Keep your fists up, but where's the floor?
It's hard to remember, what's this fight for?
Roundhouse kicks become gentle flails,
A haze of confusion as logic derails.
Round one begins, but who’s counting the score?
“I think I just saw my belt walk out the door!”
Flexibility's key, or so they declare,
But all that is flexed is — the nachos we share.
Stances are shaky, balance a feat,
As competitors laugh while they sit down to eat.
Judges are puzzled, but hey, it’s alright,
Who needs precision when you’ve mastered delight?
Higher than eagles, they soar — and they land,
In a flurry of laughter, not quite as they planned.
TKO’s replaced by “Can we order some fries?”
And the winner’s declared — it’s the one with the pies!
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
