version.
’Twas the night before 4/20, and all through the town,
The smokers were preparing as the sun settled down.
The snacks were all stacked, the munchies prepared,
And the smell of fresh barbecue floated through the air.
But high on a hill, in a shack black as coal,Lived a miserable creature with hate in his soul.
His name was the Grease Goblin, a miserable sight,
Who despised every smoker and their favorite night.
“Those fools and their parties! Their laughter and cheer!
I’ll ruin their 4/20 if it’s the last thing I do this year!”
He pulled on his coat and he stomped through the snow,
With a sack full of trouble and nowhere to go.
He crept through the town as the clock struck twelve,Muttering curses and talking to himself.
He stole all the snacks, every brownie and treat,
The chips, the pretzels, the burgers, the meat.
He snatched every lighter and hid every tray,
Then laughed to himself as he sneaked away.
“Now let them celebrate! Let them all try!
They won't have a thing when the morning draws nigh!”
But just as he turned to escape from the scene,
He noticed a glow where the streets had been green.A dispensary burned, with flames reaching high,
As black clouds of smoke rolled up into the sky.
The firefighters arrived with their sirens ablaze,
And rushed toward the building through the smoke and the haze.
They sprayed and they hosed, doing all that they could,
But the fire kept burning through the neighborhood.
Then something went wrong in the middle of the fight:
A grill full of meat had been left burning bright!The smokehouse caught fire, the barbecue roared,
And sausages popped as the flames soared.
The Goblin stared blankly. His jaw hit the ground.
“WHAT IN THE HELL IS THAT SMELL ALL AROUND?!”
The firefighters worked till the flames were no more,
But their accidental feast covered half the town floor.
There were ribs on the pavement, brisket in the street,
And a whole roasted turkey with a wonderfully crisp heat.The townsfolk came running, attracted by smell,
And gathered together where the firefighters yelled:
“THE FIRE IS OUT! EVERYBODY STAND CLEAR!
BUT SOMEBODY PLEASE TELL ME WHO ORDERED THE BEER!”
The Goblin looked down at his sack full of snacks.
He'd stolen their goodies, but now faced the facts.
For even without brownies, their lighters, or weed,
The townsfolk still gathered to sharewhat they’d need.
They shared their own food, laughed at the sight,
And turned the whole disaster into one hell of a night.
The Goblin grew furious. “THIS CAN'T BE!
I STOLE THEIR WHOLE PARTY! HOW CAN THEY BE HAPPY?!”
An old man looked up and called out with a grin:
“Son, 4/20 ain't something you keep locked within.
It's the friends and the laughter, the people you meet.
And apparently, tonight, it's the firefighters' meat!”The whole town erupted in laughter and cheer,
While the Goblin stood fuming, humiliated that year.
He trudged up the hill, with his sack hanging low,
As the smell of smoked brisket followed wherever he'd go.
And from that day forward, whenever folks say,
“What's the plan for the twentieth of April today?”
They remember the fire, the feast, and the scene—
The 4/20 that smelled like a barbecue dream. 🌿🔥🍖And somewhere up the hill, if you listen just right,
The Grease Goblin still grumbles on 4/20 night:
“I HATE THESE DAMN SMOKERS! I HATE THEIR WHOLE SCENE!
…BUT WHO'S GOT THE RECIPE FOR THAT BRISKET THAT'S GREEN?!”