Sơn Tinh Camp, Hanoi – The festival formerly known as Quest
has died, following a short semi-secret battle with bureaucracy. Quest Festival
was just five years old.
The news broke on Quest’s official Facebook page on November
23rd at approximately 7.45pm, following desperate attempts to revive
Quest by onlookers armed only with eco-friendly face paint, glittery spandex
and an unshakeable belief that positive energy and drum circles can solve any
problem.
Despite spending hours sending good vibes, a sparkly array
of young would-be hippies were devastated to learn that Quest had succumbed to
complications brought on by its quasi-legal condition. Earlier reports that
Quest had died of a fentanyl overdose turned out to be false, albeit plausible.
Within moments of announcing the festival’s demise, a
publicly organised cigarette-lit vigil was held at Tây Hồ Water Park, where
fans of Quest, driven to senseless intoxication by the news, held a moving
tribute to the now deceased music festival.
“It still doesn’t feel real,” sobbed American reveller,
Amelia Kant, “I booked the weekend off work, I spent weeks putting together
this outfit – I was aiming for ABBA meets Princess Leia, but like, sexy and
woke.
“Now though, I just don’t know – I don’t feel like a dancing
queen, actually I feel pretty pissed off. I spent 2 million Dong on this tiara!
“All year I’ve been waiting to shiver my tits off in this
spandex corset while waiting to shit in a muddy hole,” she said, adding that
while yes, she could still go and find a portaloo in the forest to have sex in,
it just wouldn’t be the same without a DJ she’d never heard of blaring in the
background and glitter seeping into every orifice.
Whether overcome by grief at not being able to see a real
live fire-eater or simply as a result of spending the day sipping hard liquor
out of plastic water bottles, a change soon rippled through the crowd.
Within minutes, the mood had turned ugly and the mourners
were baying for blood, taking to social media to express sentiments about heads
and pikes and bemoan the shocking lack of vegan options in front of the blocked
off campsite.
Sharp dividing lines were already splitting the shivering,
half-rabid crowd of middle-class twenty-something-year-olds, as some began
dealing exclusively in conspiracy theories, others illicit substances and some
resorting to flashed bums.
“I heard Quest died back in September and like, they didn’t
tell nobody, cause they thought they could book an imposter to come in at the last
minute,” a man who wished to be identified only as ‘Cervical Celestial
Traveller confided to The Durian’s reporters on the scene.
“Like we wouldn’t know the real Quest,” he snorted.
Other sought vengeance for their time and efforts spent
channelling positive energy to the now deceased music and arts festival.
“Never in all my 23 years of life have I been so betrayed,”
bellowed one hippy, blissfully intoxicated and unaware of the myriad betrayals
his generation has borne in recent years.
“We’ve been sat here since 1pm, spent all afternoon drinking
warm beer out in the sun, aligning our chakras to bring Quest back, but now
it’s just gone and died, it’s just like, what a dick move, y’know?
“What am I supposed to do with a weekend off work and all
these pills now that Quest’s dead?” he lamented, before realising what he’d
just said.
Quest Festival would have been six years old this past
November.
The Durian is a
satirical news outlet, all of our stories are completely fictional, designed
only to amuse and entertain. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely
coincidental and in no way intended to hurt your feelings. Sorry for pointing
out the obvious, but there’s an abundance of humourless morons out there.
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