Primal goo

When a bat is trapped in your room, you learn some things about yourself. Like the difference between 3:30 am Sam who has been rudely awaken by a goddamn bat, and 12:00 pm Sam who has a full night of sleep behind him and is at work. 12:00 pm Sam is cool, calm, collected. His facebook posts attempt to be semi-philosophical, drawing on his VAST experience from 26 years of life. Sometimes, people complement him on his humor and his patience. 3:30 am Sam draws on the fact he comes from a line of coal miners, sailors, and mechanics, and posts f-bombs while calling animals retarded. The first night he sees the bat, he curls up in a little ball near his door while a bat flies around above his head. On the second encounter, the cave man center of his brain takes over while he opens all the windows and whips a towel at the animal to scare it out. 12:00 am Sam thinks about Sun-Tzu and researches bats, but makes the foolish assumption "If I can't see it, then it must have left!" Man is nothing but a primal center wrapped up in layers of insecurities and technology.
3:30 am Sam may arm himself with an electrified tennis racket to get rid of the little bastard. It's only 7:00 am, so I have no idea what sophisticated man about town 12:00 pm Sam wants to do. Probably call a doctor to make sure he has rabies shots. More research on bats, and this time I'm going to check to make sure it left. I guess animal control?