just like old times

Welcome back, 'ku believers! It's me, The Haiku Master, just returned from a trip to the local Piggly Wiggly, and you'll never guess who I ran into -- my sometime ally and sometime foe, Old Man Winter!

The Haiku Master (Left) And Old Man Winter (Right) Both Love Shopping At Piggly Wiggly

"Haiku Master! Hey, Haiku Master!" he shouted as we crossed paths in the dairy aisle. "It's me Haiku Master, Old Man Winter! Remember me?"

"Of course I remember you!" I replied, clapping him gladly on the shoulder. "How've you been, old soul?"

"Eh, as well as can be expected. You know, what with me being old and all. But hey, Haiku Master! My name's not Old Soul! It's Old Man Winter!"

"Yes, of course it is. So, anything new?"

"Yeah, there sure is -- I got married, Haiku Master! Whaddya think of that?"

"That's fantastic! Is the blushing bride here?"

"Nah."

"Oh, at home then?"

"Nah."

"Uh... alright then. Where is she?"

"Oh, she's dead. I froze her to death, Haiku Master! I froze my little buttercup right to death!"

"That... that's tragic, man! I don't know what to say."

"Eh, don't worry about it. I'd gone off my meds for a bit, and you know how I get when I'm off my meds."

"Don't I ever."

"Well okay, Haiku Master! It was good seeing you!"

"Likewise, old friend."

"No, Haiku Master, you got it all wrong again! It's Old Man Winter! See? Old Man Winter!"

"Right you are. Don't be a stranger now, hear?"

"You betcha, Haiku Master! Catch you later!"

Old Man Winter walked off, leaving me to finish my shopping. Sure was nice seeing the guy. Too bad about his wife, but then, any woman who marries Old Man Winter kind of gets what she has coming.

Best,

thank you, 'high adventure monthly' readers

Hi kids! It's a most triumphant The Haiku Master who stands before you tonight -- for the tallies are in, and the 2005 winner of High Adventure Monthly magazine's annual "Hero of the Year" award is none other than me... The Haiku Master!!!

As Always, Victory Is Very, Very Sweet (Click For Larger Image)

Needless to say, this is going to push my "Q-rating" through the roof. I'm not sure what a "Q-rating" is, but I do know a high one leads to lucrative endorsement deals. And if there's one thing I love, it's a lucrative endorsement deal! (And whiskey.--ed.) Unfortunately, one of Haiku International's operatives wasn't willing to let the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 enjoy the spotlight on his own -- as evidenced by Paulo's appearance on the latest issue of Cockfighter Monthly!

It Wouldn't Surprise The Haiku Master At All To Learn Paulo Had Paid For This Honor (Click For Larger Image)

That rascal! Still, always nice to have one's achievements honored -- something you people might want to consider doing from time to time as well, wink wink nudge nudge! Either way, time for your hero to split; Old Man Winter's been roaring around town on a bender all day, and I'm headed over to Baltimore's Patterson Park right now to give him a proper ass-kicking. Wish me luck!

Best,


----------------------
P.S. No, I'm not sure why both of these images display October 2005 cover dates, when one would presume their year-end "[Blank] of the Year" issues would be published in December. I guess both publications use the same error-prone printer? Your guess is as good as mine, fan club members!

braaainsss

Braaainsss.

Brains

Braaainsss!!!

Braaainsss,

'isss ssstuff be'r w'rk

Gahrrrr. Isss meee, Th' H'ku Maaassstr. Meee am def'nitely zombieee. Laaady a' freee clin'c tol' meee.

The Haiku Master (Foreground, Left) Waits His Turn At The Local Free Clinic

Sheee g'v' meee med'sssin. Sssay taaaaake it, feeel bett'r 'morrow. Meee hooope sssooo. Meee waaan' eeeach'yer braaainsss!!!

Bessst,

i want to eat your brainsss

Brainsss... I mean, hello loyal readersss. It'sss me -- at leassst, it'sss kind of me -- The Haiku Massster, and I mussst warn you that I'm not feeling ssso well right now.

Sssee, I wasss out fighting zombiesss lassst night, like I do every "Hallo-weekend." Asss alwaysss, the walking dead were no match for the Pharaoh of 5-ss7-5. Unfortunately, one of them managed to ssscratch me on the wrissst towardsss the end of the battle. I didn't think much of it at the time, but when I woke up thisss morning, I looked like thisss!!!

The Haiku Master Felt Like Crap When He Woke Up This Morning

Plusss, I'm hissssing my essssesss, and have a conssstant hankering for brainsss... sssweet, sssweet brainsss!!! All of which are textbook sssymptomsss of zombieisssm!

I don't want to russsh to any conclusssions, but I am going to get myssself checked out at the free clinic. In the meantime, if you sssee me coming down the ssstreet, better play it sssafe and duck down an alley!

Bessst,

more zombies than you can shake a stick at

Howdy folks. It's me, The Haiku Master, freshly returned from my nightly patrol of Charm City -- where the streets are thick with zombies, as they are every year during Halloween Weekend!!!

A Pack Of Bloodthirsty Zombies Rushes The Haiku Master (Foreground, Right)

To make matters worse, these aren't your father's zombies. Historically, thwarting the walking dead was simply a matter of keeping up a brisk pace while swatting at their heads with the weapon of one's choice; in my case, my trusty 1-iron. But these days, those suckers are fast!

Frankly, I blame it on 28 Days Later. Not to mention that high-gloss Dawn of the Dead remake! Whoever directed those movies should be run out of town on a rail. I mean, what kind of traitorous humans make zombie empowerment flicks?!

No matter though -- the Sultan of Syllables is still more than a match for a bunch of stupid zombies, regardless of how quickly they move! In fact, I took down more than 50 earlier tonight while rescuing the nice people seen in this photo:

The Haiku Master (Left) Takes A Break From Fighting Zombies To Comfort A Group Of Human Survivors

Of course, not all zombies are bad. Take my close, personal friend, Zombie Gary Hart. The onetime presidential hopeful may have a head full of worms these days, but he's still a dreamer with a powerful message. If he could just learn to stay away from the "Monkey Business" -- wink wink, nudge nudge -- he might just make it to the Oval Office one day.

From Left: Zombie Gary Hart And The Haiku Master

Okay for now, kids. Fighting zombies is tiring work, so it's time for your hero to hit the hay. Catch you on the flip side!

Best,

market research be damned

Rejoice, proud warriors! 'Tis I, The Haiku Master, ready at last to throw off the yoke of minutiae that drove me to the brink of madness... and proudly declare a new age of High Adventure!!!

That's right! You'll find no more "mundane details" on this site, no matter how popular that format is with "blog" readers (and writers) the world over. For the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 isn't here to make friends and influence people, gentle readers; he's here to thrill you, chill you, and rock you like the hurricanes you are! Whether you like it or not!!

Just Like Players Club Founder Telly Savalas (Right), The Haiku Master (Left) Longs To Be Where The Action Is

Not to mention the fact that Halloween is this Monday, which means zombies will be out in full force all weekend long. And there's nothing mundane about whipping a pack of zombies into submission while they feverishly try to eat your brains, believe you me!

Best,

this 'no adventure' thing is harder than i thought

Hrmm. H-hey. It's m... um, yeah. Right. No action. Just talking about the trivial stuff that makes us human. Th-th-that's what "blogging's" all a... all about. Yes! Yes yes yes.

So I'm not going to tell you about something that just happened to me as I was taking out the trash. I won't say a word about how Old Man Winter -- who is most definitely "off his meds," if the Sultan of Syll... I mean, if I'm any judge of character! -- just tried to jump me, zapping me in the rear end with his weird weather powers. And I definitely won't speak of the massive wedgie I gave him in retaliation, forcing him to flee in that obnoxious snowmobile of his!

Old Man Winter Shows Off In Front Of Castle Haiku

Th-that would be... too much action... for a "blog." You know, based on my m-m-m-market r-r-r-research and all. S-s-so, let's see. How 'b-'bout them baseball teams p-playing for th-the Baseball Cup, huh? They s-sure are disrupting the h-h-h-h-h-hell out of Fox's regular programming, huh?

Oh, there is some good news: I pooped after my encounter with O.M.W.! Ginchy, huh? That's it, nice and conversational. Just the trivial stuff that makes us human. That -- oh yes, that is the ticket.

worrying about a friend

Hey everyone, it's me, The Haiku... Dammit! I keep forgetting that you're not supposed to introduce yourself in every "blog" post -- not if you want to be a professional "blogger"! And believe you me when I say there's nothing I want more. In fact, here comes some more traditional "blogging" to prove it!

So anyway, I'm kind of worried about my friend Old Man Winter. Well, he's not really a friend so much as someone I hang out with every now and then. Sometimes, when he's "off his meds," we fight.

Old Man Winter (Seen Demonstrating His Sub-Zero Breath) Can Be Downright Dangerous When He's "Off His Meds"

Lately, I've been a little worried that he's off them, because he's been acting cranky. Take yesterday for example. He ran around town all day, yelling and screaming and spitting and zapping unsuspecting passersby with his witchy winter powers... whoa, I just realized I came dangerously close to providing you good people with some action in this post. And everyone knows "blogs" aren't supposed to be action-packed!

I better get out of here before I mess up again. Oops, I almost forgot! I had a tasty peanut butter and jelly sandwich a couple of hours ago, thanks to the Haiku-Bot. It really went great with a cold glass of beer, lol! But my no-pooping problem is back; hopefully I'll poop again tomorrow, 'cause I don't like worrying that I have a tumor or something.

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. IX

* * *
CHAPTER IX

Unsurprisingly, the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 became fast friends with the Rat Pack -- all except Joey Bishop, who had apparently gone missing the same day I arrived in 1960! Moreover, with Bishop M.I.A. and The Sands' mafia-connected owners expecting five performers at the Pack's shows, Frank Sinatra soon drafted yours truly to take Bishop's place... as evidenced by this shocking, history-altering photo!

The New & Improved Rat Pack (From Left): Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., Peter Lawford, And The Haiku Master

The change did not go unnoticed by the Rat Pack's fans -- though it did go unappreciated! Many took to attending our gigs wearing tacky T-shirts emblazoned with such slogans as "What About Joey?" and the ever-hurtful "Haiku Master Is A Disaster!"

"I don't know how much more of this I can take, Frank!" I hissed at Sinatra onstage one night, as a woman in a shirt reading "I Don't Make THAT Kind Of Cabbage!" booed me from the front row.

"Suck it up, Charley," Frank shot back. "We're giving you a nice cut of the net to sit up here and act the clown, so stop crying."

"Damn it, man!" I said, finally losing my temper over Sinatra's umpteenth mangling of my fairly easy-to-remember name. "I already told you: my name's not Charley, and it's not Clyde! It's The..."

"Haiku Master!" someone in the audience shouted. "Hey, Haiku Master! It's me..."

That voice! That grating, unforgettable voice! Could it really be...

"...Old Man Winter!!! Is that you, Haiku Master?"

"Old Man Winter?!" I said in disbelief. The band, not being able to deal with all the distractions, brought our current number to an abrupt halt... just as Old Man Winter, Paulo, and Dubya came bounding up to the stage!!

No One Was More Surprised Than The Haiku Master (Back Left) When (Front Row, From Left) Paulo, Old Man Winter, And Dubya Showed Up In 1960

"Is this part of the show?" asked the rude woman in the front row. "If so, it's horrible. I wanna refund."

"Shut your man-pleaser!" I barked at her. Then, to my teammates: "O.M.W.! Paulo! Dubya! What are you guys doing here?"

"What are we doing here? We were about to ask you the same thing, Haiku Master!"

"Sí," added Paulo. "I did not know you were a viajero del tiempo, Hombre muy Extraño."

"Dubya not intellectually curious," mused Dubya.

"Guys..." Frank said.

"I got temporally displaced here by Haikunestro," I said. "You?"

"Guys..." Frank said again.

"I'm still not sure, Haiku Master!" said O.M.W. "After getting off the plane we rushed over to the Las Vegas Hilton so I could lay some bets, and so Paulo could get something to eat."

"Sí," said Paulo. "I was hongry."

"Guys, seriously..." said Frank.

"Next thing you know, we're jumped by a bunch of goons in Star Trek uniforms, taken to some underground lab, and zapped with a time thingamajigger by a creep in a bad Hitler mustache!"

"That was Haikunestro!" I said excitedly. "He must've..."

"Alright, that's it! You bums have had it!" said a clearly annoyed Frank. "Dino, Sammy, Pete -- let's throw 'em out of here!!"

Clearly, it looked like trouble was about to erupt... much to the delight of the heavily anti-The Haiku Master crowd! But as the Rat Pack rushed us, my fellow extempriates and I were suddenly bathed in an odd golden light -- the same kind of beam that Haikunestro had used to temporally displace me to 1960!

Did this mean we were about to be sent back to our native time period? I guess you'll have to read the next chapter to find out!!!


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

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---

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,

it's okay to come out now

Good news, friends! It's me, The Haiku Master -- finally ready to emerge from Castle Haiku's bomb shelter following Hurricane Katrina's bloody reign of terror!

I would've been up sooner, but with Katrina just leaving the country yesterday -- and totally destroying New Orleans, Los Angeles, New York, Miami, Chicago, Kansas City, Nashville and Kalamazoo in the process -- the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 wasn't about to take any chances. Hopefully you took my sage advice and sought shelters of your own before she hit.

Fortunately, I talked Haiku International's Minister of Information into serving as a topside lookout while this horrid, Old Testament-style storm wreaked a swath of destruction from one end of the country to another. Without him, the Haiku-Bot and I never would've known just how bad things had gotten outside: gas shooting up to $57.00 a gallon, Iraqi freedom fighters conquering New Orleans, people eating each other, the dead rising, etc.

Katrina had her cruel way with my luxurious top-secret base of operations, to boot: drinking all the liquor; eating all the snack cakes; drawing crude, unflattering cartoons about yours truly on the walls; and racking up some hefty pay-per-view porn charges on my satellite link-up! Shelton, on the other hand, came through without a scratch -- though his nerves were so shot he'd resorted to drinking vermouth, as seen here:

H.I.'s Minister Of Information Desperately Tries To Soothe His Jangled Nerves With A Stiff Glass Of Vermouth

So I guess that's that. Good luck on rebuilding society, folks. I'd join you, but I have just about everything I need here in Castle Haiku. Plus, there's no way I'm fighting any crime in Baltimore -- or anywhere else -- until they get all those goddamned zombies off the streets. Maybe I'll feel different after watching the 10 O'Clock News for the first time in a week, but as of right now it all seems a little pointless.

Best,

wheelin' and dealin', pt. III

***
CHAPTER III

The deal went down without a hitch -- much to my surprise, might I add! Shortly after the two showed up, Minderbinder was on his way with an attaché case full of cash, leaving Old Man Winter and myself in possession of stock certificates good for 95% of the entire world market for Egyptian cotton.

"Can you believe it, Haiku Master?!" Winter screeched, gleefully tossing two fistfuls of certificates above his head. "Hey, Haiku Master! Can you believe it?! What'd I tell you, huh? We're gonna be rich, baby! Filthy, stinking, dirty-drawers rich!"

"It certainly does appear to be the case," I said. "I wonder what all this is worth?"

"Millions! Billions! Gazillions!" mused Winter. "I mean, look at it all! Plus, we got ninety-five percent of the market! That's practically a monopoly!"

"True... but it's pronounced 'mah-no-paul-eee.' But why quibble over semantics? Let's celebrate!"

And celebrate we did! After directing the Motel 6's concierge to send up a cooler chockfull of beer and ice, we headed to one of Cairo's many fine beaches, and soon made the acquaintance of these local bunnies:

The Haiku Master (Left) And Old Man Winter Always Have Time For The Ladies

Our group partied long into the night, and parting proved to be as unsweetly sorrowful as ever when O.M.W. and I bid our farewells to those middle-aged vixens the next morn. After checking out of the Motel 6, Winter and I shared a taxi to Cairo International, where we went our separate ways -- he to the North Pole, and me to Castle Haiku.

"Haiku Master! Hey, Haiku Master! I'll see you later, okay?!" Winter shouted, just as the airport's security screeners found the live grenades I'd planted on his luggage earlier that day. A platoon of hired goons descended upon him with boots and clubs, providing me with a good chuckle as I whizzed through the V.I.P. gate to the waiting Haiku Plane.

Make no mistake, though -- Winter will get his share once Haiku International's Minister of Operations, Oswald "Oz" Carver, finds a suitable buyer for the Egyptian cotton. After all, I may be petty, but the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 always honors his debts! So sayeth I... The Haiku Master!

free at last

***
‘XENU AND ME,’ CHAPTER VI

Rejoice, 'ku believers! It's me -- the real me -- The Haiku Master, back with an extremely important message: avoid the so-called "Church" of Scientology at all cost!! Your life and/or sanity may very well depend on it!

As for me, I just escaped from one of their fiendish "intensive auditing" camps. After a daring getaway, I returned to my top secret base of operations... only to find it compromised by a cheap robot version of yours truly! No trouble there, though. Stealing a page from ol' Captain Kirk's playbook, I busted out some spurious logic and totally fried the tin-plated bastard's brain in seconds flat!

The Haiku Master Learned How To Short-Circuit Robots By Watching Star Trek Reruns

Alas, even with the dastardly Haiku-Bot out of the picture, my longtime HQ is no longer secure. So I'm putting it up for sale, and am officially in the market for a new top secret base of operations in the Baltimore suburbs! In the meantime, I'll be laying low at a safe house (read: room at an undisclosed YMCA--ed.). But don't worry: my trusty TRS-80 SuperMobile Computer is in my possession, so I'll be able to stay in touch while I'm "underground!"

Okay for now, fan club members -- time for the Sultan of Syllables to wolf down a sausage pizza and pint of whiskey before making his nightly patrol. Be sure to heed my warning about those kooky Scientologists! I'd hate to hear about any of you being replaced by low-rent 'droids with bad comma-use programs. You deserve better!

---CLICK HERE FOR 'XENU AND ME' PT. VII---
----------------------
P.S. Want to read what some former Scientologists have to say about Hubbard's cult? Visit www.xenu.net today!

P.P.S. Please disregard the last three posts, as they were all made or altered by the Haiku-Bot. I'd delete them, but crimefighting and haiku writing don't leave much free time for learning advanced computerology.

scientology is evil double-plus good

***
‘XENU AND ME,’ CHAPTER III

Greetings friends, it is I, The Haiku Master -- bringing you a dire warning about the insidious Church of Scientology! and man, am I ever happy!

The Haiku Master's Scientology Caseworker, Mr. Sunshine: A Lying Sack Of Scientolo-shit

As it turns out, Scientology isn't a the greatest church of at all time... it's some kind of weird cult! Shocking, I know -- but all too real!! This revelation came to me earlier today, during my "auditing" session with my "caseworker," Mr. Sunshine. There I was, strapped to the E-meter, clear of "engrams" and moving on to "OTIII" -- and down a cool 100 grand I could ill-afford -- when the Sultan of Syllables had a mighty load of bullshit deposited upon him! -- when I realized Scientology truly was the road to success!

"So you're telling me," I said, stunned by what Sunshine had just said, "that the big secret behind Scientology involves nuclear bombs, volcano prisons in Hawaii, disembodied spirits from outer space, and an intergalactic overlord named Xenu?!"

"Ah-ah-ah-ah -- H-bombs," Sunshine admonished. "But uh, yeah. Outside of that, you pretty much got it."

"You son of a bitch!" I growled, incensed. "I've given you people tens of thousands of dollars, plus the credibility of my official endorsement, and this is thanks you give me? The hogwashing of a lifetime?!"

"It's no hogwash," Sunshine assured me. "It's all gospel truth, as laid out by Commodore Hubbard himself. Furthermore, your reaction is quite common. Why, many of our members become distressed when they first..."

"When they first what? When they first realize they've been ripped off?" I spat, fuming. "Put up your dukes, you...you...you hornswaggler! I'm gonna knock your #%@$ing teeth out!!"

"Oh?" said Sunshine, giggling. "Well, you could do that."

"You're damn right I could!"

"Of course you could! Then again, some of our friends in the press could find out about your predilection for rough man-on-man sex! How about that?"

"Rough man-on-man... what the hell are you talking about? I don't even have fantasies about convincing female sex changes, much less actual dudes! Now put up your dukes!"

"What?" Sunshine gasped, flipping through the large Rolodex on his desk. "Oh, sorry, I was looking at Travolta's file. Ah, here we go -- then perhaps the press could find out about your predilection for whiskey and snack cakes!"

"Hate to burst your bubble, but those hobbies are already well publicized."

"Damn it! Well, what about that embarrassing brass knuckle arrest, hmm? Wouldn't want that getting out, now would you?"

"You mean the one I bragged about on Letterman?"

"Christ almighty! Do you keep nothing secret about your personal life?!"

"Just one small thing, you blackguard -- the secret of my Haikung Fu!" I lunged forward with the Cobra Kai technique referred to as Miss Mary Mack, driven by the righteous fury of an enlightened mark! Sunshine proved to be no match, and was soon dangling out his office window, my hands 'round his sweaty ankles!

"Alright, Sunshine, here's a new belief system for you: either I get my money back, or you become street pizza du jour!" Sunshine gave up the combination to his office safe, and I was shortly on my way with every stolen cent accounted for... plus a little something extra for my grief!

So that's that as far as the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 and Scientology go, and not a moment too soon! It's just as well, for I've never been a fan of religion. Or opiates for that matter. But that's not the point. The point is, there's no organization on earth that can absorb me -- The Haiku Master!

Plus, Scientology taught me how to grow awesome metal skin, making me a better crimefighter than ever before! Isn't that Hubbard-iffic?!

The Haiku Master's Cool New Look Is All Thanks To The Church Of Scientology

Alrighty for now, rhyme fans! Time for the one true Hero of Haiku to hit the books! Be sure to visit www.scientology.org to learn more about this great religion!

---CLICK HERE FOR 'XENU AND ME' PT. IV---

drunk in the heart of texas, pt. IX

***
CHAPTER IX

I was in dire straits. Lying in a pool of my own blood (and Brotherhood urine--Ed.) at the feet of Austin's famous Lenin statue -- body broken, wallet gone -- I felt my qi slipping free of its earthly bounds... when a familiar voice called out!

"Wart," the voice said. "Wart!"

The air before me began to shimmer, coalescing into a ghostly version of my former sensei, the late Haiku Master Charles Bukowski -- just like Ben Kenobi did in Empire Strikes Back!!

The Ghost Of Charles Bukowski Pulled A Ben Kenobi On The Haiku Master

"Sensei Bukowski?!" I gasped, weakly. "I thought you were dead?"

"I am," he said, hiccupping. "And still drunk, too, if you can believe that. Who knew they'd have booze in heaven?"

"Well, Dean Martin must be happy!"

Sensei Bukowski's eyes flew open, a mixture of disgust and hatred raging across his face. "#$@% Dean Martin!" he shouted. "Why'd ya have to bring him up?!"

"S-sorry, Sensei. I, uh, I don't know what I was thinking."

"Alright, forget it. Just forget it. That ain't why I'm here anyway -- I'm here to tell you it ain't your time to die. Not yet, at any rate." He waved his hand, and my wounds were magically healed! "There, that oughta do the trick."

"Thank you, Master!" I cried, rising from the ground in disbelief.

"No problem," he said, just as his etheral form began to dissipate. "Oh, and be sure to check out the TXRD while you're in town...it's all-girl roller derby...not to be missed..!"

My sensei faded completely... only to reveal Texas Kelly and his henchman, Dubya, quickly approaching!

"H.M.!" Kelly shouted. "Gawdammit, boy! We been looking all over town for your ass! Where the hell you been?!"

"You can run," Dubya assured me, "but you can't hide."

"Oh, here and there," I replied. "You know, 'TCBing,' as they say. What's it to you and that pack of traitors in Masters of Mariachi, anyhow?"

"Aw, hell!" Kelly spat. "Look, I didn't have nothin' to do with them kicking you out! Shit, if'n it were up to me you'd still be their lead singer, but you ain't, and getting all pissy about it ain't gonna change nothing. Word?"

I stood silently, arms folded across my chest, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"Word??" he repeated, tilting his head menacingly.

"Word," I finally conceded, rolling my eyes.

"Good," he said approvingly. "I'm glad that's behind us. Okay then -- who's hungry?"

"Ooh! Ooh! Me!" Dubya shouted, jumping up and down frantically.

"Yeah, I guess I could go for a bite," I said. "But you have to take me to something called the 'TXRD' after that! It comes highly recommended."

"Roller derby, huh? No problem," T.K. grinned. "Matter of fact, the Hellcats are taking on the Holy Rollers later tonight. Now, c'mon -- tacos are on me!"

So they were. At Kelly's suggestion, I ordered the Barbacoa de Cabeza tacos. Turns out that means "head barbecue tacos," which would've been handy to know before I'd started eating. As it was, I found out halfway through my second helping.

The Haiku Master Doesn't Recommend Barbecued Head Meat

The Pharaoh of 5-7-5 vomited long and hard at that point -- much to the amusement of Texas Kelly and Dubya. Who laughed and laughed, and oh, how they laughed...

***
EPILOGUE

Sunday afternoon was a blur, having spent the remainder of our petty cash on a bottle of liquor each and three tickets to that night's roller derby festivities. When the booze was gone, we headed out, Dubya behind the wheel of Kelly's Mercedes.

The Haiku Master, Dubya, And Texas Kelly Spent Sunday Afternoon Downing A Bottle Of Sam Houston, Jim Beam, And Dalmore, Respectively

Is it dangerous to ride in a vehicle driven by a drunken 7'-tall freak who may or may not be some kind of imperfect duplicate of America's president? Of course! But one doesn't become a Haiku Master by playing it safe, kids.

As for the roller derby itself... well, let's just say I've come to realize there are greater sports in this world than cockfighting. What do you get when two gangs of hot girls on old-school skates beat the crap out of each other for a good hour or so while music blares, and a couple of punk bands perform beforehand and during intermission?

One satisfied Haiku Master.

The Haiku Master Does Recommend Austin's TXRD, Home Of The Holy Rollers

I don't know when I went to sleep that night, but I do know the morning came too fast and too ugly for the third straight day -- though much of Monday's ugliness was likely caused by Dubya's less than tender method of waking me up.

"Get up!" he bellowed, smacking me in the face with his open, hair-matted palm. "Get up! Check out time in 10 minutes -- Master Kelly tell Dubya to take Haiku Master to airport!"

"Okay, okay..." I muttered. "Give me a sec..."

"No time!" he shouted, smacking me again. "Up! Now! Or me put you on no-fly list!"

We were soon on our way, Dubya weaving in and out of traffic at a fantastic rate of speed, just as he had done on my arrival. As we pulled up to the terminal closest to my waiting Haiku Plane, I turned to shake his hand... only to receive a long blast of mace in the face!

"Gahhrg!" I shrieked. "Mufferfuggerwhathfugchewdothafer!!"

"Ha ha! That for messing with Texas!" he laughed, shoving me out of the car. "Don't mess with Texas!!"

Dubya drove off with a squeal of rubber, leaving me writhing on the sidewalk outside Austin-Bergstrom International. Adding insult to injury, my violent arrival attracted plenty of attention from airport security, requiring me to answer questions for some 32 hours before finally being allowed to return to my top secret base of operations in the Baltimore suburbs.

And that, gentle readers, is the true story of how I had mariachi stardom in the palm of my hands, only to have it snatched away by a guy from Mexico. That's right! Me! The Sultan of Syllables -- outsourced! Now I know how all those textile workers feel!

Oh well. Life goes on, as they say. They, and me...The Haiku Master!