The flying car whizzed by me in a blink of an eye. Through the tinted windshield, I swear I saw a llama in sunglasses gripping the steering wheel with terrifying confidence. I wish I could see it again, or even more, be in that car myself. Just as I turned back to the sidewalk, the flying car spun in mid-air like a ballet dancer on rocket shoes and crash-landed—somehow gracefully—right into the cherry tree in front of me. The door hissed open dramatically, and thick purple mist spilled out, smelling faintly of bubblegum and dragon breath. Out jumped the llama, landed on two hooves, and took a theatrical bow. “Grab your toothbrush,” it said in a deep, mysterious voice. “Adventure doesn’t wait, and I’ve got exactly twelve minutes before I turn back into a cactus.” I blinked. “Wait, what?” But the llama had already tossed me a pair of aviator goggles and a half-eaten cookie. “No time! The Moon-Fairies are expecting us for tea, and we can’t be late again—they still haven’t forgiven me for eating their marshmallow throne.” I caught the cookie mid-air, confused but weirdly ready, as if some part of me had always been waiting for this exact moment. After six minutes in the flying car, I regretted wishing myself into this flying car, despite the amazing bubblegum scent. A couple of thorns started to come out of the llama's arms. If what he said was true, he'd be a cactus in another six. "What are you doing? Eat the cookie!" Mr. Llama said. "It'll turn you into a—" CRASH! Before the llama could provide further details about this spontaneous adventure, another pinkish-greenish car twice the size of our own hit our side sending us into the air. The cookie escaped my hands. It was in the air. I was in the air. The llama was in the air. Everything felt like it was in slow motion for a couple of seconds. Then I looked down. We were falling! F....A...L...L...I...N...G..........D...O...W...N......... It felt like we were falling for at least 10 minutes before we landed on a purple cloud that was soft and inviting.