It was the third and last long-weekend of the month.
Most of the Demi-Gods in the office were spreading into oblivion.
And His Royal Majesty King of the Logistic Kingdom was restless.
So out of the blue, he just said: “Let’s go to Takengon.”

And thirteen other fools agreed to escort him through his momentary insanity.

The next morning, they gathered at the office,

Had their communal breakfast together,
Then drove for about five hours,
Through thirteen vomit/pee stops later,

To arrive in a town in the middle of Aceh, called Takengon

When so many people are forced to spend that much of time together, they usually find out new things about each other.

Most of which nobody wants to know about.

Such as the English teacher who’s still on her childish ideas of fun, Or His Royal Majesty’s tendencies to abuse her,
Or the Communal-Father’s longing to fly.
Nevertheless, on the way back,
All fourteen, street-dancing, fools, six hotel bedrooms, and two ford explorer cars agreed on one thing:

“No regrets. We’ve had a lifetime’s worth of fun.”

The End.
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