So, you've met him, then?
He was a nice guy. I felt bad about his explosion. As far as that's concerned, I would just like to say that it was not my fault. I hadn't seen him for many years and I had grown accustomed to leaving my TV remote out. I wasn't expecting him to drop in.
We exchanged a few pleasantries, he handed me a spiny plant that he said would eat bats, and he grabbed the remote. He scanned some stations and then it happened. He stopped on a PBS channel and froze in slack tongued amazement.
The TV sang, "Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa Laa, Po," and I knew we were in trouble. He squeaked softly, swelled up, kicked his faces, and popped like a ballon. You would not believe how hard it is to clean alien carcass out of your carpet.
On the positive side, my neighborhood has been bat free ever since.