p for payback

Ho ho ho, gentle readers! 'Tis I, The Haiku Master, and I'm in quite the merry mood... for sweet vengeance has been delivered unto those hooligans at the Helping Hands Halfway House!!

After giving it some thought, I decided it was time to fight fire with fire. So I've been giving them the business for three days straight: asking them for spare change, peering into their windows late at night, rifling through their trash, pooping in their lawn -- the works! Furthermore, I've directed Castle Haiku's pack of vicious attack dobermans to conduct their business in the H.H.H.H.'s backyard as well, for maximum shit tonnage.

The Haiku Master (Right) Devises A Foolproof Plan For Exacting Revenge Against The Helping Hands Halfway House

Unfortunately, the goofball-sucking twits next door still haven't abandoned their boorish behavior, resulting in what non-Mexicans might call a Mexican Stand-Off. Nevertheless, it's comforting to know they now face an equal risk of squishing unexpected meadow muffins 'twixt their toes.

That's all for now. Time for me to hit the mean streets of Charm City for my nightly patrol.

Best,

what do you mean, 'that's illegal'?

Hello. Yes it's me, The Haiku Master. And guess what? No really, go ahead and guess. No guesses? Okay, I'll tell you: 'Twould appear it's against the law to forcibly hold and interrogate trespassers in the ass-backwards State of Maryland!!!

After Allowing Him To Change Into Civilian Threads, A Cop Takes The Haiku Master (Left) To Jail

That's right! In fact, I just got back from a trip to the county courthouse, on account of a few complaints filed against yours truly by the vagabond tenants of the Helping Hands Halfway House! The nerve of those blackguards -- sneaking around, rifling through my trash, defecating in my yard! And I'm the one who gets arrested?! Ricidiculous! Preposterous!! Unthinkable!!!

Unfathomable!!!!!

Gotta go, 'ku believers; time for the Sultan of Syllables to whip up a grade-A trap for those rats next door. And by rats, I mean the bums living in the halfway house. Just so there's no confusion.

Best,

easy like sunday morning

Shh! Be very quiet, friends. It's me, The Haiku Master, and I'm hunting panhandlers!

As reported earlier, the "Helping Hands Halfway House" opened next door to Castle Haiku a couple days ago, and the neighborhood's looked like a low-rent George Romero movie ever since. Throngs of shiftless hobos wander the streets at all hours -- begging spare change, giving unsolicited windshield washings, stinking to high heaven, etc. -- and frankly, I've had enough.

Unfortunately, the timid legalities of this thin, cruel world bar the Sultan of Syllables from any direct action unless first being acted upon. That said, my thirst for vengeance has been somewhat sated by the brazen handful who have foolishly trespassed onto my stately estate -- including this joker, who I caught sifting through my garbage not twenty minutes earlier!

This Guy Thought The Haiku Master's Trash Was His Treasure; He Was Wrong

The scoundrel was oozing false apologies when I found him in the care of my newly acquired pack of vicious attack dobermans, but he'll learn the true meaning of remorse after an hour or so in Castle Haiku's interrogation chamber. Or my name's not The Haiku Master!

Best,

there goes the neighborhood

Hi, kids. Yes it's me, The Haiku Master, but I have to warn you I'm in a horrible mood... because a "halfway house" just opened for business next door to Castle Haiku!

A Displeased The Haiku Master (Right) And The Haiku-Bot Discover A Newly Opened Halfway House While Taking Their Morning Constitutional

Can you believe it?! Yesterday, a vacant house. Today? A wicked den of villainous winos, junkies and other assorted deadbeats -- all just a stone's throw away from my sanctum sanctorum!

Needless to say, we'll be ramping up our security efforts here at Haiku International. In fact, I've already dispatched H.I.'s Minister of Operations, Oswald "Oz" Carver, to purchase a brace of billion-candle-power floodlights and all the makings for a tight perimeter of bungee stick-filled pits. It'll be a very sorry cough syrup addict who tries to case this joint, believe you me!

Best,