Going Batty: A Funny Fictional Halloween Short Story

I told Jake not to do it. I really did. Jake is my older brother. He is thirteen. I am ten. My name is Bob. Even I, as a mere ten year old, had more sense. Jake didn't. Jake just wanted to have fun. Which is very cool. Up to a point. Our loving parents had left us all alone in our house on Halloween night. They went to a Halloween party. We were left with instructions. To dress up, have fun and hand out candy to the trick or treaters. That sounds so simple, doesn't it? But my parents had no idea what Jake had bought recently with his saved up allowance money. I did. I didn't say a word to them. Looking back, maybe I should have.

As soon as my parents left for their party, Jake went bounding up the stairs to his bedroom. I slowly followed. By the time that I had reached Jake's bedroom, he already had it un boxed and was busy assembling it on his bed. A huge remote controlled black bat. I am not kidding. It looked ghastly. About three feet wide, a foot, at least, in width, and complete with glowing red beady eyes and two long white fangs protruding from it's mouth. It was a hideous bat. It even had fur. It did look real. Yes, our minds tell us all that bats are not ever this big, but on Halloween, who knows? Who, indeed.

I left Jake with his new wonder Halloween toy and went to get dressed. I was Batman. Bad choice, I know, now, but then, it seemed really cool. Jake was supposed to be a ghoul. I did not know quite what that was, but Jake assured me that it was cool. We met downstairs, by the front door, fully costumed and ready for trick or treater action. At least, I was. Jake went a mile beyond what was ready. He had a ghoul mask on, white, green and glowing, with yellow eyes and a black shirt and black pants on. He looked like something straight out of a nightmare. I almost screamed, but held it in with my pride. In his hands was the three foot bat. The winged mechanical monstrosity. It was a beauty and so darn creepy. I swallowed hard. The doorbell rang. It was dark and the first trick or treaters had arrived. To my surprise, Jake bounded back up the stairs yelling back over his shoulder that I was to hand out the candy. I thought this was strange, but proceeded to open the door and dole out the treats. I greeted a prima ballerina, a ghost and a princess. They were adorable. I smiled and filled their bags. "Thank you." they sweetly said. I smiled and sent them on their way.

I almost had shut the door when I heard a strange whirring noise. Then, the wing flapping sounds started. I saw the little prima ballerina go pale. The princess screamed. "What in the world?" I muttered. Soon, I found out. The big black bat whizzed above the little ghost trick or treater's head. More screams were heard. Those kids ran faster than I have ever seen kids run. In two seconds, they were gone. I heard loud laughter coming from up the stairs. I slammed the door and took off up the stairs, two at the time. Jake met me coming down. "Did you see that?" he asked me. "Who could have missed it, Jake?" I was mad. "Are you trying to get us grounded for life?" I asked him. "Aww, Bob, don't worry about that. I mean, who will believe them?" I just stared at Jake. He went back up the stairs. He was committed to flying the bat out of our attic window and I could not stop him. I sighed. Jake was not stupid. Or, not so much, at the time, I thought. He only flew the bat out at kids with no parents accompanying them. I tried to not open the door, but he still flew the bat out and sent kids screaming. There was no stopping him. After ten, the trick or treaters trickled off. The doorbell stopped ringing and I gave a sigh of relief. It was short lived.

I kept hearing the mechanical bat wings flapping and sailing around the yard. Would my brother ever stop? I went up to the attic to warn Jake that our parents would be back at eleven. He laughed at me. "Watch this!" he cried. I looked out of the attic window. Our neighbor, old man Simmons was slowly making his way across his yard. Jake flew the huge bat right at Mr. Simmon's head. Arms started waving and a scream was heard. The poor old man almost killed himself getting into his house. Jake was laughing so hard, he lost control of the bat for a minute. It landed on Mr. Simmon's car roof. I heard a screen door slam and Mr. Simmons was back in his front yard. But he was not alone. He had a shotgun! Before I could make a sound, Jake grabbed the remote control and tried to fly the bat off of the car roof. It lifted and flapped it's wings, almost rising a foot in the air before BLAM! The black bat went down. For the last time. On Mr. Simmons car roof. Jake slammed the attic window shut and told me to run to my bedroom and get into my pjs and into bed. He did the same. I assume he hid all evidence of the remote controlled bat. My parents came back from their party and went to bed. All seemed well.

The next morning, my dad went out to get the mail. He came back into the house and looked at us with a very puzzled expression. We were eating breakfast, all gathered around the table. He put an empty shotgun shell on the table. "This was in our mailbox. What do you suppose it means?" he asked us. Jake and I kept eating our cereal and both shrugged. "This note was with it." dad said. He showed it to all of us. It said "No bats are out tonight. Daddy shot them all last night." Jake burst into laughter. I was very quiet and tried to look innocent. Mom raised her eyebrows out me. "Bob, do you have anything to tell us about last night?" "Not a thing, mom." Jake answered for me. I remained silent and still do, to this day.