In a dim-lit room where the chessmen bide,
Seven players slumped in a cannabis haze,
With thoughts so grand, yet too mellow to stride,
As they ponder their moves in a dazed, foggy maze.
First up is Larry, who stares at his knight,
Convinced it’s an equine, galloping slow,
He offers it snacks, “Don’t be scared of the fight!
Hold tight, little buddy, we've got this, let’s go!”
Meanwhile, Sue blinks at her pawns in a row,
“Is that one a soldier or a piece of cheese?”
She laughs as she sways, “This tournament’s slow,
But hey, what’s the rush when you’re riding the breeze?”
As Bob plays his queen with the grace of a sloth,
His thoughts get entwined like a bunch of fine strands,
Check! Then a chuckle, “I think I’ve been caught—
But where are my snacks?” he demands with both hands.
At last, the smoke clears, and the refs grin with glee,
For the final round’s marked by a bromidic cheer,
“Can we take a break?!” they all plea to the referee,
“To ponder our thoughts and our delectable beer!”
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
