A woman in her fifties came sprinting through the moving tide of people, cutting a swath through them much like a boat cleaves the water. Perhaps it was her annoyed countenance that moved the crowds so effectively, more likely it was because she only wore a towel. Coming to a sudden halt before a receptionist attempting to check in a honeymoon couple, she slammed the desk with a clenched fist.
"Excuse me, Excuse me!" she called. Her abrupt manner got the attention of all the staff and half the guests within ear shot. "There is a bath in my room!" she said loudly, thumping the desk again with her fist.
"Yes ma'am," said the pleasant girl behind the desk. "We have baths in most of the bedrooms."
"I want it out of my room immediately, " the woman said, getting louder and attracting even more attention.
"We can get you a room with a shower if you would prefer," said the receptionist.
"Not a bath, A BAT! A great big thing with wings, you cretin," she screamed.
"I'll get the manager," said the girl rushing off in the direction of an office. The poor woman strode around the lobby in her towel scowling at anyone that dared catch her eye. She was clearly traumatized by the whole experience. "What kind of place allows bats to go flying around?" she asked no one in particular. Soon the manager and the receptionist reappeared. For some strange reason the manager was carrying a hammer.
"Right so," he said. "Let’s go see about this bat of yours."
"It’s not my Bat," the woman said. "I think you’ll find it is your bat," she said hotly.
"Just a figure of speech, Madam. I didn't intend to say he belonged to you," the hammer wielding manager said, trying to pacify the near naked woman.
"Just as long as you know, I’m not in the habit of going on vacation accompanied by flying rodents," she said, storming off in the direction of the elevators with the manager and receptionist jogging in her slipstream.
When the little raggle-taggle band got to the bedroom, the manager opened the door with his master key. He charged in, holding the hammer aloft. This guy couldn't have picked a worse implement to deal with a flying bat. Firstly, he had no chance of hitting it. Second, whatever he did manage to hit was going to be sorry. Looking around, he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. "How big was it," he asked the guest, who was still standing in the hall.
"About the size of a big cat," said the woman peeking in the door.
"I can’t see anything ma'am," said the manager, beginning to doubt the whole mad story, after all what bat was the size of a cat? A vampire one?
"Check the drawers," the woman demanded from the hall. "He was hiding in there earlier," she said, not seeming to understand how strange this all sounded.
"In the dresser?" asked the manager.
"For god sake are you a bit slow or something?" the woman said, shouting again. "That one over there," she said pointing at the dresser by the bed. The manager slowly pulled the drawer open, keeping as far back as he could. When an inch of dark interior was showing, the woman let out a blood curdling scream. The manager nearly jumped out of his skin, swinging the hammer wildly. He connected with the bedside phone, smashing it into a dozen bits. The receptionist took off down the hall screaming and beating the air around her head. The barely covered woman stood howling in the middle of the hall like some demented werewolf.
"Kill it! Kill it for god sake!" she screamed, pointing to a spot near the smashed phone, which was completely empty.
"Kill what?" asked the manager, holding his chest and panting like a marathon runner.
"On the dresser, you moron," she yelled rustling her hair with wild hands.
"No need for that," said the manager, his feeling hurt.
"Quick he is going back into the drawer," the woman shouted, pointing again. The manager slammed the empty drawer shut, trapping the non-existent bat inside. With the demented woman doing pirouettes in the hall, he had time to look around the room. He noticed dozens of pill bottles on the table. He picked up one and read the label. May cause hallucinations, was twice the size of all the rest of the words, in big red letters.
All the commotion had emptied the nearby bedrooms, guests had gathered in the hall, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
"I think the best thing to do, Madam, is to leave him trapped in the locker and take the whole thing out," said the manager, hoisting the bedside locker into his arms.
"Yes, the first sensible thing you've said," she sneered. "Where did you do your training, MacDonalds?" The poor manager wrestled the dresser out the door, still holding the hammer in one hand, when the woman called after him. "You should be ashamed to call this a hotel. I’ll be expecting my bill to be reduced for the inconvenience."
The woman stormed into the room in a flap of tiny white towel, slamming the bedroom door closed. One of the gathered guests asked, "Is everything okay in there?"
"All fine," he said, with a long-suffering smile. "As long as no pink elephants turn up."