Length has nothing to do with it. It has nothing to do with anything.

Let it be a known fact that if you put two Very Cool People and a newbie of the class together in an air-condition hall full of noisy people, the results will be The Most Hilarious Game of Hangman ever Played.

And it was. God, I haven’t laughed so much in a very long time.

Let it also be an undeniable course in reality that ‘3 guys and 1 hot chick’ at work on a story (where each person will write 3 words and pass on to another) will inevitably give birth to a story of utter randomness, complete with Depressed Hamsters, Prosthetic Sexual Organs ™ and a rock named Tom (which had nothing to do with the story at all, apart from being mentioned twice, and that was the extend of it).

Amen to that.

And, lastly, let it be an undoubted truth that a can of mayo tuna left opened and untouched in the fridge for approximately 4 weeks should never be eaten at all, lest you wish to die a very agonising death on top of a porcelain seat in your toilet, and this writer here assures you that there are other less painful ways to commit suicide.

(I didn’t die, but I think I almost did; there was one moment where I saw myself drifting across a plain of ice until I arrived to an Eskimo fishing at a hole with a bamboo rod. He looked at me, cocked his head, made a sucking sound and said, “It’s not your time yet”. And then I was back in the toilet.)

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Dad and bro left for their vacation yesterday, on a trip to China in an eating tour (where they take you to feast on popular dishes, with plenty of sightseeing in between). Like any other ride to the airport, there was the familiar loom of farewell melancholy. It was nothing big, them leaving, but the loom was there, and it made me fiddle with it for a while, not unlike the manner of a boy absently picking at a ream of the sofa.

So I watch them heave their backpacks into the terminal in the rearview mirror (I drove the way home, with mom as navigator), and felt something stirred, though I don’t know what it was.

It was the second time I drove on a highway stretch, and the longest distance I ever driven. From KLIA to home.

But it was a cool drive. Mom and I chatted, with DJ Simon genially giving us good music on Light and Easy. I was a tad nervous; my legs were somewhat tensed, but it was alright after a while. And quite something to drive at night. The serenity, the subtle dance of unnoticed beauty. Rain drizzled onto the road and the windscreen, turning the streetlights into hexagonal ambers that lit the way home. It was gentle fun, and I liked it. I have to do it again on Thursday, when dad and bro reaches home.

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When facing the prospect of having a dad-free and bro-liberated week, know that:

1) There won’t be anyone to feed the pets when you couldn’t make it home in time.

2) If you have a punctured tyre, you’re going to have to deal with it alone. It didn’t matter that you’ve dealt it yourself before in past incidents, because this time around there isn’t any assurance that if you fucked up you can still call dad.

3) The fishes are under your utmost and complete responsibility. The ecology of the aquarium and tanks are under your hand; the distribution of food, the management of popularity, the care of the diseased and the deceased and, most importantly, the state of the water.

4) You do not have to make coffee every night.

5) You do not have a brother to massage, and thank the week for that.

6) The brother’s room is a Class 5 No Entry unless required, which you know you don’t have to obey provided you make it seem like it wasn’t intruded upon.

7) You’re free of the 80% of the nagging in the house.

8) The TV is technically yours to command, unless mom decides that she wants the captaincy, and if this happens just retreat to your room and pretend you didn’t hear what she puts on.

9) You’re locking all the doors, so make sure you do it right.

10) You’re going to have a dad-free and bro-liberated week. DO SOMETHING YOU DON’T DO ALL THE TIME. Like singing Beyond the Sea in the living room with a broom and plastic teacup as your hat.

If you understand and acknowledge the above, rest assured; you’ll have a fine and safe week.

(JEOpardy Self-Help titles are not to be held responsible for any damages caused. YOU READ OUR STUFF. WE DIDN’T ASK YOU TO. DON’T BLOODY BLAME IT ON US.)

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Goodnight People.