

“So, how about a servant of the Lord taketh these here grapes, and giveth some Sacramento wine?”

This time, I opted for correction. “It’s ‘sacramental’.”

“You sure about that, Father?”

“Definitely.”

“Because I know there’s a vineyard in Sacramento. Just saying, you could be wrong here.”

“Actually…” I grabbed my phone and googled it. It turned out we were both right. “Here – and I showed him the results.”

“Well, would you look at that!” He went quiet for a moment as he studied the screen. “I can’t read, what’s that say?”

I don’t know why, but his illiteracy surprised me. “Oh, it says there is a place called Vineyard in Sacramento County, and also wine production located around Sacramento.”

“My point exactly.”

“But the wine we use in church is referred to as ‘sacramental wine’, as in ‘the Sacrament of the Eucharist’.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense.”

“But I suppose it could be made from grapes grown in… Nevermind, it doesn’t matter.”

I had just noticed his two front teeth – like a rodent’s, but pointed and noticeably sharp. “Look, I’m no zoologist, but you look like a vampire bat.”

“That tends to happen when you’re a vampire bat.” Apparently, sarcasm is not a uniquely human trait.

“I should tell you, then, that the wine is not actually blood.”

“Padre, I don’t mean to tell you your job, but the doctrine of transubstantiation begs to differ.”

“Well, I…” He had me there. Normally, I had a flair for theological debate. But having one with a bat was anything but normal. It took me a moment to recover, during which my conversation partner was looking rather smug – as far as bat facial expressions go.

“Nonetheless, the nourishment it would offer is spiritual, not dietary. Hardly optimal for a carnivore such as yourself.”

The bat gave a short laugh. “Hematophage, to be precise. But you see, I’m in a transition phase right now.”

“Transition to what?”

“A plant-based diet. It was my wife’s idea, to be honest.”

“You’re married?”

“To a fruit bat. I know what you’re thinking–”

“I wasn’t th…”

 “– but every marriage has its rough patches. And it may be an inter-species relationship, but we love each other, and that’s all that matters.”

“How, um, sweet.”

“Yeah, I’m a softie. Not what you’d expect from someone labeled as bloodthirsty, huh?”

“Well, people are complicated. I’m sure bats are no different.” I hadn’t been sure until that moment, but you live and you learn.

“Folks can be pretty judgmental, though, I gotta say.”

“I’m just glad you’re dedicated to your marriage. It is a sacred institution, after all.”

“Tell that to my first wife!”

“Uh… You’re divorced?”

“Trust me, the Lord would understand. It was not a propitious match.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” I tried to steer us back on track. “So, going vegan, you said?”

The bat nodded. “At first, I figured switching over to insects would be a step on the way, but the wife didn’t particularly like that. Fewer pollinators meaning less fruit, and all that. Probably for the best. You ever tasted moth?”

“Can’t say that I have – at least not on purpose.”

“Well, they’re basically flying bites of dry mouth, is what they are.” Even in his tiny, beady eyes, the disgust was unmistakable. I half expected him to retch. “Plus you gotta watch out for other bats and birds swooping in to get them first. I’m not taking a risk like that again, no thank you, sir.”

“So the wine is…?”

“Not quite fruit, not quite blood – a compromise. Perfect for changing my eating habits. Or drinking habits, I guess. So, can I have some?”

I was running out of excuses. However, I was reminded of my recurring conversations with certain teenagers in my parish. “I’m not sure I should be giving you alcohol.”

The bat snorted with derision. “What, you wanna see my ID or something?”

“Could I?”

“Y’know, Father, I do believe I left it in my other pair of pants.” The tone was clear, but I gave him a quick look-over, just for politeness’ sake.

“You’re not wearing pants.”

“I also don’t have a pair of pants lying around at home. Or an ID, for that matter.”

“Well, that settles it, don’t you think?”

“Actually, I think neither federal nor state laws regarding alcohol consumption apply to animals. Not free animals, at least.”

“It’s still a no, I’m afraid.”

“Come on, Padre! Don’t tell me I brought these grapes all this way for nothing. They’re heavy, you know.”

“I can give you some grape juice, if you like?”

The bat gave me the same response I always get when I ask that question: an audible sigh of resignation. “Nah, it’s fine. And you can keep the grapes if you like.”

“Sorry.” I couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty.

“Hey, it was worth a try, at least.”

We descended into a few seconds of awkward silence. I was the one to break it.

“Are you sticking around for a while, or…?”

“Well, I ought to get back to the wife.” He started turning to leave, but then paused. “Actually, Father…”

“Yes?”

“While I have you here, there’s something I’d like to tell you. It’s about an extraordinary man – more than a man, really – who rose from the dead.”

Religious bats. Who knew? “Go on.”

“Have you heard about our Lord and Savior, Count Dracula?”