Jimmy, I Don’t Give a Shit about Bats: A Message to My Five Year-Old Nephew Who Has Recently Read a Book about Bats

Jimmy, we need to talk.  Please take a seat on the couch.  Seriously, I’m going to need to you sit down. For the love of God, stop flapping your arms and sit down!

Thank you.  Now, I need to you really listen to me, because what I’m about to say is important.  I understand that you’re parents believe that you a very smart child, although, to be honest, I’m not so sure I agree.  I know they constantly refer to you as their “gifted” or their “special” child, but after spending the last week with you, I’m beginning to suspect this might be code for something else. Because, Jimmy, if you were really that “smart,” you would have picked up something by now: I don’t give a shit about bats.  Not even a little bit.

I know what you’re thinking, partially because you’re family, but mostly because you’re five years old and say everything you’re thinking out loud, “I just haven’t really taken the time to learn about bats, and, once I did, they would consume my every waking thought.”  I hate to break it to you, Jimmy, but this is inaccurate.  It’s not that I don’t know enough about bats; I know tons about them.  I’m 30 years old, and you don’t get to that age without learning a few things about bats.  I guarantee my knowledge of bats far outweighs yours.  How do I know that? Because you read a picture book for children.  I saw the book, and it has, like two sentences on each page.  And there are only twenty pages! Seriously, how much do think you’ve learned about bats from a book meant for babies?

You want me to prove I know more about bats than you? Fine.  In all your ranting about “how cool bats are,” I never heard you mention echo location once! Not once! Seriously, Jimmy? The big bat expert doesn’t even have any thoughts about frickin echolocation!? I’m not even sure you can say the word, let alone be able to grace us with a treatise on its importance in bat culture. And, let me just point out, that it is *very* important in bat culture; maybe the most important thing. And it appears to be something that you, Jimmy, the Chiroptera savant, didn’t seem to be aware of.

You do know what Chiroptera means, right? C’mon Jimmy, answer the question.  Stop crying and answer this very simple bat related question, “What does Chiroptera mean?” Give up? Of course you do, because you don’t know seem to actually know anything about bats. The answer, of course, it that it’s the scientific order that bats belong to.  Now, once again, this seems like something that even a person with the most minimal knowledge of bats would know.  And yet, Jimmy, self-professed Bat Genius, is totally without this basic nugget of bat-related information.

How do I know so much about bats? It’s simple really; I’m an adult.  When I read books, they contain things like “words with more than two syllables.”  Despite even my rudimentary knowledge of bats (which, once again, makes you look like a Bat-Tard in comparison), I don’t care about them.  So, even if you did have some sort of fascinating insight to offer me on the topic of bats (which you clearly do not), I wouldn’t want to hear about it.

Why?  Because I have a life and a job.  I’m an important person that people depend on.  Do you think Franklin Roosevelt Elementary could run without its principal? No. And you know how often bats come up at work? Almost never.

Jimmy, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but your parents left me in charge while they head to than annual Thetan cleansing retreat.  We still have two more days together, and I want them to be enjoyable and bat free.  And since you are such a fan on reading, I’ve stopped by the bookstore and picked you something else to read.  Her you go, it’s called Different Minds: Gifted Children With Ad/Hd, Asperger Syndrome, and Other Learning Deficit. I think this book may contain information that will actually be pertinent to you.


Aaron Armstrong

Aaron Armstrong

Aaron Armstrong feels very powerful when writing about himself in third person. He has started writing screenplays, novels, and a Highlander Rock Opera. He has been foiled in seeing these works reach their completion by acute voluntary carpal tunnel and the fact that he does not own the rights to Highlander. He currently resides in St Paul, MN, because he is frightened of sharks and wants to be as far away from the ocean without actually moving to space. He can be reached at amaguirea@gmail.com.