"Ah!" Makka said, pulling the other crates away and dragging theirs out. "Well that's just... dandy. Maybe you can ship this over to Ziadiad on a very fast ship then, can't you?"

"No! We won't!" the very unreasonable Azdeite exclaimed. "You two are morons and we won't serve you!"

"Aww. Hey, half-wit, will you ship this?" Tarak said, turning to the dimwitted one.

"Sure thing, sir!"

"Now was that so hard?" Makka said to the cranky Azdeite, who was now throwing a fit. "If we may also request, maybe you could contact that coffee company on Zafendol and have them ship a whole bunch of Novaground to Laercanan. We'll foot the bill and everything."

The goony worker went off to carry out the orders. The princes walked out of the warehouse, Tarak whipping out his communicator as they went.

"Yes, Laercanan, you can stop sending us bombs now!" he said. "We realized that the warehouse guys were being dumb and not alerting us to the package. Ha ha!"
He was silent for a moment.
"Yes, yes, it's on the way. By the way, don't know if you heard, but the people who make Novaground will now allow orders of just the coffee! Yeah, I know! I was thinking the same thing! So no hard feelings?"

"Ask him if we're still on good terms!" Makka whispered.

"Shut up!" Tarak whispered. "Oh, no, not you Laercanan. Makka's just backseat talking. Well, glad we got that sorted out! Bye!"

"So..." Makka said. "We're all good here?"

"Yep. I hope nobody holds this huge fiasco against us!"

"Eh, I'm sure they won't. Let's get tacos!"