Goodbye, Ian Curtis

This isn't yet another sad-sack in makeup caterwauling about Ian Curtis' old-time swingin' party. It's about my bat.

Several weeks ago, I was on the deck lighting the grill when I saw a dead bat laying across the steps. I had a few minutes until the fire would be ready, so I opted to get a shovel and bury the thing. Well, wouldn't you know it, it wasn't dead, and it certainly didn't care for my attempts to move it.

It took up regular daytime residence on the underside of one of the deck steps. I named the bat Ian Curtis because Josh isn't around for me to make fun of. During the afternoons, I would bring it bits of fruit and chill out with it, telling lame jokes and basically being a dick about letting it sleep.

Three days ago, Ian wasn't on the steps, and he hasn't been back since. I assume this means whatever was keeping him there (I was guessing he was hurt) had gotten better and he had flapped away to spread rabies to dumb children. Well Ian, this one's for you, batty sack of disease.


http://www.mysharefile.com/v/4746295/Joy_Division_dead_souls.mp3.html