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!!!

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,

v for victory

***
‘FREE PAULO,’ CHAPTER V

Aloha and Mahalo, gentle readers! 'Tis I, The Haiku Master, reporting from Orlando, FL with most excellent news: CCCP-US Commissioner Paulo has been cleared of all charges, and is a free man as I type these words into my trusty TRS-80 SuperMobile Computer!

From Left: The Haiku Master, Johnnie Cochran, And CCCP-US Commissioner Paulo Declare Victory At A Press Conference Near Lenin's Statue In Disney World
(Click For Larger Image)

Paulo, Johnnie Cochran, and myself just made the official announcement via a nationally televised press conference from the base of Lenin's Statue in Disney World, and I couldn't be happier...both for the Commish and myself, as my bench warrant has been dropped, too! God bless the U.S. legal system!

As always, grasshoppers, I know what you're thinking: "But Haiku Master -- things looked so bleak! Your plans for a 1st Annual The Haiku Master's Celebrity Breakdancing Tournament charity fundraiser had fallen through!! How did this miracle come to pass?!?"

Okay, okay! The Sultan of Syllables will provide you with the answers you seek, but only if you first achieve a calmer state of being! I don't want anyone wetting themselves as they read the dangerously lurid details that lie ahead!

I was at my top secret base of operations last night, washing my eyes for the 36th time after being tricked into witnessing the horror that is Tubgirl,* when the phone rang.

"Haiku Master residence," I answered, suavely. "Haiku Master speaking."

"H.M.! It's me, Johnnie!"

"Johnny Ramone? I thought you were dead!"

"No, not Johnny, Johnnie -- Johnnie Cochran, your attorney!"

"Oh, Johnnie! Why didn't you say so!"

"I did, you--! Look, never mind that. I've got big news, son! Big news!"

"Well, lay it on me!"

Lay it on me he did, revealing that the judge in the case, the Honorable Melvin J. Snobglass XIII, was an old golfing buddy of his, and had agreed to throw out the charges on one condition.

"Oh?" I said, warily. "And what might that one condition be?"

"That you star in an anti-cockfighting ad campaign being produced by Mel's Rotary club."

"Gah! The Rotarians! Those fiends?! Nothing doing!"

"Well, it's either that or Paulo rots in jail and you get arrested the next time you set foot in Florida."

"But...but...that would mean no more MTV Spring Break guest appearances!"

"Your choice, H.M."

"Fine! Fine, I'll do it! But I want it noted that I'm doing so under extreme duress!"

"Duly noted. I'll see you in an hour."

True to his word, Johnnie soon picked me up in his diamond-encrusted private helicopter, and we flew south to collect Paulo and announce the good news. Though I'm still not comfortable with the following ad, considering the source of its funding:

Just Say "No" To Cockfighting, Kids

Ah, well. I'm just glad this whole nasty episode is behind us, so Paulo and I can get back to the important business of CCCP-US expansion.

---CLICK HERE FOR 'FREE PAULO' PT. VI---
----------------------
* Seriously, Shelton -- watch your back.

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

***
CHAPTER VI

"And now, you non-rhyming infidel poet," said bin Laden, about to use his scimitar to slice one of the ropes keeping me and the net below from tumbling into the lava, "it's time for you to..."

"HAIKU-YA!" cried Haiku Girl, unexpectedly bursting into the lava room through a hidden door! "Forget it, bin La-dumb! Nobody cooks The Haiku Master on my watch!"

A strange light emanated from H.G.'s funky ring, striking bin Laden and his posse...and they horrificly morphed into swine with human heads!

Thanks To Haiku Girl's Magic Ring, The OBL Posse Learned The True Meaning Of 'Unclean'

"That's for trying to take over Purgatory Coffee!" she shouted as the bin Laden pigs ran squealing from the room. "Next time, you'd better leave that nice girl Heather alone -- she's a friend of mine!"

"So much worse than -- OINK! -- bacon! So much worse than bacon!" bin Laden grunted back. "You have earned my -- OINK! OINK! -- eternal indemnity, Haiku Girl!"

"Nice work, H.G. -- you're getting a raise for this!" I said, amazed. "But, uh, do you think you could use that magic ring of yours to whisk me off this net? My fine mane of cabbage hair is starting to wilt!"

"Zoiks!!" she said. Then, waving her ring: "Alacazoo, Alacazedge, put The Haiku Master on this ledge!"

ZAP! Just like that I was standing next to her, and we high-fived in triumph! "Come on!" I said. "Let's get out of here before anything else crazy happens!"

"Right behind you, H.M.!"

We were topside within minutes. Well, within minutes after I stopped at a rather dilapidated vending machine to buy a pack of Hostess Snack Cakes -- the Official Snack Cake of Professional Crimefighters!

Before we jumped into her car, though, Haiku Girl stopped outside the warehouse and waved that kooky magic ring of hers again.

"Hold on, H.M.!" she said. "I want to make sure this warehouse poses no further threat to the good people of Minneapolis!"

A green bolt of magic energy burst forth from the ring, and the warehouse exploded!

Bin Laden's Hideout, Post Haiku Girl

"Sweet Jesus, H.G.!" I said. "You could really put someone's eye out with that thing!"

Suddenly, a short little man in a ten-gallon hat came running towards us, a furious look on his face.

"Dagnabbit, what do you meddling kids think you're doing?" he shouted. "That's my building -- you'd better be prepared to pay for this!"

Haiku Girl and I looked at each other, laughing uncontrollably. I mean, really! Crimefighters? Pay for property damage? Whoever heard of such a thing!? Maybe on Bizarro World...but not here on good ol' Mother Earth, folks!

***
EPILOGUE

So that, loyal readers, was that. OBL and his crew may have escaped, but in their new pig bodies they no longer posed an immediate threat to the fine coffee houses of the Minneapolis-St. Paul area. Which meant my latest thrilling adventure was coming to an end!

After an afternoon spent taking in art galleries and dining on local delicacies, Haiku Girl dropped me off at Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport, where another 747 would return me to my top secret base of operations in the Baltimore suburbs.

"I guess this is it, H.G.," I said. "Have you given any more thought to my sidekick offer?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "I've been doing all right on my own -- heck, I'm just weeks away from single-handedly wiping out all crime in Minneapolis! After that, who knows. Maybe Seattle, maybe Philadelphia. We'll see."

"Well if it makes any difference, know that the one and only Sultan of Syllables thinks the East Coast needs you more than those flakey hippies on the West! Until we meet again, Haiku Girl!"

"Until we meet again, Haiku Master!" she replied, waving as she pulled away from the terminal.

My heart heavy with the sorrow of parting -- which, I might add, is never sweet, despite what that Shakespeare fraud might say to the contrary! -- I headed inside to await my flight at the nearest overpriced airport tavern. But as the barkeep poured the first of what would be many flight relaxants, my spirits were buoyed with the knowledge that I was not alone in my tireless quest to fight crime and spread haiku...and that Haiku Girl and The Haiku Master would no doubt meet again in the future!

Not to mention the Hostess Snack Cakes, which I discovered in my smoking jacket pocket after beer number five.

Hostess: The Only Snack Cake Endorsed By The Haiku Master

As always, those things really hit the spot! So sayeth I...The Haiku Master!

final hunt for the pygmy gorilla, pt. VI

***
CHAPTER VI

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did he write haiku," I corrected.

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

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

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

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

"That's alright..."

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

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

And oh, how we laughed.

***
EPILOGUE

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

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

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!