SEASON 2 FINALE! chapter 9 of The Classified Adventures of Owl (aka The O.W.L. Papers)

Story so far.....Owl, a morepork owl, of O.W.L (Owl Woo-Woo unLimited, NZ Branch) is on the brink of a GI-NORMOUS Raid with The Owlettes and The Marschallin on Horny and his compadre and favourite dinner companion P-Hooty and his Band, a gang of Eurasian Mafiosos and Oligarch Hooters holed up at Chateau de Blavatnik, a nice condo piece of real estate in the South of France. The Department of Fabulous Business Interests will be reading him his rights shortly! Rock on.....

House on Haunted Hill

Reynold Brown [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Owl: Bonjour, Hola, and Allo, my loyal followers. I'm hooting softly because I'm in an unfamiliar Wood in the Northern Twittersphere. I'm with The Marschallin, the aspiring World Dominatrix, and have The Owlettes (my pet Scoobie-doo- wa ladies) on the RT. A bit old-fashioned tradecraft I know.

We're about to make a final assault on the undemocratic right of Horny to be Head Hooter of The Million Acre Wood. We'll rid the House of its miserable tenants in no time at all. Bear with.....Horny will be hoist with his own petard very soon.......a plutard.

The Owlettes: We heard that Owl, you festering funky-foul smelling Strigidae turd. What gives, you lump of brown nothing-burger?

Owl: Patience! First, we'll take Manhatten, then we'll take Berlin!

The Marschallin: I heard that Owl, you pathetic #squawker and opportunist from a tiny negligible Branch of a few hundred acres!

Owl: I have 2 words for you, Frau Marschallin: Deutsche Bank!

The Marschallin: Touche, Owl. I will get you back for that when I am Queen of the Night-Wood.

Owl: Prinzessin, you will become Queen of the Night over my dead body!

The Marschallin (singing in booming hoot)

The vengeance of Hell boils in my heart,

Death and despair flame about me!

If Sarastro does not through you feel

The pain of death,

Then you will be my daughter nevermore.

Disowned may you be forever, Alice Verlet 1912

Abandoned may you be forever,

Destroyed be forever

All the bonds of nature,

If not through you

Sarastro becomes pale! (as death)

The Queen of the Night (Der H?lle Rache). Karl Friedrich Schinkel [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Hear, Gods of Revenge,

Hear a mother's oath!

The Marschallin: DON'T SAY A WORD! You are going to marry my daughter Belle Epoque. It will be the most Extraordinary Union (EU) in the Wood!

Owl: But, but Mutti...........?

The Owlettes: (over the RT) Oi, you two, stop with the Family Reunion, already! We have a mission to komplete. As usual, we have a Plan. Owl, DO AS YOU'RE TOLD! Mme Marschallin, we will make a deal that will install you as Queen of the Wood on the condition that we become your Handmaidens. We will take the Chateau, give Owl the L-Hooty and tell him to bug off back to The Hundred Acre Wood with Horny and P-Hooty and report to the Parish Council. Then you and us (you and we? us and you? we and you?) will take over the World!

The Marschallin: Good Plan, Meine Eulen. Done Deal.

Owl: But, but Mutti......! What about Belle Epoque, the love of my life?

The Marschallin: Use the ring from Horny's nose and take her back to the Wood with you. She is too tame for a daughter of mine. The Owlettes are way cooler!

Owl: I'll try not to take that personally, you high-noting Hooter. Let the operatic finale begin!

The Owlettes: Right, now listen up!

Cut to the Chateau de Blavatnik where Horny, P-Hooty and his Band of Merry Mobsters are counting the L-Hooty and dreaming of escape and being a new Hyperpower to supplant The Million Acre Wood's Hegemonic Dominion.

P-Hooty: Be warned Hooty, my bestie stooge and ally. They are getting closer and will be coming for you soon. Remember, I am your only friend and ally now. The Department of Fabulous Business Interests has the nuts on you now and are closing in - perhaps tonight...

Horny: Too wit too whoo-ooo-err Meister P-Hooty. Has my cover and disguise of being your butler at dinner been blown sky high? What do I doodoo?

P-Hooty: Quick, here is a nice tribe of legal eagles to hide behind. Your braggadocio blabbermouth Scaramouch will hasten your end. I will exit our back channel of traitorous talk and leave you to cower on your own. They will never take me alive. Have bravado, Horny, mon ami. They will make it SWIFT I'm sure! Have you got all your muscovy ducks in a row - Forte, Kushy and Manfred? They will probably squawk to save themselves and give you away. So, it may finally be time to count your pence and salvage what you can. Think of the children! JS Grimaldi as Scaramouch

By Charles Chabot (1790-1866) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Horny: Farewell my friend. I am too dumb to see you have hung me out to dry. I am hoist by my own petard! But at least he's left me a wee bit of the L-Hooty.

Open source commotion and noises off, much squawking and twittering. Owl Eyes Cam is tracking P-Hooty as he makes his getaway. Horny surrenders in a sulky heap to The Owlettes.

The Owlettes: Get on your knees, Horny, you craven excuse for an owl. Give us the L-Hooty. What! Pence is all that's left, you pathetic scum! Shame! Where's P-Hooty? Wait, Owl-Cam has got a fix. Beam him up, Camo. Right, Horny, you're comin' back to the Hundred Acre Wood (HAW, haw, hahaha) to stand trial.

Owl arrives breathless

Owl: Well done, my DJ's. You have made cacophonic music. Where's P-Hooty and the L-Hooty? Is that it? Just Pence?!@#%$&*

The Owlettes: For the 25th time - money isn't everything.

Owl: No, but, but, but I am a retiree Owl and O.W.LINT and need to finance my homely hammock in the Wood with my chambermaid Belle Epoque. Perhaps you can flick me some of the pesos you ripped off Ponzi? No? You are cruel and unkind but maybe I love you anyway. My mission is komplete. Can I kiss your claws in gratitude? But what about P-Hooty?

The Owlettes: Get away from us, you tawdry tawny toy-boy with talons. The Owl Cam has beamed him up. He is in our custody and will stand trial. He will never be in dominion over all the Woods or the WWW ever again! It is The Marschallin and us/we who shall rule! We will be a black swan event!

Owl: I can live with that.

THE END

Pamela is an Auckland writer, poet, political commentator and satirist currently undertaking the Masters of Conflict and Terrorism Studies course at the University of Auckland, New Zealand.

She has had several previous professional incarnations as an experiential psychotherapist, business coach and family lawyer. She loves owls, ballet, black swans and hot air balloons.