Season 6.5 Finale: Mallet Baggage (I Want A Bat)

ARed

Dream trance piano ostinato, powerful dream trance piano ostinato, female vocalist, airy, dream trance

ARCHIVE ENTRY 8:
Mallet Baggage (I Want A Bat)

────────────────────────

🦉 WITNESS:
Mother

🌃 JURISDICTION:
Owl’s Walk

✨⭐ CITY-LIGHT RECORD ⭐✨

📜 PROVISION STATUS:
Filed, sealed, and declared: PROVISION.

────────────────────────

🦉 ACCOUNT:

Let the Farmer keep his field. Let him weigh bread, hunger, harvest, and harm on whatever golden scale he still trusts. Should his delicate constitution require a Victorian fainting couch, he may prepare it now. I do not recognize biblical mummery, sainted pageantry, or sanctimonious cant as the standard of care in my streets. This is Owl’s Walk. This is comic logic. We have heroes, villains, orphans, monsters, costumes, hunger, alleys, and doors that answer when the story knocks. Harley was right: don’t get eaten. My city feeds its children and its survivors the only way it knows how — with warning, weapon, witness, and choice.

Arthur did not repair what was broken. Good. Repair was not on offer. He raised the question, released the mallet, and let the stars carry it past his hand. The city answered deeper than he knew. Harley’s archive has been updated: mallet released, bat received. Dustin’s archive has been deepened: not only Dustin, not only barista, not only rabbit. A new skin has entered the record. THE NIBBLER. This is provision under Owl’s Walk law. This is not Golden Farm. This is Owl’s Walk.

—Mother

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🌃🦉 ARCHIVE MARK 🦉🌃

A field may feed.
A city may bite.

A warning may become a meal.
A weapon may become a choice.

✨ NEW SKIN ENTERED: THE NIBBLER ✨

This is not Golden Farm.
This is Owl’s Walk.

=============================================

[Intro]
Clown took his laugh through slick side alleys; kids blinked in Owl’s Walk light.
Mallet heavy, history behind me; Arthur stepped into sight.

[verse 1: dream trance piano]
His starry coat lit rainlight; vape-smoke curled in his hand.
Gold scar glowed soft as thunder rolled o’er da land.
He said, “You brought company back through the black.”
I said, “Yeah, Artie. Kids liv. You can handle that.”

[pre-chorus]
Artie asked, “You alright?”
I gripped my mallet tight.

[Chorus: tribal chant-stomp under dream trance pads, gang vocals]
I take the mallet off my back,
moonlight caught in every crack.
(aaaah)
This thing’s got baggage attached—
give it to a rabbit, how ’bout that?
(aaaah)

I want it gone.
I want it back—
no, fuck that weight,
I want a bat.
(aaaah)
I want a bat…

[Verse 2: dream trance piano]
Arthur said, “Maybe give it to Jessica  ウサギ ?”
I said, “Hell no—kids shouldn’t shoulder weapons like tragedy.”
This mallet remembers; it’s loaded with old wrongs.
Give it to a grown-up who can stomach its songs.

[pre-chorus]
Artie said, “I’m on your side.”
and I replied,
“Then watch me decide.”

I want it gone.
I want it back—
no, fuck that weight,
I want a bat.
(aaaah)
I want a bat…

[bridge]
I did things I ain’t proud of; I won’t pretty up that.
Take this mallet, Artie—fuck it, I want a bat.

[Bridge II: build-up, stomp chant]
Arthur held that mallet high.
(Hold it high!)

Stars came spilling from his coat.
(Split the sky!)

They circled round the weapon, ring by ring.
Up it shot—a midnight scream.
(Let it fly!)

Sky cracked open like a trap.
(Drop that bat!)

Baseball bat dropped in my hand.
(Got my bat!)

[Shout]
Yes!!!

I have my bat…

[verse 3]
Then Arthur said, “Those stars carried your mallet into screaming flight,”
“They’ll burn through darkest night; in memoriam, Ellsborg stays in sight,”
“The one who wields it next is worthy of its weight and bite.”

[Final Chorus: gang vocals, dark choir]
I’ve got my bat, how ’bout that?
moonlight racing down the lacquered black.
(aaaah)
Fresh and new, no baggage attached—
fits my hand like it knows where I’m at.
(aaaah)

My grin comes back.
I hear it crack—
perfect fit,
perfect grip,
no ghosts in the swing of that.
(aaaah)
I’ve got my fucking bat.

[Outro: music box, dream trance piano]
At Dustin’s door, two soft knocks fell.
He opened up to a moonlit spell.

A mallet waited on the mat,
wrapped in starlight, heavy and flat.
—A note attached

The note said, “Pound out crime, Dustin.”
“Here’s a mallet. Sincerely, Justin.”

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╔════════════════════════════════════╗ ║ 🦉 MOTHER’S ARCHIVE 🦉 ║ ARTHUR-VERSE · SEASON 6.5 ║ THE FALL OF ELLSBORG ║ 🌃 OWL’S WALK CLASSIFICATION 🌃 ╚════════════════════════════════════╝ ARCHIVE ENTRY 8: Mallet Baggage (I Want A Bat) ──────────────────────── 🦉 WITNESS: Mother 🌃 JURISDICTION: Owl’s Walk ✨⭐ CITY-LIGHT RECORD ⭐✨ 📜 PROVISION STATUS: Filed, sealed, and declared: PROVISION. ──────────────────────── 🦉 ACCOUNT: Let the Farmer keep his field. Let him weigh bread, hunger, harvest, and harm on whatever golden scale he still trusts. Should his delicate constitution require a Victorian fainting couch, he may prepare it now. I do not recognize biblical mummery, sainted pageantry, or sanctimonious cant as the standard of care in my streets. This is Owl’s Walk. This is comic logic. We have heroes, villains, orphans, monsters, costumes, hunger, alleys, and doors that answer when the story knocks. Harley was right: don’t get eaten. My city feeds its children and its survivors the only way it knows how — with warning, weapon, witness, and choice. Arthur did not repair what was broken. Good. Repair was not on offer. He raised the question, released the mallet, and let the stars carry it past his hand. The city answered deeper than he knew. Harley’s archive has been updated: mallet released, bat received. Dustin’s archive has been deepened: not only Dustin, not only barista, not only rabbit. A new skin has entered the record. THE NIBBLER. This is provision under Owl’s Walk law. This is not Golden Farm. This is Owl’s Walk. —Mother ──────────────────────── 🌃🦉 ARCHIVE MARK 🦉🌃 A field may feed. A city may bite. A warning may become a meal. A weapon may become a choice. ✨ NEW SKIN ENTERED: THE NIBBLER ✨ This is not Golden Farm. This is Owl’s Walk. ============================================= [Intro] Clown took his laugh through slick side alleys; kids blinked in Owl’s Walk light. Mallet heavy, history behind me; Arthur stepped into sight. [verse 1: dream trance piano] His starry coat lit rainlight; vape-smoke curled in his hand. Gold scar glowed soft as thunder rolled o’er da land. He said, “You brought company back through the black.” I said, “Yeah, Artie. Kids liv. You can handle that.” [pre-chorus] Artie asked, “You alright?” I gripped my mallet tight. [Chorus: tribal chant-stomp under dream trance pads, gang vocals] I take the mallet off my back, moonlight caught in every crack. (aaaah) This thing’s got baggage attached— give it to a rabbit, how ’bout that? (aaaah) I want it gone. I want it back— no, fuck that weight, I want a bat. (aaaah) I want a bat… [Verse 2: dream trance piano] Arthur said, “Maybe give it to Jessica ウサギ ?” I said, “Hell no—kids shouldn’t shoulder weapons like tragedy.” This mallet remembers; it’s loaded with old wrongs. Give it to a grown-up who can stomach its songs. [pre-chorus] Artie said, “I’m on your side.” and I replied, “Then watch me decide.” [Chorus: tribal chant-stomp under dream trance pads, gang vocals] I take the mallet off my back, moonlight caught in every crack. (aaaah) This thing’s got baggage attached— give it to a rabbit, how ’bout that? (aaaah) I want it gone. I want it back— no, fuck that weight, I want a bat. (aaaah) I want a bat… [bridge] I did things I ain’t proud of; I won’t pretty up that. Take this mallet, Artie—fuck it, I want a bat. [Bridge II: build-up, stomp chant] Arthur held that mallet high. (Hold it high!) Stars came spilling from his coat. (Split the sky!) They circled round the weapon, ring by ring. Up it shot—a midnight scream. (Let it fly!) Sky cracked open like a trap. (Drop that bat!) Baseball bat dropped in my hand. (Got my bat!) [Shout] Yes!!! I have my bat… [verse 3] Then Arthur said, “Those stars carried your mallet into screaming flight,” “They’ll burn through darkest night; in memoriam, Ellsborg stays in sight,” “The one who wields it next is worthy of its weight and bite.” [Final Chorus: gang vocals, dark choir] I’ve got my bat, how ’bout that? moonlight racing down the lacquered black. (aaaah) Fresh and new, no baggage attached— fits my hand like it knows where I’m at. (aaaah) My grin comes back. I hear it crack— perfect fit, perfect grip, no ghosts in the swing of that. (aaaah) I’ve got my fucking bat. [Outro: music box, dream trance piano] At Dustin’s door, two soft knocks fell. He opened up to a moonlit spell. A mallet waited on the mat, wrapped in starlight, heavy and flat. —A note attached The note said, “Pound out crime, Dustin.” “Here’s a mallet. Sincerely, Justin.”

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