The stars were aligned, it was time to unwind, the big game was soon to be shown;
But to watch it without, some snack would no doubt, be just like a dog with no bone.
So off to the shelf, went my ravenous self, to extract a puffy white treat;
And found with a scan, what any good man, knew would make the evening complete.
I was now pretty heady, as the pouch was soon ready, for the heat to be doing its job;
The setting was good, or so I understood, to cook that buttery gob.
The game was beginning, my team would be winning, the couch was beckoning hard;
With that TV now calling, I’d not be forestalling, all else I could just disregard.
Immersed in the game, and loving the same, my team was true to its form;
But a stench came around, which I suddenly found, took over the house like a storm.
I thought as I paused, about what I had caused, how the popcorn had run all amuck;
The smoke and the smell, now a personal hell, meant the end of all my good luck.
So the night was a dud, my name was now mud, embarrassed to no one’s surprise;
So the moral I guess, is to lay about less, and watch the popcorn arise.
You wasted popcorn! I don’t know if we can be friends any longer, Al. However, I did enjoy the poetry.
That was not a good day for you. It would have been better if your team had at least won. Hoping for a better luck next time…
As one horizontal sports coach to another, I can only shake my head at your appalling bad luck. Possibly making a cheese sandwich before the next game might avoid this catastrophe. Hopefully your team won anyway, unaware of the disaster which had befallen one of their main unofficial coaches
But you wrote an amusing verse,
so the night wasn’t a total bust.
It could have been so much worse.
More poems coming, I trust?
I can’t cook popcorn in the microwave without burning it even when I stand right in front of it getting my brain fried. Microwave popcorn defeats me.
Nothing smells worse than burned popcorn. I don’t know who you are rooting for, but my family pulls for the Packers. Well, mostly, one of my granddaughters is pulling for the Seatle Seahawks, or so says her teeshirt. The girls tend to select teams that have colors they like.
I am the ultimate bad luck omen. No matter what team I favor, they will not win.
Oh, no! Did your team win at least?
Love the poem…
No, Susie, they didn’t. The optimism was poetic license. Thanks anyway for the compliment.
I have only tasted Popcorn, once… the box was tastier!
Maybe you should start a business selling just the boxes as treats!
Why didn’t I think of that?
Poor baby! Hope you’ll consider ordering pizza instead for the Superbowl.
We’ve unearthed the old popcorn popper that heats up and has a wire arm that goes around and stirs the kernels, because the popcorn is so much better than with the microwave. Of course if I’m not standing right next to it and timing it exactly right, we end up with that delightful burnt smell that lingers for 3 months, as Brown Road mentioned.
I can remember my dad standing at that stove with that old “shaker” that you moved back and forth with the wire top. It was an all-consuming family event to have popcorn. Great times!
Oh oh that means you have to go back to the old fashioned way…put kernels in bottom of pot with oil and move back and forth over burner till all are popped. Wear an apron. I’m a disaster in the kitchen so I think your story is hilarious. I recently let tomato soup boil over and spill out onto the floor. Was not watching football, only texting in the livingroom. Keep me laughing, Big AL!
Still seems like too much work. How about I just go to Kroger and get a pre-popped bag?
We’re in the same boat kitchen-wise. If I do attempt to bake or cook something, Patty stands right over me to ward off tomato soup-like disasters.
We like ridge cut potato chips.
Excellent! And don’t worry we’ve all been there. It only takes about 3 months for microwave to no longer smell burnt! 🙂
Great! Just in time for the start of the next football season.
Your microwave doesn’t have an automatic popcorn setting?
Yes, but I was shooting for zero tolerance on the orphan kernels.
That’s an impossible dream