We’ll have this baby
squealing Mayday by midnight. Let’s split up. – You see him?
– He’s hiding. Turn out the lights. He’s nocturnal.
He’ll think it’s daytime like this. Good point. – Have you got him?
– Come on, you sonar-guided rodent. – Connie, bats carry rabies, don’t they?
– Yeah, among other things. I’m gonna call him now. OK, just be still. – Are you kissing him or calling him?
– I’m calling him! – That’s the sound they make.
– OK, OK. – Dad!
– Oh, no… I got him! Keep back. – Get the light on him.
– Keep your eye on the bat. Whoa! Look at that thing move! Christ Almighty! Ooh, I hit my head. – Where is he?
– I don’t know. He’s in the rafters. Where are you? I’m here! – He’s on my face!
– Hold still! Honey… We got it! – We got it!
– Oh, the pain. – We got it!
– Ooh, that had to hurt. What a fighter.
Boy, he was something. I salute him. But we got to get some sleep.