world of the dogs, pt. III

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CHAPTER III

Heh. Hi gang. Man, am I ever embarrassed.

Remember how I ended our last chapter? No? Then go back and read it; it's only like three lines up, for christ's sake.

Okay, now that we're all on the same page, it turns out that, yes, I was suffering from alcohol poisoning and, yes, I needed medical attention. Which I fortunately received, courtesy of Johns Hopkins in beautiful downtown Baltimore. Now that I've recovered somewhat, I realize that the whole thing with the talking dogs was naught more than a combination of my overly alcohol-saturated system and a fine print of Coolidge's "A Friend In Need" that hangs in the Sultan of Syllable's parlor.

And like a fool, I mixed them.

Ah, well. I suppose the lesson here is, stay away from Coolidge prints when you're really, really drunk -- they'll freak you right out. So sayeth I...The Haiku Master!

world of the dogs, pt. II

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CHAPTER II

"I said 'get,' ape!" the last dog repeated, waving his paws at me. "Am-scray!"

"All right, that's just about enough of...," I started.

"Sweet mother of Marmaduke!" another dog barked, clearly shocked. "It spoke! The hairless ape spoke!"

"Of course I spoke. Speak. You know -- talk. But look, that's not even the point! What the hell do you dogs think you're doing in my--!"

"Get him, boys!," the biggest of the dogs shouted. "Doctor Poindexter'll pay through the snout for a freak of nature like this!"

In an instant, the pack was on me! I'd be lying if I said I didn't put up a good fight -- Cobra Kai Haikung Fu is nothing to sneeze at, after all -- but in the end their sheer numbers won the day. And as if being bested in battle wasn't bad enough, their teeth and claws made short order of my fine crimefighter garb, leaving me in naught but my socks, Ziggy boxer shorts, and Vans: The Official Sneaker Of The Haiku Master!

Vans: The Only Sneaker Endorsed By The Haiku Master

After tying a leash -- a leash!! -- 'round my neck, my attackers hussled me out to a dog-sized jalopy parked on the street outside. Me, the one true Sultan of Syllables! Can you believe it?!

"You'll never get away with this!" I said. "If nothing else, my attorney Johnnie Cochran will sue you for everything you're worth!"

"Shut yer meat hole, freak," my leash-handler growled back, "or we'll muzzle it!"

"De-yuh, where we gonna put him, Rover?" asked one of the smaller dogs. "He's too big to fit inside the car."

"Catland, I don't know," Rover replied as he opened the driver's side door and slid behind the wheel. "Throw it in the trunk."

In the trunk I went, and we were soon headed towards whatever mind-bending situation awaited me next. One thing was clear -- I was either suffering from a serious case of alcohol poisoning, or had somehow wound up on some bizarre parallel universe that had truly gone to the dogs!!!

If it's the former, I will of course need immediate medical attention.

---CLICK HERE FOR 'WORLD OF THE DOGS' PT. III---

world of the dogs, pt. I

Click For Larger Image

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CHAPTER I

Greetings, 'ku believers. It's me, The Haiku Master...but I'm not sure where I am or if this message will even reach you!

Last night, after helping local police take down a west-Baltimore clown smuggling operation, I decided to celebrate at my favorite tavern, The Ritz Cabaret, with a nice, stiff glass of George Dickel: The Official Whisky of The Haiku Master.

George Dickel No's. 8 & 12: The Only Whisky Endorsed By The Haiku Master

As fate would have it, Old Man Winter was also at the Ritz, and rushed over after I took my usual spot at the bar.

"Haiku Master!" he shouted, waving his Manhattan glass wildly. "Hey Haiku Master! It's me, Old Man Winter!"

As longtime fans will recall, O.M.W. is somewhat of a reformed criminal, having recently gone back on his "meds" after months of threatening the good people of Baltimore with his bipolar behavior. Luckily, it appeared he was still beating his disability instead of letting it beat him.

"Hey," he said, "lemme buy you a drink. C'mon, I wanna buy you a drink. C'mon, huh? Drinky-poo? C'mon, whaddya say?"

Naturally, I said "yes," and we proceeded to have a swell time. Mass quantities of sweet, sweet liquor were consumed, my friends, without a drop being wasted. My dearly departed sensei, former Haiku Master Charles Bukowski, would have been proud.

Front Row, From Left: Old Man Winter And The Haiku Master Had A Great Time At Baltimore's Ritz Cabaret

Unfortunately, the carousing caused me to enter my infamous Drunken Haiku Master state of being, and reality became a blur. When I finally came to, I was stumbling back to my top secret base of operations in the Baltimore suburbs.

I unlocked the front door, and heard the distinct sound of voices coming from my parlor.

"All right, Schmitty," one of them said. "I'll see your bones and raise you two more."

"That's five to you, Rover," said another.

"I know, I know," said a third. "Grrrr...forget it. I'm out."

"Cat," sneered a fourth.

What in the hell? What kind of strange action was taking place in the Pharaoh of 5-7-5's sanctum sanctorum without his consent? Lunging forward, I burst into the parlor...only to walk right into the mind of master painter C.M. Coolidge! For there, sitting 'round my poker table, were seven dogs -- and with Dickel as my witness, they were playing cards, drinking whiskey, and smoking cigars!

A Motley Scene Similar To This One Awaited The Haiku Master At What He Thought Was His Top Secret Base Of Operations

"What in the catland?" one of them barked in surprise. "How'd that hairless ape get in here? And why does it have cabbage for hair?"

"For that matter," said another, "what's with the strange fur it's got on?"

"Bad ape!" shouted a third, rising from the table. "Get!"

Needless to say, someone had a lot of explaining to do.

---CLICK HERE FOR 'WORLD OF THE DOGS' PT. II---