it's okay gang, i took care of business

How's it shaking, folks? Well lemme tell ya are ya ever in for a surprise, 'cause this ain't the Haiku Master talking to ya, and it ain't that schlub Haikunestro either; it's me, lovable star of film and television Joey Bishop!!!

What A Mug, Huh? That's Me, Joey Bishop!

Ya better believe it -- me, the last surviving member of the Rat Pack! I know what yer thinking: "Joey, as someone who follows yer career very closely, I know yer still alive and all, but ain't ya a very old man? Is it safe for ya to be movin' around and 'blogging' and all that?"

So I says to ya, "Hey, I'm no old man -- I'm the Joey Bishop from 1960! Footloose, fancy-free and rarin' to cock-a-doodle-doo all night long!! How do ya like them apples?"

Which of course makes ya say, "I like 'em a lot Joey, but how could ya be the Joey Bishop from 1960? It's 2005 for Pete's sake!"

To be honest, I ain't real sure. It has something to do with some theory that matter can't be destroyed or created, so when that Haiku Master friend of yers got sent back to 1960, I got sent here to 2005 as a make-good. At least, that's what the Perfessor I met at the modern day Las Vegas Hilton said to me, if I'm remembering it right. He also told me that Haikunestro creep was behind it all, so I beat tracks over here to Castle Haiku as fast as I could and gave that lame-o some of the ol' ring-a-ding-ding!

I guess that's it. Time for me to hightail it back to Vegas, so I don't miss my temporal ride back home! Yowza, that wouldn't be good -- no way to get a doctor to touch up the x-rays on that one!

Good night folks,

Joey Bishop

a joke for all you doofuses

Heh. Hi stooges. Yes, it's me again. Haikunestro. And I've got a joke that's perfect for this crowd:

Knock-knock.

Who's there?

Dumbasses.

Dumbasses who?

Dumbasses who read Haiku International.

HAW-HAW!!!

Worst,

haiku is for morons

Bad news, bitches. Looks like your so-called hero, the Haiku Mayoinnaise-Eater, still hasn't figured out a way to untemporally displace himself from 1960. Which means you're stuck with me, Haikunestro, for another night!

Better still, I've also taken the liberty of ensconcing myself at the place once referred to by my asinine arch-foe as "Castle Haiku" -- henceforth to be known as Castle Haikunestro!! I must admit, Haiku Head was right when he said his sanctum sanctorum was better than mine... but now his is mine and he's trapped in the past with none! Advantage: Haikunestro! Mwa-ha! Mwa-ha!

Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!

With The Haiku Master In 1960, Haikunestro Is Living It Up At Castle Haiku, Er, Castle Haikunestro

But enough of that. You people are boring me. Go do something useful, like serve as cannon-fodder in Iraq.

Worst,

suck it, haiku fans

Hi there, dipshits. No, this isn't your old buddy, your old pal, your old friend the Haiku Masturbator. It's me -- Haikunestro.

I, Haikunestro

That's right, idiots. You probably came here looking for the eighth chapter in my dimwitted nemesis' so-called Vegas venture. Well, guess what? I temporally displaced his ass all the way back to 1960, which means you're not getting any of his nonsense tonight. Boo-frikkin-hoo.

Instead -- thanks to my well-above average computer hacking abilities -- you get the greatness that is me telling the lowness that is you that you're not doing yourself or the world any favors by encouraging that cabbage-headed cretin. I mean, come on; the guy's borderline retarded. Laughing at his stuff is like laughing at the antics of a classroom full of Down's Syndrome kids. Which I personally find enjoyable, but I'm a high-profile professional super-villain. You people, on the other hand, have no excuse.

So that's that. Go find a collective life, you losers.

Worst,


----------------------
P.S. Yes you yahoos, I do realize I temporally displaced your ill-advised choice of hero more than two weeks ago, and am only now hijacking his "blog." Maybe this is due to my aforementioned mad computer hacking skills, or perhaps it means Haiku Head never made it back from the past. Guess you'll have to wait and see. It's not like anyone who visits this site has anything better to do.

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

* * *
CHAPTER XII

With Haikunestro on the run and Paulo serving as his hostage, there was scant time to spare. Fortunately -- very fortunately -- my foe had equipped his lab with two elevators; I gladly threw caution to the wind and jumped aboard the second.

"Haiku-Bot! Help Ralphus and Malphus get the Professor and Angelina to safety!" I shouted. "O.M.W.! Dubya! You're with me!"

From Left: Old Man Winter, Dubya, And The Haiku Master Prepare To Chase Haikunestro In An Elevator

"Dubya against the terrorists. Dubya with us!" Dubya confirmed as he got on the elevator.

"Crap," added O.M.W., joining us. "I was hoping to draw Angelina guard duty."

"Be careful, H.M.!" said the Professor. "I zink zat Haikunestro might have vun or two tricks still up his sleeve!"

"Well, he'd better," I said, pressing the "up" button. "Or he'll never make it out of Vegas alive!!!"

One short elevator ride later and we were back in the Las Vegas Hilton's Star Trek: The Experience concession... but where were Haikunestro and Paulo?!?

"Excuse me," I said to a pair of elderly women. "Have either of you seen a madman with a Hitler mustache escorting a Mexican fellow wearing a sombrero?"

"Oh, you again!" the fatter one said -- and I immediately recognized them as the silver-haired slot sluts from earlier! "We lost a lot of money 'cause of you and your big mouth!"

"Yeah, my mojo's still outta whack!" spat the other.

"Oh, never mind!" I said, turning to ask another passerby... and found myself face-to-face with none other than my close, personal friend, Billy Dee Williams!

The Haiku Master (Left) Greets His Old Ally, Billy Dee Williams

"Billy Dee Williams!" I said. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, baby? Cuttin' loose and getting wild!!!" he said, then took a long swig off his ever-present can of Colt 45: The Official Malt Liquor of Billy Dee Williams. "I also had to pick up my royalty check from the Star Wars slots they have here. What about you?"

"Looking for my arch-enemy, Haikunestro -- you haven't seen him, have you?"

"D-a-a-a-a-a-mn! I thought that was him I saw heading towards the parking garage, but he had some Mexican dude with him so I wasn't sure. Plus, I've been drinking this sweet, sweet malt liquor for so long I don't even trust my own senses anymore! Ain't that crazy?!"

"If it's crazy, then I should've been locked up ages ago," I assured him. "Thanks for the info, old friend; time for my partners and me to take that haiku-hating bastard down!"

"Be careful H.M.," he said. "And be sure to use some Colt 45 on his ass! Works every time!!!"

Leaving Billy Dee behind, we rushed into the Hilton's parking garage -- just as two loud gunshots rang out!

"What the--?!" I gasped, running towards the sound with O.M.W. and Dubya behind me. I rounded a corner expecting the worst, and was instead greeted by a most welcome -- and strangely familiar -- sight!

Haikunestro lay on the cold concrete floor of the parking garage in a growing pool of his own blood. Paulo was safely off to the side, and standing above my arch-foe was 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.

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

"That," the stranger said in a smooth Mexican accent, "is for sleeping with my wife again. The next time it will be your life! Adios, híbrido!"

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

"Was that... the Blue Sombrero?" an awed Old Man Winter asked.

"The Mexico City Madman?" I said. "It sure was, friend. It sure was. But never mind that now; Paulo, are you alright?"

"Sí, Hombre muy Extraño," he said, brushing himself off as he rose. "But what of the robot cocks? You told me there would be robot cocks!"

"Robot cocks..?" said Old Man Winter, starting to giggle. "Robot cocks???" He then doubled over with mirth, laughing long and hard until finally wheezing to a stop.

What it was he found so funny, I do not know.

* * *
EPILOGUE

Shortly thereafter it was determined that Haikunestro was not dead, just severly wounded, and he and his Trekkie henchmen were soon rounded up by the fine men and women of the Las Vegas Police Department.

That ugly business settled, Paulo, O.M.W., Dubya, and I met up with the others in the Hilton's impressive sports book. We decided to eat there, dining on delicious hoagies and gallon-sized plastic footballs filled to the brim with beer.

"So I guess zat is zat," said Professor de la Groove, bits of hoagie clinging to his mustache. "I only hope zat my vun great fear vill not be realized!"

"Your one great fear?" I said. "What would that be?"

"Zat jou dumkopfs might have messed vith ze time-space continuum vhen jou vent back to 1960! Tell me, jou didn't interact vith any famous people, did jou?"

"Not me," I said, almost too quickly.

"Not you?!" scoffed Old Man Winter. "What about the Rat Pack, Haiku Master? Huh Haiku Master? What about them?"

"Oh yeah. There was that..."

"Oy!" said the Professor. "Und vat of jou zree, hmm?"

"Nah, nobody famous, but we did meet some pretty cool people," O.M.W. replied. "Check out our pictures!"

Old Man Winter, Dubya, And Paulo Mugging With Non-Famous People From 1960

"Nobody famous!" gasped the Professor. "Zat's John F. Kennedy, Cassius Clay, Marilyn Monroe, und Elvis! Vat do jou mean, not famous?"

"Oh! No wonder I found these pictures in a history book!" O.M.W. chortled. "You gotta admit, that's pretty funny! Hey Haiku Master, ain't that funny?"

"Feh," Angelina sneered, looking at the blurry black-and-white images. "That Marilyn was such a cow."

Hoping to change the subject, I said: "Er, I have a question Professor -- if I got replaced by Joey Bishop when I went back in time, who replaced these guys?"

"Two vinos und a mental patient."

"Huh. Well, with that cleared up I guess I can label this case as 100% 'closed'!"

Closed it was... but fabulous Las Vegas would have one more surprise for me before I left its warm embrace, as seen in this unbelievable photo!

The Haiku Master Inspects The Las Vegas Hilton's Fitting Tribute To His Bravery

That's right! The Las Vegas Hilton paid homage to yours truly's death-defying deeds by unfurling this mega-sized banner above the hotel's glittering pool on my last day in town! Talk about a perfect ending!

But when you're me, every ending is perfect... 'cause I'm The Haiku Master!!!

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. VII

* * *
CHAPTER VII

So it was that our merry band of adventurers found itself scattered, and I was escorted to Haikunestro's top secret laboratory miles below the Las Vegas Hilton's Star Trek: The Experience concession! Once there, the Star Fleet washouts assigned the unenviable task of guarding the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 forced me into a black unitard before strapping me to a white medical table.

These Guys Had Their Hands Full Keeping An Eye On The Haiku Master

"So, uh, what's the plan guys?" I asked. "Not a prostate exam, I hope?"

"That's Cap'n Haikunestro's decision, swine," snarled one of the guards. "Now shut your man-pleaser before I come over there and shut it for you."

"Shut my... oh, that's gross!" I said. The guard advanced, smacking a truncheon into his open palm. "Gah, I mean -- shutting up, sir!"

"That's more like it," he said, rejoining his companions by the lab's entrance.

Minutes ticked by, marked by the vintage high school-style clock on the wall. Finally, after nearly an hour, the lab's doors whooshed open... and in walked my old foe!

"Ahh, Haiku Master. I trust you've made yourself comfortable?"

"Well no, not really," I said. "Those goons of yours..."

"I don't. actually. care. if you're comfortable! Idiot!!"

"Oh, sorry. You did ask."

"It was an ironic rhetorical question, you moron! What the hell is wrong with you?! But never mind that -- I nearly forgot my reason for inviting you here to my sanctum sanctorum!"

"This is your sanctum sanctorum?" I said, barely holding back my disdain as I looked around the lab. "Not to be immodest, but I have to admit my sanctum sanctorum easily surpasses your sanctum sanctorum in both sanctum and sanctorum capacities."

"Shut the #@%$ up!!!" Haikunestro screamed. "We're not at your sanctum sanctorum, we're at my sanctum sanctorum, which means my house, my rules! And the first rule is, next thing out of your mouth and the highly trained pack of vicious assassins behind me is going to give you the Full Metal Jacket Private Pyle treatment!"

"They're going to go in the bathroom and blow their own heads off?"

"No!! Goddammit!! They're going to beat you in the stomach with pillowcases full of soap bars!! Now shut! the #@%$! up!!!"

"Alright, alright, geez!"

"Much better. Now then. Where were we? Ah yes -- why I invited you here. You'd probably like to know that, hmm?"

"Y--"

"Don't talk!! Just nod your goddamn head!!"

I nodded in the affirmative.

"Very good. And the answer is quite simple. You've been a thorn in my side for far too long, see, so I've decided to get rid of you once and for all... by sending you back in time to a point before either one of us was even born!"

With those words, a large, golden, star-shapped object descended from the ceiling towards yours truly, spinning wildly and glowing with some strange inner power!

"What on earth is that?" I asked.

"My temporal displacer. I hope you like it!"

Haikunestro (Left) Savors His Victory As The Haiku Master Prepares For Temporal Displacement

"Temporal displacer, huh? Do you expect me to be talk?"

"Expect you to talk? Why the hell would I expect you to talk?! I already told you to shut! up!! No, dumbass -- I expect you to be temporally displaced!"

With that, Haikunestro flicked a switch on a nearby control panel and the device shot out a beam of light, ensnaring me in a golden field of energy! Everything went dark and I drifted through time... making this a great point at which to end this chapter!!!


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

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---

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

* * *
CHAPTER IV

Following a torrid session with Angelina Jolie, I happened to glance at my watch while getting dressed... and realized it was already half-past twelve!

Angelina Jolie Snuggles Up To The Haiku Master (Left) On The Haiku Plane While A Jealous Haiku-Bot Looks On

"Sweaty Mother of Arbuckle!" I gasped. "We're late, Angelina -- Professor de la Groove's going to be furious! Come on, let's go!"

"But darling," she said. "I still have to put on my makeup!"

"No time for that now; you can put it on in the cab! Haiku-Bot, you too! Let's move it, people!"

"Begging your pardon Mr., The Haiku Master sir but, my internal servo-processors indicate..."

"Less talk more go!" I barked, straightening my ascot as I locked the Haiku Plane's hatch behind me.

With that, we hustled through the airport and out to our choice of waiting cabs. We opted for a no-nonsense white model emblazoned with ads for Barry Manilow, Carrot Top, and the like, and were soon on our way.

"Where you folks headed?" the cabbie asked.

"The Las Vegas Hilton -- and there's an extra something in it for you if you can get us there forty minutes ago!"

"That's a tall order chief, but I'll see what I can do."

See he did, but it was all for naught... for by the time we arrived at the Hilton, it was already one o'clock! Needless to say, our driver did not receive a tip.

From Left: The Haiku-Bot, Angelina Jolie, And The Haiku Master Enter The Las Vegas Hilton's Space Quest Casino

"Goddamn the hands of time!" I shouted as we burst into the Space Quest Casino, startling some elderly women who were fiendishly feeding their pensions into a bank of Damnation Alley-themed slot machines. "I don't see Professor de la Groove anywhere -- they must've gone on without us!"

"Keep it down, you bozo!" said one of the grandmothers. "We're trying to win some money here!"

"Yeah!" said a second. "You're gonna throw my mojo out of whack!"

"With all due respect Mr., The Haiku Master sir," said the Haiku-Bot, "but I believe, we are. Early."

"What are you babbling on about now?! Unless Congress recently voted to change the direction in which time flows, one o'clock still comes after twelve o'clock!!"

"Tsk, this horrible Administration," Angelina said. "Is there nothing so low as to prevent them from stooping for it?"

Ignoring Angelina, the Haiku-Bot continued. "Bzzt. Correct. As of my, most recent data update Congress, has not changed the flow of time."

"Then how the hell could we be early?"

"Mr. The Haiku, Master sir there is, a three hour time difference. Between the east and, west coasts of the United, States. Of America."

"Three hour time difference... what on earth are you talking about, you overweight blob of grease?!"

"He's right, darling," Angelina breathed huskily in my ear. "I learned about it through all the travel required by my profession."

"Well I'll be a monkey's uncle!" I declared. "That certainly explains a lot of the confusing situations I encounter while on the road. But no matter now. All right, let's synchronize watches! Ten-oh-nine 'local time' on my mark, and... Mark!"

The issue settled, the three of us decided to kill the remaining hours by easing into some high stakes gambling. At least, we were going to until the Haiku-Bot found itself fairly discriminated against!

"Hey!" shouted the Space Quest Bar's pudgy tender, pointing wildly at H.B. "We don't serve their kind here!"

Any Similarities Between The Space Quest Bartender And A Lucasfilm Character Are Purely Coincidental

"I sincerely hope you're not referring to Homo Cabbagiens," I growled, simmering with rage at the apparent racism.

"No, 'droids. It'll have to wait outside. We don't want them here."

"Why not?"

"'Cause it's too easy for them to cheat! They got minds like computers, man!"

"Oh, I guess I can see that," I said. Then, to H.B.: "Listen, why don't you go wait out by the cabstand? We don't want any trouble."

"I heartily agree with, you Mr., The Haiku Master. Sir."

As H.B. trotted off, Angelina and I got down to some white knuckle baccarat with a crew of seedy businessmen from Europe... never realizing that every crisp snap of the cards was being watched by my sworn arch-foe, the one and only Haikunestro!

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

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---

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

Click For Larger Image

* * *
CHAPTER I

Set a course for High Adventure, adrenaline-heads! It's me, The Haiku Master, ready to pump you up with my latest, greatest, all-too-true Epic Saga!!!

Hot Babes Like This Are A Dime A Dozen In Vegas

So without further adieu, let's get into it. As they often do, this case started innocuously enough: I was polishing my game in Castle Haiku's bowling alley... when the Haiku-Bot had the unmitigated gall to interrupt!

"Excuse me Mr., The Haiku Master sir," it said, breaking my concentration and causing me to roll a gutter ball.

"Con-found it!" I growled. "Look what you made me do, you tin-plated creep!"

"Begging your pardon Mr., The Haiku Master but you, had already released the sphere prior, to my entrance and, based on my calculations a gutter, ball was inavoidable oh-point-two, seconds before I. Spoke."

"Talk to the hand, for my ears surely don't want to hear your paltry excuses!" I countered, raising my open right palm to H.B.'s face as my head turned sullenly to the left.

"Bzzt... hrmmm," it said, plainly confused. Regardless, H.B. pressed on, speaking into my hand as directed. "You have a, telephone. Call. It is Mr. Professor, de la Groove."

"Professor de la Groove?! Well why didn't you say so! Patch him through at once!"

The Haiku Master's Old Friend And Mentor, Professor De La Groove

I took a seat in one of the bowling alley's luxurious recliners, and within minutes the sound of my longtime science ally filled the room.

"'Allo? 'Allo? H.M., are jou zere?"

"Indeed I am, Professor! And as always, a pleasure to hear from you! To what do I owe the honor?"

"It iz ze trouble, H.M.! Ze beeeg trouble!"

"Big trouble, you say? Then it sounds like you called the right person! Lay it on me, Prof!"

"I cannot give jou ze details over ze phone, old friend, but I can tell jou zis: ze trouble of vhich I speak involves jour arch-enemy, ze city of Las Vegas, and ze greatest science fiction television franchise of all time!!"

"Well, I know the first one must be Haikunestro... but what's the TV show? Space: 1999?"

The Space: 1999 Year Two Soundtrack Continues To Be One Of The Haiku Master's Favorite Records

"No, you eembeezeel! It is ze Star Trek! But I can say no more on zis infernal contraption!"

"I understand, and it should go without saying that I'm ready and willing to give you all the help you need."

"I am very glad to hear jou say zat, H.M.! Ve're going to need a crew of seasoned pros to pull off zis job. I vant jou to assemble ze team, and meet me at ze Las Vegas Hilton at twelve o'clock zis Zursday!"

"Thursday? Why does everyone always want me to travel on Thursdays?"

"Vell, I can't speak for all ze people, but in my case it's a cheap day to fly."

"Fair enough -- and worry not! I know a number of top-rate pros who'll be happy to help... or else! But I do have one small request."

"Oui?"

"Can we stay at the local Motel 6: The Official Motel Chain of The Haiku Master instead of a Hilton? I'm sponsored by 'The 6', see, and I think it's against my contract to..."

"Ze Motel 6? Never in hell vould I stay at a Motel 6! My zird vife caught ze syphilis jusing ze toilet at vun of zose fleabag joints! Zat said, jou are free to sleep vherever jou vish. Just meet me at ze Hilton's Space Quest Casino by noon!"

Motel 6: The Only Motel Chain Endorsed By The Haiku Master, Despite Professor De La Groove's Unjustified Prejudices

After exchanging brief parting pleasantries with the Professor, I got down to work. Well, first I got the Haiku-Bot to make me one of his world-class hoagies, and then I got to work. Right after digesting lunch with another frame of bowling. And reading the latest issue of Jughead. For the second time.

But after all that, you can believe I got to it! And as subsequent chapters will reveal, it's a good thing I did... for the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 would soon be embroiled in one of the most death-defying odysseys of an already legendary career!!!

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

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.

ever get the feeling you've been cheated?

Welcome back, 'ku believers! The above words were once spoken by Johnny Rotten at the Sex Pistols' last-ever live show.* But now it's me, The Haiku Master, who's speaking them, and I'm saying them to you -- 'cause I'm back a day later than originally promised, and there's not a thing on earth you can do about it!

Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-HA!!!

Alright, enough gloating for now. If you must know, the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 has been extremely busy over the past couple of weeks, including these nail-biting assignments:

* Casting the tie-breaking vote in the recent election of Pope Benedict XVI;

* Helping the World's Greatest Football Team, the Miami Dolphins, with its NFL draft selections;

* Foiling Haikunestro's latest jailbreak attempt; and

* Cataloging my extensive collection of Guy Lombardo memorabilia.

As you can see, it's not as if I've been taking her easy while you good people have awaited my next missive. Better still, I have high hopes the Texas adventure will finally be completed come this weekend! Until next time, keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars -- so sayeth I... The Haiku Master!

Best,


----------------------
* The Sultan of Syllables is a Pistols purist, and therefore doesn't count their latter day, post-breakup performances. Primarily -- and this is just between you and me -- because they really suck in their modern incarnation.

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

secret origin of the haiku master

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When I tell people I am a Master of Haiku, I'm often greeted with looks of disbelief. Some even call me a jerk, though they do so with their last earthly breaths.

Make no mistake; I do not call myself The Haiku Master lightly. And here, for the first time ever, is the secret origin of why that claim is mine and mine alone to make!

***
Warning: This is pretty exciting stuff, so pregnant women, people with pacemakers, and the weak-minded should probably stop reading now.
***

Abandoned by my biological parents at an early age, I was raised by a grizzled sailor and his wife, having been left on their doorstep one cold and stormy evening. They say I was an average-looking swaddling babe, save for an unruly mane of cabbage where one would normally have hair.

The Haiku Master Developed His Cabbage Hair And Preference For Smoking Jackets At An Early Age

My foster father, Pappy as I called him, was a kindly man, though horrid to behold as he had but one eye, the other having been lost in a bet years earlier. My impossibly thin foster mother, Olive, was far sterner than Pappy. But it was she who discerned the power of 'ku that dwelt within my earthly vessel, and sent me at age 7 to live with the monks of the Cobra Kai Haiku Temple in ancient Atlantis.

For the next 25 years I learned the innermost secrets of my order, and in fact became one of its greatest members, if not in the top half. Once my apprenticeship was complete, I was named the Haiku Master of Earth Sector 3814, which primarily covers the Baltimore-DC area of the United States. So I set forth as countless Haiku Masters had before me, and started sharing my haiku with the masses on June 6, 2003 (having taken a year off to "bum around" following my graduation).

But shortly after I took office, disaster struck -- the relatively upstart League of Limerickists launched a full scale attack against the ancient Cobra Kai Haiku Order! Within days our ranks had been diminished to no more than a score of Haiku Masters, where there had once been thousands.

We survivors rallied at the Cobra Kai Temple... only to find we had been betrayed by one of our own! This Judas, Haikunestro as he was known, had brought the Limerickists to our most sacrosanct sanctum, and as we entered, they attacked!

Fortunately, the Cobra Kai Temple had many defenses of its own, usable only by those with untarnished 'ku power. So it was that a handful of Haiku Masters laid waste to the League of Limerickists. But the cost was heavy, for of all the Haiku Masters, only I survived.*

There you have it -- proof positive that I am the one, true Haiku Master. So if anyone else tries to pass themself off as the same, you'll know they're lying.

Best,



* Despite some ugly rumors to the contrary, I did not achieve this feat by hiding in a broom closet.