There’s a blond and a brunette in a car. The brunette is driving while the blonde is in the passenger seat.
The two chattered away, discussing their latest crushes and recounting juicy college gossip as the brunette navigated them down a winding mountain road.
The blonde gazed out the window, admiring the scenic overlooks of the valley below.
Suddenly, the brunette’s face drained of color. “Oh no…” she muttered, panic creeping into her voice. She pumped the brake pedal frantically, but the car didn’t even slow.
“We’ve got a huge problem!” the brunette cried out. “The brakes aren’t working at all!”
The blonde turned to her friend with a look of confusion. “The brakes? Why, what’s wrong with them?”
“They’re completely shot!” Chelsea exclaimed, struggling to downshift as they picked up terrifying speed.
“At this rate, we’re going to go soaring right off the edge of the cliff up ahead. There’s no way to stop!”
The blonde remained remarkably calm.
“You worry too much!” the blonde said, with a wave of her hand. “We’ll be just fine.”
The brunette’s jaw dropped. Had her friend gone mad?
“Are you serious right now? We’re about to careen over a cliff to our deaths! How can you possibly be so calm?!”
The blonde simply pointed out the windshield and down the road, with a serene smile.
“Don’t worry! There’s a stop sign ahead.”
