happy cinco de mayo

Greetings, 'ku believers! No, you're not hallucinating again -- it's really me, The Haiku Master, writing from my top secret base of operations atop an exclusive Himalayan mountain to wish you a drunkenly happy Cinco de Mayo!!!

That's right! Don't expect this to become a habit, though. See, ever since leaving Baltimore I've been living with a bunch of monks, which is about as much fun as it sounds. Talk about uptight; they even have a whacko "code of silence," and force me to abide by it too. All of which leaves very little excitement with which to regale you. And like it says on my business card, "If I can't excite, I ain't gonna write."

From Left: Brother Lo, Brother Ko, The Haiku Master, Brother Po, Brother Ho, And Brother Mo

But seeing as Cinco de Mayo is the Sultan of Syllables' all-time favorite holiday, I decided to liven things up by slipping tequila into the monastery's drinking water... and brother, was it ever worth it! The whole crew is talking up a storm, and some of 'em even got into fistfights. Plus, I'm pretty sure Brother Lo is suffering from a bad case of alcohol poisoning as we speak! Talk about a fiesta!

Too bad my old sidekick Paulo can't be here to give it that authentic Mexican flair. Or Santo and Blue Demon, for that matter. Truth be told I miss all of the old crew: Paulo, the Haiku-Bot, Old Man Winter, Angelina Jolie, Professor de la Groove... heck, even slick Texas Kelly and his weird Bush clone, Dubya. But alas, those days are gone. I'll keep sending you Friday Haiku though -- assuming you people keep paying your annual dues, that is.

Best,


-----------
p.s. I hear that Haiku International's former Minister of Operations, Oswald "Oz" Carver, has started a "blog" called Oz's Funhouse. I'd check it out, but that guy gives me the creeps. Not to mention the fact he works blue. Very blue. You have been warned.

smells like victory

Welcome back, kids. It's me, The Haiku Master, here to thrill you with the conclusion of my savage arm-wrestling contest against my Mirror Universe opposite!

Though in all honesty, there won't be many thrills, save this one: thanks to the Haiku-Bot's Titanium Arm-Wrestling Exoskeleton, I won the bout without breaking a sweat! As a result, my doppleganger withdrew all claim to my honored name, and he and the fugazi Santo & Blue Demon returned from whence they came. Hopefully that's the last I'll be seeing of those jokers!

With that settled, I treated the real Santo & Blue Demon to some pipin' hot pizza -- sausage, natch! After that, we hung out and played some video games, messed around in the big plastic jungle gym, the works. Heck, Santo and I even got our picture taken with Chuck E. Cheese himself!

Santo (Left) And The Haiku Master (Right) Mug With Chuck E. Cheese (Center)

So as long as there are no objections, I guess I'll check this one off as the latest in a long string of successful adventures for the good ol' Pharaoh of 5-7-5. Thanks again for your support!

Best,

fistful of robotic fist

What's happening, folks? It's me, The Haiku Master, and I'm pleased to report that my Mirror Universe counterpart has been run out of town... and it's all thanks to my robotic man-servant, the Haiku-Bot!!

The Haiku-Bot

That's right! See, after wrapping up last night's post, I called H.B. into Castle Haiku's stately library and laid out the situation for him: my evil opposite, Chuck E. Cheese, the arm-wrestling challenge, etc.

"Bzzt," it said. "I see Mr., The Haiku Master sir your. Problem is a lack, of wrist-grappling ability combined, with questionable forearm. Strength. Correct?"

"Uh, yeah," I said. "What you said. I think."

"Bzzt. Here watch, this," it said, handing me a dusty VHS tape.

"This being..?"

"Over the, Top a 19, 87 Sylvester Stallone film focusing, on arm-wrestling."

Over The Top: It's No Rocky

"Oh. Well, what are you going to do while I'm watching this?"

"Bzzt. I am going to, construct an arm-length exo, skeleton made, from titanium but indistinguishable, from your real arm which, will ensure you victory in, tonight's. Contest."

H.B. was as good as his word, and by the time I'd finished watching the saga of struggling trucker Lincoln Hawk and his foray into the dangerous world of professional arm-wrestling, the exoskeleton was ready.

Now that I think about it, though, I'm going to wait 'til tomorrow to tell you how things went down at Chuck E. Cheese. Mostly because Santo and Blue Demon just showed up with a car-full of tequila and senoritas. Catch you later, non-rhyming poetry fanatics!

Best,

double trouble

Try not to make any loud noises, 'ku believers. It's your friend and mentor, The Haiku Master, and I'm a little spooked right now... for I just had a second encounter with what can only be my opposite number from the nebulous Mirror Universe!!

It all went down earlier tonight. Two of my most respected peers -- Mexico's El Santo y Blue Demon -- are in town on business, so I decided to treat them to one of the best restaurants Baltimore has to offer: the local Chuck E. Cheese!

Santo y Blue Demon

After picking them up at the BWI, we hightailed it over to Chuck's in time for our seven o'clock reservation... only to be told that I was already inside, dining with two friends!

"Eh, pardon the presumption old friend, but if this is some kind of convoluted ploy to evade footing the bill, I'll be more than happy to pay," said Santo, in an extremely rare use of English. "Business is good these days, and I'm far too hungry to stand here quibbling over finances when we could be dining on this renowned rodent's authentic Italian cuisine."

"No, Santo, I assure you," I assured him, "this is no trick on my part!" Then, to the maitre'd: "Now see here, my good man! How could I possibly be dining with two friends when my two friends and I stand here before you?! Riddle me that!!"

"Whoa whoa, take it easy, dude!" said the maitre'd. "Look, all I know is some dude calling himself The Haiku Master showed up about 20 minutes ago with two other dudes. Heh, they even look kinda like your buds, only fatter. And, uh, Frencher. See for yerself if you don't believe me!"

I peered into the dining room, and gasped -- for it was none other than my tracksuited doppleganger, accompanied by extra large, French-ified versions of Santo and Blue Demon!

"That's it, I've had about enough of this!" I shouted with conviction. "You there -- you in the tracksuit! What do you think you're doing, telling people you're me?"

My opposite paused his pizza-eating, and whispered something in French to his companions. He then rose, removed the paper bib from 'round his neck, and approached me.

The Haiku Master (Left) Faces Off Against The Fake The Haiku Master (Right)

"So, you think you're The Haiku Master, huh?" he said.

"What?" I said. "No, I don't think I'm The Haiku Master. I know I'm The Haiku Master!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Prove it."

"What?"

"You heard me. Prove it."

"Prove it how?"

"Shit, I don't know. Say, how much can you bench?"

"Bench?"

"Yeah, you know. Lift."

"Lift?"

"Yeah, lift. Like weights."

"Weights? Oh, I don't know... somewhere around 500 or so?"

"500?" he said, incredulously.

"Or so. Yeah."

"500!?"

"Yeah. 500."

Mirror Universe The Haiku Master giggled, then poked my bicep. He turned to the fugazi Santo and Blue Demon and spoke French. All three exploded in laughter.

"Okay, tough guy, okay," he said.

"Okay?" I said.

"Yeah, okay, you got yourself a deal."

"Deal?"

"Yeah, deal."

"What deal?"

"Deal is, tomorrow night you and your boys meet me and my boys right back here at good ol' Chuck E. Cheese."

"And then?"

"And then... you and me are gonna arm-wrassle."

"Arm-wrassle?"

"Wrassle, wrestle. We're gonna lock arms, and whoever pushes the other guy's arm down wins."

"Oh," I said. "Oh, I've never been too good at that game."

"Too bad."

"No, I said too good."

"I -- look, never mind all that. Whoever wins the arm-wrasslin', wins."

"Wins what?"

"The rights to be The Haiku Master, of course. Got it?"

"Got what?"

"Look, here's the thing. Just be here tomorrow night at seven, or you lose."

"Lose what?"

"Just be here at seven, tough guy."

With that, the three Mirror Universe immigrants left, leaving myself, Santo, and Blue Demon with a half-eaten pizza and plenty of questions.

"They also stuck you with the bill, dude," said the maitre'd as he dropped off said tab. "Thanks for choosing Chuck E. Cheese, where a kid can be a kid."

So there you have it, loyal readers: the gauntlet has been thrown! Check back in tomorrow night to see how everything turns out. In the meantime, I'm off to practice arm-wrestling with the Haiku-Bot. If he can go "Over the Top" as well as he makes hoagies, I just might have a shot at winning this thing. Wish me luck!

Best,

journey into mexico, pt. VI

***
CHAPTER VI

Santo and I gave chase to the treacherous Haikunestro and his robot chicken, El Diablo -- and in no time at all, we were on them!

"Well well well, Haikunestro," I said. "Looks like the table's firmly on the other foot now, hmm? Hmmmmm? Hmmmmmmmm?"

"¡Sí!," said Santo, punching his own chest and pointing furiously at our enemy. "¡Vamos a perforar su boleto, Haikunestro!"

Without missing a beat, Haikunestro hoisted El Diablo like a bowling ball and hurled it at Santo's head!

"Suck my robot cock*, you freak!" he shrieked. El Diablo tore into Santo's face with an equally piercing squawk, rending silver mask and flesh alike with his weird metal claws.

El Diablo Attacks!

"Sweet Jesus!" I cried, rushing toward my friend. "Santo!"

Haikunestro took full advantage of my momentary distraction, shoving past me as he hoofed it down the hallway.

"Never mind me, Haiku Master!" Santo shouted, wrapping his thick mitts around El Diablo's scrawny throat. "I can fend for myself! You must stop Haikunestro!"

He was right -- but how? My arch foe already had a good lead on me, and to be quite honest, I was winded; three weeks of living it up on the championship cockfighting circuit really takes it out of a guy.

As it turned out, no further action was necessary on my part. I heard twin gunshots, and Haikunestro collapsed on the dirty linoleum floor. Beside me, sparks flew from El Diablo's convulsing body as Santo's sturdy hands tore its neck in twain.

But who fired the shots? Paulo? Blue Demon? Who?!?

I peered down the hallway, and could just make out a large form draped in fine blue silk. This person wore an equally blue sombrero, and held a large, blue, smoking revolver in each hand.

"That," he said in a smooth Mexican accent, "is for sleeping with my wife. Adios, híbrido!"

Just as quickly as he appeared, the mysterious gunfighter in blue was gone.

"My god," I said. "Was that..."

"Sí," Santo said gravely. "The Blue Sombrero."

"The Mexico City Madman! I always thought he was a myth!"

The Mysterious Blue Sombrero, A.K.A. The Mexico City Madman

"Yes, well I would love to discuss his existence with you at length, but I'm afraid I must be off to the hospital."

"That's right, your face! Yeah, um, sorry about that..."

I nearly lost my lunch as I looked at Santo's wounds for the first time. El Diablo had left dozens of deep gashes on my friend's face -- it was a wonder his mask was still attached!

"Eh, it's no big deal," he shrugged. "My face was already horribly scarred -- which is exactly why I never remove my mask, as you well know. This will just be a new batch to add to the collection."

Just then, we were rejoined by Paulo and Blue Demon, who were inexplicably accompanied by four youngish-to-middle-aged, garishly attractive women!

"Hey Santo, Haiku Master!" Blue Demon said. "Look what me and Paulo found! Fun for all and all for fun, eh?"

"Blue Demon, you shouldn't have!" said Santo. "I need immediate medical attention, but you bring me senóritas instead. And when have I ever been known to refuse a lovely senórita? Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!"

Oh, how Santo laughed! And when Santo laughs, everyone laughs.

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* Sí, is cock, no chicken.--Paulo

***
EPILOGUE

So that, faithful readers, was that. As it turned out, Haikunestro wasn't dead, just badly wounded, and he and his incapacitated henchmen were soon collected by the local police.

As for that night, let's just say what happens in Mexico City stays in Mexico City. And that Santo is extremely ungenerous when it comes to sharing senóritas.

The next morning, I said my farewells to Santo and Blue Demon, but felt no sorrow -- I had no doubt our paths would cross again at some point. Then, Paulo and I were off to the bus station; he to return to his village, and me to my top secret base of operations in the Baltimore suburbs.

"Well, I guess this is it, Paulo," I said as my bus pulled up to the station. "I really couldn't have asked for a better guide for my time here in Mexico. Put her there, pal."

"Usted es un hombre muy extraño," Paulo said as we shook. "Muy, muy, hombre muy extraño."

"Thank you, Paulo. I'll be in touch."

I must admit a twinge of remorse as I boarded the old grey dog for home. I would miss this country and its wonderful people, tacos, tequila, fajitas, cockfighting, burritos and fireworks. And donkeys.

After A Successful Adventure, The Haiku Master Is Homeward Bound

But whatever sorrow I felt was tempered by the knowledge that Mexico had gained a fervent new fan -- and powerful ally -- in me: The Haiku Master!

journey into mexico, pt. V

***
CHAPTER V

Haikunestro

"And so we meet again for the last time, you cabbage-headed cur!" Haikunestro snarled at me as he emerged from the dressing room. Then, to his his motley crew of swarthy cutthroats: "Slice 'em up, boys! Feed their remains to El Diablo when you're done!"

"What the--? Chickens don't eat--," I started, but never had the chance to finish. For there, bounding down the hallway came two close, personal friends of The Haiku Master: Santo and Blue Demon, the world famous Mexican wrestlers!

"¡Allí usted es, Haikunestro!" Santo roared. "¿Usted pensó que usted podría ocultar El Santo y Blue Demon? ¡Usted es un cobarde!"

"¡Sí, hombre! ¡Hora de pagar al piper!," Blue Demon chimed in.

"Shit!" Haikunestro hissed. "I thought we gave those bozos the slip back at that Egyptian burial site..."

"Es no Egyptian, senór!" Blue Demon spat. "Es la Momia Azteca!"

Santo y Blue Demon

Needless to say, all hell broke loose at that point -- a true case of El Haiku Master y Santo y Blue Demon y Paulo contra Haikunestro y El Diablo y Amigos if ever there was one!

As the melee raged, Santo and I found ourselves fighting back-to-back; between his world-renowned wrestling skills and my deadly Haikung Fu, we were truly invincible.

"It's been some time, Haiku Master," said Santo, in what was for him an extremely rare use of English. A thug rushed him, but Santo easily brought a crushing elbow down on the knave's windpipe. "So, how do you know Haikunestro?"

"He's my sworn enemy, being responsible for the near-complete destruction of the Cobra Kai Haiku Order," I replied, using a technique known as The Moe to drive my fingers deep into the lead trainer's eye sockets. "You?"

"The mayor asked me to check him out a couple months ago. Said people had been complaining about some kind of robot cock being used for fighting," he said. "Turns out he's into all kinds of stuff: brain-switching, mummy-theft -- wait, there he goes! And he's got the robot cock with him!"

Sure enough, Haikunestro was making a break for it, El Diablo in hand!

"C'mon, Haiku Master! Let's get him!" Santo shouted. "It'll be just like Thailand all over again!"

Ahh, Thailand. Those were crazy days! Looking over my shoulder, I saw that Paulo and Blue Demon were having no trouble with the remaining conscious henchmen.

"Santo, you've got yourself a date. Let's give this haiku-hating bastard a taste of his own rectum!"

---CLICK HERE FOR 'JOURNEY INTO MEXICO' PT. VI---