In a dojo filled with haze, where the laughter floats so free,
Competitors in pajamas, sipping herbal tea.
With their heads full of giggles, and eyes glazed like a donut,
They bow and throw some punches, though most just wish to zone out.
“Hi-ya!” is a mumbled whisper, not quite loud enough to shout,
As a warrior’s foot gets tangled, in a pan of nacho spout.
The referee’s a bit confused, he’s munching on a chip,
Counting to ten slowly, while his thoughts begin to trip.
One contestant tries an uppercut, but trips over his lace,
He lands upon a mat decorated with cheetos, what a disgrace!
The crowd erupts in laughter, their snacks flying in the air,
"Who knew martial arts would turn into a munchy affair?"
A black belt won’t stop giggling, when he loses his cool stance,
He’s dancing like a dandelion—a true slow-motion prance.
While another one’s just smiling, having forgotten why he came,
Was it for the trophy or was it just the sweet, sweet fame?
The final round approaches, both fighters wear a grin,
They circle like high chickens, in their lethargic spin.
But then a magical moment—oh what a sight to see!
They both fall into fits of giggles, and forget all enmity.
So here’s a toast to tournaments where the spirit’s light and high,
Where belts aren’t really needed, just some snacks and an open sky.
In the land of the free, with the brave and the bold,
There’s nothing quite like karate, when you’re a bit too stoned!
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
