getting the band back together is proving difficult

Come on in, kids. It's your old friend, The Haiku Master, but I'm feeling a little glum... 'cause I'm having very little luck getting firm commitments to future adventures from formerly staunch Haiku International agents and associates!

I know, I can hardly believe it myself! The nerve of those bums -- now I know how Jesus felt in the garden of Gethsemane! At any rate, here's a run-down of what some of the more notable ones say they're too busy doing to help me out if I find myself in a pinch:

• Paulo: Running a cockfighting academy in Pescados Muertos, Mexico. Think Han's island in Enter the Dragon, only replace "Han" with "Paulo," "island" with "bombed-out Mexican village," and "kung fu" with "cockfighting," and you'll get the idea.

• Professor de la Groove: Doing tantric research aboard the International Space Station, along with some call girls and his assistants Ralphus and Malphus. Not scheduled to return to Earth until mid-2007.


Ralphus







Malphus







• Texas Kelly: Managing an up-and-coming "boy band" down in Austin, TX, with the help of his longtime sidekick/Bizarro Bush clone, Dubya. He says the band, Young Taint, has superstardom in their grasp, and he can't leave them alone at this juncture without fear of some other manager stealing them away.

Dubya







• Angelina Jolie: Bitch shacked up with Brad Pitt, in case you hadn't heard. Pitt can have my sloppy seconds for all I care -- I've got my eye on Scarlett Johansson these days, anyway. Besides, I've never viewed a houseful of adopted street urchins as desireable.

So there you have it. Good thing the Haiku-Bot and new H.I. operative Brother Ko are onhand to get my back if things get hairy. Ooh, not to mention the Haiku Street Irregulars. I wonder what those scamps are up to, anyway? Guess I'll leave a bottle of hooch out by the trash cans and see how many show up. Those kids sure love their liquor.

Best,

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

* * *
CHAPTER II

Having received my marching orders from Professor de la Groove, I set about assembling the crack team of skilled professionals we were after... an act that would require more than a little pride-swallowing on my part! Why? Because you can't spell "professional" without the letters "p," "o," "a," and "l" -- all of which can be found in the name of one of Mexico's greatest adventurers, and my onetime sidekick, Paulo!

Paulo: Agent Of Haiku

Unfortunately, Paulo and I were no longer on the best of terms, having parted ways earlier this year after he and our band, Masters of Mariachi, betrayed yours truly in Austin. (Ed. Note: See "Drunk in the Heart of Texas" for details.) Still, given Paulo's wide range of talents, I knew we had to have him if this mission was going to be a success.

"Ésta es casa de Paulo," he said in a language I didn't recognize when I finally got him on the phone. "¿Qué usted desea?"

"Paulo old sport! It's me, The Haiku Master!"

"¿Quién?"

"No, not the Queen -- The Haiku Master! You know, the Hombre muy Extraño? Now turn off the gibberish and turn on the English, son!"

"Oh, you. Well, uh, so what do you want?"

"I want what you want, friend!"

Silence. And then: "Tacos?"

"No! Danger! Excitement! Adventure! Bad craziness!!! That's what kindred souls like us want!"

"Oh. I think maybe you have the wrong number, señor."

"Wrong number?! Why you little rascal! This is about what happened last spring, isn't it?"

"No... Why? What happened last spring?"

"What happened last--?! Are you kidding me? You don't remember Sixsew? When you and MoM kicked me out of the band? And the subsequent unleashing of my infamous Haiku Master Beserker Rage, which undoubtedly landed all of you in traction for a few months or more? Is any of this ringing a bell?"

"Sí. All except the last part. You didn't hit us, señor. You just got mad, smashed two of Sanchez's guitars, then ran off screaming and waving your arms."

"Waving my... Huh. Well I'll be. Then you're not mad at me?"

"No, not me. Sanchez is though."

"Oh. I guess I can understand that. But why'd you say I had the wrong number if you're not mad?"

"Because I don't want those things you was talking about, Hombre muy Extraño. I just want some tacos."

"What about later?"

"You mean after tacos?"

"Yeah, after tacos."

"I don't know. Maybe I will take siesta?"

"A party?"

"No señor, that's fiesta."

"Then what the hell's a siesta?"

"A nap."

Doctor Who Owned The TARDIS, And Even He Didn't Spend As Much Time Talking On The Phone As The Haiku Master Has In This So-Called Adventure -- Ed.

"What the--?! For Pete's sake! What kind of crazy, mixed-up culture uses synonyms for its words for 'nap' and 'party'?!?"

"Sí, well, I'd love to say this was fun señor, but it wasn't. And I still want tacos."

Clearly, hope was fading fast... which meant it was time for the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 to fall back on the convincing power of a little white lie!

"Wait wait wait, Paulo -- listen to me! Remember who we fought on our first case together?"

"Sí, El Diablo. The cock with bones of steel."

"No, not the chicken. The chicken's owner, remember him?"

"If I tell you once, señor, I tell you a million times: is no chicken, is cock!"

"Look, I didn't call to argue semantics! Do you remember the owner, Haikunestro!?"

(Ed. Note: This time, see "Journey Into Mexico" for details.)

"Sí. What of him?"

"He's back, Paulo -- and this time, he's training an army of robot fighting chickens at his top secret base of operations in Las Vegas!"

"No!" Paulo gasped. "This cannot be! He'll drive all the honest cockfighters out of business! Gah -- like my cousin, Pepe!"

"Indeed he will, old friend... unless we stop him first! Now: are you with me?!?"

"¡Sí, Hombre muy Extraño, sí! No matter the cost, you can count on Paulo to help you with this!"

And just like that, Paulo was on board. With him secured, getting the rest of my prospective targets proved to be a breeze... though the mission awaiting us would be anything but!

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

one bad penny

Hi folks. It's me, The Haiku Master, and do I ever have some bad news -- my arch-enemy, Haikunestro, is on the loose after a daring daylight escape from a Mexican prison!*

The Haiku Master's Arch-Enemy, Haikunestro

That's right! The vilest traitor in the history of the venerable Cobra Kai Haiku Order, free to wreak havoc once more! Who knows what kind of dirty tricks he'll be up to next? Selling drugs to choir boys? Running an Amish prostitution ring?! Joining Bush, Jr.'s cabinet!?! The sky's the limit for a criminal mastermind like Haikunestro!!

Obviously, we at Haiku International will be on "Code Red" until this fiend is back behind bars. If you see him, don't try to apprehend him on your own -- he is, after all, a super-villain. Just drop me a line at thehaikumaster@earthlink.com, and the Pharaoh of 5-7-5'll take care of the rest.

Best,


----------------------
* See "Journey into Mexico" for the reasons behind Haikunestro's latest incarceration.

anyone know a good florida-based attorney?

Click For Larger Image

***
‘FREE PAULO,’ CHAPTER I

Ooooh boy. Hi friends. It's me, The Haiku Master, and there is an extreme cloud of guilt hanging o'er my brow tonight.

As longtime fans and anyone who watches the evening news will remember, I undertook an epic journey through darkest Mexico back in early February. While there, I made a new ally in a local cockfighting* expert by the name of Paulo; a swarthy fellow of few words who now serves as one of my most trusted agents.

Paulo, Agent Of Haiku

Thanks to Paulo, my time in that savage land included three weeks on its championship cockfighting circuit -- an eye-opening experience, to say the least. After witnessing firsthand the tequila-esque popularity enjoyed by the Sport of Kings in Mexico, I decided it was high time to introduce that beloved pastime to my own country.

Unfortunately, it would appear The Man beat me to it, as cockfighting is currently outlawed in forty-eight states. Forty-eight!

Undaunted, I had my attorney, Johnnie Cochran, draft the necessary paperwork to bring the Confederation of Championship Cockfighting Professionals - United States into legal existence. One phone call to Paulo later and the CCCP-US had its first Commissioner, who quickly went about setting up franchises in Louisiana and New Mexico.

This Ad Was Part Of A Full-Scale Media Blitz Announcing The Arrival Of The CCCP-US In New Mexico And Louisiana
(Click For Larger Image)

The cockfighting-friendly states secured, Paulo and I decided to tackle Florida, as it struck us as being one of a handful of localities that might reconsider their backwards thinking on the subject. If I'd only known then what I know now...

There's no easy way around this, loyal readers, so I'm just going to come right out and say it: as a direct result of our ill-advised expansion strategy, Paulo has been jailed (link goes to Florida's "News 6")!

That's right. Brave, loyal Paulo, rotting away in some godforsaken prison. Which, from what he tells me, is partially submerged in three feet of swamp water and infested with crocodiles. Naturally, I feel horrible about this...but not so horrible as to set foot in the state of Florida until the ridiculous bench warrant they've issued for me has been cleared up.

To make matters worse, Johnnie tells me he's not licensed to practice law down there. So if anyone can recommend a good Mickey State lawyer, they'll have the undying thanks of Paulo and the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 alike.

---CLICK HERE FOR 'FREE PAULO' PT. II---
----------------------
* Get your minds out of the gutters. I'm talking about the Sport of Kings, not some weird sex thing.

P.S. Talk about adding insult to injury -- my Minister of Information just sent word that New Mexico's House of Representatives has passed a ban on cockfighting by a 50-15 margin! Hopefully, my well-paid "friends" in New Mexico's Senate will stay true to their word (links go to various high-profile news outlets).

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.

---------------------------------------------------------
* 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---

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. III

***
CHAPTER III

"¡Usted puede hacerlo, Tío Sam! ¡Rasgúelo a los fragmentos!"

That's my guide, Paulo, who's yelling in Spanish. He's cheering on our champion cock; Tio Sam as we called him.

"What he said!" I shouted. "Only in English! Glorious English, you bastards!"

It wasn't just Paulo and me who were screaming ourselves hoarse in Tio's honor, either. Montezuma Arena was packed to capacity that night, my friends, and nearly half of those 50,000 manic fans were there to root for our boy!

And why not? He was, after all, the underdog contender for the crown jewel of professional cockfighting.

Since the conclusion of our last chapter, Tio had taken us on a whirlwind ride to the top of Mexico's thriving cockfighting industry. And now, after just three of the craziest weeks in my life, we had reached the very Mt. Everest of that sport -- the 2005 Montezuma Championship Cockfighting Invitational in beautiful downtown Mexico City!

The 2005 Montezuma Championship Cockfighting Invitational (Reenactment)

"¡Mire hacia fuera, Tio Sam!," Paulo shrieked, having regressed to his native tongue in his excitement. "¡El Diablo está intentando rajar su garganta!"

Whatever Paulo was saying, Tio was in trouble -- his opponent, El Diablo, lunged forward with one grizzled claw, slicing wildly at Tio's throat... and in that fraction of a second, my highly tuned Haiku Master vision caught the unmistakable glint of metal 'neath the very skin of Diablo's toes!

"Paulo, the fix is in!" I hissed in my guide's ear. "The other chicken -- it's got some kind of weird metal skeleton!"

"I told you, senór. Is no chicken. Is cock."

"Yes, but what about the metal skeleton?"

"Metal skeleton? What metal skeleton?"

"The one," I said, pointing towards the ring, "in El Diablo!"

"El Diablo has a metal skeleton?" Paulo said, following my finger. "But that would be... oh, madre dios!"

I looked, and immediately wished I hadn't. El Diablo had eviscerated Tio Sam, cackling madly as he danced in our fallen comrade's blood.

Montezuma Arena erupted into chaos, with thousands of losing bettors taking their own lives just moments after Tio's horrible defeat. As El Diablo's training staff stormed the ring to accept the Montezuma Cup, I slipped into the crowd, motioning for Paulo to follow.

"Let's head backstage, old friend," I said. "I'd like to get a closer look at that so-called champion..."

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

journey into mexico, pt. II

***
CHAPTER II

I had rescued my new guide, Paulo, from a life of servitude to the vilest, most unreasonable cantina owner in all of Mexico. But out of the frying pan and into the fire; we had neither food nor money, and the locals were stubbornly opposed to accepting the finest of the arts, haiku, as legal tender. Even from the one true Haiku Master!

"What are we going to do?!?" I wailed, clawing at the dusty ground in a hunger-fueled madness. "Oh dear lord in heaven, I must eat! I must eat!!!"

"No worries, senór," Paulo said with a rakish grin. I then noticed he was carrying a chicken in each hand; one white, one brown and black. "We eat good tonight."

"Good god, man! Where did you find those?"

Paulo shrugged. "Down the road a bit. At my cousin Pepe's house. He raises chickens. And the cocks. I went and visited him while you were having your tantrum."

"Look, leave the dirty talk at home," I said. "And I wasn't having a tantrum -- I was balancing my 'qi.' Still, good thinking on getting two. I don't know that I've ever eaten a whole chicken before. This should be fun!"

Paulo blinked slowly. "No senór," he said. "Only one for eating. Other for making easy dinero."

"Come again?"

"Is no chicken," he said, raising the brown one aloft. "Is cock -- cockfight, si? Big money. Big fun!"

The Champ Prepares For Battle

Ahh, now we were on the same page...one that would catapult us to the highest peaks of Mexico's nefarious cockfighting underworld before it was turned!

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

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---

never bring a limerick to a haiku fight

It will be said it was a dark day for my enemies, but it was not so bad for me...The Haiku Master.

I was on my way home from the market when my Haiku Master super-hearing picked up the faint sound of footsteps some yards behind me. I paused, and the footsteps did as well. I sped up, and the footsteps kept pace.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I caught a fleeting shadow to my right. And to my left, another. And far ahead, under the lonely street lamp, I could make out a dim shape.

In another moment, I was surrounded -- herded in like a sow by nine disciples of the cursed League of Limerickists. They spoke in unison, snapping their fingers in time to the moronic beat to which their craft is fastened:

"There once was a dumb haiku master,
whose verses were all a disaster..."

At that, I snapped, and the infamous Haiku Master Berserker Rage overtook me. When I came to two weeks later, I was buying a round of drinks in a Mexican cantina...and was wearing the limerickists' ears 'round my neck on a guitar string necklace!

Which should serve as a lesson to one and all: never cast limericks before haiku masters.