joke

We stood on a cliff above the valley in the gray morning fog, a shiny black BMW in front of us. I said, laughing:

• If a yellow car passes, I'll remove you. He pursed his lips:
• And if it’s red, you’ll kiss me.

A minute later, a bright yellow van flashed by. We both looked up, and someone from the van threw a can—it hit him in the chin. He flinched and turned around in surprise and anger. I rushed toward him, but he pulled his hand back in embarrassment.

Suddenly, a red sports car sped down the same road. Someone from inside glanced at us, and we realized this was no longer a joke. People ran around the corner, heading towards us. I stepped toward the car, preparing to drive away, but he didn't move. His gaze softened, and he shouted:

• Hey, where are you going?