The name is Koda. Batty Koda in full. Yeah, I know the double meaning for it.

I'm a fruit bat that lives in a biology lab - one Mt. Warning Institute of Biology - where I've lived since I was a pup - that's about three years and nine stinkin' months I've spent in this rathole. My holding unit - my 'Cooler' or for the squeamish, 'Apartment Complex Extraordinaire' is Room 1A. Animal crates are stacked up on the far side. In the middle of the room is an examination table which holds, but isn't exclusively limited to: syringes, test tubes, stuff in beakers, computers, stethoscopes, doctoring equipment, etc. So, you get a general idea of what my lifestyle is like.

It ain't pretty.

Three of the cages across the room - it's about a ten-foot spread - hold some of my friends: Mooch the white lab rat is directly across from me. Below him is Skip the black alley cat, and to his left is Heather the rabbit. Below me is a chinchilla named Iris, and two koalas, Hector and Gordon, take up the cage to the right of her. Finally to my direct left is Dave, another fruit bat. A couple weeks ago, the staff moved a Tasmanian Devil into the empty cage on my right. It used to house a poor old Beagle named Benny. But Benny was... given notice to put it kindly. Anywho, that's just great for me. Benny at least was quiet, but this Tas moves around so much and keeps me up with his manic yowling, I'm positive it's giving me anxiety!

The head of the lab is one Jonah Darwin. He's your basic Tall, Dar, and Creepy with a gaze like a hawk and the attitude of a porcupine. So your basic sunshine and rainbow kinda guy. Err! Wrong! Darwin's a psycho who takes a lot of sick pleasure in the torturing of animals just to satisfy some stupid questions. Take me for example. Thanks to my stay in this fun-house, I'm a shrunken-down husk of a fruit bat. My eyes and ears are far too big for my body and hugely sensitive. Wonder why? Ya don't have to look further than my list of treatments which includes but isn't totally limited to: vivisections, pesticide and cosmetic testing, and electrocutions.

I also got this electrode implanted in my skull which taps into my brain system and yada-yada, long story short it messes with me mentally and the wires have this habit of picking up random radio waves. Friends refer to it as the Antenna. Anyway, I really hate the thing because it gives me these awful migraines and gives off electric shocks when it's having a hard time getting a signal in. Just like an antenna, lucky me.

My story starts on the day I returned from a grueling three hours in the lab where it looked like a behind the scenes peek at Runway. Cosmetics usually happens on a Monday before they ship out the approvals and rejects for the new week. Of course, I helped with those lists. Ugh, they used this new waterproof mascara on me, followed some lead-filled lip gloss that tasted like sour cherries and some blemish cover-up. I'm sure by the time I was done I looked ridiculous - a royal Runway reject.

When I got back to my cage I kind of flopped on the metal floor. My antenna sparked and the next thing I know I'm singing, "Hey boys and girls, guess what time it is? 'I love you, you love me, we're all one big family',"

Skip spoke up from across the room at the sound of my yammering, sounding relatively calm as if this happened all the t-... oh wait, it does. "Hey Koda, try an uppercut." That's one way to get the images to stop, I literally have to hit myself, like a reboot. Shouldn't come as much of a surprise to know I don't particularly like this method.

The alley cat nodded. "That was close, you almost short-circuited."

"Fractured figs! I've been short-circuiting ever since I had this dumb thing implanted in my cranium!" To emphasize, I poked the antenna with my thumb claw and it started up again. It clicked in protest.

Okay, lesson time. What do bats need? Radar fields. What happened to mine? They're depleted. Yeah, since I'm "altered" I don't have any. And you know those sonic airwaves bats can have as well? Don't have those either, but don't think I'm giving credit here. I just don't need 'em. Fruit bats like myself of the family Pteropodidae don't use echolocation to find their food because fruit knows how to stay still.

Anyways later that day after a refreshing dinner, I was fetched and hauled kicking and screaming into a lab room again where there was a small group of white-coats and three big tubs of paint. How do I know? Because I was literally dipped in them. My antenna didn't like it and shocked me through the whole ordeal. The scientists set me on the table to record my reactions after the coatings. The paint was thick and gloppy and I just kind of tripped all over the examination table where they set me. My eyes were closed to keep the stuff out, so I didn't really have a good feel on where I was going until I nearly fell off the table. Thanks for nothing, radar fields!

One of the scientists grabbed me and there was some mumbled exchange of words - would have been nice to hear - when I was put under a jet of cold water for a quick rinse-off. Short circuit side-effects! The stream stung like a horde of wasps!

After I was rinsed I was wrapped up tighter than a birthday present in a big fluffy towel and carted back to my cage. I barely had time to catch myself before the towel was shook and I tumbled out. My door was slammed shut and locked and I'd only just turned to see a skittish figure complete with dorky horn-rim glasses and oversize lab coat rush out. I glared. That was Victor, the clumsy, crummy newbie fresh out of grad school - whatever that was. I hate that guy's guts but I'm always stuck with him for the big experiments. I mean he was fun to freak out because this guy was a serious spaz, but no fun if you were the one he was spazzing on.

I got up from my cage floor to look out through the bars. 1A was pretty quiet for this time of day. The antenna clicked but no signal picked up, although my head twitched to the side like I was doing a double-take. Mooch and Skip were both asleep across from me. Well Skip was, Mooch was sleep-walking. I'm telling you that rat has a serious problem upstairs.

Ain't I a fine one to yammer about that.

"Koda?" I glanced to my left. Dave.

"Hola," I responded amid another shock. "Workin' hard?"

I heard a chuckle and there came the reply, "Hardly workin'. You?"

"Check please, I wanna blow this joint." I answered sullenly, my head twitching as the antenna sparked again.

Dave chuckled again, but was quiet after that.

*Little red Flying Fox - this is the bat I feel most closely resembles Batty Koda. This is just an opinion, not a fact.

Also, the little italicized phrases: 'fractured figs', etc. are actual curses from Batty in the book.