i'm being held hostage in a fortune cookie factory

Hi folks. It's me, The Haiku Master, and the headline of this post is no joke. At least, I don't think it is. Look, all I know is this: it's dark, and it always smells like fortune cookies. So you tell me.

And to answer your question, no, I don't know how I was able to make this "blog" post, what with my current circumstances and all.

Okay for now; I think I hear someone coming. Might have to bust out some Haikung Fu to get out of this one. If I don't resurface by, say, Friday, be sure to let Paulo know I'm in danger.

Best,

the haiku master's big vegas caper, pt. XI

* * *
CHAPTER XI

"Well well well well," snarled Haikunestro, drawing a point-blank bead on yours truly with a wicked-looking raygun. "At long last, I can say with undisputed authority that this time we really meet again for the last time this time! And it's about goddamn time!!!"

Haikunestro (Front Row, Left) And His Undisciplined Goons Prepare To Face Off Against The Haiku Master (Front Row, Right) And His Staunch Allies

"Ah, Haikunestro," I said, shaking my head sadly. "Always so angry. No wonder you flunked Master Doug Henning's serenity courses."

"#%@$ Mas... #%@$ Doug Henning!!" Haikunestro screamed. "He may have caused me to repeat freshman year, but in the end I killed him! I killed them all!! Just like I'm going to kill you!!!"

Not For Nothing, But The Haiku Master Got Straight "A's" In Master Doug Henning's Serenity Courses At The Cobra Kai Haiku Order's Temple In Ancient Atlantis, And Definitely Nothing Lower Than A "C"

"Maybe so. But while you've been going off on your latest rant, you've forgotten one very important fact."

"Oh?" he asked, sneering. "And what might that be? That you're a moron?"

"No -- that you're dealing with a Master of Haikung Fu!!!"

Just like that, the heat was most definitely on! I shoved Haikunestro's arm to the left as he fired his weapon, and the lab erupted into chaos!

"This isn't over yet, you freak!" Haikunestro said... and was immediately brought low by the combined might of Ralphus and Malphus! I would have jumped in to help, but soon found myself dealing with a pack of space judo-wielding Trekkies!

"I'm gonna crack my knuckles and sheath my blaster..." one said cryptically.

"...'Cause I'd much rather punch The Haiku Master!" said another.

"Sweet Jesus! Rhyming poets!" I cried. "Alright then, you scoundrels -- let's see what you've got!"

Four of them moved in at once, and faced the full fury of the rarely used Cobra Kai maneuver known only as Ike Turner's Tough Love!!! As their shattered bodies fell before me, I looked around the lab... and man, did I ever like what I saw!

To put it bluntly, my allies were kicking ass and taking names, and Haikunestro's stooges were dropping like flies. But where was...

"H.M.!" Professor de la Groove shouted from across the room. "Haikunestro -- he's got Paulo!"

I looked to where my old friend was pointing, and he was right; my arch-enemy was holding his raygun against Paulo's head, the other arm wrapped around the champion cockfighter's throat!

Paulo Begged The Haiku Master To Not Release This Picture, But He Did Not Beg With Money

"That's right, you retards!" said Haikunestro. "One more step and the Mexican gets it!"

"Please, Hombre muy Extraño," gulped Paulo, eyes straining towards the gun barrel. "I no want to die! I told you, I just want tacos!"

"You hear that?" Haikunestro said in a mocking tone. "He just wants tacos. And if any of you mother#%@$ers takes one step near me, he's never gonna eat a taco again!!"

Not wanting Paulo's blood on my hands, I waved my bristling companions off.

"Alright, Haikunestro, alright. You win this round," I said. "But if you harm so much as a hair on that poor peasant's head, know that you'll have the Sultan of Syllables to deal with!"

"Hey!" said Paulo. "I no am peasant!"

"Save the threats for someone who can't kick your ass, dipshit," scoffed Haikunestro, as he and Paulo stepped backwards through the lab doors. "See you in the funny papers!"

With that they were gone, whisked back to the Star Trek: The Experience concession through the high-powered elevator! Naturally, I was prepared to give chase... but to what end?

Did Paulo get rescued? Was Haikunestro brought to justice? Who replaced Old Man Winter, Paulo, and Dubya when they went to 1960, and what did they do while they were there? Did Angelina Jolie and I have another amorous encounter? Would I ever check into a Motel 6: The Official Motel Chain of The Haiku Master while in Vegas? Find out the mind-blowing answers to these and other questions in the stupendous, unbelievable, insanity-inducing twelfth and final chapter of my Big Vegas Caper!!!

---CLICK HERE FOR 'THE HAIKU MASTER'S BIG VEGAS CAPER' PT. XII---

the haiku master's big vegas caper, pt. X

* * *
CHAPTER X

Those who guessed the reappearance of the golden energy beam meant the four of us were about to be whisked back to 2005 guessed correctly... for when the effect wore off, we found ourselves once more in Haikunestro's underground lab!

1960 Behind Them, The Haiku Master (Front Row, Right) & Co. Head Back To 2005

"Great Scott!" I shouted, leaping off the familiar medical table in a Haikung Fu fighting stance, ready to unleash the devastating attack referred to by the ancient masters as the Boilermaker on the first Trek-themed goon who crossed my path!

"It worked, Professor! They're back, and the others are gone!" yelped a lush female voice that could only belong to the world's sexiest woman, Angelina Jolie!

I turned and saw the apple of my eye standing near the lab's massive computer bank, which was being fiendishly manipulated by Professor de la Groove and the Haiku-Bot! Ralphus and Malphus were also nearby, with no Trekkies in sight... nor that arch-fiend, Haikunestro!

"Huzzah!" the Professor said, clapping the Haiku-Bot on the back. "Nice vork, H.B. -- jou are vun hell of a programmer, mein friend!"

"All in a, day's work Mr., Professor de la Groove sir," it replied. And if I didn't know better, I'd have it say it was blushing! "Besides I was, only carrying out your most, excellent. Instructions without them I would have been, lost."

"Nonsense! In fact..."

"A-hem!" I interjected, feeling more than a little put off. "If you're all done congratulating each other over there, would someone mind telling the hero of this little adventure what's going on?"

That's all it took to get de la Groove going on one of his trademarked, long-winded, tecnobabble-heavy expositions... one that was suddenly cut off by the totally unexpected reappearance of Haikunestro!!

Haikunestro: One Bad Penny

"You didn't seriously think Joey Bishop was enough to stop me, did you?!" he sneered, barging into the lab with a squadron of Star Trek heavies at his back. "Regardless, he wasn't -- and now you're all going to die!!!"

I smell a climax in this odyssey's immediate future, ladies and gentlemen... or my name's not The Haiku Master!!

---CLICK HERE FOR 'THE HAIKU MASTER'S BIG VEGAS CAPER' PT. XI---

the haiku master's big vegas caper, pt. VI

* * *
CHAPTER VI

Within moments we found ourselves surrounded by some tough-talking characters in Star Trek costumes, all sworn to do the twisted bidding of my arch-enemy... and armed to the teeth with some sweet futuristic rayguns! Talk about being outgunned and outclassed!

Haikunestro (Second From Left) And Some Of His Hired Thugs

"And so we really meet again for the last time this time, you cabbage-coiffed coolie!" Haikunestro snarled.

"Haikunestro!" I gasped. "How did you find us so quickly, you fiend?!"

"How did I find you? I recently purchased the Las Vegas Hilton's Star Trek: The Experience concession -- right next door to the Space Quest Casino! That's how I found you! Or didn't Professor de la Grump here--"

"Hey! I am not grumpy!" the Prof shouted.

"--have a chance to explain that to you yet?"

"No he hadn't... but it doesn't surprise me in the least! The Pharaoh of 5-7-5 has been highly disappointed by the recent deterioration of the once-proud Trek franchise, and learning that you're involved with it explains a lot!"

"Why you--!!" he grumbled, shaking his fist. "Lieutenant Kyle!"

"Yo-ho, mon capitan!" shouted a flunky in a red shirt.

"I want you and a security detail to escort the old man and the fez monkeys to the brig! Then, secure the Haiku Doofus in my lab."

"Yo ho! And what of the prostitute, sir?"

Angelina's eyes flew open in shock. "Prostitute?"

"Vuh-oh," said the Professor. "Now I zink zey gone and done it."

"I! AM NOT! A PROSTITUTE!!!" bellowed the Oscar-winning star of Gone in 60 Seconds, grabbing two red-shirts and slamming their heads together with deadly results! More guards rushed in and she leapt skyward, her diamond-hard high heels crushing a couple of skulls upon her descent!

Oscar Winner Angelina Jolie: Not A Prostitute

"Well?" she said to me, eyes gleaming madly as she licked her lips. "Do you want to live forever?!"

"Hell yes!!!" I replied, rushing into the fray! I wasn't the only one emboldened by Angelina's bravery; as I unleashed the Haikung Fu technique known as the Ziggy Piggy on a goon done up like a Klingon, Ralphus and Malphus joined in too! Before I knew it, we had a certified brouhaha on our hands!

"All right, all right -- that's enough of that!" Haikunestro shouted... grabbing the Professor and pointing a massive laser gun right at his head!

"Check and mate, H.M." my longtime foe giggled. "Now put down your dukes and surrender, or de la Groove's going to have a 'hole' lot of thinking to do. Heh. Heh heh. Heh heh heh. Get it? 'Hole' lot of thinking to do? Huh? Do you get it?"

"Umm, no..." I said, truthfully.

"I mean I'm going to put a hole in his head if you people don't stop fighting!! Jesus, you are such a moron!"

Now that I understood... leaving yours truly no choice but to surrender! Who knows whether or not I'll survive our next chapter, folks; guess you'll have to wait and see!!!


---CLICK HERE FOR 'THE HAIKU MASTER'S BIG VEGAS CAPER' PT. VII---

the haiku master's big vegas caper, pt. V

* * *
CHAPTER V

Not surprisingly, Professor de la Groove entered the Space Quest Casino at precisely 12:00 p.m. -- "local time" -- accompanied as always by his assistants, Ralphus and Malphus. Much to my embarrassment, however, Old Man Winter, Paulo, and Dubya were nowhere to be seen... despite O.M.W.'s glib assurances to the contrary!

Professor De La Groove (Center) And His Assistants, Ralphus (Left) and Malphus, Arrive At The Space Quest Casino

"So H.M.," said the Professor, lighting an expensive cigar. "I ask jou to gather a highly trained crew of seasoned professionals, and zis is vat jou bring me? A vell-dressed prostitute and a pack of seedy European businessmen? Zat I could've done myself."

"I knew she was a prostitute!" I heard one of the businessmen whisper. "Now pay up!"

"Alright, old chap, you win," said a second. "It's a load off, actually. A woman of Angelina Jolie's stature spending time with a mentally handicapped medical oddity such as that made absolutely..."

"Ex-cuse me? A prostitute?!" hissed an enraged Angelina, de la Groove's insinuation finally sinking in. "As it so happens, I'm an Oscar-winning actress -- and the sexiest woman alive! Besides, I'm not the one dressed like... like... like an avacado pimp!"

"Ooooh," the Professor said, raising his hands in mock surrender as he turned to me, laughing. "Ooh, she is ze feisty one, H.M.! Jou'd better vatch jourself vith--!!"

Before he had a chance to finish, SWA-MACK!!! Angelina landed a wicked slap against the decrepit old man's noggin, knocking his fine hat clear off his head! A bad move on her part; without batting an eye Malphus leapt forward, catching her in a dreaded Sleeper Hold!! Angelina thrashed wildly, eyes screaming murder! It looked as if all hell was about to break loose, until:

"No no, Malphus, let her be," said the Professor, smiling, as Ralphus retrieved his hat and placed it back on his wizened head. "Let her be. I deserved zat." Then, to Angelina: "My dear Miss Jolie, please accept ze most humble apologies of Professor Zadwick Tiberius Vilhelm de la Groove. I know very vell vho jou are, and am a fervent admirer. But I needed to measure jour fire, and figured ze best vay to do zat vas vith ze old insult. Frankly, it comes as no surprise zat jou passed.

"Zat said," he continued, "I still zink ve'll need more support, zough jou both bring considerable talents to ze table. Vhat zose guys bring, I don't know."

"What, you mean the seedy European businessmen?"

"Hey!" one of them shouted. "We are not seedy!"

"Bad form," muttered another.

"Oui, vho else vould I mean?"

"Oh, they're not actually with us. We were just playing some baccarat with them."

"Baccarat? Vhat do jou know about ze baccarat, H.M.?"

"Not much, as it turns out. They really took me to the cleaners!"

Try As He Might, The Haiku Master (Center) Couldn't Figure Out What The Hell Goes On With Baccarat

"Ah vell, live and learn. Or in jour case just live, eh?"

"You better believe it, Prof!"

"Either vay, zis is ze bad news jou are bringing me. Even vith my help, vun professional crimefighter and ze vorld's sexiest voman von't be enough to stop Haikunestro's mad plot, mark my vords!"

"Don't mark 'em yet -- we didn't come alone!"

"Oh? Jou brought a group vith jou, did jou?" he said, scanning the casino before shrugging. "Zen vhere are zey, H.M.? Hmm? Hmmmm? Don't tell me zey are invisible, my young friend!"

"No, they're not invisible! They're around here somewhere... there's a robot, and a weather warlock, and a top-rated cockfighting champ -- ooh, and a super-strong dude who might be a clone of George W. Bush! Tell him, Angelina! Tell him!"

"It's true, Professor. They just appear to be late. The robot, however, is waiting outside by the cabstand."

"Now jou I can believe," said my old ally, slyly winking at my current squeeze. "Vell, I guess ve can give zem a few more min..."

"Stuff it, old-timer," said an eerily familiar voice behind me. "The only thing you're going to be giving is the sweet, sweet pleasure of watching you all die long, drawn-out, excruciatingly painful deaths -- and you'll be giving it all to me! All to daddy!! All to the pop-a-rooski!!!"

I swung around in a Haikung Fu fighting stance... only to find myself once more face-to-face with the vilest traitor in the venerable Cobra Kai Haiku Order's long history!

"That's right, shit for brains," he said, sneering. "It's me... the one and only Haikunestro!!!"


---CLICK HERE FOR 'THE HAIKU MASTER'S BIG VEGAS CAPER' PT. VI---

marino mania

Hut-Hut-Hike, 'ku believers! It's me, The Haiku Master, here to celebrate the biggest event of the year: once-and-future Miami Dolphins Quarterback Dan Marino's induction into the National Football League's Hall of Fame, taking place today, August 7, at 12:00 p.m. E.T.!!!

Dan Marino Quarterbacked The Miami Dolphins From 1983-2000, And Will Again In Valhalla

Being the Sultan of Syllables, I've written a haiku in honor of my close, personal friend's big day, and it goes something like this:

Thirteen on his chest
Foul mouth, rocket-launching arm
Danny's Canton-bound

There, that ought to coax a tear or two out of Ol' #13. But Haiku International's Marino Mania doesn't end there! We're also pleased to re-present the true details of an adventure Marino and I once shared, originally published on this site back on February 5; enjoy!

* * *

In The Haiku Master's experience, being "The Man" is almost always a bad thing. Who sends you bills? The Man. Who taxes your income? The Man. Who gets filthy rich while you never get enough? The Man. Who says it's illegal to fire off large caliber weapons in the privacy of one's apartment? The Man.

To which I say, "#%$@ The Man."

But Marino is one "The Man" with whom one does not want to #%$@.

I'll probably embarrass Danny by telling this story, but he and I once worked a case together. God, it was ages ago; 1988, I believe, and I was still but a Haiku Apprentice. Earth Command had asked the late Haiku Master Charles Bukowski (my sensei) and me -- along with Marino, Patty Hearst, Evel Knievel, and Chuck D -- to investigate a reported Nazi alien infestation on the Dark Side of the Moon.

Sure enough, Earth Command's suspicions were right on the nail. Seconds after our shuttle touched down on the moon's green cheese surface -- and having been there, I can assure you it is made of green cheese -- our hearty band of adventurers was confronted by a throng of goose-stepping, tentacled, interstellar foreigners!

The battle that ensued was mighty, and may have been my last had it not been for the strong arm and unerring accuracy of Marino. I fought well that day, my friends, and was finishing off one of the Nazi aliens with the Haikung Fu technique referred to as the Cleveland Steamer... but never noticed the alien Kapitän sneaking up behind me!

Fortunately, Marino did -- and rocketed a plutonium-core football at the bastard's head before it had time to remove my own with its plasma sword!

Needless to say, everyone in our group survived that bloody day, though the aliens did not. Which just goes to show: You don't tug on Superman's cape, you don't spit in the wind, you don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger, and you don't #%$@ around with Dan "The Man" Marino.

* * *

Thrilling stuff, huh? Well, you didn't think the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 was going to bust out something boring, did you? But enough jibber jabber -- time for me to fire up Castle Haiku's high-tech bank of Sony Trinitron plasma monitors before the gala spectacle begins. Sa-lute, Daniel Constantine Marino, Jr.! Sa-lute!

Best,

scientology is evil double-plus good

***
‘XENU AND ME,’ CHAPTER III

Greetings friends, it is I, The Haiku Master -- bringing you a dire warning about the insidious Church of Scientology! and man, am I ever happy!

The Haiku Master's Scientology Caseworker, Mr. Sunshine: A Lying Sack Of Scientolo-shit

As it turns out, Scientology isn't a the greatest church of at all time... it's some kind of weird cult! Shocking, I know -- but all too real!! This revelation came to me earlier today, during my "auditing" session with my "caseworker," Mr. Sunshine. There I was, strapped to the E-meter, clear of "engrams" and moving on to "OTIII" -- and down a cool 100 grand I could ill-afford -- when the Sultan of Syllables had a mighty load of bullshit deposited upon him! -- when I realized Scientology truly was the road to success!

"So you're telling me," I said, stunned by what Sunshine had just said, "that the big secret behind Scientology involves nuclear bombs, volcano prisons in Hawaii, disembodied spirits from outer space, and an intergalactic overlord named Xenu?!"

"Ah-ah-ah-ah -- H-bombs," Sunshine admonished. "But uh, yeah. Outside of that, you pretty much got it."

"You son of a bitch!" I growled, incensed. "I've given you people tens of thousands of dollars, plus the credibility of my official endorsement, and this is thanks you give me? The hogwashing of a lifetime?!"

"It's no hogwash," Sunshine assured me. "It's all gospel truth, as laid out by Commodore Hubbard himself. Furthermore, your reaction is quite common. Why, many of our members become distressed when they first..."

"When they first what? When they first realize they've been ripped off?" I spat, fuming. "Put up your dukes, you...you...you hornswaggler! I'm gonna knock your #%@$ing teeth out!!"

"Oh?" said Sunshine, giggling. "Well, you could do that."

"You're damn right I could!"

"Of course you could! Then again, some of our friends in the press could find out about your predilection for rough man-on-man sex! How about that?"

"Rough man-on-man... what the hell are you talking about? I don't even have fantasies about convincing female sex changes, much less actual dudes! Now put up your dukes!"

"What?" Sunshine gasped, flipping through the large Rolodex on his desk. "Oh, sorry, I was looking at Travolta's file. Ah, here we go -- then perhaps the press could find out about your predilection for whiskey and snack cakes!"

"Hate to burst your bubble, but those hobbies are already well publicized."

"Damn it! Well, what about that embarrassing brass knuckle arrest, hmm? Wouldn't want that getting out, now would you?"

"You mean the one I bragged about on Letterman?"

"Christ almighty! Do you keep nothing secret about your personal life?!"

"Just one small thing, you blackguard -- the secret of my Haikung Fu!" I lunged forward with the Cobra Kai technique referred to as Miss Mary Mack, driven by the righteous fury of an enlightened mark! Sunshine proved to be no match, and was soon dangling out his office window, my hands 'round his sweaty ankles!

"Alright, Sunshine, here's a new belief system for you: either I get my money back, or you become street pizza du jour!" Sunshine gave up the combination to his office safe, and I was shortly on my way with every stolen cent accounted for... plus a little something extra for my grief!

So that's that as far as the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 and Scientology go, and not a moment too soon! It's just as well, for I've never been a fan of religion. Or opiates for that matter. But that's not the point. The point is, there's no organization on earth that can absorb me -- The Haiku Master!

Plus, Scientology taught me how to grow awesome metal skin, making me a better crimefighter than ever before! Isn't that Hubbard-iffic?!

The Haiku Master's Cool New Look Is All Thanks To The Church Of Scientology

Alrighty for now, rhyme fans! Time for the one true Hero of Haiku to hit the books! Be sure to visit www.scientology.org to learn more about this great religion!

---CLICK HERE FOR 'XENU AND ME' PT. IV---

drunk in the heart of texas, pt. VI

***
CHAPTER VI

Upon our return to the Stuart Beach Inn, Rudy, Sanchez, Jesus, and myself decided to bust into a high stakes card game.

"¿Eh...usted tiene dos?" said Jesus, speaking to me.

"What did he say?" I asked Rudy. "What did he say?!"

"He asked if you have any twos, señor," Rudy answered.

"Whew," I said, wiping my brow in relief. "In that case, you can tell him to 'Go Fish.'"

"Usted va a pescar, Jesús," said Rudy.

"Mierda," Jesus sighed, adding more cards to his already sizeable hand. "No otra vez."

Suddenly, the door burst open, whacking Jesus on the back and causing cards to fly everywhere! I jumped up in a Haikung Fu fighting stance, but there would be no need for violence -- for walking into the room were Texas Kelly, Paulo, and Dubya, looking no worse for the wear after their Muffin Man hunting expedition!

As it turned out, they'd been unable to track down M.M., and had instead relieved their frustration by shooting up an old boat and a plastic nativity scene Baby Jesus, the latter of which can be seen here:

Texas Kelly, Paulo, And Dubya Didn't Find The Muffin Man, But They Did Shoot Up This Plastic Baby Jesus

"Ha ha, Jesús," said Paulo to MoM's Jesus, while pointing at the plastic Baby Jesus. "We shot you up beuno, hombre!"

"Well, I suppose that's for the best," I offered. "I mean the part about you not killing the Muffin Man, not the whole Baby Jesus thing. After all, we don't need murder charges interfering with Masters of Mariachi's Sixsew domination now, do we?"

"Gawdammit!" T.K. hollered. "I already told you, man -- it's 'South by Southwest!' Not 'Sixsew!' Now stop #%@$ing around!!"

"Oh, right," I said, cowed. "Sorry."

"Judas Priest!" he said. "You guys get me so worked up I almost forgot the good news: I got you another gig, right here in Hyde Park tomorrow morning."

"Really?"

"Damn right. Over at the Fresh-Plus -- something to do with some kind of Latino advertising promotion or such shit. Still, should be good exposure."

"Well allllllllllllll riiiiiight!!!" I shouted, giving a cool Fonzie-esque double thumbs-up. "Let's celebrate; dinner's on me! I could go for some local fare..."

That said, we climbed aboard the official MoM tour bus, speed demon Dubya once again at the wheel. As we pulled out of the hotel parking lot, though, tragedy struck -- we were swarmed by a mob of groupies from an all-girl academy for the mentally challenged! Whipped into a lust-feuled frenzy, they howled in frustration as they tore at our ride, shaking it back and forth savagely!

Finally, Texas Kelly could take no more, and leaned out a window with his trusty Taser in hand! After three long blasts, the crowd began to disperse.

This Overzealous Fan And Her Companions Nearly Tore The Official MoM Tour Bus Asunder

"We're clear, Dubya!" Kelly shouted. "Floor it!"

Floor it Dubya did, scattering the remaining girls as we barreled out of the lot.

"Whew, that was close," said Kelly, holstering the Taser. "You guys are heating up like a match on an oil slick! Hot damn!"

Indeed we were... and as subsequent chapters will reveal, it was that selfsame wildfire popularity that would eventually tear our merry band apart!!!

---CLICK HERE FOR 'DRUNK IN THE HEART OF TEXAS' PT. VII---

drunk in the heart of texas, pt. V

***
CHAPTER V

Things looked bleak. The Muffin Man was swinging his meat cleaver wildly, and the only thing standing between him and my bandmates' certain death was my battle-hardened Haikung Fu! I leapt into a fighting stance, ready to deliver a devastating technique known as the Purple Nurple... when the Muffin Man was tackled by Texas Kelly's henchman, Dubya!

Dubya

"Bring it on!" the bearded giant roared. He knocked the Muffin Man to the pavement, causing his pudgy foe to lose his grip on the meat cleaver. "Bring! It! On!"

"Aiyeeeeee!!!" the Muffin Man gasped, squirming out of Dubya's grasp. "You cheap #%@$ers! You haven't seen the last of me! You haven't! No sir, you sure haven't! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Hoo hoo! Pbbbbbbt!"

With that, he was gone, beating feet down the hot Wal-Mart parking lot.

"Good riddance to that freak," I said, just as Texas Kelly arrived on the scene.

"What in the hell's going on here?" he asked.

"Terrorist," Dubya said. "Me take the fight to him."

"Some cat calling himself the Muffin Man," I added. "Know him?"

"Know him? Do I ever!" said T.K. "I can't believe that sonuvabitch was messing with you guys -- I told him to stay away from my bands, confound it!"

Our manager took his hat off, and threw it to the ground in frustration. "Dammit!" he shouted. "Now he made me get my hat dirty!" He stooped down, picked the hat up, dusted it off, and put it back on his head.

"That's it -- I'm killing that cheap bastard this time!"

T.K. stormed over to the bus, went in, and came out with his trusty "peacemaker" -- a K-Mart brand .22 rifle!

"Dubya, Paulo! You're with me -- Dubya, go find us a taxi!" he commanded. "H.M., you take the rest of the boys back to the hotel and wait for us there!"

"Well, uh, whoa! You mean, you're really going to kill him? Like, you know, kill him? Dead?"

"Do I look like I'm foolin', boy?!" T.K. howled. "Now get on outta here!"

From Left: Paulo, Texas Kelly, And Dubya Go A-Huntin' The Muffin Man

Though the Sultan of Syllables is morally opposed to cold-blooded murder, he has an even stricter policy against arguing with angry gun-toting people. As a result, Rudy, Sanchez, Jesus, and I were soon hightailing it back to the Stuart Beach Inn... but not before stopping off for a lukewarm case of Tecate: The Official Cerveza of Paulo, Agent of Haiku!

Tecate: The Only Cerveza Endorsed By Paulo, Agent Of Haiku

It was many hours before we saw the other three, but that sweet, sweet cerveza really made the time fly while we were waiting. Ask for it by name!

---CLICK HERE FOR 'DRUNK IN THE HEART OF TEXAS' PT. VI---

world of the dogs, pt. II

***
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---

one if bin laden, two if haiku, pt. IV

***
CHAPTER IV

I was still reeling from the discovery of another haiku-powered crimefighter, but there was no time to dwell on it -- if we didn't act now, Osama bin Laden would soon have his picture on every cup of coffee sold in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area!

Despite Being Driven Out Of Purgatory Coffee, Osama Bin Laden Clung To His Twisted Plan Of Coffee House Domination

In a solid display of lightning-quick thinking, my new ally had thrown a self-attaching sensor onto bin Laden's back when he and his bacon-covered posse fled Purgatory Coffee. Using H.G.'s sophisticated computer equipment, we soon had him pinpointed at a deserted warehouse in downtown Minneapolis...but what good was I going to be against a crew that had soundly defeated me in our first go-round?

"I just don't know how we're going to stop him, Haiku Girl!" I said. "You saw what happened at the coffee shop; my Haikung Fu is no match for that bizarre 'camel fu' used by bin Laden and his boys!"

"No sweat!" she said, holding up two fistfuls of greasy raw bacon. "Or did you forget that bacon's like vampire garlic for Islamic fundamentalists?"

"Oh yeah! Bacon..."

"Besides which," she added, "this funky ring of mine gives me all sorts of magic powers. Got it from a haiku-addicted fairy named Aldolpholus P. Funpockets."

"Good show, H.G. -- I like the cut of your jib! What would you say to a job as my sidekick?"

"Mmm, I don't know. What's the pay?"

"We'll discuss that later. Right now, we've got a super-villain to catch! Quick! To the...er. Do you have a sweet ride? I left the Blue Raja back in Baltimore."

"Of course I have a sweet ride -- I'm a professional crimefighter! Let's go!"

"Great. But I'm driving!"

"All right..." Then, to Kuey the Giant Intelligent Crimefighting Pigeon: "Kuey, stay here and watch the house! I'll be back soon!"

So off we went, and in short order arrived at our destination! According to H.G.'s laptop, bin Laden was still inside...which meant it was time for us to kick out the jams!!!

---CLICK HERE FOR 'ONE IF BIN LADEN, TWO IF HAIKU' PT. V---

one if bin laden, two if haiku, pt. II

***
CHAPTER II

After bin Laden issued his challenge, the store's clerk, Heather, did the wise thing and ducked below the counter for safety. Purgatory's other patrons took similar actions...but such easy roads are not traveled by the one true Sultan of Syllables!

My heart was beating like an alligator as I turned to face the OBL posse. "All right, bin Laden! You want a fight? You got one! Prepare to face...my Deadly Hands of Haikung Fu!!!"

I leapt forward with the feared Cobra Kai technique referred to as the Kirk Foot Lunge, but soon realized I was hopelessly outmatched! These wiry bastards employed some kind of bizarre "camel fu" I'd not previously encountered, and had no problem in landing one hump-like blow after another on my increasingly sore noggin!

Within minutes, they had beaten me to the ground! Me -- The Haiku Master! Can you believe it? 'Cause I still can't! But there I was, blood pouring from my nose, my ascot astray...and bin Laden pointing his Afghan war revolver straight at my face!!

"Give thanks and praise, you cabbage-headed infidel!" bin Laden said. "For now, I send you to whatever paradise you believe--"

"HAIKU-YA!!!" cried a new voice.

I can't properly describe what happened next, loyal readers. I saw a blur of pink, and a galosh-wearing foot kicked the gun from bin Laden's hand! Then, more bacon than I've ever seen began to fly through the air -- fat, greasy slices of uncooked ham, cascading down on the heads and shoulders of the OBL posse!

Bacon Is To Islamic Fundamentalists As Garlic Is To Vampires

"Sweet Mother of Mohammed!" one of them shouted.

"The infidels have cursed us!" spat another, who looked suspiciously like Sesame Street's Bert.

"Gah!" said bin Laden in disgust. "We are unclean! Unclean! Quickly, we must retreat -- to the bin Laden-mobile!"

Kevin Bacon, On The Other Hand, Pisses Off Fundamentalists Of All Faiths With That Sinful Footloose Dancing Of His

Just like that, bin Laden and his men were gone, giving me a chance to get a good look at my rescuer -- and it was a she!

This valkyrie was wearing a sassy pink top with "HG" emblazoned across the front, a fuzzy white cape and matching mask, black leather skirt, and the most stupendous galoshes I'd ever seen. Her fabulous outfit was topped off by a pair of perky pigtails and pink, Audrey Hepburn-style sunglasses. She moved towards me with a worried look on her face, and I noticed an incredibly funky ring flashing on her right hand.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

I never got the chance to answer, for at that point my world went black.

Which is a fancy way of saying, "me went nappy-time." In case you were confused.

---CLICK HERE FOR 'ONE IF BIN LADEN, TWO IF HAIKU' PT. III---

old man winter must die

Face front, 'ku believers! Do it now! Pronto! I, The Haiku Master, am in no mood for tomfoolery tonight! For I've spent the whole day battling Old Man Winter -- and I'm not speaking figuratively!

Old Man Winter Demonstrates His Deadly Sub-Zero Breath

He woke me early this morning, apparently using the spare key from 'neath my welcome mat to gain entrance to my top secret base of operations. Once inside, he started to cause a real ruckus: throwing my records around, knocking over an end table, even upturning the trashcan!

Fortunately, my advanced Haiku Master hearing works even in repose, and I pounced from my bed in a powerful fighting stance! Rushing into the hallway, I saw O.M.W. flee into the kitchen, and chased him down like the rat he was!

"Hello, H.M.," he said smugly, helping himself to a fresh box of Samoans. "Don't mind if I just...chill out here? Do you?"

I'd heard enough. "Why you frostbitten old fraud!" I bellowed. "What's the big idea, busting into my place at eleven-thirty and making a mess? I'll make you fill your Depends for this effrontery!"

"That's it, momma's boy!" he cried, dumping the Samoans onto the kitchen floor. "It is on!"

On it was, the two of us going at it like a couple of brain-damaged billygoats: O.M.W.'s witchy winter powers against my Cobra Kai Haikung Fu! We fought tooth and nail for six straight hours, and finally, with my last bit of strength, I sent my opponent flying out the front door with a well-placed Crane Kick to the ass!

"And don't come back, you dog!" I added for good measure.

As I watched Old Man Winter scurry down the street, I knew in my heart of hearts he'd return, and would eventually have to be dealt with in a more permanent manner. But that will have to wait for another time...for my sources tell me that the world's leading super-villain, Osama bin Laden himself, has been spotted in Minneapolis, MN!

The Sultan of Syllables has been tracking that creep for a long time, friends, and it looks like I'll finally get my chance to bring him to justice! Plus, it'll give me a chance to check up on these juicy tabloid rumors about a City of Lakes-based crimefighter who's been using the moniker "Haiku Girl."

If nothing else, I understand you can get a world-class cup of java at Purgatory Coffee. We'll see!

Best,

final hunt for the pygmy gorilla, pt. VI

***
CHAPTER VI

The R.A.H. Squadron made their move, storming the building with manic shouts of "Yo Joe!" But we seven -- myself, Joe, The Commando, Air Adventurer, Sea Adventurer, Man of Action, and Mike Power a.k.a. The Amazing Atomic Man -- were ready for them, having reaffirmed our belief in that fair notion of "all for one, and one for all!"

We gathered in the center of the briefing room in a star-shaped defensive formation so as to best strike at our enemies with our combined arsenal of kung fu, Haikung Fu, big frikkin' guns, and the like.

In the flash of an eye, the R.A.H.ers were on us, swarming like roaches. There were dozens of them, wearing gaudy uniforms emblazoned with goofy sounding names such as "Beachhead," "Nunchuk," "Wild Bill," "Shipwreck," "Big Ben," "Sergeant Slaughter," etcetera.

I will not lie to you -- the battle that ensued was glorious, a veritable cacophony of blood, guts, and brains that sent many a warrior soul to Valhalla. Better still, the Adventure Team suffered no casualties... as the R.A.H.ers proved to be the worst shots since Hinckley! Seemingly incapable of controlling their weapons, their bullets flew harmlessly over our heads, making it that much easier to mow them down like the dogs they were.

With his platoon all but gone, the R.A.H. leader soon found himself face-to-face with Joe, who was threatening him with a bloodstained knife!

"I'm warning you, stand back!" the leader said nervously. "Stand back or I'll shoot!"

"Go ahead, Duke, do your worst," said Joe.

The R.A.H. leader fired -- and as expected, the bullet sailed right over Joe's head! Joe struck, gutting Duke like a fish!

"That," Joe grunted, forcefully pulling his knife from Duke's gizzard, "is for telling people I don't exist, you 3 3/4" plastic turd!"

Duke slid to the floor, and the fight was finished -- another day saved by the one and only Adventure Team.

R.A.H.ers Like This Joker Made A Huge Tactical Error In Tussling With The Adventure Team

"God-damn, that felt good!" huffed The Commando, who had stripped off his shirt and was drenched in R.A.H. blood. "Those little wimps had that coming for a lo-o-o-o-o-ng time!"

"Tell me about it!" said Mike Power. "It was a real treat to flex my amazing atomic arm... around some Real American necks!"

"Yeah," agreed Air Adventurer. "We'll probably have to go on the lam as fugitives from justice, A-Team style, but damn if it wasn't worth it!"

"A-Team style...," Joe teased, "...or Adventure Team style, eh? Eh?"

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" asked Man of Action.

"I don't know," said Joe. "But if you think I'm saying we should get a heavily armed motor home and criscross the world in search of... adventure... then, yeah. That's exactly what I'm saying. Now who's with me, Adventure Team? All for one and..."

"...ONE FOR ALL!!!" everyone else shouted, throwing their hands on top of Joe's. Everyone, that is, except yours truly.

"Uh, sorry guys," I said. "It was great seeing you all again, but I really should be going. Got a, uh, dentist appointment next Tuesday that I can't miss."

"Well no offense, but who asked you?" said Joe. "For that matter, who are you?"

"Who am I?" I asked, surprised. "I'm The Haiku Master! Remember? You asked me to come help you fight the pygmy gorilla!?"

"Haiku Master?" muttered Man of Action. "I don't remember a Haiku Master... I remember The Astronaut. Did he write haikus?"

"Did he write haiku," I corrected.

"Oh, now I recognize you," said Joe. "You're Chuck Bukowski's sidekick, Wart. Right? I didn't know Chuck was here -- where is that old son of a gun?"

"No! Chu... Sensei Bukowski died years ago, and the whole Cobra Kai Haiku Order was annihilated shortly thereafter. I'm the one and only Haiku Master these days."

The Late Haiku Master Charles Bukowski (1920-1994) Briefly Served With The Adventure Team In The 1970s, But Never Rated An Action Figure

"Oh, sorry about that. I'm an old man, and get easily confused," Joe offered.

"That's alright..."

At that precise moment, who should walk in but Emmanuel Lewis himself. True to Joe's word, he was wearing a pygmy gorilla suit, but held the heavy head mask in his tiny little hands.

"Sweet Mother of Moses!" he squeaked. "I've been sitting in that jungle for six hours now, Joe, and I won't take no more! Now pay up -- I'm out of here!"

And oh, how we laughed.

***
EPILOGUE

With that, the Adventure Team was off -- presumably to purchase a heavily armed motor home. As for myself, I returned to my top secret base of operations in the Baltimore suburbs to fight crime, write haiku, and reflect on my latest adventure. Or maybe re-read the first new issue of Grimjack for the seventh time and take a nap. One or the other.

When I finally got back, though, my phone was ringing off the hook; seemed the neighbor's dog had gotten itself stuck in a tree again. Ah, well! Rest is always at arm's reach when you're me... The Haiku Master!

final hunt for the pygmy gorilla, pt. III

***
CHAPTER III

Power and I walked in silence to the Adventure Team jeep parked outside. He took the wheel... but not before telling yours truly to don a silk blindfold!

"I'm not a kid sidekick anymore, Power." I snarled. "I'm not covering my eyes this time."

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," he said. "This was Joe's idea, not mine."

"Jesus, fine! Give me the damn blindfold!"

As I tied the cloth 'round my face, Power gunned the jeep's engine and sped out of the airport parking lot. We drove for what seemed an eternity down roads with more bumps than all the nightclub bathrooms in Manhattan combined.

The Official Adventure Team Jeep

"I don't remember it taking this long the last time I was here," I muttered after hour three.

"The bridge is out," Power replied. "Had to take a detour. What's the matter, is your non-atomic bladder in need of a restroom?"

"No. Just feels like my ass is about to fall off, that's all."

"Heh-heh. Yeah, with a road this rocky, I'd probably feel the same way... had I not built a fantastic new atomic ass for myself a few years back! Maybe you should look into getting one."

"Maybe I will."

Finally, when I thought I could take no more, the jeep rolled to a stop. "All right, you crybaby, we're here," Power said. "Now get your gear and let's--"

"What in the name of all for one and one for all took you two so long?" barked a gruff voice.

I pulled off my blindfold and saw "Ol' Eagle Eyes" himself marching straight towards us. He was older, balder, and grayer to be sure, but it was definitely Joe.

"I expected you back hours ago, Power!," he shouted.

He May Be Past His Prime, But The Fabled Leader Of The Adventure Team Can Still Kung Fu Grip With The Best Of Them

"Sorry, Joe," Power answered. "The uh, bridge was out. Had to uh, take a detour..."

"Bridge? What bridge? What in the Sam Hill are you talking about, man? And why was H.M. blindfolded?"

"I, uh..."

"I knew it!" I fumed, winding up to deliver a devastating technique known as the Rusty Trumpet. "I knew you were #%$@ing with me, you self-loathing cyborg freak! Now I'm going to Haikung Fu those amazing atomic limbs of yours right down your amazing atomic pie hole!"

"Boy, boys!" Joe shouted, throwing himself between me and Power. "We can't let personal differences get in the way of our mission! Save it for our target: the pygmy gorilla. The filthy, evil pygmy gorilla!"

"All right, all right," I said, standing down. "But when this is done, Power, you and I are going to have words. And believe you me, you can count to the bank on that promise!"

With that, I snapped my fingers under Power's nose, then turned to follow Joe into Headquarters.

---CLICK HERE FOR 'FINAL HUNT FOR THE PYGMY GORILLA' PT. IV---

final hunt for the pygmy gorilla, pt. II

***
CHAPTER II

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are now making our final descent into Changi Airport."

This was the captain of the plane that was ferrying me, The Haiku Master, into Singapore, bellowing over the loudspeaker into the cramped coach section.

"At this time, we ask that you extinguish all smoking materials, fasten your seatbelts, and return your seatbacks and trays to the upright position."

Ah, Singapore. Despite its world-class slings, I never envisioned myself returning to this backwater burg... but then, I never expected to be contacted by the long-thought-dead field commander of the covert organization known only as the Adventure Team, either! And this man, Joe, had all but ordered me to report to Adventure Team headquarters, hidden deep in the jungles outside of town.

As I breezed through customs, though, I came to realize I had no clear idea as to the exact location of the AT HQ! The only other time I'd visited that fabled site was during my arduous Haiku Apprentice years, and Joe had insisted that my then-sensei, dearly departed Haiku Master Charles Bukowski, blindfold me for our journey to the base. How was I to find it now?

"Need a ride?" a coldly robotic voice asked from behind me. Whirling around in a Haikung Fu fighting stance, I found myself face-to-face with yet another blast from the past: Major Mike Power, the Amazing Atomic Man!

"Long time no see, eh Wart?" he said, thrusting his bizarre robotic right hand at me for a shake.

"Indeed, Mike," I replied. "But they don't call me Wart anymore; these days, I'm the one, true Haiku Master."

Major Mike Power, The Amazing Atomic Man, Was Good Enough To Meet The Haiku Master At Singapore's Changi Airport

"Well isn't that fancy," he said. "Maybe we should see how your much-vaunted haiku does... against my amazing atomic powers!"

"God, all this time and you still reek of insecurity!" I said. "Aren't you ever going to get over being born handicapped? Who pulls your strings, man?"

"I may have been born with disabled limbs, but having spent my entire life creating fantastic new atomic parts for my body, I've no doubt I'm more than a match for you, boy! Now grab your bags and let's go -- the commander's waiting!"

And so we went... but if Power didn't watch himself, he'd soon discover just how dangerous it was to mess with a certified Master of Haiku!

---CLICK HERE FOR 'FINAL HUNT FOR THE PYGMY GORILLA' PT. III---

memories of marino

Hear, hear! After a year spent foolishly backpedaling away from the sex and violence it sells so well, the National Football League regained a modicum of respect with today's very wise decision to elect the greatest quarterback to ever play the game, Dan "The Man" Marino, into its Hall of Fame (link goes to Bloomberg.com).

Dan Marino Quarterbacked The Miami Dolphins From 1983-2000, And Will Again In Valhalla

In The Haiku Master's experience, being "The Man" is almost always a bad thing. Who sends you bills? The Man. Who taxes your income? The Man. Who gets filthy rich while you never get enough? The Man. Who says it's illegal to fire off large caliber weapons in the privacy of one's apartment? The Man.

To which I say, "#%$@ The Man."

But Marino is one "The Man" with whom one does not want to #%$@.

I'll probably embarrass Danny by telling this story, but he and I once worked a case together. God, it was ages ago; 1988, I believe, and I was still but a Haiku Apprentice. Earth Command had asked the late Haiku Master Charles Bukowski (my sensei) and me -- along with Marino, Patty Hearst, Evel Knievel, and Chuck D -- to investigate a reported Nazi alien infestation on the Dark Side of the Moon.

Sure enough, Earth Command's suspicions were right on the nail. Seconds after our shuttle touched down on the moon's green cheese surface -- and having been there, I can assure you it is made of green cheese -- our hearty band of adventurers was confronted by a throng of goose-stepping, tentacled, interstellar foreigners!

The battle that ensued was mighty, and may have been my last had it not been for the strong arm and unerring accuracy of Marino. I fought well that day, my friends, and was finishing off one of the Nazi aliens with the Haikung Fu technique referred to as the Cleveland Steamer...but never noticed the alien Kapitän sneaking up behind me!

Fortunately, Marino did -- and rocketed a plutonium-core football at the bastard's head before it had time to remove my own with its plasma sword!

Talentless Hack Jim Carrey Once Got To Make A Movie With Marino

Needless to say, everyone in our group survived that bloody day, though the aliens did not. Which just goes to show: You don't tug on Superman's cape, you don't spit in the wind, you don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger, and you don't #%$@ around with Dan "The Man" Marino.

Best,

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---

journey into mexico, pt. IV

***
CHAPTER IV

"Hey senór," Paulo said, as we passed unnoticed through the backstage doors. "I gotta use el cuarto de baño... ah, a bathroom."

"Not now, Paulo," I said. "They'll be here any second. Quick -- behind these boxes!"

Paulo and I took cover in the darkened hallway outside El Diablo's dressing room, waiting patiently for our prey to arrive. Within moments, my advanced Haiku Master hearing detected movement! I pounced like a jungle cat, making a diving tackle to bring down one of El Diablo's henchmen!

"Senór, what are you doing? Is me! Paulo!"

Peering closely at the face beneath me, I realized it was in fact my boon companion.

"Oh! Sorry about that, Paulo," I said, embarrassed. "Thought you were one of El Diablo's boys."

"No. Is me, Paulo. Now let me up. I told you, I have to use el cuarto de baño!"

"First of all, there's no time for a quart of anything. Second of all, it's pronounced 'ban-jo.' Now stop messing around!"

"¡Hey! ¿Quiénes son usted? ¿Qué usted está haciendo aquí?"

Uh oh, now we were in for it. El Diablo's gang had snuck up behind us while we were arguing! We were surrounded before I could even think about busting out some Haikung Fu, and soon found myself on the receiving end of the lead trainer's wagging finger. Behind him, another man cradled El Diablo in his arms -- El Diablo, the chicken* with bones of steel!

"¿Qué usted está haciendo?," the ringleader asked. "¿Le tienen sexo? ¡Eso es enfermo!"

"What's he saying, Paulo?" I whispered.

"You don't want to know, senór," he replied.

Behind me, the door to El Diablo's dressing room opened with a creak.

"Don't worry," I heard someone say. "If that's who I think it is, he's probably still a virgin."

"I know that voice..." I said. Indeed, how could I forget it? Could Batman forget The Joker's? Could Spider-Man forget the Green Goblin's? Could Green Lan...

Actually, let's skip that last one and cut to the chase. Long story short, the voice belonged to the vilest traitor in the history of the venerable Cobra Kai Haiku Order.

"That's right, doofus," he said. "It's me -- Haikunestro!"

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

---------------------------------------------------------
* Is no chicken, senórs y senóritas. Is cock.--Paulo

journey into mexico, pt. I

Click For Larger Image

***
CHAPTER I

So it was that I, The Haiku Master, found myself in Mexico following a battle with nine crazed limerickists. Injured and penniless, I had no choice but to travel the long, dangerous road back to my country, with nothing but my battle-hardened Haikung Fu to stave off any troublemakers who dared cross my path.

Mexico

As you may recall, I had awakened from a two-week black out, only to find myself buying a round of drinks in a Mexican cantina. Unfortunately for me, my new friends and the bartender, my pockets proved to be completely empty when it came time to pay the bill; a situation referred to by the locals as "sans dinero."

In a tight spot, I offered to parlay my mad haiku skillz into payment, but the bartender wasn’t having it. Nor would he accept the fine necklace of limerickist ears wound 'round my neck.

“No,” he said, rudely poking a pudgy finger into my chest. “Usted debe pagar con el dinero.”

“No hablo español,” I countered.

He sized me up, then nodded to one of his henchmen.

“Paulo,” he said. “Diga a hombre que él debe pagar con el dinero.”

“Senór,” the henchman, Paulo, said. “My boss says you must pay with money.”

The Haiku Master's Mexican Guide, Paulo

The jig was up. No hope left but to try my order’s most trusted secret -- the Haiku Master Mind Trick.

“Take me to Jabba...” I said, wiggling my fingers in front of the henchman’s face.

Paulo’s eyes glazed over. Spittle began to drool from the corner of his mouth. “I will take you to Jabba,” he said.

“...You serve your master so well...”

“I serve my master so well.”

“...You will get a raise.”

“I will get a raise.”

“I must be allowed to pay with haiku,” I said, this time to the bartender.

“He must be allowed to pay with haiku,” Paulo said, imploring his boss to be reasonable.

The bartender had heard enough, and slapped his servant hard across the face. “¡Usted es un tonto con una mente débil!” he screeched. “¡Él está utilizando uno viejos trucos de los mentos de los Amos del Haiku!”

Clearly, the language barrier was preventing my Haiku Master Mind Trick from working on the bartender, which meant it was time to fall back on the Cobra Kai Temple's weapon of last resort: good old-fashioned violence.

Twenty minutes later, Paulo and I stumbled forth from the smoking ruins of what had been a pretty choice cantina. We headed north into the night.

An Uncharitable Cantina Owner Is Forced To Ponder His Next Step Following An Ill-Fated Visit From The Haiku Master

“But senór,” Paulo said as we walked. “I still have one question.”

“Yes, grasshopper,” I replied graciously.

“Who is this Jabba? Why must I take you to Jabba?"

"That’s not important," I said. "What is important is my ravenous hunger. So, first thing’s first -- we need to track down some dinner."

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