In a dojo filled with munchies and laughter galore,
Competitors gathered, but what were they for?
With headbands askew and eyes all a-glow,
They came to kick butt—but moved rather slow.
First up to spar was Johnny the Stoned,
He forgot his moves but knew he was honed.
He stretched for a kick, but fell on his face,
"Meditation!" he shouted, "It's all part of grace!"
Next was Felicity, a master so spry,
But she scattered the seeds of a pizza pie.
While attempting a roundhouse, she smelled something nice,
"Is that extra cheese?" She soon rolled the dice.
As the bell rang, the crowd could only chuckle,
For every stance turned into a snuggle.
They’d swing and they'd trip, oh what a sight,
Kicks turned to cuddles in the warm dojo light.
Then came the judges with their eyes glazed wide,
“Excellent footwork!” one said with great pride.
But the only score they cared to bestow?
“Best use of a snack in a sidekick combo!”
Time ran out, the fight turned to feast,
“Pass the guacamole!” the crowd cried, “At least!”
And so in this tournament, the moral was clear:
It’s hard to be tough when the chips disappear.
So if you want to kick it, just keep in mind,
A dojo of potheads is one of a kind.
They may not be tough, they may not be mean,
But they'll always defend their pizza supreme!
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
