Smörgås-bored with the Game

The marquee pigskin event serves as an excuse to pig out.

Each Super Bowl Sunday, regardless who’s playing,
my focus is more on what we’ll be buffet-ing:
some chicken wings, pizza, and pigs in a blanket.
And please buy more beer, since it’s all gone – I drank it.

There’s so much to plan for; I’ve written a checklist.
The pre-show begins while there’s still time for breakfast,
so I’ll start with bacon and mascot-shaped pancakes
and forego my usual prune juice and bran flakes.

As soon as that meal’s done, it’s time to start snacking –
just thinking of onion dip gets my lips smacking.
Potato chips, pretzels, some nachos I’ll munch on,
and next thing you know – hey, it’s time to get lunch on!

As all of the salt from my fingers I lick off,
it’s finally time for the football game kick-off.
Let’s bring in the platter of sliced meats and cheese. We
have also got sliders; they sure go down easy.

That batch of fudge brownies now smells sublime, so
I’ll devour them all through the big halftime show.
As soon as the game’s second half has begun,
time for roast beef piled high on a fresh brioche bun.

The shindig was ruined when *somebody* farted
and missed the game’s end (good thing I DVR’d it).
The previous year’s spread – I hope to surpass it,
so this year the last course I’ll serve is: antacid.

“Smörgås-bored with the Game” — read by the author.

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