The Story of the 28th, The Aiea Cliffs..

It started, simply as a ride up through the foothills and further mountains in the area, looming in the vasage of the southern reaches of the island. I don't know how you enjoy your mornings personally, but a cup of coffee at my favorite cafe, then it's time to see the world. We drove, Bob and I, escalating up the twists and turns up the steep climb, the higher it got, the cooler, and the fresher, the air flowed into the senses. A scene flashed in and out, a rainforest, it's flowers and vines creeping along the trees, flowers in bloom and emiting their exotic scents. My center was found, and I was home inside of my head...

At the point of a fork in the road, a nearby sign indicated a park, including a view for of which neither of us had seen. Bob was content to drive on, I, however, had other plans. As a pair, we tend to match up on both sides of the coin, in this instance, he wanted to have a peaceful, normal day, and I'm batshit crazy, so I said we should pull in to the right and take hold of the amazing sights that is not only our elevation, but what it is to tower over the masses, to gain prospective of the views only a few can withstand and even fewer gain the true grasp of. He replied,"Yes, I'd like to take a few cool photos too". He knew what I meant. So off we went, to the right, and right into a parking spot, aside from us were a collective of bikers. They didn't have chains, knives that I could see in the open, or spikes donning their vests, so I assumed rape and pillagement weren't their prerogative, thus we parked.

It was wondrous, the sights breathtaking. I even believed that this place held a greater view then the prestigious Diamond Head. There were also less tourists up where we were, and also more trees, many, many more. I moved back and forth, there wasn't enough for my eyes to find and capture, but, half an hour or so was probably enough, my friend insighted, there was much more to do this day. I agreed, and bid farewell to this place, promising one day to return and reveal these very visions to others who seek them out. I happened on two of the members from the Friendly Happy Anti-Rape biker gang about a crater I gazed at in the distance, and they told me that's what happens when dozens of planes collide into a landscape and/or harbor, nicknamed Pearl. I no longer wanted to visit the crater, momentarally in any case, as they also promised that the place in question was a peaceful rememberance for those that gave their all to defend and defeat this ancient enemy. Their lives created a road for all who would step up and follow in line with those of heroic hearts.

I nodded and was on my way, across the short bridge, and into the WRX. It was this moment in time, that out from the wooded area, a legend sprung from it's living quarters. It's golden brown head moved to in fro, the movements in sync with it's occasional blessing upon the ground it transversed. In the short distance, it made a quick leap on top of the sacred vehicle, and it looked in my direction, and just for a second, it spoke to me... "Bacoook... bock bock...". I didn't understand this, no, I was quite confused, and as Bob revved the engine, the grand fowl did another short leap into the air.... and sidekicked the antenna with it's thin claw-like legs. I don't know chicken-scratch speak, but those unique movements, the subtlety and grace, they spoke loud and clear. They said,"....Get away from my home, you're way too loud. Notice me, and obey my whims...". From that moment, I knew in my very soul, that there was much to be gained from this encounter, from this being, known to all, as Random Wild Chicken, the Master of Tae Kwon Chicken, or to others, Chicken Tao.

I looked at Bob, using my mastery over the Sad Face Technique to engage in his pity, and suggested we stay and capture the movements of this grand being. He looked at me, with that look, the look of wonder and questions, as if to say,"You're doing it again. Stop that, stop that now". I couldn't, and I wouldn't, for I knew what I saw. I got out of the car door, and I closed the car door, and thus, I watched as it marched away, and followed it into it's den. It was intense, the strong, repetitive motions, the pounding away as my actions were observed thru it's small, beady eyes. My legs at the height of their current skill level, I buried them into the tree trunk with all the force I could muster behind my constant kicking. I pushed my form, and sculpted my movements, until a loud squawk radiated thru the general area. I looked down at it's small form, and watched as it took to the ground with it's own brand of force. It looked as if it were running in place, but, of course I already knew what it was grasping at. Thus began my journey, one of discovery and tests old and true. I was to discover what exactly entailed of the Phoenix Hook Strike, a fiery movement that combined the speed and power of the mythical bird and tied it to the graceful embrace of a grand martial styling.

...So ten minutes later, Bob walks over and looks up at me, and states the following;"Dude.... What are you doing?". I stared into him for a minute, and grinned. We walked back to the car, and we both got in. Bob started up the engine, and I reflected on what I'd just experienced. I looked over at him, and described on how I would look on this day, and this venture, and I would write the story of this wandering soul, and express his reclusive tale to the world...

"Dude, I'm cutting you off. Crack kills."