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.