drunk in the heart of texas, pt. VII

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CHAPTER VII

I awoke with a start on Saturday, finding myself on a lawn chair by the Stuart Beach Inn's pool. My head was sore, pounding like a Keith Moon drum solo as it had the previous morning.

The Pool Area At The Stuart Beach Inn

"Swear to god someone's been kicking it!" I groaned.

"Ha ha, señor!" came Paulo's voice, startling me. I whirled around, and saw that my bandmates had also slept poolside. Texas Kelly was nowhere in sight. "You drink too much again last night, Hombre muy Extraño! Too much, too much!"

"Heh heh," added Rudy. "Sí, you made a real burro out of yourself, Señor Amo del Haiku! You should be more careful!"

"Yes, I suppose I should," I conceded. Still, I'd begun to suspect Paulo wasn't being entirely forthcoming on this matter.

But there was no time for that now -- not with a gig to be played at Hyde Park's Fresh-Plus in just a few hours! I headed up to the room with the other Masters of Mariachi behind me, curious as to what had become of our manager.

Throwing the door open, I bore witness to something that made me pray for blindness: Texas Kelly, sleeping in the room's sole bed with two of the mentally challenged groupies who had attacked our bus the day before! And, of course, a giant bag of Lay's potato chips.

Texas Kelly (Center) And His Friday Night Conquests

"Heavens to Hefner!" I gasped, waking Kelly up. "Talk about giving comfort to the enemy -- what the hell do you think you're doing, T.K.?"

"Aww, shucks," said Kelly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "This? Just educating these little fillies in the ways of cheap physical love, Texas-style."

"But they tried to kill us yesterday!"

"Kill us? Hell, they were just overly excited." Kelly climbed out of the bed, and started to pull on his clothes. "Don't worry, though. I wore these two plum out. They won't be no more trouble."

"But they're underage, man!" I continued. Paulo and the boys swarmed the bed, apparently wanting to verify Kelly's claims of the girls' exhaustion.

"Oh yeah, that," Kelly said, pulling his boots on. "Well, that's why I told 'em my name's the Muffin Man. It'll serve that #%@$er right to get hit with some statutory rape charges, after all the times he's tried to #%@$ my up-and-coming bands!"

The issue settled, Kelly woke the girls and put them on a bus back to their academy, handing them the Muffin Man's phone number as they left. Then, we were ready to mari-rock the Fresh-Plus... and though I didn't realize it at the time, it was a show that would mark the Pharaoh of 5-7-5's last-ever appearance with Masters of Mariachi!!!

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

drunk in the heart of texas, pt. VI

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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

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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---

drunk in the heart of texas, pt. I

Click For Larger Image

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CHAPTER I

Stand fast, thrill-seekers! It's me, The Haiku Master, here to regale you with the true facts of my savage journey into deepest Texas for SXSW 2005!

It all started when my once-trusted agent Paulo and I gave up on our dreams for an American cockfighting league, diverting our energies into making it big as professional musicians, instead. Within days, we'd assembled the most rootinest, tootinest mariachi band this side of hell -- Masters of Mariachi, a.k.a. MoM -- and our manager, Texas Kelly, had landed us a gig at the world's most prestigious music festival.

Masters Of Mariachi (From Left): Rudy, Paulo, Sanchez, Jesus, And The Haiku Master

"The Austin Wal-Mart?" I shouted into the phone upon hearing the news. "During Sixsew? You have to be kidding me, man!"

"Not at all, H.M.," T.K. assured me, "but it's pronounced 'South by Southwest.' World-class exposure, plus two-hunnerd cash and all you can drink from the store's soda fountain. Do we have a deal or don't we, pardner?"

"Do we ever! Wait'll I tell the boys -- they're likely to shit themselves in glee!"

"Sounds great. Yer first gig's Friday morning, so why don't y'all meet me in Austin on Thursday afternoon? We'll be staying at the Stuart Beach Inn."

"Beach? There's a beach in Austin?"

"Naw, some dude from Florida owns it. See you there."

Next, I contacted the band via Haiku International's Mexico office, and gave them the details. I then made my own travel arrangements...by buying a vintage prop plane from one of Russia's frequent black market military surplus sales!

The Haiku Master Prepares To Board His Latest Acquisition: The Haiku Plane!

That's right -- no more low-rent public transportaton for the Sultan of Syllables, and it's all thanks to the tireless work of H.I.'s Minister of Defense, Oswald Carver! (Thanks, Oz; there'll be a little something extra in your Festivus bonus this year.)

One speed-read of Flying for Dummies later, and I was Texas-bound. The die had been cast, loyal readers... but if I'd known then what I know now, I'd have insisted on best two out of three. At least!

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