Hakko Ichiu

Try acupuncture. A katana makes an excellent acupuncture needle, I'm told.

Jo Xia, the 'Pool-boy is dead, and though you didn't order it, it certainly suits your justicarial purposes. So, one good turn deserves another. Send me my fecking turn (not that you could ever produce a good one). In other news, Geier is rudely and gamily destroying things that belong to me. This must cease. Fortunately, we only have a few turns left, after which my brave Tommies can get back to making smores by the embers of the VLs. Roxy, your proposition interests me strangely. Pray continue.

Scene: Upon the blasted heath, overlooking the Olde Ones' Cabana Bar. A low fire crackles. Three figures huddle round its warmth passing a bottle between them. A weary figure enters the wan circle of light. He is carrying an empty glass with a paper parasol and a fruit kabob. Hakko Ichiu (for it is he): Wotcher, lads. Here, Peng, I saved this for you. (tosses fruit kabob at Peng). Peng: Feck off. Hakko: In a good mood, not to say spirits, are we? Berli: Why'd you have to... Hakko: Jealous, Berli? You know you wanted to. The Falling Cherry Blossoms bit was just for a flourish, of course. Berli: Dibs on Mike for next time. Hakko: If you like. Just as long he doesn't bring me one of these froo-froo drinks. They're only fit for the likes of Seanachai, who'll drink anything. Seanachai: Fairy! Hakko: Ooh, she's one to talk in that cap and bell outfit. Anyway, I'm not here to argue. I'm here for a real drink and a bit of a sing-song. One for the Ladies this time, eh, and a fine, cautionary tale it is. Come on, lads, with feeling: So come all young men, come listen awhile, I'll tell you what happened at Firelock Stile, When a stump of a nail catched hold of her clothes She fell down, and did expose Her old Rump-a-tump tooral looral laddiedy Rump-a-tump tooral looral day. A gay young buck was standing by The sight of her quim so dazzled his eye She said "Young man, I feel amazed To see a young gentleman stand and gaze At my Rump-a-tump tooral looral laddiedy Rump-a-tump tooral looral day." She said "Young man, if you mean what you say And twenty bright guineas in gold were to pay, If twenty bright guineas in gold you did pay, Then, young man, you can fiddle away On my Rump-a-tump tooral looral laddiedy Rump-a-tump tooral looral day." That very soon he gave consent And into the woods together they went While he pre-formed and she pre-tuned The boy and the beauty kept time to the tune on her Rump-a-tump tooral looral laddiedy Rump-a-tump tooral looral day. Now six weeks being over, as I have been told She gave him some fire to keep him from cold, To keep him from cold, both night and day, And he cursed the young damsel that learned him to play On her Rump-a-tump tooral looral laddiedy Rump-a-tump tooral looral day. Now all young men, come listen awhile I've told you what happened at Firelock Stile Or else, like me, you'll rue the day You go into the woods to learn to play On her Rump-a-tump tooral looral laddiedy Rump-a-tump tooral looral day.

"I'm a robber and a man-slaughterer and I haven't had any parental guidance." Besides, those 'Pool-boys make great practice dummies. Roxy, for the record, I work for no man, especially not Jo Xia

Scene: A dark and stormy night. The entrance to a broken down hostelry sign-posted "Ye Olde Ones' Hostelry and Cabana Bar". Silhouetted by a flash of lightning, a weary figure stands amid the bamboo that overgrows the path to the door. His footsteps crunch on the gravel path, except when he steps in something noisome and slimey. A gust of wind blows open the door just as he approaches the threshold. Hitching up his swords and running his hand over his shaved head, he steps in. The room is empty. Hakko Ichiu (for it is he and none other): (shouting and pounding on the table) Drink! Bring me a drink. Silence. Finally, a rustling sound is heard. A figure emerges carrying a tray and an order pad, and wearing a Speedo™. Gaylord: Hello, and welcome to the Olde Ones' Cabana bar. My name is Gaylord and I'll be your 'Pool boy for the evening. Can I take your order? Hakko: What manner of foolishness is this? I spend long weeks campaigning against the darkness on the outer boards and I come back to this? Strutting popinjays in fluorescent underwear! Where are the Scum-sucking Newbies grovelling in the dirt? And why all the frilly umbrellas and tropical decor. Gaylord: Change of management. Some of the owners thought that a woman's touch would brighten up the place. Make it more welcoming. Increase traffic. That sort of thing. So, what can I get you. Hakko: Whiskey! A Lagavulin, or maybe a Bruichladdich or an Aberlour. Water on the side. Gaylord: Hmm, I don't know if I can pronounce those, let alone pour them. But I'll check with our head mixologist. Back in a jiffy. He pirouettes toward the kitchen and prances off. Hakko: Woman's touch. Bah! I remember when there were real women in the 'Pool. Women who would dress up in full length mesh body-stockings and melt into a puddle at the sight of my Nicholas Cage imitation. Real women. Not trailer-park trash who have to hire two-bit Texas shysters to get anywhere in the world. And now 'Pool-boys. Disgusting! Gaylord re-emerges with a tall, frothy drink topped by a paper parasol and a fruit kabob. Gaylord: Sorry, ducks, but we tossed out all those smelly, over-consonanted cough medicines during the makeover. But I've mixed together a concoction that I think will make you forget all thos horrid, Caledonian drinkie-poos. It's a combination of crème de menthe, triple sec, Courvoisier, cassis, framboise, heavy cream and... As Gaylord is reciting the ingredients list, Hakko executes the drawing cut known as "Willow Stretches Branches", which neatly severs Gaylord's head from his trunk and results in a cascading fountain of blood. He then performs the classic maneuver, "Cherry Blossoms Fall on the Breeze", dicing the flying head into four equal quarters. He wipes his blade and sheathes it. Before Gaylord's body can fall to the ground, Hakko neatly whips the drink off the tray without spilling a drop and takes a long sip. Hakko: Ah, most refreshing. Perhaps this 'Pool-boy concept isn't so bad after all. Fade to black [ August 18, 2002, 08:35 PM: Message edited by: Hakko Ichiu ]

Wow, things must be gettin' real desperate when Berli has to start the 'Pool incarnatio hisself. Was Mohammed one of yours, or did he belong to the other fella'?

I'm colorblind. Could you repost the map in shades of grey, maybe with little stripes and dots?

Well, ladies, I'm back. I was someplace hot, humid, and stinky for a week (sit down, Bauhaus), and I know there was a reason why, but somewhere in all that I met MrSpkr, and the searing vomitrociousness of that moment has left me so traumatized that I can remember nothing else of what happened between July 21 and 28. Oddly enough, the MBT seems to have changed not a whit and Joe Shaw still owes me a fecking turn.

As a public service, I am hereby notifying my opponents that I will be away from the 22d to the 28th of July inclusive. So you can keep on not sending me turns, fecking idjits. Any 'Poolers in the greater Dallas, TX area will probably want to evacuate or face the prospect of buying me beer.

Tsk, tsk, Ethan you have been to the UK right? And which UK ISP would be able to handle that kind of heavy internet traffic? BT? HA HA HA HA! But a good try though </font>

If Fred got into a DeathMatch™ Ring with Jamoomba, who'd come out alive?

I'll be in Arlington on that day and may have some free time in the p.m. What time is the demo, and how long is the drive from Arlington?

...delicacies to satisfy the most jaded palate. We have, for instance, a life-sized statue of...

Why isn't beer under Class I?

While in Phoenix, be sure to take advantage of the many amenities on offer. Particularly, the wholesome, healthful sunshine. Be sure to bask in the full rays of our life-giving star at its highest point, around noon. No need to overdo it, just, two hours from 11 to 1 should be all you need. Avoid those nasty, chemical sunscreens, as they are nasty chemicals. One thing, avoid the water. If anybody should offer you anything to drink, politely refuse. You'll be a glowing picture of health in no time.

I sense a disturbance in the force. No, my mistake, just a bit of indigestion. Anyway, congratulations, Johan. I guess the little woman kept herself busy while you were away on that business trip a fortnight ago. Have you registered for gifts at Siggi's House of Lutfisk, or should I just send a moose to you by direct mail? Unfortunately, my turn output ain't what it ought to be as I have the kids to myself while SWMBO is in New Jack City for the week teaching college graduates how to do sums. I'll get to it when I can. The good thing is that next week it's my turn to be away all week at a kick-ass (pun intended) martial arts seminar, and I won't have to endure the inanities of the 'Pool during that time. Hurrah!

*Click* One more shot to the frontal lobe should do it. *Boom* *Click* Nope. Still there. *Boom* Feeling better now.

Must fight urge to vomit. Must cleanse image from my skull. Must get revolver and load with Hydroshoks just to be on the safe side. *BOOM* Ah, much better now. [ July 16, 2002, 11:39 AM: Message edited by: Hakko Ichiu ]

War of Southern Independence Regionalist Troop Performance Grog.

What more proof, if proof were needed, could one ask for? He is evil I tell you. Eeeeeevillll. Sounds like a plan.

Alright, officer, we'll come quietly. [ July 16, 2002, 10:42 AM: Message edited by: Hakko Ichiu ]

Now that's just pathetic. It's because of persons like you, lacking in grit (not to say grits) that we lost the War of Southern Independence. At least one job done properly.

If said party were from Texas, I would, of course, use two bags. In fact, on occassion I have. How old are you anyway, son?

Tell you what: why don't you e-mail me a zip of the game and we can play TCP/IP on that day. I promise I'll send the file back when we're done. Honest.

Overall, I'd say it had a nice melody, but I couldn't dance to it. Venom quotient was adequate, but it lacked a soupçon of a certain, how shall I say, je ne sais quoi that renders it unfit for human consumption, or just about perfect for you, snook'ums. Now sod off. You're giving us Tarheels a bad name for all the wrong things. Then again you're from Down East and it's difficult to operate on all mental cylinders when you've been scraped from the bottom of a very shallow gene pool. Give my regards to your mother...er, sister...er, cousin...er, whatever. You know who I mean, but be careful; one look at her and Mace will be after her faster than poop through a goose. Best to take her out of the waller and make her into country ham a'fore that happens. Oh, and MrSpkr, I would remind you that in the more refined parts of North Carolina, unlike in, say, Texas, when we are consorting with our first degree relations we always use protection. To do otherwise would be ungentlemanly.