The Hilarious Highs of Four-Twenty (A Stoner's Serenade)

In the land of green where the sun shines bright,
The clock strikes four, and it feels oh-so right.
With munchies in hand and a lighter in tow,
The sacred hour of 4:20 is about to bestow!

Gather the crew, it’s a ritual grand,
With bongs and pipes all perfectly planned.
We light up the room with our laughter and cheer,
As we pass around clouds, forgetting our fears!

“Who rolled this blunt?!” a voice hollers loud,
As hands raise in glee like we’re part of a crowd.
Someone detects that it’s lumpy and odd,
But we’re far too entranced to give it a nod!

We get lost in tales of a mythical strain,
Where the grass is so potent, it drives you insane.
One claims he once soared on a flying green broom,
But we all just giggle—quick, someone grab the Zoom!

Then comes the snacks, oh, what a sight!
Chips, candy bars, and pizza delight.
We snack on our munchies with reckless delight,
Laughing ‘til dawn, with every bite!

And there’s always that one who forgets to exhale,
Eyes wide like saucers, turning green, oh so pale.
We’re calling the paramedics, it’s all in good fun,
As he waves us away, “I’m just chillin', I’m done!”

As the clock strikes five, we’re still feeling fine,
Staring deeply at patterns, sipping on wine.
With giggles and gaffes and a ceremonious cheer,
The legend of 4:20, forever we’ll revere!

Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0