Generally, males are very good story tellers.  This is not to say that females are not good at telling a story, but this particular story is about a male- a male who had to write a story.  In Haiku form.  This poem wouldn't lift the spell off a slumbering princess, or grant him the use of three wishes.  God simply told Harold (our hero) that he was to write a Haiku, without the promise of punishment or reward.  So Harold gathered his pen, and he gathered his paper, and he set to write a Haiku.  But for some reason, when his pen hit the page, a Haiku did not flow from its inky tip.  Instead, came a beautiful poem, with twelve syllables in the first line.  "That is not a Haiku" Harold pointed out to his ball-point companion.  He tried again, but this time he started writing down the music to a beautiful violin solo.  This was also not a Haiku, and God grew angry.  Something was wrong.  The days marched on, and the Haiku still eluded him.  But what didn't elude him was the beautiful, magical princess that he fell in love with a year and a half later.  He told her of his Haiku-less state, and she promised to help.  She cast a spell on him, and pronounced him cured.  He immediately thanked her by saying, "Thank you very much!  Now I can write one for God!  I know he'll love it!"  She snickered.  Harold continued, "Wait just a second.  How many syllables did... was that a Haiku?"  The princess laughed with terrible rage.  She then said "Because of your hive of arrogance, you shall spend the rest of your days speaking nothing but Haiku!  Savor the wretched irony!"  This dumfounded Harold, and forced him to reply, "Hive of arrogance?  What are you talking about?  Why do you hate me?"