Welcome to the madness.

Sokka: 
I am so sorry. 
Something struck me in the rear. 
I just… wound up… here.

Macmu-Ling: 
Five, seven, then five, 
syllables mark a haiku. 
Remarkable oaf.

Sokka:
They call me Sokka, 
that is in the Water Tribe.
I am not an oaf.

Macmu-ling: 
Chittering monkey, 
in the spring he climbs treetops, 
and thinks himself tall.

Sokka:
You think you’re so smart, 
with your fancy little words, 
this is not so hard. 

Macmu-Ling:
Whole seasons are spent, 
mastering the form, the style, 
none calls it easy. 

Sokka:
I calls it easy. 
Like I paddle my canoe, 
I’ll paddle yours too!

Macmu-Ling:
There’s nuts and there’s fruits.
In fall the clinging plumb drops, 
always to be squashed. 

Sokka:
Squish, squash, sling that slang. 
I’m always right back at ya, 
like my… BOOMERANG!

That’s right, I’m Sokka, 
it’s pronounced with an “okka”, 
young ladies, I rocked ya! 

…