Velociraptor Alarm Clock

So I woke up with a sleeping velociraptor this morning. My first thoughts consisted of several curse words, a few potential weapons that lay around me, and cursing my friends for this crap again.
Then my brain drifted to something along the lines of 'I really should stop hanging out with those genetic engineers. That would be an idea for later. They did some great work with this one, though!'
Since the thing was asleep still, I tried to sneak my hand down to the wooden bat I keep under my bed for these specific occasions. Hey, it worked against the rabid bear and the twenty angry rabbits, so why not now?
-SNARL-
I froze. My nerves and heart decided not to follow suit. The blood pressure in my veins grew like bamboo. Fast, not tall. And not eaten by endangered species.
Well, depending on the outcome of this little encounter, the latter of those might turn out to be true after all. Hopefully for my sake, it will not be so.
Slowly, I thawed out and grasped the wooden bat. For laughs, my friends stole it one day and spray painted the Batman symbol on it. That previous morning I had just wasted the aforementioned bear. I have terrible taste in people.
And, for my sake, I hope this velociraptor won't have any taste in me.
Of course, my "friends" placed the raptor's head directly next to mine, jaws and teeth all pointed directly in front of my nose. Jerks. Smashing its head in would be that much harder. They're horrible pranksters. Smart, I'll hand them that, but just horrible people.
The fear that had stressed my brain ever since waking up also didn't help the situation. I wish I could say that fear of these encounters faded after the first eight or so. Unfortunately, it hasn't.
I did my best to get as far away in bed from the velociraptor without waking it. My left hand holding onto the bat, I tried to sneak out from under the covers. The hot, slimy breath of the reborn creature made my eyes water. At least, I'll be willing to admit that it was the breath that made my eyes water. And I will also admit that the raptor was the one who wet the bed when I woke up.
Somehow I managed to get to the bed's edge. I slowly climbed out feet first, hoping to get a good whack at the beast's head. As my left foot landed on the ground flat, I made the realization that dropping my pocket knife on the floor when I crawl into bed was not the best idea I've ever had. Leaving it open was a bit worse. Practically shouting into the raptor's face as the knife sliced open a sliver of my foot, though, takes the cake in recent bad decisions.
Let me tell you, a velociraptor doesn't wake up from a nap feeling glad to be alive. It also doesn't wake up thinking, 'Hey, today seems like a grand day to become a vegetarian!' Things just don't work out for me like that.
So I took Peppy's advice and did a barrel roll out of my bed onto the floor. I had just enough time to stand up and back away from the bed as the raptor threw himself into a standing position, jerking his head around. Flailing like a maniac, it never quite caught its balance...and fell back onto the corner of my nightstand. Knocking its walnut of a brain into a few pieces. A crunching sound was my victory fanfare.
Man, what an easy fight. Much better than the gorillas. I bashed in the raptor's head a few more times for insurance, of course. Quick cleanup, not all that much blood this time. And now I've got a breakfast that I'm sure I'll enjoy. Steak and eggs has nothing on velociraptor and syrup.