In a realm where the munchies reign supreme,
The athletes prepare for the ultimate dream.
With bongs as their batons, they gather 'round,
In a haze of excitement, where laughter's profound.
Behold the sprinters, with sneakers so green,
They vanish in clouds, barely seen on the scene.
They dash for the finish, but oh, what a sight!
They stop for a snack, then forget the race fight.
The pole vaulters glide, with a swing and a sway,
Launching themselves—who knew it was play?
As they float through the air, they contemplate life,
"Is that the sky? Or my brother-in-law's wife?"
The high dive is classic; they leap with great flair,
But they fail to remember they’re meant to be there.
Splish, splash, and giggle! They float on their backs,
Synchronized ripples defy all the facts.
The curling team’s fierce, but with giggles anew,
They sweep and they sweep, yet they never get through.
"Wait, which one’s the stone? Is it this tasty treat?"
“Pass the chips over here, now, that’s how we compete!”
Up next in the arena, the tug of the rope,
But the competitors stop for a moment of hope.
“Do we pull, or just chill in this soft grassy patch?”
And there they all sit, in a weed-friendly match.
Gold medals are given to those who can laugh,
At their endless antics, not a single photograph.
For in this high roost, a lesson they find:
Sometimes, the journey’s the gold you don’t mind!
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
